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

by Ruttan, Sandra

  It would have to do.

  Picking locks wasn’t her specialty, but she pulled the lamp toward the edge of the desk, got down on her knees and started on Tain’s top desk drawer. Within a minute it was open. The stacks of papers she’d found the day she’d arrived in Nighthawk Crossing were still inside.

  Ashlyn stood and looked at the documents. She pulled them up.

  There wasn’t anything else in the drawer.

  Once the papers were returned and the drawer closed, she opened the next drawer and riffled through the contents, then sank to her knees and opened the bottom drawer. Her initial skim of the papers inside revealed nothing about her unanswered questions regarding the case.

  Ashlyn pushed the drawer shut. As she reached up to the edge of the desk, it was the shape of the shadows under the desktop that made her pause.

  A legal-sized envelope, taped underneath the work surface.

  Ashlyn ran her fingers under the edge until she removed all the tape. The flap wasn’t closed. As she glanced at the door she slid the papers out, skimmed them, then pushed them back in.

  She turned Nolan’s desk light on before shutting Tain’s off, and on her way back to Nolan’s desk she grabbed the bag she’d brought with her and put the envelope inside.

  Nolan had three drawers, all locked. She started at the top.

  Inside, she found a filled notebook from prior casework. She leafed through the pages, checking dates. None of it seemed to connect to the current investigation.

  Ashlyn slid the drawer shut and moved on to the next one.

  There was a stack of papers inside that was thicker than the one in Tain’s desk, but it wasn’t copies of case files she was looking at. She flipped through the first few pages, then a few more.

  The missingpersons files she’d been looking for.

  She picked them up, put them inside the bag and riffled through the rest of the drawer. It contained nothing more than blank notepads and a few pens.

  Ashlyn pushed it shut and looked at the bottom drawer.

  She had what she’d been looking for. One discovery offered reassurance. It didn’t cross every t or dot every i, but it was enough to dispel her doubts, while the other revelation raised more questions than answers.

  A quick look at the doorway confirmed she was still alone. Ashlyn picked the last lock and slid the drawer open.

  It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at. A glance at her watch told her she had about twenty-five hours. What were the chances that she’d get through all the material before their shift the next day?

  Slim, but she could copy it if she had to, and if she found a way to zero in on what she needed…Ashlyn picked up the files and put them in the bag. She zippered the bag, pushed the drawer shut and stood.

  There were a few messages on her desk and she walked around to that side to skim through them.

  Most were the usual reports of sightings and tips that would need to be followed up. Nothing stood out, so she set them down. They could wait. Two were from Constable Keith, and after she skimmed them, she folded the slips of paper and put them in her pocket. She walked around to Nolan’s desk and turned the light off. One final glance around the office confirmed she was leaving it as she’d found it. She bent down, picked up the bag, and after a quick check stepped out into the hall and walked to the back door.

  At the back of the station she took a deep breath before opening the door.

  It didn’t look like anyone had arrived while she’d been inside, and she released a breath of air as she hurried to her car. She slid the key in the lock and within seconds had tossed the bag inside and shut the trunk.

  Ashlyn walked to the driver’s side door. A couple of quick clicks of a button and that door was unlocked. As she extended her hand she heard a voice behind her and jumped.

  “Sullivan said to take the day off.”

  She forced herself to take steady breaths as she turned. “So what are you doing here?”

  “Believe it or not, looking for you.”

  Tain’s face had the solemn expression she’d come to associate with him from time to time, when he’d been intently focused on the details of the case.

  When he’d been less interested in hurling insults than in assessing the information they had to work with.

  “Why?”

  Tain looked to his right, then left. “There are some things I think you need to know.”

  “Wow. That’s the understatement of the year.”

  The sound of a trash can lid clattering to the ground made them both look toward the alley. As the noise subsided, Ashlyn looked back at Tain, but he remained turned to the side, his hand resting on his still-holstered gun.

  She’d yanked the car door open and was halfway inside before she glanced up at him. “I’m sure you mean well—”

  Tain looked at her, looked back at the alley, then walked around behind her car and pulled on the passenger door.

  She’d flicked the lock as soon as she had her door closed.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “Fine. Give me your cell number.”

  “What?”

  “Give me your number. I’ll call you when I’m ready and tell you where to meet me.”

  “Ashlyn—”

  “Take it or leave it, Tain.”

  She watched the conflict on his face and then he spat out the number. Ashlyn keyed it into her cell phone and then put the car in reverse.

  “I’ll call you.”

  He stepped back and she backed out of the spot and drove away.

  Ashlyn checked her side mirrors and rearview mirrors. It was so early that attempting to follow her would be obvious, and there wasn’t a moving vehicle anywhere in sight.

  Once she was a comfortable distance out of town, she pulled over to the side of the road. The first place they’d look for her would be the cabin. A rented room would connect to a credit card that could be traced.

  We know someone’s been feeding information to the Native leaders, Tain.

  Nolan’s words from several days before. Meant to deflect suspicion from himself?

  Steve’s word should have earned him at least the benefit of doubt, but despite the nuggets Nolan had shared with her during their impromptu dinner the night before, he’d also lied to her and to Sullivan, and lingering questions about why he was hiding the missingpersons files and why he’d gone to see Jenny Johnson’s mother remained unanswered.

  Ashlyn got out of the car and opened the trunk. The woods were quiet, but not uncomfortably so. A glance to her right caught the flash of a squirrel’s tail as it jumped onto a different branch, and she could hear the faint chirps of birds.

  The woods weren’t holding their breath in fear.

  She returned to the car with the bag. The backseat offered the lure of more space, but the front seat offered the use of mirrors and a chance to leave quickly if she felt the need.

  Tain had spooked her. The promise she’d made to call him may have been a mistake. She’d be putting herself in the open, at a scheduled time.

  Despite the risk, she intended to go through with it. Tain had been on her list for the day before he’d surprised her.

  She’d gone in search of answers, and the missingpersons files that had disappeared. What she’d found was more than she’d imagined. The unexpected file from Nolan’s desk was on top, and she pulled it out and flipped through it again.

  Jenny Johnson. Blind Creek Shipping. Constable Tain and a failed bust, followed by a series of arrests that hadn’t held up in court. Drug trafficking, prostitution, illegal firearms possessions…

  Bobby Hobbs and Eddie Campbell were suspected of being in the middle of a highly profitable cross-border enterprise, smuggling everything from cheap cigarettes to live girls and raw cocaine into and out of the United States.

  Jenny Johnson.

  The envelope she’d retrieved from under Tain’s desk was on the bottom of the bag, and it took a minute of shifting other files bef
ore she could remove it without ripping it.

  She slid the papers out again, confirming they were what she’d thought they were before counting them. Ten papers in all, each removed from a different file. She mentally checked off the list. The only missing person involved in their investigation who didn’t have a sheet in the envelope was Jenny Johnson.

  As soon as those papers were replaced, she started skimming through the names on the missingpersons files. Nothing stood out. She exhaled. If she didn’t find a way to narrow it down, she might have to read all of them.

  Where had Nolan worked before, when he’d handled the report on the missing girl that was part of their case? She pulled her notebook out of the glove box and flipped through the pages.

  Penticton.

  Ashlyn started skimming every file to see if Nolan had originally handled it. She was halfway through, and a glance at the clock told her she’d spent a few hours going over what she had so far. None of the girls had lived in Penticton or been reported missing there, and none of the officers who opened the files she’d looked over so far connected to their investigation.

  How could she narrow it down?

  Ashlyn picked up her phone and started to dial. When the voice mail answered she hung up without leaving a message.

  She flipped through the folders again and skimmed the contents one file at a time. When she reached the file labeled KAITLIN COLLINS it clicked into place. As soon as she saw the name in the file, she went back to the top and read it line by line.

  Kaitlin had been reported missing from a small town in the interior Ashlyn vaguely recognized. Her date of birth made her…

  Fifteen years old.

  Ashlyn continued to skim the file. It read like many of the others, the tale of a small-town girl who’d disappeared without much evidence of where she’d gone or why. As she skimmed the folder, she realized that there wasn’t one single thing that readily stood out to make the file any different than the ones officially connected to the investigation, or the ones locked in Nolan’s desk. She slowed down and covered the information line by line until she found it.

  Reported missing by Craig Nolan. Brother.

  She picked up her phone and dialed again. This time, he answered.

  “I found something interesting in these files, Steve.”

  “Ashlyn—”

  “She’s still missing?”

  Steve hesitated. “What does the file say?”

  “Look, these files have been missing for weeks. If there was an update for any of them, it wouldn’t be in here because Nolan’s had them locked in his desk.”

  “Then how did you get them?”

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

  “Ashlyn, is this what it’s come to? Sneaking around, going through people’s desks? Why didn’t you go to Craig?”

  “I—” She glanced around, suddenly aware that her volume had increased while they’d been talking, then leaned back for a second and closed her eyes. “I know you trust him, but there are things he’s hiding. Things that, as far as I can tell, have nothing to do with his sister.”

  “At some point you’ll have to decide who to trust, Ashlyn.”

  She opened her eyes and looked in the rearview mirror as the hum of a truck engine faded. The occupant of the truck got out and shut the door, his empty hands raised as he approached her car.

  “I’ve almost worked that out,” she told Steve. “I have to go.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  Ashlyn flipped the phone shut, opened the car door and got out. “Dare I ask?”

  “You used your cell phone.”

  “Does anyone on this team work within the law?”

  Tain glanced at the bag on the front passenger seat of her car. “Not anymore.”

  She almost smiled.

  “Can we talk?” he asked her.

  “Where?”

  “Drive. It’s safer.”

  For him or for her? She was beginning to wonder, but didn’t argue. She got in the car and it only took a moment to stuff the files back in the bag and put it in the backseat. As she backed out of the parking spot she glanced at Tain. “You have fifteen minutes to persuade me this is worth my time.”

  “In that case, I’d better start talking now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Twenty months ago

  “All I know is, they’re planning for Saturday.”

  “They aren’t saying what the shipment is?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Not exactly. We hafta do diff’rent things, dependin’. They don’t have me doin’ clothes, so I don’t think it’s girls.”

  “Doing clothes?”

  “They burn whatever they come over in, get rid of it. Make sure the last clothes they were seen in are never seen again.”

  Tain nodded. It made sense. “So you’re thinking drugs.”

  “Eddie said somethin’ about snow.” Jenny made a face at him. “Eddie never was too smart.”

  She was fidgeting with a stir stick, the fourth she’d cracked apart since they’d sat down. Her strawberry-blonde hair had an oily sheen and a few fresh pimples dotted her pale skin. She was wearing those gloves, the kind that had the tips of the fingers cut out.

  Tain never could make sense of that particular fashion trend. Why wear gloves in the summer at all? Unless they were work gloves or gardening gloves…

  That was when he realized there must be marks on her hands, wounds that were reopened before they could properly mend. For Jenny the gloves weren’t about fashion. They were about function.

  He sat back as the waitress approached their table and slid two plates of food and two glasses of orange juice in front of them. Jenny always picked the booth in the very back, where she could curl into the corner and keep an eye on everything around her. They were in a roadside diner not far off the highway, but far enough off to not be a truck stop. It was the kind of place that had clung to its faded green and dusky white décor not out of nostalgia but because of budgetary restraints. The uniforms the staff wore were so faded Tain wouldn’t have been surprised if they were hand-me-downs from the original staff. He’d met Jenny on the outskirts of Nighthawk Crossing and driven more than a hundred kilometers from her hometown, to a place she’d never been to, and still she glanced around the restaurant as she wolfed down the eggs and toast, keeping watch for any familiar faces.

  “Okay, look. You need to go, just like normal. Do whatever they ask you to do. You’ll be arrested along with them.”

  “I don’t know if I can do it this time.”

  “If you aren’t there it’ll look suspicious. They’ll start wondering if someone talked to the cops, and if you’re the only one missing they’ll know it was you.”

  She sat still for a moment, then reached for the orange juice. “What about the other thing?”

  “The girls?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You told me about the ones they smuggle across the border, in both directions. Runaways recruited for prostitution. Once we get these guys we’ll try to track down all the victims.”

  She shook her head. “No. I mean the other girls. The ones I gave you dates for.”

  Tain hesitated. “There are girls who’ve gone missing around those times. You mean they aren’t part of this other thing?”

  She fidgeted with the empty orange juice glass and shrugged her right shoulder. “How many did I give you days for?”

  “Nine. Is that how many there are?”

  Jenny shrugged and shook her head. “I’ve never seen them all together.”

  “But you have seen them?”

  Jenny’s wide eyes searched the room before she looked at Tain again. “Once. Some of them.”

  “But you said—”

  “Look, I overheard them talkin’. Sayin’ these ones weren’t for the other stuff. There’s a cellar at the inn and it connects with tunnels, over across the street to where the inn staff used to stay. That’s where my room is, part of the cell
ar. I saw two of them there once. The girl they’d had for a while, she wasn’t too skinny, not like the ones they use for the other stuff. She was out to here.” She made an arc with her hand that indicated a swollen belly.

  Pregnant.

  “The other one, they’d just gotten her. She was tied up. They always kept them tied at first.”

  As far as he could tell, Bobby and Eddie were pretty small-time criminals who’d stumbled upon an easy trade. Eddie was a trucker and didn’t get much hassle at the border because he lived on the Reserve. Bobby’s family had owned the shipping company for years, and they’d been plying one form of illegal trade or another for as long as Blind Creek Shipping Co. had been in business.

  Tain knew that could happen when Reserves bordered each other. There were different rules, and Aboriginal policing was nothing short of a nightmare. Some might say it was a joke, but he wouldn’t go that far. He understood the politics, the conflicts, the inherent distrust passed down from one generation to another.

  There were reasons he didn’t want to work on Reserves.

  “Where are they keeping them?”

  Jenny took another glance around as she reached for the fork and twirled it in her fingers. “I don’t know. The pregnant one, I’d seen her when she first came, when she was tied up and skinny. Eddie stays at the staff house.”

  “What about Bobby?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes, sure. But not all the time.”

  Why keep a group of missing girls at an inn downtown? Tain understood that the same person who ran the shipping company owned the inn, but it still didn’t make much sense. There were too many risks…

  He looked up. Jenny was watching him. Light never danced in her eyes. She looked like she’d lived a lifetime and a half already, instead of just the meager handful of years she’d spent in the Interior.

  Since their first meeting, he’d done some checking. Her mother was a known prostitute. She’d forced Jenny into the trade as soon as she developed, but Jenny had left the house to live in a small shack, working odd jobs and stealing what she couldn’t afford to survive.