The Frailty of Flesh

by Sandra Ruttan

  “I’d still have words with the guy. I know, okay, but if he tracked Smythe down I wouldn’t blame him.”

  “You’ve seen the bruises, his wrist.”

  “And I’ve seen Craig. He doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight.”

  That was the niggling bit of logic that had been trying to break through the cloud of doubt weighing on her mind. Normally she wouldn’t jump to conclusions without some physical evidence to back it up. Then again, she hadn’t seen Craig for almost twenty-four hours, he was fit and he knew how to take care of himself. Just because he hadn’t come home and stuck his fist in a bucket of ice…

  “If you’re right about Zidani…” Ashlyn rubbed her forehead. What was it Craig had said to her when they’d argued? “Craig’s being set up. He said something about things going missing from his desk for months.”

  “Luke Geller’s been his partner since the summer.”

  “And Zidani’s had them on a short leash, keeping a close eye on them. What am I going to do?”

  “First, eat. You need to take care of yourself. Second, talk to Craig.”

  She picked up her fork and speared a potato. “He’s in Kelowna. He won’t be home until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

  “Meanwhile this is eating you up inside.”

  There was no way to deny that. She picked up her cell phone and keyed in a text message. “There. Better than nothing.”

  They finished eating in silence. After they’d paid they headed to the front entrance. “I’m going to grab a newspaper.”

  “I’ve had my fill of reporters for one day,” Ashlyn said as she paused at the door.

  Tain glanced at her with a puzzled look. “Have they been harassing you about this…?” He stopped as he looked down at the paper.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” he said, without picking up a copy. He started to walk toward her.

  “I thought you wanted a paper.” The look on his face betrayed him. She moved to walk around him.

  He reached for her arm to stop her. “Ash, don’t.”

  It was too late. She could see the headline.

  Tain watched Ashlyn digest the contents of the news article. For a moment she looked pale, as though she was about to faint. Then she squared her shoulders, folded the paper and walked to the car.

  “What’s next for you?”

  “Christopher’s school,” she said as Tain’s cell phone rang.

  He glanced at the caller ID. “Luke,” he told Ashlyn, then flipped it open and answered it.

  “They called.”

  “And?”

  “We got a trace.”

  He glanced at Ashlyn. “We’ll be right there. Wait for us.” He snapped the phone shut without saying good-bye. “They called.”

  “Finally.”

  It didn’t take long for them to reach the lawyer’s office. The scene had changed. Richard and Tracy Reimer were now in the main room. Tracy looked peaked, and Richard’s face burned with anger as he paced the floor behind the desk. Through the opening to the adjoining room Tain could see that Christopher remained on the floor in the corner, where he stared blankly into space.

  Luke met them near the door. “They called. The voice was disguised. They said they have Shannon and they want half a million dollars to let her go.”

  Ashlyn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  She frowned. “Get the recording and bring it to the lobby so we can listen to it.”

  Tain followed her out of the room. “I think he missed your point.”

  “And he wonders why I’m not leaving him in charge here.”

  The door clapped shut behind them, and Tain turned to see Luke already approaching Ashlyn. “Here’s the copy.” He passed her a CD player and set of headphones.

  Once she’d processed the recording she looked at Tain. He looked at Luke.

  “You said you had a trace?”

  Luke passed him a slip of paper. “I phoned you from the bathroom. Smythe is watching them like a hawk. He doesn’t want us to do anything to jeopardize this.”

  Tain looked at his watch. It was quarter to one. “Let me guess. He wants to do just what the kidnappers demand.”

  “They’re going to phone back at four P.M. to make sure they have the money, then give the instructions for the drop.”

  “And the money?”

  “Smythe says they already have that much here.” Luke looked at Ashlyn, who’d removed the headphones. “How do you want to play this?”

  “We’ll check out the address. You wait for the call.”

  “You’re leaving me without a babysitter?”

  Tain saw the way Ashlyn’s eyes blazed and he put his hand on her shoulder, gently. “Look, Luke, half a million dollars? These people own a boat that costs more than that. Whoever made this call is either an idiot or knows exactly how much money the Reimers can put together on short notice. Funny, Smythe never mentioned before he had a safe full of cash ready for this call.”

  Luke’s mouth twisted as his cheeks reddened. “Okay. So this looks like an inside job.”

  “Or a complete amateur who’s just been very, very lucky, and I’m not buying that,” Ashlyn said. She glanced at the receptionist and lowered her voice. “These people are still suspects. Wait for the call but meanwhile, you watch them. If any of them try to leave, insist on a police escort.”

  “Ash—” Tain said. She raised her hand to stop him and looked at Luke.

  “Just tell them there’s been a threat made against the family.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I just told you that if any of them leaves here unsupervised, I’ll personally make them regret it.” She glanced at Tain. “Okay, seriously, we still don’t know if this wasn’t someone Reimer pissed off with his business dealings. I already have the New West PD checking that out, but right now the kidnappers seem to be our best lead for finding Shannon, and I’m not taking any chances. If she’s alive and someone has her, we’re not going to let them screw that up. Understood?”

  Luke nodded. Ashlyn handed him the CD player and he went back to the office. Tain followed his partner to the elevator.

  Once they were in the car she pulled out her cell phone, then held it on her lap while she stared out the window.

  “Craig?” Tain asked.

  “Hmmm? No. No reply. Do you think we should call?”

  “This is recon, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then no.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

  He nodded. “New Westminster. Interesting.”

  It didn’t take them long to track down the address where the kidnapper’s phone call had originated. The sagging two-story house was faded and worn. The interior was completely obscured from view by bland drapes that were so heavy it was impossible to tell if there was even a light on inside. Tain pulled over a block down, so that their interest in the house wouldn’t be obvious.

  Ashlyn flipped her phone open and dialed. “Sims, it’s Constable Hart. I want you to check on something for me.” She relayed the address. “See if it has any connection to Richard Reimer or anyone he’s been doing business with. Call me on my cell if you find anything.”

  After she thanked him and hung up she turned to face Tain. “If we talk to neighbors we risk tipping them off.”

  “And we can’t sit here,” he said as he put the car into drive. “What do we do now?”

  He watched her fish a card out of her pocket. “Call the police,” she said.

  They met in a parking lot at Royal Square Mall on Eighth Avenue. Ashlyn introduced them and gave the address to Liam. “What can you tell us?”

  “No tie to Reimer, or any of the people he’s pissed off. Not as far as I know.” Liam leaned back against his car. “What’s the connection?”

  “Shannon’s alleged kidnappers placed a call,” Ashlyn said.

  “From this
address?” Liam laughed. “Dealing with real pros here?”

  Tain met Ashlyn’s gaze, and he watched her hesitate, then give the tiniest shrug of her shoulders.

  “They demanded half a million,” Tain said.

  Liam’s eyes widened. He looked at Ashlyn, then Tain, and then his brow furrowed. “Junkies, maybe? Any chance Shannon used?”

  “The family isn’t cooperating, so we’re limited by what friends have told us,” Ashlyn said.

  “And they aren’t going to voluntarily fess up and admit their good friend did drugs.” Liam scratched his head. “What’s your plan?”

  “We’ll need to watch the house.” Ashlyn looked at her watch. “In a few hours they’re due to phone again. If there is any kind of sophisticated phone relay that call might tip us off. My gut says amateurs. No way pros would ask for five hundred thousand dollars. This doesn’t even hurt the family. Anyone who kidnapped Shannon to extort money would have picked her because the Reimers have money and they would have asked for three or four times as much, at least.”

  “More like ten times that amount,” Tain said.

  “Agreed. You want to babysit with me? I can have patrol on standby to follow anyone who leaves the house. What do you say?”

  Tain saw the flicker of doubt in Ashlyn’s eyes. “Go. I’ll handle the monitoring,” he said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Just update Zidani.”

  She grinned. “I could delegate that responsibility, you know.”

  “Me dealing with Smythe and Luke isn’t enough?”

  The smile slipped from her face. “Yeah, yeah, all right, I’ll call.”

  Ashlyn gathered what she needed from the car, then called Zidani. She watched while Liam gave Tain a card, and they attempted to make small talk. When she was finished on the phone she got out and walked over to Liam’s vehicle.

  “What did he say?” Tain asked.

  “Words of profound insight and inspiration, sure to warm even your heart. ‘Proceed as planned.’ ”

  Tain watched Ashlyn and Liam get in the car and looked at the card in his hand. The urge to stop them and insist Ashlyn trade places with him was overwhelming, but he held back and watched them drive away, unsure of whether his gut was telling him something about Liam Kincaid, or if he just wanted to avoid the Reimers and what they reminded him of.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was a basic motel room—beige carpet, a nondescript bedspread, generic wildlife painting on the wall. A simple dresser had a large TV on top, a small table and two chairs were positioned close to a short counter with a kettle, mugs and everything needed to make tea or coffee. Thick curtains obscured the midday light, making the room seem unnaturally dark for noon.

  Craig flicked on a light, pulled off his boots and mitts, set his bag down by the closet and then picked up the box with the case files. The daily newspaper was lying on top. He set the box down on the bed and picked up the Sun.

  The lawsuit was official, and it had made it into the public domain with a splash, along with the news of Donny’s release from prison. Not only had Donny Lockridge sued the department and everyone involved in his conviction, but Lisa Harrington had also filed a suit against the department “for misconduct.” She alleged that the police had focused on Donny while refusing to consider other evidence that suggested someone had broken in to the Harrington home and abducted Hope, which explained the missing blanket and the fact that the killer had used a weapon taken from the victim’s house.

  It also explained the DNA found on Hope, DNA that was not a match for Donny Lockridge. What remained unexplained in her scenario was how the murder weapon had been returned to the house, which Lisa’s lawyer dismissed as “a minor detail.”

  “What better place to hide it? It cast suspicion on others and effectively allowed the guilty party to go free.”

  None of that, however, was the big news. What had landed in the headlines were Lisa’s allegations that one of the RCMP officers working the case coerced her, made her believe Donny was a danger to her and her other daughter, and pressured her into a sexual relationship and a pledge to lie on the stand about Donny hitting Hope in order to guarantee they’d find sufficient evidence to ensure Donny was convicted. She’d been scared and manipulated by the people she trusted to protect her. Now she wasn’t sure Donny was guilty.

  And approximately nine months after Hope’s murder Lisa had given birth to a little bundle of alleged proof.

  Emma had warned him. While the article didn’t name Steve Daly as the accused, he had been in charge of the investigation.

  Craig’s cell phone beeped and he pulled it out. A text message from Ashlyn. He scratched his head for a moment, looked at the phone but didn’t open it or read the messages before he put it away.

  He felt like he was a piece in a Jenga game. The lawsuit, investigation, Dad, Smythe, Emma, Zidani, the break-ins, Ashlyn…It wasn’t like someone piling on. Each thing felt like another piece of his foundation being pulled out from under him, just one more thing and his world might come crashing down. Whatever Ashlyn had to say, he couldn’t face it. Not now.

  What if…?

  He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his elbows into his knees as he clawed his head with his fingers. No. He refused to think about it. Just focus on the case. Do your job. As though it could be that easy.

  Brandy hadn’t been home when he’d gone to the house, before he’d checked into the motel. The family business had been easy enough to track down, but he hadn’t gone in to speak to them. With any luck he could talk to Brandy first.

  Craig stopped at Subway before returning to the Lockridge home. It was an older house, but large and on a fairly big lot. He dreaded the thought of spending hours in a vehicle with nothing but his thoughts for company, and he looked at the book on the front passenger seat. During the night Ashlyn had obviously gotten up and brought it downstairs, because he’d forgotten to pack it. The 50/50 Killer. The premise made his stomach twist now, as he thought about the look on Ashlyn’s face when he’d said good-bye and walked out, and the fact that she had still taken his book downstairs so that he would have it.

  Close his eyes and he could see her as she was when they first met. Hair a bit shorter, impulsive, stubborn. From day one she’d made it clear she wouldn’t take crap from anyone. He smiled. Some things hadn’t changed.

  If it wasn’t for this case, if this hadn’t happened now. A matter of days. What if he hadn’t decided to wait for Christmas?

  He opened the book. Music hadn’t been enough to distract him from replaying the arguments over in his mind on the drive to Kelowna, and he needed something to block it out.

  After a few hours a dark green Saturn Vue pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t need to look twice to know it was Brandy. In ten years she hadn’t aged much in terms of her appearance. Stylish leather coat, dress pants, hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail, showing off the diamond earrings. What had changed about Brandy’s appearance since the photo Wendy had showed him was the price tag of her wardrobe.

  “Mrs. Lockridge?” he said as he approached the vehicle. She had the back door open and was removing a child from a car seat.

  Brandy’s head snapped around to look at him. When she saw the ID she exhaled. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry. Constable Craig Nolan. Coquitlam RCMP.”

  “Coquitlam?”

  “I’m reviewing Hope Harrington’s murder.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she turned to lift the child out of the backseat. “Hope was murdered in Aldergrove. Doesn’t Langley RCMP handle policing there?” She pushed the door shut, propped her son up with one arm and took her purse off the driver’s seat. Then she slammed that door shut and started walking toward the house.

  “They do.”

  “So what is this about? You guys trying to make it look like an impartial investigation?”

  Craig allowed himself the smile, since she had her back to him. Hardly.

  “I met with Lis
a Harrington last week, and I understand your brother-in-law is out on parole.”

  Brandy stopped, then turned around. “And what does this have to do with me?”

  “You were friends with Hope. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “I answered questions back then, when it happened.”

  “Sometimes, we see things differently later. Maybe back then you thought the cops must have got it right, since a jury convicted him. And maybe now you think they got it wrong.”

  “What difference does it make what I think? My brother-in-law still went to jail. He lost ten years he’ll never get back.”

  “And what about the years Hope lost?”

  Brandy shifted her son to her other hip. “Look, I’m sorry about that, all right? But it wasn’t my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “So that’s it? Even if a murderer is back on the streets?”

  She rolled her eyes the way younger girls do to express irritation with a stupid adult. The curl to her lips, the way her hip jutted out just a bit, it suggested to Craig a petulant child. Brandy set her son down and unlocked the door. “Come inside, Donny Let’s get your boots off.”

  Donny.

  Craig was surprised Brandy didn’t shut the door on him. Once she had her son out of his boots and coat she turned and said, “Look, come in, ask your questions, then go. I don’t want you here when Darren gets home. He wouldn’t be too happy if he knew about this. Donny getting out…They spent last weekend celebrating.”

  Did that mean Darren had been in the Langley area over the weekend? He used to live there, he’d know where Lisa lived…Craig complied with Brandy’s instructions, giving her space as she set her son on the couch with a blanket, a bottle, a plate of animal crackers, then turned on the TV. It was a sunken living room, three steps down from the main level, which gave it the appearance of a vaulted ceiling. The large windows on both sides of the room and white paint, offset with wooden trim and hardwood floors, made it look bright and spacious.

  The kitchen, which was the first room on the main floor after the entry, was big but the dark wood cabinets were matched by dark green counters. On the far side, Craig could see an alcove opening to a dining room.