The Frailty of Flesh

by Sandra Ruttan

Matt swallowed but didn’t say anything.

  Ashlyn turned and walked away, trusting Tain to follow her. Her path formed a U. She went back to the entrance to the parking lot Matt had entered from, then she followed the sidewalk on the other side of the fence back toward where the Mustang was parked. Once she was close enough to watch him Ashlyn moved beside a large tree.

  “What’s gotten into you today?” Tain asked her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Everything about this whole case seems off. Like someone playing a piano that’s just slightly out of tune, you know?”

  From where they stood they had two distinct advantages. They were close to where they’d parked, and the spot provided a clear view of Matt Lewis. Matt had returned to his car and locked the door after they’d left. He’d also taken the time to remove his cell phone and, after a quick glance in the direction of the entrance to the parking lot, made a call.

  “Number seems to be programmed in,” Ashlyn said.

  “He’s probably warning her. Which means he talked to her today. He knows something.”

  Ashlyn rolled her eyes deliberately as she gave Tain a look. “Duh. Did you hear how he was talking? He never even asked why we wanted to talk to him about Shannon. He knew.”

  “Well, maybe he doesn’t know, exactly. How do you want to play this? We could go back—”

  “Hang on.” She nodded at Matt’s car. He’d closed the phone, unlocked the door, tossed his books on the backseat and climbed in. As soon as the brake lights went on Ashlyn started to move. “Maybe he’ll lead us right to her.”

  “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

  “We get along,” she said as she flashed him a smile.

  Tain said, “Point taken,” as they opened their car doors.

  It wasn’t hard to follow Matt Lewis. The personalized license plates, INXTC, helped.

  “Do you ever wonder what the hell parents are thinking, letting their kid get a plate like that?” Ashlyn asked.

  “Be thankful. It’s a public service. Combined with erratic driving I’m sure it’s probable cause to search a vehicle.”

  She smiled. Matt led them to Anmore. One of four villages that were part of the Greater Vancouver Area, the Village of Anmore was a tiny area to the north of Port Moody, on the way to scenic Buntzen Lake. Although it wasn’t far from the shores of the Burrard Inlet, the elevation made a considerable difference in the weather, and it wasn’t uncommon to drive the few kilometers to Anmore and discover snow on the ground while most of the Lower Mainland remained damp and green.

  Ashlyn looked at the addresses Matt had written down. “My guess is we’re on our way to Nurani Patel’s. Assuming he wasn’t giving us false information.”

  After another turn Tain said, “Look’s like that’s the house.” He slowed the vehicle and pulled over to the side of the road.

  “That’s the right address.” She nodded at the figure coming down the long driveway, bundled in a heavy sweater pulled tight around her slender body. “Shall we?”

  The roads were quiet that time of year, without the usual steady stream of traffic heading out to the lake and the hiking trails surrounding it. In all likelihood Matt had heard their vehicle pull over. Despite the trees lining the property the hedge was low in front, providing them with a clear view of the driveway. If he turned around he would see them immediately so there was no point watching and waiting.

  They got out of the vehicle, both closing their doors quietly, and began to walk toward Matt’s Mustang, which was pulled over at the base of the driveway. He had his back to them, and despite Nurani’s height still concealed her from view.

  “But how do they know?”

  That’s what Ashlyn heard the girl say first, because she’d raised her voice. The agitation was obvious.

  “Beats me. They just showed up at school and started asking questions.”

  “And you talked to them? You—”

  Ashlyn had come far enough around that Matt was no longer shielding her view of Nurani. The girl looked up and over, and went silent the second her gaze met Ashlyn’s. Her brown eyes widened. “Oh, God.”

  Ashlyn and Tain lowered their IDs as Matt turned. His mouth hung open for a moment, and he tried twice to say something and failed. Finally he took a breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “You did give us this address,” Tain said.

  “You what?” Nurani glared at Matt and for the first time his cheeks filled with color.

  “Look, I tried to get them to go to Jody’s house.”

  “And it was a nice try,” Ashlyn said. “Except we walk away and suddenly you need to make an urgent phone call. Either you phoned your friend Nurani here, or you phoned Shannon or one of the other girls to warn them. But since Nurani was expecting you I’m guessing you called her.” She watched his face for a moment, but he said nothing. “Feel free to jump in and tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “Look, I didn’t tell you anything. You asked if Shannon had any other real close friends. I told you the truth.”

  “And we asked if any of her friends hadn’t been in class today, and you said Jody Hoath,” Tain said. “Yet here you are, talking to Nurani Patel. Unless your class has a field trip to her house this afternoon, she isn’t at school either.”

  “I didn’t say Jody was the only one absent. I just said she wasn’t there.” Matt let out a breath. “I didn’t lie.”

  “You didn’t lie, but you may have hindered a criminal investigation,” Ashlyn said.

  “Criminal investigation?” Matt practically squawked the words. “What are you talking about? You guys are finally going to do something?”

  Ashlyn stared at him for a few seconds, wondering what he meant. Finally do something?

  “Maybe we can back up a bit here, clear this up,” Tain said. “What are you talking about?”

  It was Matt’s turn to have his jaw drop open, and then he shook his head. “I-I don’t think I should talk to you.”

  Ashlyn squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, counted to five and tried to push all the agitation out of her voice. “Listen, all we’re trying to do is find Shannon.”

  “She’s sixteen. She can do what she wants,” Nurani said. “You can’t make her go back.”

  “Whoa. We just want to talk to her.” Tain’s voice was calm, almost hypnotically soothing.

  Nobody spoke for a moment. There was nothing but a slight breeze to break the calm. Ashlyn fought her urge to snap at the two teenagers. They had a dead boy and a missing girl. Whatever high school drama they’d stepped in the middle of, it was wasting their time.

  Nurani started to shake her head and held up her hand. “You can forget it. I won’t help you.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Matt said. “Shannon didn’t tell us where she was going. She knew we might get in trouble so she didn’t want us to know.”

  “But you did speak to her this morning,” Ashlyn said.

  Matt glanced at Nurani, who was staring at him wide-eyed. Ashlyn could just imagine the girl willing him to keep his mouth shut.

  He shook his head. “No. I talked to her last night. After she’d packed.”

  Ashlyn looked at Tain. She wondered if he was as frustrated as she was.

  If he was, he didn’t let it affect his voice. “Why was Shannon packing?”

  Matt looked at Nurani again. The girl blew out a big breath and rolled her eyes. “Why do you think?” Nurani said. “She was running away.”

  Craig finished up the last bit of paperwork from his latest case, if he could call it that. A stolen bicycle, which was generally a seasonal crime in the rest of Canada, but in the GVA winter meant rain. The occasional snowfall didn’t usually last long. Give a child a bicycle in November and the minute the downpour turned to a drizzle he would be outside if his parents let him.

  The theft was important to the boy, who’d been knocked off his bike and had it literally stolen out from under him. And it was a good thing they’d caught th
e little thief so that they could return the bike. They’d been able to give the young criminal the government-sanctioned frown, the only punishment considered appropriate for a kid that age in this country.

  No wonder crime was on the rise.

  “Nolan, my office. Now.”

  Zidani didn’t wait for him to follow. As soon as the sergeant was gone Luke looked up from his desk. “I take it I’m not invited?”

  “If he doesn’t order you to bend over I wouldn’t volunteer for a spanking.” Craig got up and walked down the hall to his father’s office, the one Zidani was using. A constant reminder that Sergeant Daly’s future in the Tri-Cities remained undecided, even after all this time.

  There wasn’t much Daly had taken with him when he’d been reassigned, because he never kept much personal stuff in the office, but the space seemed darker, colder, almost soulless without him.

  Zidani spat out a question the moment he saw Craig in the doorway. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

  Craig paused. It was a question with no right answer. The only “acceptable” response he could think of was a blatant lie, and Zidani would know instantly. He already knew what Craig thought of him. Some things couldn’t be denied. The only question was whether or not Craig would play the game, try to be diplomatic long enough to avoid a confrontation, maybe earn himself some credit from his temporary supervisor.

  Zidani stood and leaned back against the window ledge, behind the desk. Steve Daly’s office was unusual in layout, because it was a corner room. From the entrance the desk was to the left, with a tall, narrow window behind it. Daly had kept one picture on the wall, to the side of the window, and otherwise the wall that bordered the hallway and the space on the far side of the window were filled with bookshelves and cabinets.

  The far wall also had a window, but it was partially concealed by a freestanding whiteboard that had been brought in, when Craig, Tain and Ashlyn had worked together. Those cases had led to Steve’s temporary reassignment, and the whiteboard hadn’t been removed before his departure.

  “Come in.” Zidani remained perched on the window ledge, arms folded, scowl in place.

  Craig stepped inside but left the door open.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Respectfully, I’ll decline to answer.”

  Zidani grunted. “So now you think you can play nice?”

  Another loaded question. Craig remained silent.

  “You’ve been on the shelf for a while,” Zidani said.

  There was no sense denying it. Zidani could be baiting him, hoping he’d jump at the chance to get back in rotation with more serious crimes. Before he reminded Craig of all his perceived shortcomings and why that wasn’t going to happen.

  Or was he seriously thinking about resolving this stalemate?

  “What do you think of Geller?”

  Craig paused. “Seems competent.”

  The beady-eyed stare didn’t waiver. “A few months in and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

  What do you expect when you hand us routine cases and make sure we spend more time at our desks than on the street?

  It seemed as though Zidani had read Craig’s mind, because something resembling a smile replaced the scowl. “Fair enough. You two need a chance to get on the street.”

  Zidani would get no argument from Craig, but he still kept his mouth shut.

  “I want you to handle something.” The sergeant nodded at two boxes sitting on his desk. “Convicted killer is applying for early parole. Since the cops who made the arrest aren’t available I thought you could step in, make sure there won’t be any problems. Scum like this should never see the light of day, if you ask me.”

  Craig stepped up to the desk and looked at the label on the box. Evidence in the Hope Harrington murder investigation.

  “Think you can handle it?” Zidani asked.

  “Isn’t this a—”

  “All you’re doing is reviewing the material, checking up on any loose ends. Make sure we have nothing to worry about.”

  Craig returned Zidani’s stare for a moment, then nodded. “Is Constable Geller working on this with me?”

  Zidani pushed himself up off the window ledge and grunted again. “This’ll only keep you busy a few days. Then you guys can hit the streets.” He sat down in his chair and picked up the phone.

  Craig grabbed the boxes and left. First Lisa Harrington. Then the lawyer and the reporter. Now Zidani. He felt his stomach twist. Something wasn’t right about this. Since when did they review files to make sure a case was solid ten years after someone was convicted, unless…Craig thought about what the reporter had said on the phone and swallowed. He was being cut loose to work on his own for a few days on a case long closed, after being assured it was a routine task, so why did he feel like he was being set up?

  * * *

  Tain and Ashlyn sat in the car in silence for a moment before he stated the obvious. “I think we stand a better chance if you call.”

  She turned her head to the side so she could glare at him.

  He shrugged. “You don’t hate me. You hate that I’m right.”

  Her mouth twisted into a half smile as she removed the card from her pocket that she’d reluctantly taken hours before. It only took a moment for her to reach Byron Smythe and explain the reason for her call.

  “You’d like permission to search the house.” The way Smythe spoke, it wasn’t a question. It was a regurgitation of her request, with attitude inferring the answer.

  “Actually, we’re only interested in searching Shannon’s room at this time.”

  “And clearly, since you’re asking permission, you don’t have a search warrant.”

  Ashlyn rubbed her forehead. “In the spirit of cooperation I thought we’d ask, since it’s in your client’s best interests that we find their daughter quickly as possible. They’ve already lost one child. I’m sure they’re anxious to have Shannon home safe and sound.”

  “However, they aren’t anxious to have the police invade their privacy so that they can pursue unfounded charges against a sixteen-year-old girl.”

  “I—”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Hart. You’ll have to find another reason to see me.”

  Ashlyn clenched her teeth. What she wouldn’t give to wipe the self-assured smile she could hear in his words right off his face.

  He wasn’t finished. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other very soon.”

  She terminated the call without another word, let out a deep breath and looked up.

  Only the ghost of a smile lingered on Tain’s lips. “That went well.”

  “Never expect a skunk to smell nice.”

  He laughed. “I thought the saying was, ‘A leopard never changes its spots.’ ”

  “I prefer to think of sleazy lawyers as closer to vermin.” She leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed for a moment. “With Byron Smythe involved we’re going to need rock solid evidence to get in the house. And now he knows we want to search.”

  “He can’t tamper with evidence.”

  “Well, technically, he can. We’d just have to prove it in order to charge him.” She rubbed her forehead. “He doesn’t know what we’re looking for.”

  Tain didn’t answer. That was all the proof she needed: Her words had sounded as hollow to him as she knew they were. A lawyer like Byron Smythe would figure it out in no time at all. If he believed there was something in the house that could help them he’d try to find it first.

  And he didn’t need to tamper with anything to look. If he confirmed what was missing, he’d know the truth.

  “We’re losing time. All we really wanted to do was prove whether or not the kids were lying.” Ashlyn opened her eyes and looked at Tain. “We need to find another way to do that.”

  “You can forget arresting those kids and taking them in for questioning. If you thought Zidani came down on you before…”

  “It would waste too much time, anyway.
You think Nurani’s parents don’t have a lawyer on retainer, with a house like that? We—” Her cell phone rang and she lifted it to look at the caller ID, answered and listened to the voice on the other end. “We’ll be right there,” she said, and hung up.

  Tain reached to start the car. “Sims?”

  She nodded as she clipped her seat belt. “He’s found something he wants us to see.”

  Craig wondered how his dad had felt when he stood over the body of sixteen-year-old Hope Harrington.

  It was easier than acknowledging how he felt himself, just going over the evidence.

  The school photo in the file set the stage. A beautiful girl, slender, creamy skin, with silky black hair and gentle blue eyes. Sometimes blue eyes seemed cold, but Hope’s eyes were like a warm sky on a cloudless day. There was something in her shy smile, but even the hint of self-consciousness that crept in couldn’t conceal the fact that Hope had been a lovely girl.

  Underneath her simple beauty there was another story that came through. Perhaps it was the faded blouse, the lack of makeup or the absence of any jewelry other than a locket around her neck. Craig couldn’t put his finger on it, but he didn’t believe his assessment was tainted by his earlier meeting with Lisa Harrington.

  They were poor. And there was something within Hope, just the tiniest touch of sadness in the lines around her eyes, that said she knew she wasn’t destined for great things. It wasn’t that her smile was forced, but it was bridled. You could tell this was a girl who didn’t cling to delusions or childish optimism. Dreams were already fading as she accepted her place in society’s pecking order.

  Or was it that Craig was projecting himself into the equation? Something about Hope made him think of his half sister, and he swallowed hard. He pushed that thought aside.

  He set the picture down and looked back at the crime-scene photos.

  Craig had wanted to look at the photos before reading the details of Hope’s death. The photos alone wouldn’t tell him how many times she’d cried out for help or for how long she’d suffered before the fatal blow, but they were the only way he could see the crime scene for himself, through his own eyes, untainted by interpretations that would affect how the officers on the scene would record the details.