“How can you let them do this to me?” she screamed. “I thought you wanted to help me! No, I don’t want to go.”
Tain looked at Zidani, who raised his hand. “Don’t either of you start. Just find Christopher.”
When Williams returned he was armed with a newspaper, a copy of A Wicked Snow and Big City, Bad Blood. “Wasn’t sure what you liked to read, but you didn’t strike me as the romantic type.”
Craig had already skimmed the book descriptions. “They both look good, thanks.”
Williams pulled up a chair. That easygoing smile that had irritated Craig so much at first was gone. “You know we went through your things, just—”
“Sure.” Craig cut him off. “I know the routine.”
The look on Williams’s face seemed caught somewhere between indecision and regret. “I saw the photo in your wallet.”
It took a minute for that to register with Craig as he tried to remember what photos he actually had in his wallet, and why they’d matter to Williams. “Look, Steve Daly is my dad. I—”
“This isn’t about him. The woman. You’re involved with her?”
“Ash? Yes. Why?”
“We tried your home number and couldn’t reach anyone. I caught a bit of the news and I recognized her. She’s working on a big case.”
Craig’s forehead pinched as he wondered what that had to do with anything, other than the fact that she wasn’t home. “Looks like a domestic. One child murdered, another missing.”
Williams nodded. “They found the girl, but the father was murdered last night and the other kid’s gone missing.” He stood. “Just thought you’d want to know. You can’t make outgoing calls with the phone here anyway. They’re in the middle of upgrading their system, so no incoming calls either for at least a few hours, and you can’t have your cell phone. If you want I can keep trying her, give her a message.”
“Did you reach my boss?”
“Zidani? Yes, we gave him an update already.”
“He’ll tell Ashlyn.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call her, give her a message?”
Craig hesitated. He’d planned to talk to her last night once he was back at the motel, but what was the point in asking someone Ashlyn didn’t even know to call her and tell her what she already knew? He shook his head.
“Okay. Look, if you need me you’ll have to get one of the officers in the hall to get in touch. Is there anything else I can get you before I go?”
“Signed release forms.”
Williams smiled. “I actually did talk to the doctor. He said if everything looks okay he might let you out this afternoon.”
“Where are you going?”
The smile faded. “To talk to Brandy.”
Craig was sure the expression on his own face matched the sober look on Williams’s. “Maybe there is something you can get for me. A full background check on Lisa Harrington, information about her conviction for assault.” He paused. “Birth records for all her kids.”
“Just covering your bases?”
“Something like that.”
Williams nodded and left the room.
“Don’t beat yourself up.” Tain parked the car and looked at Ashlyn.
She stared straight ahead, looking at the school. “This is where he should be. Safe, happy, with friends. His whole life in front of him. Instead, he’s…Well, we’re assuming he’s on the run, aren’t we? For all we know…”
“Don’t, Ash. That kind of thinking isn’t going to help anyone.”
She blew out a breath. “I know, I know. I just feel like we wasted so much time. First it was the weekend. Then the ransom demand. We should have been here two days ago.”
He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “We’re here now.”
Ashlyn offered him a rueful smile. “Let’s just hope it isn’t already too late,” she said as she unclipped her seat belt.
They introduced themselves in the office, and the principal came out to speak with them. She was younger than Tain expected, midforties, dark-skinned, large brown eyes and long hair, with a warm smile and an aura of optimism that he wasn’t accustomed to seeing in long-term educators either. “I’m sorry, but the family lawyer has given us explicit instructions not to speak with anyone regarding his clients.”
“Mrs. Colton, Christopher is missing. Last night his father was murdered. Right now, we have three possible scenarios to consider. One, Christopher is already dead. The only thing we can do then is catch the killer, but until we know he’s dead we have to act as though he’s still alive. That means he ran, possibly after witnessing his father’s murder, and is afraid for his own life. Or the person who killed his father has him.” Tain let the words sink in. “To be blunt, I don’t care about confidentiality or what the family lawyer has threatened you with right now. We’ve already stood over the dead body of one child from this family. Isn’t that enough?”
The principal looked away for a moment as she folded her arms, then sighed. “We knew there were issues. Christopher’s behavior was aggressive and increasingly disruptive.”
“Did you contact social services, talk to the parents?” Ashlyn asked.
“We tried. There was no external evidence of abuse that couldn’t be explained away. We sensed he was a troubled boy, but all we had were theories. Mr. and Mrs. Reimer would come in together for parent-teacher consultations. They seemed very involved, and we never had a reason to think they’d harm their son.” She paused. “To be honest with you, the only altercation we witnessed was started by Christopher. He struck his father.”
Ashlyn frowned. “How did Richard respond?”
“He tried to defend himself. All he did was try to make Christopher stop hitting him. It was completely unprovoked. Mr. Reimer had arrived to pick Christopher up from a field hockey game. He was early.” Mrs. Colton took another deep breath. “Christopher struck his father over the head with the hockey stick, and his father suffered a concussion.”
Tain looked at Ashlyn. He was thinking back to what had happened when they’d taken Christopher home. “Mrs. Colton, do you have any idea where Christopher might go if he was on the run?”
She looked from Ashlyn to Tain and shook her head. “I wish I did.”
“If you think of anything.” He passed her his card.
Once they were back in the car he said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“We never did track down that witness. Maybe we should find out what they saw in the park,” Ashlyn said.
When they reached the house, the man was just locking the front door. He turned and started down the front walk as they got out of the car, and when he saw them his face fell. He had a short beard, brown hair cut short enough to emphasize the fact that it was in hasty retreat from his forehead, which seemed enormous. Coffee mug in one hand, he twisted his other arm obviously and looked at his watch. “Whatever this is, can’t it wait? I have an appointment in Richmond—”
Ashlyn held out her ID. “Mr. Townsend, we’ve been waiting for days to speak to you.”
He rolled his eyes in a manner that suggested total exasperation. “Is this about that boy in the park?”
“What else would it be about, Mr. Townsend?”
It took him less than a minute to sidestep them, set his mug on top of the red Honda Civic in the driveway, and fish his keys out of his pocket. Just as he started to open the door Tain walked over and pushed it shut. He glared at the man and practically growled the words. “You saw something in the park last week.”
Mr. Townsend looked at Ashlyn, presumably for sympathy. She moved beside Tain, hand on her hip. The man sighed, ran a gloved hand over his head and said, “Okay, sure. I was there Friday morning.”
“What? You told the officers you saw something the day before.” Ashlyn’s face was flushed red.
“I did. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell them everything. Look, I had reservations for the weekend. In Whistler. They came just as I was about to lea
ve. You have to understand.”
“What I understand, Mr. Townsend, is that you hindered a police investigation so that you could go skiing.” Tain leaned toward him. “Or maybe you had some little hussy waiting for you? Another person is dead, and you might have been able to prevent that murder. You better start talking now, and tell us everything.”
“You let him go around talking to people like this? This is borderline harassment,” he said to Ashlyn.
“You think he’s bad? I’m pregnant, hormonal and haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”
The man’s jaw dropped open, and he raised his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. But I saw the police put the boy into the cruiser, so I figured it didn’t matter, you had him.”
Tain frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The boy with the curly hair? I’ve seen them around the park before. That one, he’s trouble. I tied my dog outside the bathrooms on Thursday and came out to find that kid throwing stones at her. Don’t they say that’s a sign of a sociopath or something? Look, what I saw was the girl and the young boy running across the park. He caught up to them and knocked her down. The girl pulled a bat out of her bag and tried to keep the little boy behind her, but the older boy grabbed the bat and got it away from her. She tried to shield the little kid…” He shrugged. “And before you ask, I was down by the water. I was just about to shout out when the little boy went down, and that girl, the way she screamed, I knew he was already dead. She took off running, and the boy chased her into the bushes.”
“What about the parents?” Ashlyn asked.
“There was a couple, and they came out from the path, the one that goes around the inlet. He was pretty hysterical when he saw the boy. She dragged him away, and slapped him across the face, said something to him, and then they went back the way they came.”
Ashlyn passed him her notebook and pen. “I want every place where you can be reached. Cell phone, work number. I want your mother’s home phone number. I swear, we call, you come running, or you’ll be up on charges.”
“You’re not going to take me to the station for a formal statement now?” he asked as he wrote his contact information in her notebook.
Tain shook his head. “We have to make sure that boy doesn’t kill someone else.”
“You mean you let him go?”
“We didn’t know he killed his brother, no thanks to you!” Ashlyn snapped.
“Does this mean I can go to Richmond?” he asked as he reached for the mug on his car.
“Do whatever the hell you want,” Tain muttered as he jogged to the car.
Ashlyn’s phone rang just as they climbed in the car. “Constable—” She looked at Tain, and he could see the tension on her face. “We just talked to the witness.” She paused. “No, he went skiing instead of sticking around to admit he witnessed the murder. It was Christopher.” Another pause. “Isn’t Luke there? What? We’re on our way,” she said as she clipped her seat belt and then snapped the phone shut.
“Shots fired at Byron Smythe’s town house.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He thought it would be best if he went back to the Reimer house to see if he could find alternate ways on to the property, and you don’t even want to know who he left watching Smythe’s place.”
Tain swore. They weren’t far from Smythe’s fancy waterfront home, but by the time they reached his residence it was too late. Three cruisers were parked out front, lights flashing, and an officer was already rolling out the crime-scene tape.
They flashed their ID and went to the house, just as Parker led Smythe out. Smythe had a blanket wrapped around him, face as white as unspoiled snow, and his gaze was vacuous. Parker wasn’t offering much in terms of support, but mustered a slight curl of his lip when he saw Ashlyn and Tain.
The living room had been immaculate. White walls, white marble floors, the only furniture in the room was black or metal. The pools of blood growing around the bodies stood out in stark contrast.
Tracy Reimer lay facedown, her head turned on its side. Shannon was on her back, staring straight up at the ceiling, two red spots on her chest leaving no room for doubt about how she’d died.
Footsteps behind them were followed by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Tain turned and saw Parker’s partner. Bennett’s skin was an unhealthy greenish gray shade, and his eyes looked like they’d been weighed down at the corners.
“Call just came in,” he said. “Shots fired. At the Reimer house.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It felt like time was moving in slow motion. Some moments in life seem to fly by, while others crawl. She couldn’t run fast enough, that’s what Ashlyn kept thinking. Why did the car still seem so far away? And even once they were in it, why wasn’t Tain driving faster?
On some level, she knew he was driving fast, a fact reinforced when she had to put her arm out to brace herself against the dash as he slammed on the brakes to avoid a dog that ran out on the road. She could see everything clearly, but she could also see Shannon’s lifeless body.
It all made so much sense now. How could they have missed it? How could she have even seriously considered any of the wild theories they’d discussed?
She was hardly aware of the car stopping when they reached the Reimer house, of opening the door, of the shout. All that stood out was the two people at the other end of the driveway. Luke was kneeling. His left arm didn’t look right, but he still had his gun in his other hand, although it was lowered. She wondered how bad his wound was.
Christopher still had his gun as well. His arm was hanging at his side, his grip on the gun firm, but the weapon was pointed at the ground. He was laughing. “What are you gonna do? I’m eleven.”
Luke pulled his arm up. He was breathing hard, his hand shaky as he pointed the gun at Christopher.
The boy laughed harder. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Boom.
For a moment, Christopher stopped laughing. He stood on the steps, wide-eyed. He looked down at his chest, then touched the blood with his hand. He stared at it, then laughed again as he staggered back. The gun slipped from his hand as he sank to his knees. With one last raspy laugh he fell facedown.
Ashlyn pointed her gun at Luke. “He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t pointing the gun at you!”
A bitter smile filled Luke’s face as he held up the good hand and lowered the other one, carefully dropping his weapon with a groan. “You heard him,” he said hoarsely. “What were we gonna do? Just wait for the next time”—Luke coughed—“to scrape up more bodies.”
She removed Luke’s gun and looked over at Christopher.
Tain was checking for a pulse, but Ashlyn felt sure of the verdict before she saw the disappointment on his face.
He reached for his phone as she turned around. Luke was sitting on the pavement behind her, clutching his upper arm. She realized there was blood all over the body of his shirt.
Their gazes met. “Spare me the lecture,” he said. “I think I’ve paid the price.”
“You, Shannon and Tracy,” she said, sirens screaming in the distance.
“Wh-what are you talking about? I left cops there.”
“Christopher must have been waiting inside.”
The realization hit home on his face. “They…Shit.” He coughed, his good hand over his wound, the blood still seeping through. “Told you. Scrape up more bodies.”
She saw the flashing lights from the corner of her eye and leaned forward. “He wasn’t aiming at you when you fired.” For a moment, she stared into his eyes, searching for some sign of remorse. All she got was a half-hearted smile. “You aren’t judge, jury and executioner.”
Emergency personnel arrived and started asking questions. Tain bagged Luke’s gun.
They spent the next few hours giving statements, waiting as they watched Zidani handle the investigators, the reporters, his bosses and his stress.
“You know, this will ruin Luke,” Ashlyn said as they watched Zidan
i yell at a journalist who’d snuck behind the crime-scene tape.
Tain’s face was hard as stone as he watched them wheel the bagged body of Christopher Reimer away. “Good,” was all he said.
When the door to Craig’s room opened, he’d just assumed it was the nurse. The doctor had been in a short time earlier, doing another examination, and he didn’t expect him back. He only cast a fleeting glance toward the entrance and had to do a double take.
The smile was half sheepish, half apologetic. “I guess I owe you an apology.”
“Were you the one who hit me over the head?”
Emma’s face wrinkled with confusion. “No.”
“Then it’s not your fault, Emma.”
“Uh-oh. Now I know it’s serious. We’re on a first-name basis.” She set her coat and bag down on the chair and walked over to the bed. “I should have told you.”
“You didn’t owe me an explanation.”
“But you thought I was just a pushy reporter, willing to make your life hell for a headline.”
“Who says I don’t still think that?” When he saw the startled look in her eyes he let a smile flicker across his face. “Couldn’t resist. What are you doing here?”
“I saw the news this morning and got on the first flight I could.”
“Emma, we still don’t have anything that’s going to solve Jessie’s murder.”
She held up her hand. “I had to make peace with that a long time ago. I just couldn’t accept that Donny might win his case and get all that money.”
“And part of you still can’t accept that he got away with murder.”
Emma sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “I looked at the crime-scene photos. I’ve covered criminal investigations and I’ve seen bodies, but what he did to Hope…” She shook her head. “Once I knew about your personal connection to the investigation I knew you’d be motivated to be thorough, and I pushed and pushed. I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t responsible for me being assigned this case.”
She hesitated. “In a way, I was. Your sergeant is my mother’s cousin.”
That was how Zidani had known where he was going. He hadn’t told him, but he’d still known it was the interior. “You’re lucky.”
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