Indiana Pulcinella

by Garry Ryan

  Lane looked at Indiana’s feet, noticing the boy had his ankles crossed. He reached out, touching the arch of Indiana’s foot with his index finger. He heard the sounds of a satisfied baby sucking at his mother’s breast and Indiana breathing through his nose.

  “How is Lori?” Christine asked.

  “She chased me out of the office to come and see you.”

  Christine smiled, lifting the blanket to watch her son. Lane saw the transformation from young woman to mother in the way her eyes softened. Christine looked at her uncle. He saw the protective instinct sharpen her focus when she looked over his shoulder.

  Lane heard a pair of notice-me heels.

  “Lola’s back.” Christine held Indiana closer.

  Lane stood and turned.

  “Oh, hello.” Lola took off her cashmere coat, setting it over the head of Indiana’s crib.

  “Don’t hang it there. I’m worried about infection,” Christine said.

  There was a sharp intake of breath. Lola’s face reddened as she lifted the coat and held it draped over her arms. “How’s he doing?”

  “Better,” Christine said.

  “Can I hold him?”

  “He’s hungry, and my uncle was here first.” Christine adjusted something under the blanket.

  Lola looked at Lane, opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it, and closed her lips.

  Wow, didn’t think I’d ever see that.

  Christine sat up straighter, her eyes growing hard as she looked past her uncle.

  Lane turned to see a woman wearing a long grey nylon winter coat. Her yellow dress reached the tops of her black winter boots. Her coat was open, and the ruffles of her dress covered her neck. Her hair was long and greying, snaking around her shoulder in a braided rope, falling over one breast, and reaching below her navel. Beside her stood a girl of maybe fourteen whose brown, wiry hair sprang out in an unruly fro. Her eyes were brown and bright, but the rest of her face was a mask. She wore a dress of the same material and style as the other woman. Her eyes lifted from the floor to study Christine.

  “Hello, Sarah.” Christine said.

  Indiana sighed.

  They watched as Christine adjusted her left breast under the cover of the blanket, then tucked the blanket around the baby so they could see his sleeping face and thick black hair.

  The woman with the braided hair took a step closer.

  Lane saw fear in Christine’s eyes and moved to position himself between the women and his niece. He looked around at the babies who occupied nearby cribs.

  “You don’t even recognize your own sister, Pauline?” The woman with the braid took another step closer.

  The contempt in the woman’s voice slapped Lane out of his daze. “What do you want, Alison?”

  “My grandson, of course. I’m here to meet him and hold him.”

  Lola moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lane. He sensed Christine standing up. He could hear her palm tapping Indiana on the back. Indy burped. A machine whirred.

  “Move out of my way,” Alison continued. “I need to see my grandson.”

  Christine said, “A pickup truck will be downstairs with Milton or one of his bishops at the wheel waiting for my mother and the baby.”

  Lane saw a nurse approaching. If anything starts in here, there’s a very good chance one of these babies will be hurt. He leaned his head to the left, making eye contact with the nurse. “Call security, please.”

  The nurse went to a phone on the wall, lifting it from its cradle.

  Alison looked over her shoulder. Sarah looked at the floor.

  Alison turned back to face them. “God told me to raise this child.”

  Lane shook his head.

  Lola said, “Well, then, you can just tell God this child belongs with his mother.”

  Alison took a sharp, short breath. “Who are you?” Alison tried to look around the pair standing between her and her objective.

  “Indiana’s other grandmother.” Lola stood with feet apart.

  “Then you understand it’s best for the child to be away from Pauline.” She pointed at Lane.

  Lola kept her voice low, but Lane heard the threat. “I like to make up my own mind about things, and I’ve learned Christine is the same way.”

  Lane saw a man enter the NICU. He was over six foot six. He wore a blue winter jacket, a green baseball cap, a frown, and the smell of the country.

  Lane looked at the nurse who stood by the phone. He turned to Christine. “You holding Indy close?”

  Christine said, “Damn right.”

  Lane turned to Alison. “This is called child abduction.” He spotted the nurse hanging up the phone.

  “God knows what kind of man you are, Pauline!” Alison’s eyes were wide. Sarah took a step back, looking at the exit sign.

  The speaker in the hallway announced, “Code amber in NICU! Code amber in NICU!”

  The man in the green baseball cap looked at Alison.

  Lane looked past them, noting the room was filling with nurses. A woman in a black uniform sidled to the front of the crowd. She was about five and a half feet tall and appeared to be about three feet wide. Her black hair was tied back, and she wore Kevlar gloves. The white reflective labels on either side of her Kevlar vest read Security and Scott.

  Dan arrived with four cups of coffee. His eyes opened wide. He positioned himself where he could see Christine and the baby. Then his eyes locked on the back of the big man with the green hat.

  The man in the green hat turned to Scott. “We’re leaving with the child.”

  Scott leaned sideways, looking at Christine. “You the mother?”

  Dan set down the coffees on a tray, moving closer to the man with the green hat. Christine nodded.

  Scott pointed at the man in the green hat. “Is he supposed to be here?”

  Christine shook her head.

  Scott took a step closer to the man in the green hat. “Come with me, sir.”

  “He will not,” Alison said.

  Scott looked at Christine, who said, “They want to take my baby.” Scott grabbed Alison by the elbow. Alison shook the guard off.

  The man in the green hat reached for Scott. She took him by the wrist, snapping it back against his forearm. He yelped, falling to his knees.

  Alison took a swing at Scott, who ducked the blow. A pair of nurses grabbed Alison by the elbows, dragging her out of NICU. The heels of Alison’s winter boots squealed across the floor. “That is my grandson! God wants him to be with me! God told me!”

  A baby in a nearby crib began to scream. A nurse rushed to attend to the infant.

  Lane looked over his shoulder at Christine, who was staring down at Indy and wiping her tears with the blanket. She began to sob. Dan moved closer, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  Lola turned to Lane. “Is your family always this entertaining?”

  “Your sister is fucking crazy.” Matt looked at Lane from where he sat in front of the TV with the sound muted. An NFL game was on.

  “And now she’s in jail?” Alex asked.

  “Four people were arrested, including the one waiting outside in the truck.” Lane looked at the screen, watching the players line up on either side of the football.

  “What about Sarah?” Arthur rubbed Sam behind the ear. The dog smiled.

  “She was released after my brother Joseph came down and took her to his place. She explained the plan was to take Indiana to a fundamentalist compound in the Ut
ah desert.” The centre moved, the quarterback stepping back ready to pass. “I got a chance to talk with her. She seems very nice. Very quiet, but she did ask a couple of questions about Christine.”

  The quarterback was blind-sided by a linebacker. Both players pounded the turf.

  Matt said, “That’s gotta hurt. What kinds of questions?”

  “Yes,” Arthur asked, “what kinds of questions?”

  “Like where Christine went to school, if she was still going to school with the baby, what Dan was like, and how long she’s been living with us.”

  Arthur pushed Sam to the side. “Not our address and phone number so they can come after Indiana again when they get out of jail?”

  Lane shook his head. “Most of the questions were about school.”

  Arthur leaned forward. “After what happened to Matt and Jessica, this has me worried all over again.”

  Matt shook his head. “We’ve handled this kind of thing before, and we’ll handle it again. We need to talk with Dan and work out the details, that’s all.” He got up, taking a deep breath.

  He’s having a flashback of when he and Jessica were taken.

  “Details?” Alex asked.

  “A plan. Dr. Alexandre told me to always have a plan to cope with the PTSD.” Matt tapped the side of his head with a finger. “I’m working on the details.”

  Arthur glanced at Lane. “Let’s hear what you’ve got so far.”

  Matt watched the TV. A player the size of a major appliance was helping the quarterback to his feet. “First we need to agree there will always be two of us with Indiana at all times. Then we need to have communications.” He turned to Lane. “Do we still have those fancy phones?”

  “I can get them.” Lane nodded.

  Matt pointed at Arthur. “Can you program them again?”

  Arthur said, “Sure.”

  Matt turned to Lane. “Then we need a backup. Does Harper know what happened with your sister and Milton, and their plan to take Indy to Utah?”

  Lane stood. “I’ll call him to make sure he’s aware so he can handle details from his end. He needs to know Daniel, Christine, and Indiana have been transferred to a secure room at the Children’s Hospital.” Here we go again. “This time we’ll stay a step or two ahead of the game.”

  THURSDAY, JANUARY 23

  chapter 4

  David and Melissa Randall stared vacantly at the grey conference-room wall.

  Lane looked for signs of grief. Both looked exhausted. Their bodies sagged in their chairs. Rapid weight loss was sketched on their faces. And there was rage underneath it.

  Melissa Randall stood about five foot six and looked at Lane as if challenging him. She tucked her greying black hair behind her ears. David Randall, her brother, was closer to six feet tall. When he took off his black winter coat, Lane could see his scalp beneath thinning black hair. Both looked to be in their late thirties.

  “I’m Detective Lane.” He gestured with his right hand. “This is Detective Li.”

  “What do you want?” Melissa eyed them warily. David tried to smile. Melissa hooked her thumb in David’s direction. “We’ve done some research online. My parents weren’t the first.”

  David nodded. “The newspaper says our parents are the fifth victims. Some homeless guy named Byron Thomas was convicted for a similar crime. After what happened to Mom and Dad, do you think maybe Thomas is innocent?”

  Lane inhaled. He saw Nigel open his mouth. Oh no! Nigel, tread lightly.

  Nigel tapped his file. “Actually there may be more than five crimes attributable to the same killers. I’ve been tracking a series of murders with similar characteristics.”

  Melissa looked at her brother. David said, “This isn’t what we expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  Melissa pointed at the detectives. “That you would be covering your asses.”

  Nigel said, “We’d like to put the killers’ asses in a cell.”

  David put his arm around Melissa’s shoulders. “What can we do to help?”

  Lane asked, “Do you have any thoughts about who might want to harm your parents?”

  Melissa shook her head. “Besides Mom’s crazy sister, I have no idea.”

  Lane lifted his eyebrows.

  David said, “Our mom has a sister named Peggy who was always trying to get Dad into the sack, because her husband was sterile. Then her husband died, and she got even crazier. Dad told some people at a party he was tired of Peggy trying to get into his pants. The story got back to her, and she denied it. Then she made a number of threats. We’ve learned to ignore her.”

  Lane looked at Nigel, who had painted an impassive expression on his face. His eyes, however, were lit with mischief.

  “Peggy’s last name?” Lane asked.

  “Carr.” Melissa used her finger to indicate she wanted Lane’s pen. He handed it over with some paper. Melissa pulled out a smart phone, scrolled through some numbers, wrote one down, then slid paper and pen back to Lane’s side of the table.

  “Have your parents had any recent gatherings at their house?” Nigel asked.

  David and Melissa looked at each other. David turned to Nigel. “They had their annual get-together. It was an after-New Year’s party. January eleventh, I think it was.”

  “Is there any way we could get a guest list?” Nigel asked.

  What angle is Nigel working on? Lane wondered.

  “Why do you need a guest list?” Melissa asked.

  You are definitely experiencing the anger stage of the grieving process.

  Nigel looked at Lane.

  So you step in the shit and want me to clean your shoes? Lane turned his palms face up. “Because this is the early stage of the investigation, we have to look at a variety of avenues.” Nigel, next time let me know your angle before the interview.

  “Sounds like bullshit to me.” Melissa glared at Lane.

  Nigel tapped the table with his forefinger. “In earlier killings the couples were murdered within a month of having a social gathering in their homes. The killers took valuable items and cash. We’re trying to establish whether or not your parents may have been victims of serial killers.”

  Shit!

  Melissa looked at Lane. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Hand over the paper and pen, and we’ll put our heads together.”

  Five minutes later, David and Melissa had a list of close to forty names, some with phone numbers, a few with business titles. David pushed the list across the table to Lane. “What else do you need?”

  Lane slid the list to Nigel, who said, “I want to do some cross checking.” He stood up and left the room.

  Lane stared at the open door, then turned to the brother and sister.

  Melissa looked at her watch. “We’ve got a meeting with a funeral director in an hour.”

  Lane asked, “When will the funeral be?”

  “Saturday.” David looked at his sister. Melissa nodded.

  “I’d like to attend if you don’t mind.” Lane studied their reactions.

  David shrugged. Melissa said, “Knock yourself out. The service is at two.”

  Lane took a breath. “What are the best numbers for us to get in touch with you?”

  Melissa stood up, walked around the table, picked up Lane’s pen, and wrote down two numbers. She put her name next to one and David’s next to another. Lane caught the scent of strawberry from her shampoo. He watched as Melissa walked out the conference door followed by her brother.

 
Lane looked at the sheet of paper, pulled out his cell phone, and entered the numbers. Then he walked to his office, closed the door, and sat at his desk.

  Nigel’s fingers were dancing over the keyboard.

  Lane asked, “Why the question about the guest list?”

  The tone of Lane’s voice made Nigel’s head snap back. Then his wide eyes focused on his partner. “I’ve been looking over Netsky’s files, and I’ve had e-mails from officers investigating two of the other murders. In both cases the victims had major social events at their homes less than a month before the murders. It was one thought I had.”

  “Let me in on your plans the next time,” Lane said, then added, “please.”

  Nigel blushed. “I thought . . .”

  “We’re a team?”

  Nigel nodded.

  “Then we both need to be on the same page.” Lane looked at his computer. “What do you plan to do with the guest list?”

  Nigel had his hands hovering over the keyboard. “Cross-reference it with the passenger lists of flights from Toronto, New York, and Cancun a week before and a week after the murders.”

  Lane nodded. “Good work.” He turned to his computer to map out the various bits of the investigation using a program called Inspirations. He added crime-scene photos where necessary.

  An hour later Nigel pushed his chair back. “Want a mochaccino?”

  Lane nodded. “Please.” He reached into his shirt pocket for a bill.

  “I got it.” Nigel walked out the door.

  Five minutes later, Lori walked into Lane’s office, closing the door behind her. “What did you do to Nigel?”

  Lane looked at her as she stood across from him, her fists on the hips of her black dress. “Just get your nails done?”

  Lori lifted her right hand, looking at her red nails and smiling. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  Lori cocked her head to the right. “Not a damned thing! It was the expression on his face that gave him away.”

  “I asked him to keep me better informed before we do our next interview. Sometimes he forgets we’re a team.” Lane felt his face redden.