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The Frailty of Flesh

Page 19

by Sandra Ruttan


  “Which explains the auto thefts and robberies. Some guy jonesing for a fix who’s desperate is more likely to steal to get the money to support his habit.”

  “Reimer’s guys cracked down on the robberies.” Sims pulled out a second map. “Look at the numbers.”

  “A ten percent drop in auto thefts and fourteen percent in robberies?”

  “Now, if you look at this”—Sims pulled out another map— “you can see that the auto thefts and robberies increased in these areas and so did the number of drug-related calls.”

  “Reimer forced them off their patch. I bet whoever’s running drugs in that area wasn’t too happy with him. What it doesn’t explain is why he has Smythe as his lawyer.”

  “There’s a lot of money in real estate. Wouldn’t that be enough for Smythe?”

  Ashlyn smiled. “You really think the rest of Smythe’s clients are okay with him working for guys like Reimer?”

  “You’re right.” Sims picked up another file. “Some of the drug dealers Smythe has represented have a habit of breaking bones when they don’t get their way. And you remember that young guy who disappeared in New West a few years back, just after leaving a casino? Never found? He’s got a tie to one of those dealers. New West is on the river.”

  “They must have weighed him down good.”

  “A friend of mine is on the fire department there. They got called out for a guy who’d had both his legs broken while in the comfort of his own home. Nothing missing.”

  “Let me guess.”

  “He didn’t get a good look at his attackers.”

  “Right. Somehow failed to get a good look at them as they were breaking his legs.” She stood up with the files in hand. “Looks like I need to go have a chat with the New Westminster PD.”

  Ashlyn went to Zidani’s office, but it was empty. Craig’s desk was also unoccupied.

  Craig wouldn’t tell Luke anything about Vish Dhaval. There was no doubt in her mind about that, which meant that either Luke was lying about the threats, or he’d seen something at work. Luke hadn’t exactly been straight with her earlier, and he could know Vish’s name from the newspaper reports about Lori’s death.

  Despite the strain of being on restricted duties for months and living with uncertainty about what was going to happen to his dad, Ashlyn had thought Craig was handling things. The lack of discussion about Lori and what had happened had been taken as a sign that he was putting it behind him, but now…

  I don’t want to do this. But she knew she had to. If Vish had been threatening them, she needed to know.

  And she needed to know if Craig was keeping things from her.

  She sat down at his desk. For a moment, she felt as though her heart might burst through her chest. Not once, ever, had she snooped through his things at home or pried about something this serious that he hadn’t seemed ready to talk about. Her insides twisted just at the thought of crossing that line. Luke had planted a seed of doubt that had taken root so quickly she couldn’t ignore it, and a part of her hated him for that. She didn’t know him at all and he’d stuck his nose into something that was personal.

  No wonder Craig had never warmed up to the guy.

  Close her eyes and she could go back a week in time and see how happy she’d been. Had her own happiness been nothing but an illusion? Was it based on denial and wishful thinking more than reality? A week ago she never would have believed Craig would walk out on her and not come home all night.

  The image of Byron Smythe hobbling around his office, visible bruises, casts and crutches on display went through her mind.

  Craig had been enraged. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry.

  Ashlyn drew a deep breath. Then she opened the top desk drawer. Nothing unusual.

  Notebooks and folders filled the second drawer, all of which were clearly labeled and linked to a case.

  The bottom drawer revealed a sea of pink message slips and she felt her heart sink as she reached down and grabbed a handful. She read a few, then tossed them back in the drawer and pushed it shut.

  Her hands trembled as she set them on his desk. After a moment, she trusted her legs enough to stand up and slowly walked around to where Luke sat.

  She didn’t hesitate to open the drawers of Luke’s desk. The top one was locked. The second one was filled with legitimate work files and notebooks. The bottom drawer had a few pink slips in it, and she picked them up and read them.

  Then she ran her hands under the desk, looking for a key. Her search turned up nothing, and after checking everything on the desk she gave up. Ashlyn picked up the files Sims had given her and went to get her coat.

  Once Craig was sure that Ashlyn had left he went straight to Luke’s desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. After he read the messages he slammed it shut.

  It took less than two minutes to place the calls he needed to make, one to check up on who’d been visiting Donny Lockridge in prison, another to follow up with the lab on the samples he’d dropped off, letting them know he’d likely be out of town for the next day or two, and they should call his cell phone as soon as they had anything.

  Then he marched down the hall.

  Zidani was at his desk. Craig didn’t hesitate after he knocked, just walked right in and shut the door.

  “Why did you give me this case?”

  “I told you. We needed to make sure that there wouldn’t be any surprises at the parole hearing.” Zidani didn’t even blink. He barely looked up long enough to confirm it was Craig before he yawned.

  “Cut the crap. You’ve been griping about how I got a free ride, with my dad as sergeant here, since the day you arrived. Then you hand me a case to review when you know my dad was the primary investigating officer.”

  “All this time you tell me you’re capable of doing your job, being impartial. Well, do your damn job.”

  “And if I clear him you’ll be okay with that?”

  Zidani slammed his hand down on his desk. “Believe it or not, I want the truth here. You come back and say we’ve got a liability issue, the department will move to settle. Nobody wants a scandal right now.”

  “And if I come back and say Dad and Bicknell are clean the department will fight it?” Craig was starting to see what was going on. “You’re hanging them out to dry.”

  “They’re doing that to themselves. Neither of them will talk.”

  “How do you know? I haven’t given you an update.” Then it hit him. “You’ve got someone else covering the same ground.”

  “No. Not exactly. Look, like it or not, you’re in this. Best thing you can do is a thorough investigation and give us your report. Surely you’ve had enough time to review the case.”

  “There are gaps. I need to talk to a witness.”

  “You mean there are gaps in the initial investigation?”

  “I mean there are things missing from the files. When I took the boxes from this office there was a folder in there about Desiree Harrington. I get a call from my stepmother and when I come back, that file is gone. You only gave me two boxes, but I checked the records; a third box is missing. The break-in at my parents’ house? Someone took my dad’s files on the case. You know how it works. Legal will have advised him to keep his mouth shut, and without his notes and with incomplete records I’m screwed.”

  “So you’re what? Interviewing everyone again?”

  “Just following up on legitimate leads.”

  “Fine. Talk to your witness.”

  “I have to leave town. They don’t live here anymore.”

  “Who’s the witness?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Constable Nolan, I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

  “That’s too damn bad. You put me in this situation, Zidani. Now, I’ve reviewed the files. I’ve talked to people from Hope’s school, her friends, her mother, seen where she died and talked to one of the other officers on the case. I tracked down Ted Bicknell, but his son won’t let me a
nywhere near him. And when you assigned me this case, you didn’t exactly come clean with me. I have to find out when Lockridge’s lawyer leaves phone messages and a reporter starts following me around that there’s a civil case in the works, so don’t you point fingers. That file on Desiree disappeared from this police station, and Lisa Harrington believes the person who broke in to her house the other night was a cop. If you really want answers on this case, you let me go talk to this witness. Otherwise I’ll hand you what I have now.”

  “Which is?”

  “A bit of room for doubt, but a solid circumstantial case that was upheld in the appeals process. The courts put an official stamp on the investigation not once, but twice. Unless you know something else about this that you aren’t telling me, then the department should fight Lockridge’s lawsuit.”

  Zidani leaned back in his chair. Craig had no idea what he was thinking, but he really didn’t care. The more he thought about the case, the more he wondered what he was caught in the middle of. The department could have settled quietly right away if they’d been worried about their image, but the lawsuit was already in the papers. The damage was done.

  Settling now would be an admission of guilt. As Craig looked at Zidani, he wondered if that was the point. Bicknell was retired, already on a pension, and the department would cover the suit. If this was a witch hunt, it wasn’t about him. They couldn’t really hurt him now.

  He’d pinned Zidani between his own rock and hard place. Almost as though Zidani knew what he was thinking, he nodded.

  “You’ll leave in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be in the interior for one night, two at the most?”

  Craig nodded as he reached for the door handle.

  “Just remember something, Nolan. A lot of people are watching you.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They’ll know I’ve been thorough and honest.” He opened the door and then paused and looked at Zidani. “You want to know why I never minded working for my father? I never needed to hide anything from him. Even my mistakes.”

  Craig walked out of the office before Zidani had a chance to say anything else. He’d baited Zidani and done it without playing the one card he was still holding back.

  Smythe pointed a finger at Tain. “I’m telling you, this is a waste of time and an unnecessary strain on my clients.”

  “And if someone really did kidnap Shannon Reimer and we do nothing to pursue this, you’ll file another multimillion dollar suit against the RCMP for negligence.”

  After Ashlyn had left, Tain had sent someone to get him a sandwich and a newspaper. The pressure his partner had been under and the reason Craig wasn’t available to help on their case was starting to become clear, and he felt a pang of guilt for being so hard on her.

  “Look, I understand all the blue wall crap, how you cops look after your own, but my client is innocent. And that has nothing to do with this case.”

  “Just because the kidnappers haven’t phoned back yet doesn’t mean they won’t. Right now our top priority is finding Shannon Reimer. Preferably alive and well. If we have to babysit this phone until the New Year that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Suit yourself. At least that bitch left.”

  Tain grabbed Smythe’s arm as he turned away. “Don’t you ever speak about my partner that way.”

  The lawyer wrenched his arm free. “Or what? I’ll get another beating? You just keep her the hell away from me.”

  Smythe hobbled over to his desk, and Mrs. Reimer ran in from the other room, Mr. Reimer behind her.

  “How much longer do we have to put up with this?” said Richard Reimer, pointing a finger at Smythe.

  “Look, I don’t like it, but the cops have a job to do.”

  “I can’t take much more of this!” There wasn’t just a lone, quiet note of hysteria in Tracy Reimer’s voice: There was a full orchestra performing.

  Tain took one look at them and made a decision. He slipped into the other room and gently nudged the door shut. Christopher was still sitting on the floor in the corner, slumped against the wall.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  Christopher snorted, but didn’t look up.

  “Come on. You must be hungry.” Tain looked at his watch. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

  No response. Christopher’s tousled hair framed a pale face with a hard edge to it. He didn’t fidget, didn’t look around trying to make sense of what was going on. Suddenly, sitting in the corner made sense to Tain. Christopher was in control of his world, he could see everything coming at him. That gave him a sense of security and empowerment. Although the logic was flawed Tain could understand why the boy would embrace it.

  “We know Shannon didn’t kill Jeffrey.”

  Christopher’s head snapped up then. After staring at Tain for a minute his mouth formed a hard line.

  “Don’t you want to help us find her?” Tain asked.

  “If you know so much why haven’t you found her already?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  Christopher leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at Tain. “Haven’t you heard? She’s been kidnapped. What the fuck do I know about that?”

  The boy’s lip curled and he looked away.

  “You sure I can’t get you a burger, tacos, anything?” Too late. He heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps behind him, even as he said the words.

  “We’ll look after him. You leave him alone!”

  Richard Reimer had his hand on his wife’s back and was pushing her toward the couch. He glanced at his son, then looked at Tain. “Get out.”

  Tain glanced at Christopher. The boy never flinched or smiled. His expression was set in stone. As Tain walked through the doorway he took one look back and saw no indication that Christopher was even aware his parents had returned. He had disconnected himself from the world around him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  First they’d been held back by the family, unable to get straight answers or assistance that might help them find Shannon. Then police incompetence had been a contributing factor, prolonging a search that should have been over within hours instead of dragging on for days.

  Most avenues of investigation had been stalled by the weekend. What limited information they did have from the parents, including the name of Christopher’s school and the day care Jeffrey attended, had done them little good. They’d been set on the back burner, something to follow up on Monday.

  Now most of Monday was gone. Only a few hours remained of the day, and it was far too late to talk to school staff. The alleged kidnapping was either the breakthrough they needed or a threat that could derail the entire investigation.

  If Ashlyn believed it was a legitimate possibility…

  That was the root of the problem. She was beginning to wonder if Byron Smythe was smarter than she gave him credit for. He’d turned over an address book, so smudged and manhandled that they couldn’t get any useful prints off it. The only thing it contained that seemed helpful was the billing information for Shannon’s cell phone.

  And they’d begun monitoring her calls.

  Maybe Smythe had figured Ashlyn would do that herself. That providing one small piece of useful information would stall the investigation from the outset. And when it failed to keep them from questioning the neighbors they had to come up with another plan. Another way to stretch the police to their limits.

  What better way than to have an alleged call from someone claiming they’d kidnapped Shannon Reimer?

  And Richard Reimer had handed over a pay-and-talk cell number. No chance they’d accidentally monitor a call with a business associate or stumble across an address book in his phone. They couldn’t even trace the alleged call from the kidnappers.

  Part of her understood why Zidani wasn’t pushing the family hard. And part of her wondered if they’d painted themselves into a corner and if it was already too late
to come through this clean.

  “The guy over there bought this for you.”

  Ashlyn looked up at the guy who’d brought her the drink. “He should have saved his money.”

  The waiter—who she judged to be a few years younger, probably a Simon Fraser University student working his way through a degree—gave her a wry smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.”

  He turned to take the drink to the man, but Ashlyn’s would-be companion had gotten up and walked toward them. He took the drink from the waiter, who looked at Ashlyn. She lifted her hand just enough to signal him to hold back as the man sat down at the table and pushed the drink toward her.

  She pushed it back, and he moved his hand to stop her. When he struck the glass some of the alcohol spilled over on Ashlyn’s hand.

  “I’m just leaving.” She grabbed a napkin to mop up the booze, then pushed her drink aside. Before she had a chance to say anything else, he grabbed her arm.

  “Aw, c’mon darlin’. What’s the rush? We’re just getting to know each other.”

  “If you don’t let go of me, you’ll get more than you bargained for.”

  The waiter hadn’t left, and Ashlyn figured he was hovering between calling security and trying to play hero himself. She twisted her arm around to free it from the man’s grasp, grabbed his wrist and pulled it behind his back as she stood up and pushed him toward the table.

  “We never got to introduce ourselves.” She pulled out her ID and held it in front of him. “You can call me Constable Hart.”

  Ashlyn let go of him. He was your average guy, dark hair cut short, maybe an extra twenty pounds that wasn’t all muscle, and his face was flushed. She smiled at the waiter, put some money on the table and walked outside. It was a cold night with a clear sky, and Ashlyn pulled her jacket around herself. Her breath warmed her hands. After fiddling with the radio for a moment she pushed in a CD. Springsteen’s Tunnel of Love.

  How could so much change in such a short time? All she wanted to do was go home, soak in a hot bath and go to bed, but that wasn’t an option. Too many things were left unsettled between her and Craig, and she knew maintaining the stalemate would only make it harder to work them through.

 

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