by Alex MacLean
“Look,” Allan said. “I know you’re upset. I want to find the person who did this to Blake. Regardless of what you might think. That’s my job. That’s what I do.”
“What do you want to know?”
Allan took out his notebook and pen. “Where was he tonight?”
“Dooly’s.”
“Which one?”
“Portland Street.” She turned to him. “He goes over there a couple nights a week to shoot pool. Have a beer or two with the guys.”
Allan wrote it down on the page. “Did he leave here alone?”
“Yeah. He was meeting Lee over there.”
“What time did he leave?”
“Around nine thirty.”
“Do you ever go with him?”
“I went once. Pool’s not really my thing. And I don’t care for Lee.”
“Why not?”
“Ugh.” Nikki wrinkled her nose. “The guy gives me the creeps.”
“Does he come over often?”
“Once in a while.”
“Did he come over after Todd’s death?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What was his state of mind?”
“Livid. He paced around. I thought he was going to start punching holes in the walls.”
“How did Blake respond to the news?”
“He was shocked, I think. Sad. People mourn in different ways. He didn’t go all crazy like Lee did. At least not in front of me.”
“Did they drop any names? Was anyone beefing with them?”
“Who would dare?” She looked at the floor, biting her lower lip. “They didn’t know who it was.”
Allan believed that. If they had known, there’d have been retaliation by now. More bloodshed.
He asked, “Were you home when the incident happened?”
“Yeah. I was in bed. The sirens woke me up.”
“What’d you do when you heard them?”
“I got up to see what was going on.” Nikki’s voice changed, became softer, sadder. “That’s when I saw the cops out back and Blake lying there.”
Allan heard her voice crack on “Blake.”
“Was anyone else there?” he asked.
Nikki shut her eyes, and tears fell on her face. “The guy downstairs.”
“Do you know him?”
Eyes still closed, she shook her head.
“Have you talked to any of your neighbors tonight?”
“No.” Nikki opened her eyes and wiped both cheeks. “Someone knocked on the door about half an hour ago, but I didn’t answer.”
Allan breathed in, feeling sorry for her. No matter how bad someone was in life, they always left behind someone who’d loved them. A mother. A father. A brother or sister. Even a girlfriend who’d either never seen the person’s ugly side or had chosen to look past it for whatever reason.
“Prior to all this,” he asked, “did you see any strange people or vehicles hanging around the neighborhood?”
“I don’t remember any.”
“Besides Lee and Todd, do you know the names of any other friends Blake had?”
“There are a few over at the pool hall, but I don’t know who they are.”
“What’s your last name, Nikki?” he asked.
“Miller.”
“Your date of birth?”
“March seventeenth. Eighty-five.”
“Do you work?”
“I waitress at Salty’s. Part-time.”
“Didn’t work today?”
Nikki shook her head. “Day off. I’m supposed to work tomorrow. Don’t think I will be.”
“Did Blake work?”
“Yeah. AMJ Campbell.”
“How often?”
“A couple days a week.”
That gave Allan pause. With the cost of groceries, utilities, and rent, how did Kaufman survive working two days a week? He remembered the gun and drugs found at Dory’s apartment and wondered if similar items were hidden here. Something told him Kaufman had been trafficking. Still.
Allan frowned. Could he be wrong thinking the suspect wasn’t a rival dealer?
“How long have you lived here?” he asked.
“About five weeks.”
“When did you start dating Blake?”
“February.”
“How’d you guys meet?”
“We met at Bearly’s. I was there with a couple friends. He was there with Todd and Lee. We started talking. Then we kinda hooked up, you know.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Allan closed his notebook, hooked the pen on the cover. He reached into his jacket and brought out his card, gave it to Nikki.
“If you think of anything else,” he said, “please call me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
He let himself out, wondering how she was going to react when he returned with a search warrant.
The rest of the canvass turned up nothing of value. Two doors wouldn’t answer. Four people reported they hadn’t witnessed anything. Like Nikki, they had been wrenched from sleep by the wail of sirens.
Allan went out through the back door and saw Constable Young and Sergeant Rehnquist standing by the Dumpster, talking to each other. Their heads were close and tilted downward. Taz sat obediently beside Young.
The sky had cleared off, and an overpowering moon dimmed the peppering of stars.
Allan looked over to find Kaufman’s body gone. Only a yellow evidence marker remained where his body had been, pointing out the wad from the shotgun shell. Jim and Harvey were squatted down at the right side of the Dumpster, staring down at something. Jim flashed away with his camera.
Allan called out, “What’d you find?”
Harvey looked back over his shoulder. “Cigarette butt. Looks fresh.”
Allan had a hard time seeing the suspect having a smoke while waiting for Kaufman. But evidence could be anything and everything. And he’d seen stranger things in his day.
Young’s head swiveled around as he approached, and the defeated expression on his face told Allan they’d lost the suspect’s trail.
“Not good, huh?”
Young frowned. “Nope. The suspect cut through a parking lot on the other side of the trees. We managed to follow him out to Jackson Road but lost him. Couldn’t recover the trail. Sorry.”
Rehnquist waved it off. “Pavement’s a bitch.”
Young nodded. “Low scent area. Worse in the rain.”
“Let’s cordon it off over there,” Allan said. “No entry or exit until Ident has cleared it.”
“Ten-four,” Rehnquist said.
“We’ll start canvassing Jackson Road. Maybe someone saw this guy or his vehicle.”
“I’ll call in extra help,” Rehnquist said. “We’re going to need it.”
Just then, Allan’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number on the display. Doctor Coulter.
“Go ahead, Doctor.”
“He left us another message.”
Tired as he was, Allan didn’t get it. “What? Who?”
“The suspect,” Coulter said. “He left something on the weapon.”
Allan straightened up. “Have you started the post yet?”
“We just completed the external examination. We’re getting ready to open him up.”
“Can you hold off for a few minutes?”
“We can wait for you, Detective.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Allan signed out of the scene and hurried to his car out front.
When he arrived at the morgue, the nude body of Blake Kaufman lay on the dissection table with his back arched over a block. His wet clothes hung inside a drying cabinet.
Coulter led Allan to a table covered with items he’d gathered so far: blood samples, nail scrapings, swabs. Kaufman’s watch, keys, and wallet contents were all inventoried on a Body and Personal Effects Record.
The cardboard box, Allan knew, contained the knife removed from the eye socket. On the lid was the word Sharp.
“It’s a Santoku knife,”
Coulter said, opening the box. “Five-inch blade.”
Allan looked inside and felt pinpricks wash over his skin. Amidst the blood, he could see one word written in black marker on the blade.
Devil.
41
Halifax, June 14
8:25 a.m.
“We take bullying very seriously here,” said Principal Faustina Scinto. “We have zero toleration for it.”
Scinto was a curvy, attractive woman in her late forties with thick black hair, dark eyes, and apple cheeks.
“Then what are you going to do to this Margi Tanner?” asked Daniel.
Audra, sitting in the chair beside him, clenched her jaw and looked down at her hands. She knew the school couldn’t do anything unless there was concrete proof. Hearsay. That’s all it was. One person’s word against another.
“I’m going to have a talk with her,” Scinto said. “See what she has to say about all this. It’s okay if someone told you anonymously, but I need to know what happened. When? Where? I need specifics if I’m to take action.”
“Name calling,” Daniel said. “Physical aggression.”
Scinto frowned. “Like I said, I’ll have a talk to Margi. And I’ll ask around the school. See if anyone saw something.”
Beside her, Audra saw Daniel lower his head, heard him shoot a long blast of air out through his nose. She knew he was frustrated, but he had to hear it for himself. Their daughter lay in a hospital bed, while one of the ringleaders responsible would probably go unpunished.
Sure, Scinto would talk to this Margi Tanner, maybe even threaten her with a suspension if she proved Tanner had bullied Daphne. But where would that proof come from? Margi Tanner would never admit to it out of fear of punishment. And even if Audra and Daniel told Scinto it was Tabitha Landes who had given up Margi Tanner’s name, Tabitha would never admit to witnessing anything out of fear of retaliation. The same reason no other kid in the school would say anything. Everyone would just lie and go on their merry way because that’s what people do. They lie. Adults. Kids. Every damn one of them.
“Who is this Margi Tanner?” Audra asked. “Is she in Daphne’s class?”
“No. She’s in the ninth grade.”
“Any trouble with her in the past?”
Scinto drew back one corner of her mouth. “A couple of episodes. But I can’t get into them. That’s confidential. She’ll be moving on from Gorsebrook at the end of this school year. Going to Citadel High next fall.”
Audra skipped her gaze across the principal’s eyes to the office window, and she stared out at the bright morning, quiet again. It was only an innocent comment, she knew, but that “moving on” part burned through her veins like acid.
“I’m very sorry to hear about Daphne,” Scinto added. “She’s a great student. Smart. Talented. I have two daughters myself, and I can’t even conceive what you’re going through right now.”
Daniel lifted his head. “It’s been tough. Toughest thing I...we ever faced.”
“What have the doctors told you?”
“Nothing much. We won’t know the prognosis until she comes out of the coma. She might have to learn to do everything all over again. Walk. Talk. Feed herself.”
Audra said, “She gripped my hand last night. Twice.”
Scinto raised her eyebrows halfway up her forehead. “Really? That’s good, right? That must be a good sign.”
Audra spread her hands. “I thought so.” She dropped her gaze to the desk. “I got up and coaxed her to squeeze my hand again. I tried and tried and tried. But she didn’t respond.”
“What’d the doctors say about it?”
“Could be a grasp reflex. Or maybe just muscle contractions. I don’t think they want us to get our hopes up.”
Scinto made a sad face, shook her head. Her chair crunched as she leaned back, quiet for a brief time.
“I’ll pray for her,” she said. “For you.”
First bell rang out with a loud drone, and the surprise of it made Audra flinch. She glanced at the clock on the wall over Scinto’s shoulder: 8:45.
The building began to rumble with the thunder of a few hundred feet stomping through the hallways. Audra heard kids talking and laughing, rubber soles squeaking on waxed floors, locker doors slamming shut.
“Well.” Scinto shuffled papers on her desk. “I’ll try to get to the bottom of this matter today.”
Audra felt herself and Daniel being dismissed. She stood up and extended her hand across the desk.
“Thanks for your time,” she said.
Scinto gave her a firm handshake back. “My pleasure. Best wishes to all of you. I mean that.”
The hallway outside the office was packed with kids. Audra and Daniel began making their way to the front exit, Audra looking over faces as they walked.
“The principal’s not going to do anything,” she said. “You know that, right?”
Daniel flipped his hands. “She might.”
“Nope. Unless Daphne told Scinto herself. You know, right from the horse’s mouth. Then Margi might get a suspension. Plus it’s too late in the school year. Two weeks left. Margi will be someone else’s problem after that. She’s...” Audra made air quotes. “Moving on.”
“You think Scinto’s looking at it that way?”
“Yeah,” Audra said. “I do.”
She suddenly stopped when she caught a glimpse of Tabitha Landes down a side hall, poking around her locker.
“You go on ahead,” Audra told Daniel. “I’ll catch up.”
Daniel gave her a quizzical look. “Why?”
“Just go on ahead.” Audra watched Tabitha pull a textbook from her locker. “I have something to do.”
Daniel touched the back of her elbow. “What’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Don’t.”
Audra turned to him. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever it is going on inside that head of yours.”
Audra pulled her arm away. “Go on, honey. Please. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Daniel held her gaze for a few seconds, then he lifted his hands and stepped back.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
He spun around and walked off. Audra threaded herself through the crowd, drawing curious looks from a few kids. She reached Tabitha just as she closed the locker door.
“Mrs. Price.” Tabitha’s eyes flashed, and she pressed her back against an adjacent locker, hugged her textbook tightly to her chest.
Audra leaned in close to her. “Don’t be afraid,” she said in a low whisper. “Margi. Do you see her?”
Tabitha swallowed, and her voice leaked out as a mumble. “I think her locker is down the other hall.”
Audra drew back. “Can you check for me? Tell me if she’s there? Just don’t make it obvious.”
Tabitha paused, tentative. “Okay.”
Audra watched her walk to the corner ten feet away and peer down another hallway. Moments later, she came back.
“She’s there.”
“Describe her.”
Tabitha swallowed. “Black hair. Skinny. Jeans. Gray T-shirt. She also has a silk ribbon bracelet on. A pink one. She’s about twenty lockers down.”
“Thanks.”
Tabitha gave her a sheepish nod and began to leave.
“Think about stopping by the hospital,” Audra said to her retreating back. “Daphne would love to hear your voice.”
Tabitha stopped, lowered her head for a few seconds. When she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes looked wounded.
“’K,” she said softly.
Audra walked to the end of the hallway and gazed down another one to see a throng of kids getting their stuff ready for class. She found herself counting lockers until she saw the girl with the pink ribbon bracelet. Margi Tanner.
Audra looked her up and down.
Just a kid, she tried to tell herself. Like Daphne. A kid showing her cell phone to friends gathered around her and all laughing at whatever w
as on the screen.
Still, it did nothing to calm the fire blazing inside Audra.
42
Dartmouth, June 14
9:15 a.m.
Corpse. Devil.
Devil. Corpse.
Allan shook his head. What did it all mean?
Killers who left behind messages for police weren’t new phenomena. They had done it many times before. Blood on walls. Lipstick on mirrors. Cryptic symbols daring to be cracked.
But what psychological purpose did the words serve the suspect in this case? He’d written them for a reason. Were they taunts just meant to leave everyone scratching their heads? Or did the words have real meaning?
The suspect had obviously spied on Todd Dory and Blake Kaufman before he killed them. He learned their routines, familiarized himself with their neighborhoods. That’s how he’d known of the outside security camera at Atlantic News. That’s how he’d known Kaufman had gone out earlier. Had he followed him to Dooly’s, then came back to lay in wait?
Allan sat in his car on Primrose Street, just down from the crime scene. Officers continued to guard the perimeters set by the barrier tape. Earlier, the employed tenants of buildings 28 and 30 had to take cabs to work. Until Ident gave the okay, the rear parking lot and the vehicles within it remained off limits.
Morning burned bright. The rain had left a pleasant freshness to the air, rinsed it clean of the urban funk. The sky was a rich blue, piled with cotton clouds.
Allan glanced at the media personnel camped out across the street, filming and snapping pictures, hoping for a spot on the evening news or paper. A pretty blonde reporter stood in front of a camera, speaking into a microphone.
Blake Kaufman, like Todd Dory, would get a paragraph, maybe two, in the Chronicle Herald. He’d get a mention on the six o’clock news. Then he’d be forgotten until a suspect got caught. It wasn’t that dead gangbangers didn’t matter; their crimes just mattered more because they usually involved innocent people.
Allan let his gaze roam up the brick face of 28 Primrose, stopping at the top-floor windows. He wondered if Kaufman’s apartment hid any clues, any breadcrumbs that could lead to a suspect.
The folder on the seat beside him had grown thick with the canvass reports he’d compiled over the last five hours of working the street, banging on doors and rousing people from their beds. Little more than rumor and innuendo had resulted from it.