Lullaby for the Nameless (Nolan, Hart & Tain Thrillers)

by Ruttan, Sandra

  Déjà vu.

  He slowed his pace automatically. All they’d said was that they’d found something, to get there right away. All but one of the men had their backs to Craig, effectively blocking his view of whatever it was they were looking at on the ground.

  The man standing in profile met Craig’s gaze for a moment. Native, with a piercing gaze that made you feel he could see right through you.

  Just like Tain.

  He walked around the group to the end opposite the Native officer and knelt down, the blood rushing out of his face. Perhaps it was his way of avoiding what was lying in front of him, but for some reason all he could think of was that the RCMP wanted you to call them First Nations or Aboriginals now.

  Aboriginals. For some reason, that made him think of Australia, and as he tried to focus, he thought about the absurd way the mind formed connections, how in the most extreme situations you could find yourself thinking about being politically correct instead of thinking about the fact that you were kneeling in front of a body in the woods.

  Maybe it was a way of distancing yourself from the situation. The mind’s way of coping.

  It was a moment before one of the men standing above him spoke. “Is this what he’s hiding?”

  Craig shook his head even before he fully processed the question. “Death wasn’t recent, but the body hasn’t been here long.” He’d seen enough bodies in the woods to know that much. There was no evidence of animal activity from what he could see, which suggested she’d been moved recently.

  Not to mention the fact that they’d been patrolling the woods for a few days now, and teams had passed through the area without seeing a body.

  “How do we know he didn’t kill her, and that’s why he went off the deep end and murdered his family? Maybe they found out about it.” Another voice Craig didn’t recognize.

  “Came back out here to relive some past glory?” The first voice again.

  “With how cold it’s been, she could have been out here for weeks. Temperature throws off the process of decomposition.” One of the new members of the team. One who didn’t know what ground they’d already covered.

  “This area’s been searched. She wasn’t here before.” The second voice.

  Craig took a deep breath, one that he hoped would help settle his stomach and clear his head. “We don’t know anything. Right now, we don’t jump to any conclusions. We have a new investigation to deal with.”

  “You’re Nolan.”

  It wasn’t a question. Craig glanced at the man who’d spoken. He sounded like he’d swallowed broken glass, and he had a burly build topped off with a face that had more bumps and lines than a stucco ceiling. Whoever the man was, he’d put in a lot of years on the job, but he still looked like he could hold his own in a bar brawl.

  Craig nodded.

  “From what I hear, you’re no stranger to digging up bodies in the woods.”

  He felt his neck burn and his jaw clench as he lifted his gaze to look at the man who’d spoken. Instead, Craig found himself staring into the dark eyes of the Native officer, who remained silent but had a stare with the force of a magnetic pull.

  The RCMP could be as PC as they wanted, but you couldn’t undo the mental programming that came with years of using labels by suddenly changing the official terms. Craig pushed aside a fleeting thought about whether that was part of the reason it was so hard to eliminate racism and prejudice.

  “Hey, he’s my partner on this assignment, and in case you guys have forgotten, we were shot at. Some guy with a gun is still runnin’ around in the woods,” Mac said, “while we stand here talking about ancient history.”

  “Su-som-someone has to call this in and d-deal with the scene.” Another voice Craig didn’t recognize. Timid. Apologetically stating a fact.

  “So why not you?” Mac spat the words out.

  “I, uh, if-if I’m ordered to, I-I’ll d-do it.”

  “For Christ’s sake, did they let you out of training before your balls dropped?”

  The raspy voice returned. “Takes more balls to follow orders than it does to shoot off your mouth, MacDougall.”

  Craig forced a serious look as he stood and held up his hand to keep Mac from unleashing the retort forming on his lips.

  “We call it in, and the sergeant decides who stays.” He looked at the thickset man who’d spoken with authority. The one who’d seemed ready to drop the case in Craig’s lap. “Agreed?”

  For a moment, the small black eyes stared back, and then the man nodded and pulled out his phone.

  Craig looked down at the partially exposed grave where the body lay.

  Could it be…?

  Craig pushed the thought from that old case out of his mind. Based on what he could see of the body, the size, there was no way to know anything for certain. She could be much older than the girl he was thinking of, the one they’d never found. Craig shut his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he forced himself to focus on the body they’d recovered; she’d been partially wrapped in strips of what looked like canvas bags, so there was no way to know. One of the differences, but he knew the routine. Similarities to other cases in the area would raise flags, and although the murders were technically closed, the case had never been completely solved. If she was connected to it, she would have been kept somewhere else for a while and moved recently. Craig realized he didn’t even cover a mental checklist before forming conclusions, but then he’d seen bodies like this before.

  His…experience.

  Another part of his past he wished had stayed buried.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “It’s okay to admit when something’s bothering you.”

  “And you’d be the poster boy for the modern man who opens up about his feelings?”

  Tain ignored that. “So something is bothering you?”

  Ashlyn pushed the door open and didn’t slow her pace as she marched outside to the car. “Just your prying.”

  The zing in her words, color in her cheeks, the way she tossed her head defiantly as she spoke…They’d both just come off a week’s holiday, and the time away had done her good. She looked better than she had in months. Wherever she’d gone, whatever she’d done, it seemed to have worked for her.

  When he reached the car, he opened his door and was about to get in when he looked up and saw Ashlyn staring at him. Her eyes narrowed and a hand landed on her hip. “Don’t play innocent with me,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He sat down and pulled the door shut.

  “Tain…” Spoken with a bit of a growl in her voice as she got in the car and slid the key into the ignition. “Do you know something you aren’t telling me?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Ah.” Emphasized by the slam of her door. Ashlyn nodded as she put the car in reverse and began backing out of the spot.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Isn’t it typical for guys to avoid questions they don’t want to answer?”

  “I don’t know, Ash. I thought it was typical of anyone.”

  “Which tells me what I need to know.” She put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road.

  “No, it doesn’t. Maybe I feel I’m sending you mixed signals, and if I can figure out how I’ve given you the wrong impression, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  The sideways glance she gave him said it all, and he silently cursed her instincts.

  “You know, Ash, there was a time I could lie to you effortlessly.”

  “And you miss the good old days?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “So what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Look…” How could he tell her he had a bad feeling? “All we know is that we were asked to investigate something suspicious in a Dumpster. They weren’t more specific about what they found.”

  Although they had been specific in their request for Tain and Ashlyn to take the call, which was probably the reason he felt on
edge.

  Ashlyn paused. “You’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

  Said matter-of-factly, without a hint of emotion. As though the weight of each word had been carefully measured so that he wouldn’t have any reason to think she was worried.

  “You know how it is, Ash. You never know what you’ll find on one of these calls.”

  For assaults or murders, they had some sense of the situation before they arrived. Carefully prepared masks were in place before they set foot out of the car at the scene.

  When they didn’t know what they were responding to, they had no idea the emotional toll the call might take on them. It wasn’t just the absence of information that gnawed at him, though. It was pure gut instinct telling him that something wasn’t right about this one.

  A feeling that only intensified when they pulled into the alley. The uniformed officers were standing where they’d taped off the scene near the Dumpster to keep anyone else from approaching, and both were an unhealthy green-tinged shade. Sergeant Steve Daly and Staff Sergeant Bill Gliddon stood outside the perimeter. Steve’s posture was rigid, a tightness in his shoulders that Tain was familiar with.

  “Well, it could be worse,” Ashlyn said as she parked the car. “We didn’t rank an inspector.” They got out of the car and closed the doors.

  She offered only the slightest nod at the two senior officers observing the scene and didn’t wait for Tain to take the lead.

  He ducked under the tape after her and got his first good look at the Dumpster. Greasy food wrappers, Tim Hortons coffee cups and God knew what else that had been strewn across the body. Didn’t conceal it, though.

  Something suspicious. Yeah, right.

  “Placed on top,” Ashlyn said.

  “Facedown, arms extended to her sides.” He stepped closer and looked at the right hand. “Ligature marks on this wrist.”

  A mangled piece of cardboard covered the body’s knees. “There’s a stain between her legs that could be dried blood, but not enough on this side to suggest she bled out and no obvious cause of death from this angle.” Ashlyn paused. “Could be more concealed by the cardboard.”

  “She looks young. Late teens, maybe? Hair hasn’t lost its sheen.” Tain looked down at her hand, and for half a second he was seeing a different one.

  That arm twisted around so that the palm was up.

  He blinked. Other than that detail, they were almost identical. He blinked again, snapping his focus back to what was in front of him, away from what was seared into his memory. “Nails have been cut short. No polish.”

  Ashlyn walked to the side of the Dumpster. “Feet were bound…” She hesitated before lifting her gaze and looking him in the eye. “Looks like they were bound together initially, but that she was recently retied. There are fresh wounds that don’t match up and rub marks on the inside of her legs.”

  “No track marks on the arms, skin looks smooth, and she looks like she was slim but not unhealthy. If this was a working girl, she’s new to the scene. Body’s too clean from what I can see,” Tain said.

  “Doesn’t feel right for a pro,” Ashlyn said quietly. She pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and lifted the cardboard. “Old—” Her breath caught in her throat. “Old-fashioned white nightgown that looks like it would reach down to the ankles.”

  White nightgown that goes down to the ankles. Tain swallowed.

  Ashlyn looked up and past him toward their senior officers before meeting his gaze, the wideness of her eyes betraying the fact that the same thought had crossed her mind, and that she was locking down her emotions…

  The scene was stirring the same memories in her that it had awakened in him.

  Tain averted his eyes as he moved around to the back of the Dumpster. “The trash isn’t as deep on this side.”

  “It’ll still have to be bagged and tagged and sorted through.”

  “Ah, to be in uniform again, stuck on garbage detail,” he said as he walked around the side of the Dumpster to where she stood.

  “You know, we’ve done this before. We’re all qualified to collect evidence.”

  “And deprive the guys who specialize in this sort of thing the chance to prove their worth?”

  The left corner of her mouth rose just a touch. “Willing to share the glory?”

  “If it keeps me from wading through a Dumpster full of trash, then yes, I’m a giver.”

  “Good thing.” Ashlyn’s eyes narrowed, and he looked up to follow her gaze.

  Someone had already called in a team.

  The leader held up a hand silently and the rest of the crew hung back as he approached Tain and Ashlyn. “Constable Johnson,” he said.

  “Tain and Hart,” Tain said with a quick nod at his partner. “Who brought you in?”

  Despite the rapidly receding hairline, Tain guessed Johnson was in his early thirties. Piercing blue eyes betrayed a keen mind. Something about the way Johnson had approached alone, as though he knew this one wasn’t quite by the book, the way his eyes hardened when he heard Tain’s question and paused noticeably before answering pegged Johnson as a career-minded yes-man.

  “Look, all I know is, I have my orders.” Johnson glanced at Ashlyn. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  Tain gestured at the Dumpster. “It’s all yours.”

  “Just the evidence processing, Tain. It’s still your case.” Johnson hesitated. He stared at Tain, as though he might receive some signal of approval, acceptance of the intrusion.

  Tain knew what Johnson read in his face: nothing. After a moment, Johnson nodded at Ashlyn, returned to his team and gave them their instructions. Tain and Ashlyn stepped back wordlessly and watched as the bag-n-taggers began the tedious process of photographing and labeling the contents of the Dumpster.

  “They’re leaving no wrapper unturned.” Ashlyn murmured the words low enough that only Tain could hear.

  “From what I’ve seen so far, she doesn’t fit the description of any recent runaways I’ve seen reports on, but the way they’re handling the scene makes you wonder.” Tain frowned. “Senior officers, a team called in before we even get to the scene…”

  “Called to investigate ‘something suspicious.’ ” Ashlyn’s voice wasn’t just laced with sarcasm; it was drowning in it. “Bet that’s not what they told Johnson’s crew when they called them out.”

  “Maybe it’s not who she is but what she is,” Tain said.

  Ashlyn’s mouth opened and then she spoke. “You mean…because of how she’s dressed? They see some superficial similarities to an old case and think it’s time to test us, see how we’ll do?”

  Tain shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “It’s possible Johnson’s just nervous because there are senior officers here, and he doesn’t know anything more than we do.”

  “Except whoever called them in didn’t wait for us.”

  “A fact I doubt he’s going to give up now.”

  Before Tain could respond, Johnson called them over.

  “We’ve cleared away enough on this side for you to see her face,” he said. With a gloved hand, Johnson carefully brushed the hair back.

  Tain heard the sharp intake of breath and for a second he wasn’t sure whether it had come from himself or Ashlyn. She moved in front of him, started to reach out for the side of the Dumpster, then stopped herself. “Is that…?”

  Tain’s mouth went dry. “Millie Harper.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  There were some moments no amount of training could prepare you for. Tain didn’t like attending autopsies at the coroner’s office. He didn’t like it when the victim was a child, and he didn’t like it when it was an elderly person. He didn’t like seeing someone closer to his own age.

  He didn’t like seeing anyone that way. He understood it was necessary, and he did his job to the best of his ability, but he didn’t have to like it.

  This time, it was more than just not liking it. He felt ill as he looked over at the body of a girl he�
��d known.

  Tain heard the sharp intake of breath from his partner, but from the corner of his eye, he could also see the face of stone, how she was putting on a tough exterior to keep her emotions buried beneath the surface. He knew her too well.

  The autopsy bay was more crowded than usual, in part because of the presence of Constable Johnson and one of his colleagues. It had been Ashlyn who’d given the tiniest shake of her head, warning Tain to keep his distance and shut his mouth all in one motion. She was right; it was futile. Whoever had ordered Johnson to the scene that morning, all Tain knew was that it hadn’t been Steve. He couldn’t let the politics of the investigation get in the way.

  There was too much at stake.

  They’d faced tough examinations before, but this was different, and as they watched Dr. Burke perform his tasks, what kept going through Tain’s mind was the respectful detachment with which Burke handled the body. Despite the doctor’s care, Tain had to fight the urge to push everyone aside and cover Millie’s body.

  He found himself choking on his breath as he watched the scalpel slice through her skin, and for a moment actually felt relieved that someone had called Johnson’s team to the scene. There’d been no time at the Dumpster to steel themselves against the shock of discovery when they’d realized whose body was lying there.

  As the autopsy progressed, Tain felt the case coming into focus. The initial shock had subsided, and now he could process the ramifications of the investigation in a way he hadn’t consciously done since he’d talked to Steve.

  Everyone would be watching.

  Tain glanced up at Johnson, found the man’s narrowed gaze fixed firmly on him.