The Frailty of Flesh

by Sandra Ruttan

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to go home.” The girl’s mouth twisted as she looked away. “If you want to help me”—she brushed a stray tear away—“you won’t make me go home.”

  Ashlyn looked at Tain. Then she stood.

  “We’ll see what we can do. Your mother will want to see you.”

  Shannon’s jaw dropped. “I don’t want to see her. Please! I don’t want to see any of them! You can’t make me talk to my parents!” She was out of her seat, yelling, her face almost purple.

  “Whoa. Calm down. Okay, we won’t make you see them.” Ashlyn touched Shannon’s shoulder lightly and the girl shrugged her off, but sat down. “Is there anything we can get for you? A drink, breakfast?”

  Her elbows propped up on the table, Shannon’s face fell against her hands. Her head moved back and forth.

  “If you change your mind the officer will get you something, okay?”

  As soon as they were in the hall, Tain nodded. “She’s terrified of going home.”

  “And you heard what she said. ‘Don’t make me see my parents.’ She doesn’t know her father’s dead.”

  “We still need to do a GSR test, to be on the safe side.”

  “We’ve tested Matt, and I gave instructions for them to test Nurani, then Shannon,” Ashlyn said. “Jody Hoath and Dan Patel will be tested as well, although I don’t see how they could have gotten out of the house. Sims is questioning them, and they’re also taking all their fingerprints and DNA.”

  “Maybe that will help us sort this out once and for all.”

  “You are turning into an optimist. The way this case has been going, I wouldn’t be surprised if elves from the North Pole were responsible for the murders.”

  He grinned. “That would be quite a headline.”

  “Seriously, though, what are we going to do? Social services still hasn’t called me back from the weekend.”

  All traces of amusement vanished from Tain’s face, and his lip curled with obvious distaste. “Unless we have charges pending against Tracy Reimer, I don’t see how we can keep her from taking her daughter home. We could charge Shannon, but once we put her in the system we can’t undo that.”

  Zidani stepped out into the hall.

  “Do you think she’ll change her mind once she learns her father is dead?” Ashlyn asked.

  “We still don’t know she’s not involved in her father’s murder. She might think because we found her that we prevented it, if she didn’t pull the trigger herself.” Zidani passed Ashlyn a stack of message slips. “No sightings of Christopher. Early estimate for time of death is approximately one A.M., give or take an hour.”

  “Which makes it look like the ransom really was a decoy for the murder.” Ashlyn groaned. “You know, if we play that theory in court we can charge them as accomplices to murder, but where does that leave the extortion charge?”

  “Sims uncovered an account in Shannon’s name in the Cayman Islands that has more than two million in it,” Tain said. “It’s pretty easy to argue she didn’t need the cash, but unless Nurani or the maid testify that she knew about the setup to murder her father, I don’t see how that charge could stick based on what we’ve got.”

  “If we don’t have a case against her on the murder, it will be almost impossible to get them to implicate her on the extortion charge. And if they argue it was an attempt to rescue Christopher from his abuser, these guys could all get a slap on the wrist.” Ashlyn thought about the crime-scene photos from Craig’s case, the extent of the beating, the way that girl must have suffered. And the boy had been about sixteen. Ten years later and he was out of prison with a civil suit for millions of dollars, and he just might win. Twenty-six years old and he could be set for life. No wonder Craig couldn’t let it go.

  “Ash?”

  “Hmm?” She realized Tain was waiting for her to continue. “Well, it wasn’t like Shannon was a wanted criminal. She was a suspect, but Mrs. Patel and the housekeeper could both argue they never saw the news. I mean, unless someone recovers a current newspaper in the house, how can we prove they actually knew we were looking for Shannon? We never spoke to the family, just Nurani.”

  “We have a dead child, a dead father, a teenager who’s been stabbed and yes, who did have enough time to get to the house, commit the murder and return to the Patel residence before you found her there. If she pulled the trigger we can look at post-traumatic stress arguments and mitigating circumstances and the courts might call it a justifiable homicide. We still don’t know where Christopher Reimer is,” Zidani said. He nodded at the door to the interrogation room as a team entered. “They’ll do the GSR test, which won’t help us if she wore gloves.”

  “Goddamn Parker falling asleep on the job,” Ashlyn muttered.

  Zidani pointed a finger at her. “Rule Shannon in or out, based on the evidence. You know what that means.” He turned and walked away.

  “We could have sent someone else to do this,” Tain said after the fifth house.

  It had started to rain. With the temperature hovering just above zero, it was a cold rain, driven by a wind with an icy bite.

  “I just don’t want any more screwups,” Ashlyn said as they approached the next house.

  They’d started their canvas with the Patels’ neighbors. So far, nobody had seen or heard anything unusual. Mr. Patel had insisted no vehicles had left his property that he knew of, and he’d been home all evening.

  “Although it is clear that I do not know everything that happens in my own home,” he’d said as he’d shut the door on them. They couldn’t disagree.

  “We could send Luke out,” Tain suggested.

  A devilish gleam flickered in Ashlyn’s eyes, and her face broke into a smile. “Don’t tempt me.”

  They knocked on the door, and when an older woman answered they repeated the process. No, she hadn’t seen anyone come or go from the Patel house all evening, until the police arrived. No, she hadn’t seen anything unusual at all the last few days.

  Tain held up a photo. “Do you recognize this girl?”

  The woman nodded. “She’s been in the news, and I thought I’d seen her at the Patel home.”

  “Recently?” Ashlyn asked.

  “No, not for a few weeks.”

  They returned to the car and repeated the process on the street near the Reimer house. Crime-scene tape had it marked off, and an RCMP car was positioned out front. After they confirmed that there hadn’t been any other activity at the house, they started going door to door.

  The results were the same as before: nobody had seen anything unusual, until the police had arrived. Not even Eleanor Pratt.

  “It’s going to make it a lot harder to prove Shannon did this, unless the GSR test is positive,” Ashlyn said as they drove back to the station.

  Tain glanced at her. “I thought this is the result you wanted.”

  “What I want is the truth. I know, I know. How cliché. This is all very good for my ego and confirming my gut’s right about Shannon, but we didn’t just cast doubt on her involvement. We have nothing to prove anyone entered that house last night.”

  “Who else would know about other ways to get on the property without coming on the road? If it wasn’t Shannon it has to be one of her friends.”

  Ashlyn’s cell phone rang. “Constable Hart.” She listened for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Sims” and hung up.

  “Jody and Dan have an alibi,” she said with wry amusement as she looked at him, a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Their supplier called and told them about the police surveillance, and that was just after midnight.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sure Liam’s thrilled to know we prevented a drug deal.”

  “And if we can’t prove Shannon left the Patel house, we can’t prove Nurani did either.”

  “Can we get the optimistic version of you back?” Said with a half smile, which soon slipped from her face. Ashlyn’s expression grew serious, her look distant but not
vacant. “What time did Smythe and Mrs. Reimer check in last night?”

  “Around twelve thirty. I spoke to Smythe by phone a few times…” He glanced at her. “Tracy Reimer?”

  “It doesn’t explain Christopher.”

  “Unless she’s the one who’s stashed him somewhere.”

  “We still can’t prove someone entered the house.”

  “We’ll send Luke to explore all other ways onto the property. Unless you want to do it.”

  She was still staring at the dashboard. Tain had worked with her long enough to know that she was half listening to him, half working out scenarios in her head. “No, we’ll send Sims.” She looked up then, her eyes clear. “I want to talk to Tracy Reimer.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I understand this is a very difficult time for you.” Ashlyn set a file folder on the table and sat down across from Byron Smythe and Tracy Reimer. “I’m sorry we have to do this now.”

  Tain almost smiled. Her voice was soft and sympathetic; the sentiments sounded genuine. Even he almost believed her.

  The woman across the table could only be described as a mess. Unlike the day they’d first met Tracy Reimer, when they’d told her that her son had been murdered, she had clearly been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotched with dried tears and her brown hair stuck out in all directions. The tissue in her hands was being shredded meticulously, a pile of white bits growing on the table in front of her, despite the fact that her hands were shaking.

  Tain realized then that he’d been around this woman in a lot of stressful moments, but somehow she’d always seemed off, until now. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but her emotions hadn’t seemed to match, as though what was really upsetting her wasn’t the death of her youngest child or her missing daughter. Normally, parents would be calling, anxious for updates about the investigation. Maybe his assessment had more to do with the fact that the Reimers had hidden behind their lawyer, who seemed more interested in protecting the parents than anything else.

  He sat beside Ashlyn as she slid a photo from the file folder in front of her. “Do you recognize this gun?”

  Tracy gasped and dropped the tissue as her hands flew over her mouth. The wide-eyed look of shock betrayed the truth, although they still needed to hear it.

  “Mrs. Reimer?” Ashlyn prodded gently, her voice quiet.

  Smythe’s eyes had narrowed, a dark shadow settling into his face. He looked at the photo of the gun instead of his client. “Answer the question.”

  Tracy nodded, but didn’t unclamp her hands from her mouth.

  After Ashlyn fished another document out of the folder she said, “Your husband had permits to own two handguns.” She slid the paper across the table toward Tracy Reimer. “One of the weapons he had registered is this gun”—Ashlyn tapped the photo—“which we recovered at the crime scene.”

  “She already told you she recognized the gun,” Smythe said.

  Ashlyn kept her gaze focused on Tracy Reimer. “I need you to tell me where the guns were kept and who had access to them.”

  Tracy’s hands dropped from her face as she turned to look at her lawyer. He exhaled and nodded.

  “My…” Her face scrunched up like a pug’s, in what Tain suspected was an attempt to keep from crying. “We…” She took a deep breath. “They were in the safe. In…in the den.”

  Her hands had gone back to the tissue, shredding it at a frenzied pace.

  “And who had access to the safe?”

  The tears started then. “My husband. Me. I suppose Shannon knew where the key was, possibly Christopher.” Her voice cracked as she said his name.

  Tain saw Ashlyn’s glance before she turned back to their suspect. “Anyone else?”

  Mrs. Reimer’s forehead wrinkled, as though she didn’t quite understand the question. “Our lawyer, maybe a few of”—she swallowed—“Richard’s friends knew where he might have the key.”

  Ashlyn nodded and put the permits and photo back in the folder. “Thank you. That’s very helpful. Now, I know it’s been a long night, and I know you’re anxious to leave. But it would be very helpful to us if you could walk us through what happened last night.”

  “Why? You were there. I left the money, like you said to do, and then we came here.”

  “I meant before you went to the park. Go back a few hours earlier. Were you at the house with Richard and Christopher?”

  Tracy’s mouth opened as though she was about to answer, but Smythe put his hand over hers. “Don’t answer that.” He looked at Ashlyn. “Where’s this going?”

  “I need to get a working time line for last night. Were Richard and Christopher with you? Were you all at the family house? If not, when did they leave? As far as I know, next to the killer, you two are the last people who saw Richard alive.” When they remained silent she continued, “You’ve done enough to hinder the investigation into Jeffrey’s murder. Don’t tell me you’re going to screw us over on this one as well.”

  Smythe clenched his teeth, but didn’t protest and removed his hand from his client’s.

  “We were at Byron’s house,” Tracy said, “until about eleven P.M. Richard and Christopher drove to the house together.”

  “Why did they go to the house?”

  “To get some things. Clothes.”

  “They weren’t planning to stay there?”

  Tracy looked at her lawyer again, then shook her head.

  “Mrs. Reimer, why would they go there so late at night? Especially when the ransom exchange was going to happen so soon?”

  Tracy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She glanced at her lawyer, who again nodded. “Richard didn’t want to see any of the neighbors.”

  “Okay. What vehicle was your husband driving?”

  “His Land Rover.”

  Ashlyn flipped the folder open again and leafed through the papers and photos. She passed one to Mrs. Reimer. “This vehicle?”

  Tracy took the paper and then passed it right back. “Yes. Why?”

  “What did you do after they left?”

  As Tracy exhaled she slumped down in her chair. “Nothing,” she murmured in a voice so low Tain could hardly hear her.

  “You waited for almost an hour and a half, and just did nothing?”

  “Is my client under suspicion?” Smythe demanded.

  “I’ve already explained—”

  “Save it,” Smythe snapped. “Whether my client sat and stared at the wall, ate, drank, slept or paced, it has nothing to do with the murder of her husband and disappearance of her son, and you damn well know it. This interview ends now. Shouldn’t you be out trying to find Shannon and Christopher?”

  “Actually, we have found Shannon. She’s here.”

  Tracy Reimer’s head snapped up, but she didn’t smile or say anything. She looked dazed, as though someone had just slapped her across the face.

  It took Smythe a moment to recover. “Well, that’s wonderful. Her mother wants to see her immediately.”

  “We’ll be back shortly,” Ashlyn said as she stood, the folder in her hand.

  “No stalling. We want to see her right away. As her lawyer—”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Smythe, shut up.” Ashlyn turned, opened the door and walked away.

  Once Tain had closed the door to the interview room and caught up to her, he asked, “What now?”

  “I need a drink.”

  “Isn’t it a bit early?”

  “You’re a laugh a minute, Tain,” she said as he followed her into the staff room.

  She stopped by the door, at the vending machine, vaguely aware of Tain moving farther into the room. “The news is on. I wonder if they’ve picked up on the murder yet.”

  “I’m sure they have,” she said as she moved beside him, just as the story changed.

  “In Kelowna, RCMP officers called to the scene of a vicious assault this morning were shocked to discover a colleague had been attacked in his motel room.” The anchor’s
image was replaced by live footage of the motel, crime-scene tape fluttering in the breeze as snow fell and an officer entered the room behind the tape. “Constable Craig Nolan of the Coquitlam RCMP detachment was found unconscious when a guest in a neighboring room noticed the door was open.” The image switched to a young man with short brown hair, telling his story about going to the reception area to ask for directions when he noticed the door was open and snow was blowing in.

  “I just thought maybe I should close the door, you know, like someone had accidentally left it open but then I saw him lying on the floor and saw the blood, and I didn’t want to touch anything so I called 911 on my cell…”

  The man’s voice faded as the anchor reported that Nolan had been taken to the hospital, and a photo of Craig appeared on the screen. “The RCMP has issued a statement, confirming that Nolan was struck on the head. No arrests have been made. RCMP also confirmed that Nolan was in Kelowna on police business but declined to offer more details at this time.”

  Ashlyn staggered back toward the door. She’d been pushing down her anger with Craig, her frustration that he hadn’t called. Although she knew she hadn’t had time to actually talk to him that hadn’t been the point.

  There were footsteps approaching from the hallway, and she was vaguely aware of Tain’s hand on her arm, murmured reassurances that everything would be okay and Zidani’s voice— distant and muffled, as though her head were underwater and the liquid was distorting the words—telling them to come to his office.

  She’d had that moment, when she’d thought something had happened to him, and brushed it off. He’d texted his terse reply to her after that. The assault must have happened later. What had he even gone to Kelowna for? They’d been too busy arguing for her to pay much attention.

  “Ashlyn.”

  Tain nudged her arm. He had an expectant look on his face, as though he was waiting for her to say something. A glance at Zidani showed he, too, looked like he was anticipating a response from her. Tain spoke before she could apologize.