by Garry Ryan
Anger flashed in Lane. “The poor bastard was only a kid!”
“And he was over fifty!” Arthur reached for a slice of garlic beef. “Let’s not forget that fact! In fact let’s not forget who shot him. An officer who likes crowd control duty so he can bash a few heads.”
Lane looked sideways at Arthur.
Arthur said, “You know I listen to your conversations. I know what cops talk about!”
Christine and Matt kept their hands at their sides.
Lane glared at Arthur.
Arthur picked up the plate of pickled beets. “It happened. It shouldn’t have, but it happened. Sometimes that’s all there is to be learned.”
Lane shook his head. He reached for his napkin. Roz poked his elbow with her nose.
Arthur said, “And let’s not forget that you were wounded. All four of us are still dealing with that. Harper is taking a couple of days off. Erinn’s a wreck after this latest shooting. Now,” he turned to Christine and Matt, “what’s been eating you two? We’re going to begin talking about what’s bothering everyone instead of fighting. I’m a nervous eater.” He grabbed the bowl of potato salad and began scooping it onto his plate. “If things don’t start to calm down around here, I’ll gain twenty kilos!”
“You want me to leave, don’t you?” Christine started to stand.
“Who said anything about that?” Arthur started putting potato salad on Christine’s plate until she sat back down. “We’re solving a problem.” He held the spoon erect. “Maybe other families aren’t like this, but this is how this family solves its problems. We talk!” He flicked the spoon for effect. A dollop of potato salad flew across the table.
Lane wiped potato salad from his face.
Matt covered his mouth.
Arthur began scooping more potato salad onto his plate. “It’s not fair if the three of you can get angry, and I gain all the weight!”
Matt pointed at the potato salad. “And it’s not fair if the rest of us starve because you won’t share.”
Arthur looked at the bowl. He’d scooped it clean of all the salad. The mound on Arthur’s plate covered the beets and meat he’d already piled there.
Matt’s eyes got wide as he realized what he’d said could ignite a bigger argument.
Arthur began to laugh.
Within a breath, they all joined in, including the dog, who howled at Lane’s side. Lane looked at Roz and then at the people around the table. He thought, We’ve all been abandoned, just like Aidan and Alex. Maybe that’s why we fight like hell to stay together.
The laughter faded.
Lane said, “I just realized I met Roz before we adopted her.”
“Tell us,” Matt said.
Lane began to laugh. “Maybe after supper.”
The first question Matt asked after dinner was, “Where did you meet Roz before?”
“I don’t know. It might make you think less of her,” Lane said.
“We’re not stupid,” Christine said.
“I know …” Lane began.
“Then let us decide for ourselves,” Matt said.
Arthur smiled, then took another sip of wine.
“When we went to see the body of the man by the river, Roz was there. She tried to pull the body out of the water. Roz’s owner thought Roz was eating the corpse. The forensic examiner on the scene could find no evidence that Roz did anything but try to pull the man away from the water. The woman who owned her was upset and abandoned Roz in the parking lot.” Lane looked at Roz, who lay on her belly in the middle of the front-room floor. Her head was cocked to one side as she tried to follow the conversation.
“So that’s how she ended up on Glenmore Trail?” Christine asked.
Lane nodded. “Apparently, Roz ran until the pads on her paws were worn down. She sat down on the road and caused a traffic jam.”
“That’s bullshit! She does nothing wrong and gets abandoned!” Matt said.
Lane thought, Matt’s angrier than he needs to be. Then he realized, Maybe he’s got every right to be angry.
“The question is, how do you feel about her now?” Arthur asked.
“Lucky us,” Christine said. “We ended up with Roz.”
And, Lane thought, lucky us, we ended up with the three of you.
Harper stood in the middle of the kitchen, wincing each time a cupboard door slammed.
Erinn worked her way from cupboard to cupboard, starting with the one located next to the fridge, then around to the stove. She opened each door and slammed it.
Harper heard the screams of his daughter coming from her bedroom.
“Who lives like this?!” Erinn slammed another cupboard door. Something ceramic tumbled inside.
“Erinn,” Harper said.
“I can’t live like this! The baby! Glenn! What do we do when you don’t come home?!” Erinn finished at the stove and walked across the kitchen to the fridge, ready to begin the slamming all over again.
Harper reached for her arm.
She pulled away. Her face was red with rage, her eyes wild from fear and lack of sleep.
“What’s going on?” Glenn leaned in the doorway leading downstairs. He crossed his arms and looked around the kitchen. His gaze stopped at Erinn, who was catching her breath, her wild eyes locked on him.
“I can see why you’re tired of this kitchen, I mean, it matches the walls. Pretty beige if you ask me. If you want, we can go look at some colours.” Glenn leaned his head to the right and focused on his uncle.
Harper moved to Erinn and put his arms around her. Erinn struggled, then began to weep.
“I’ll go get Jessica,” Glenn said.
Lane’s mind was somewhere between asleep and awake when the phone rang.
Arthur answered it, “Hello? Harper? Just a minute.” He handed the phone to Lane.
Lane took the phone, “What’s up?”
Harper said, “I’m going to take a few more days off. Erinn finally fell asleep. She was freaking out.”
Lane’s mind filled with a myriad of questions. “You okay?”
“I hope so.” Harper hung up.
“What’s the matter?” Arthur took the phone as Lane handed it to him.
“Erinn’s freaking out.” Lane looked at the ceiling of their bedroom.
“I don’t blame her.” Arthur rolled onto his shoulder with his back to Lane.
The phone rang again five hours later.
Arthur tried to pick up the phone and dropped it on the rug. He reached for the fallen phone then fell after it. “Hello?”
“For you.” Arthur handed the phone to Lane.
Lane’s shoulder and chest muscles complained from the aftereffects of the exploding air bag as he reached for the phone. “Hello.”
“Detective Lane?” the chief asked.
Lane eased his feet out of bed and sat up. He winced at the pain from his wound. “Yes.”
“A barricade has been set up across the highway near the edge of the city limits, not far from the scene of the most recent shooting. You know the location?” The chief’s voice sounded tired.
“Yes.” Lane looked at the clock on the night table. It was fifteen minutes after four.
“A woman named Eva Starchild has asked for you specifically. She needs you at the barricade by five AM. Detective Harper is unavailable?”
“That’s correct.” Lane stood up. He heard Arthur climbing back into bed.
“A cruiser is en route to you. It will take you to the scene. The driver will be there within the next five minutes. The officer escorting you has been ordered to keep me apprised of the situation. Take your phone.” The chief hung up.
Lane reached for his clothes.
When he made it downstairs, red and blue lights reached inside, illuminating the way. He stepped into his shoes, grabbed a jacket, stepped outside, and locked the door.
Lane walked to the cruiser. The outside air was fresh and cool on his face. He leaned down and looked inside the car. The driver waved at him.
He had the seat all the way back, but was still crammed in behind the wheel. Lane got in. The driver’s hand dwarfed Lane’s when they shook hands. Lane spotted a black braid of hair as the driver shoulder checked.
“Oscar,” the officer said as Lane buckled up.
“Lane.”
Oscar kept the lights on but didn’t use the siren. Lane saw almost no traffic as Oscar raced down into the river valley.
“The barricade is set up within city limits. The chief is trying to keep it quiet and wants a low profile for as long as possible. She thinks the best way to find a solution is without the glare of cameras.” Oscar drove over the bridge.
Lane looked at the cruiser’s lights reflected over the Bow River. “How many on the barricades?” He opened his window to let in some air. My mind’s got to be sharp for this!
“The estimate is ten to fifteen.” Oscar braked for a four-way stop. He looked from left to right.
Lane was pushed back as Oscar touched the accelerator. “Armed?”
Oscar nodded. “The spotter says mostly hunting rifles and shotguns.” Oscar used his thumb to point at the back seat. “There’s a Glock and a holster for you.”
They began their climb out of the river valley. On the left, the lights of downtown lit up the belly of a black sky.
Oscar opened up the engine along Sarcee Trail.
They roared up the hill.
“You’re liking this,” Lane said.
Oscar grinned. “You bet.”
“Anything more I need to know?” Lane asked.
“As soon as you’ve checked out the situation, the chief wants you to call her. Got your phone?”
Lane pulled it out of his jacket pocket. The air rushed in the window, buffeting him. He shivered and closed the window. “Anywhere we can stop for some coffee?” He thought, There’s just no way I’m going to watch anyone else get shot.
In ten minutes they approached the police roadblock and were waved through. Lane balanced two trays of coffees on his knees.
“I’m trying not to spill any.” Oscar dodged a rough spot in the road.
They cruised past the Super Service gas bar. Lane saw that it was closed. Four police cruisers and a van were parked under the lights. Officers gathered around a map they had spread across the hood of one of the cruisers.
Up ahead, a flashlight waved at them. Two blue and white cruisers were parked across the highway. Oscar stopped for the officer with the flashlight.
The officer leaned to see inside the cruiser. “Who are you?” he said to Lane.
“Lane. You want us to walk from here?” Lane asked.
The officer nodded. He pointed at the side of the highway. “Park over there.”
Oscar parked on the shoulder. He took a tray of coffees from Lane. “Don’t forget the Glock.”
Lane eased out with the coffees and set his tray on the hood of the car, then opened the back door, reached for the Glock, and put it on. Oscar went to talk with the officers at the cruisers, then returned.
“They’re set up about fifty metres down the road. I checked with the spotters. The people on the barricade are quiet. Probably waiting for sunrise.” Oscar looked over his shoulder at the horizon, where there was a hint of purple.
Lane took one tray of coffees from Oscar and picked up the other from the hood. “Any sign of Eva?”
Oscar shook his head. “Not yet.” He went to say more and closed his mouth.
Lane walked along the highway toward the next pair of police cars. Oscar followed.
“She’s my auntie. Watch out for her, will you?” Oscar looked toward the barricade.
Lane nodded. He looked at his watch and saw that it was five o’clock.
The officers at the cruisers watched the two men approach. One officer said, “The tactical unit is on its way. We’re to sit tight and wait for them.”
“What’s that coming this way?” Lane looked south, where three sets of headlights travelled west, parallel to the highway they stood on. Oscar and the other officers turned to watch.
Lane stepped between the grills of the cruisers blocking the highway. He followed the yellow line as the darkness deepened. He looked up. No stars or planets winked back. The darkness became so complete that he relied on his feet and ears while waiting for his eyes to adjust.
“Lane?” Oscar asked.
Lane kept walking.
Ahead, he saw the straight lines and angles of a silhouette gradually becoming a road grader parked across the highway. In front of the grader was a mound. Lane stopped. “Eva?”
Silence.
There was the whisper of a twig scratching up against fabric on his right. Fear grabbed for his belly. He swallowed. What was I thinking, standing out here with eight cups of coffee in the middle of an armed standoff ? “Eva?”
“She’s not here.” The matter-of-fact voice came from behind the barricade.
Hooves clattered across the pavement. Something brushed across his back and disappeared into the ditch on the left.
“What was that?” Lane’s heart raced and his legs shook. He forced himself to breathe.
Another voice to his right said, “Just a deer. You startled it.”
Lane tried to slow his breathing.
The sound of engines made Lane look to his left. Three pairs of headlights bounced across an open field.
Lane could sense the tension rising around him. He stood there, holding the coffee and wishing there was a bathroom nearby.
The lights came closer. The sound of their engines made it impossible for Lane to hear what the men were doing at the barricade. Whoever is hidden on my right probably has me in his sights, Lane thought.
Lane could see that two of the approaching vehicles were pickup trucks and the third, with its close-set headlights, was a tractor.
The pickups stopped at the far side of the fence. Two people climbed out of the back of one truck; a third got out of the cab and walked toward the fence.
“Hang on fellas, it’s just us! We brought food.” It was a woman’s voice.
Two of the women put their feet on the bottom strands of barbed wire and lifted the top wire with their hands. The third woman grunted as she bent down to step under the wire. As she stood, she turned and held the wire for the other two.
“Hang on fellas! It’s me, Eva!” She walked down into the ditch, tripped, and fell to her knees.
Lane put the coffees down on the yellow line and moved to help her. She was up before he could get there.
“You okay, Eva?” another woman asked.
“Fine! Get that fence down for the backhoe!”
The women at the wire each moved to a fence post.
Lane could hear the wire complain as the women used pliers to pull rusty nails away from the wood.
Lane felt the wet of the dew at his ankles. He offered Eva his hand. She grabbed his elbow. They climbed out of the ditch.
They stepped onto the pavement.
Lane picked up the coffees. “Want a coffee?”
Eva looked in his direction. In the growing light it was possible to see the features of her face. She wore a heavy coat, a ball cap, and a smile. “’Bout time you brought me coffee.”
Lane held the tray. She took a cup and pulled at the plastic cover. “Got more?” she whispered.
Lane nodded.
“You boys want some coffee?” Eva asked.
Silence was her answer.
“Bruce, Elliott, Everett? I know you’re there. Your mother told me you three helped move Norm’s grader last night. You come on out and get a coffee! You must be cold. It’ll warm you up! Your mom is in the truck on the other side of the fence.” Eva lifted her coffee in greeting.
A man appeared from behind an evergreen in the ditch. Another materialized from the opposite side of the road, next to one of the women working at the fence.
Two more crawled out of the trench cut across the pavement.
Lane handed out coffees. The men cradled their weapons as they formed a c
ircle around Eva. “Two more coffees left!” Eva said.
Another man stepped out from behind the ancient grader. He hopped over the trench. When he reached them, Eva handed him a cup.
They stood there in silence, sipping their coffees.
The engine of the backhoe belched a cloud of diesel smoke. It inched nearer to the fence. The women at the fence posts had the wire down on the ground, keeping it there with their feet as the backhoe hobbled over the uneven ground, nosed down into the ditch, then crawled up the other side and onto the pavement. The cab lights revealed a driver wearing a pink ball cap and red satin jacket.
Eva waved at the driver. “Judith! Shut it down.”
The clatter of the diesel died.
In the fresh quiet, Eva said, “We’re gonna have breakfast. Then we’re gonna talk. Your mothers and aunties are in the trucks. We’ve been talkin’. We don’t want anyone else to die. Lost Norm and Alex and four other boys. That’s enough.” Eva pointed her coffee at Lane. “The policeman’s here ’cause I invited him. He’s the one got shot by Norm.”
Eva waved at the pickup trucks. The engines started up and the trucks moved forward. Dipping and bouncing, they eased their way in and out of the ditch, then parked between the protesters and the police.
The woman driving one pickup opened the door and looked into the crowd. She nodded at one of the men who nodded back. Similar greetings occurred within the group of women and men.
Within five minutes the women had coolers out and more coffee. The coolers held sandwiches, muffins, bread, fried potatoes, and bacon. Paper plates were distributed. People stood alone or in groups, talking quietly while eating and sipping from coffees resting on hoods and tailgates.
Eva looked at Lane. “Come on. Get something to eat.”
Lane’s phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Lane.”
“McTavish here. We’ve just arrived. We’re wondering if you need some assistance.”
Lane looked at the faces of the men and women around him. “We’re just having breakfast.”
“What?” McTavish said.
“Who’s with you?” Lane asked.
“Don’t worry, Stockwell is not on this detail. He’s off duty until the shooting has been investigated.” McTavish sounded insulted that Lane had even asked the question.