There were shouts in the distance, followed by the sound of a heavy door slamming shut.
Mac roared as he came after Craig and jumped on top of him. Craig felt the jarring blow of the hood of the car impacting with his back, between his shoulders, and raised his arms to shield his head as Mac swore at him and swung wildly. Some of the blows hit the car and others hit Craig.
A door creaked. Pounding against metal. Footsteps on pavement.
He pulled his leg to the side and braced himself as he swung his foot down against Mac’s back. Mac yelped as he fell forward, into Craig, and then slid down onto his knees.
Craig felt hands on him then, pulling him away from the car, away from Mac. Their words were muffled, their faces a blur.
Nothing coming into focus until the sound of a siren, followed by the feeling of being pushed face-first against a car and the officer calling out, “Gun.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Yeager had always looked rigid before, but when Craig saw her talking to the uniformed officers on scene, she looked like someone had stuck a metal rod up her backside, her no-nonsense expression coupled with raised shoulders and a back so straight she was a chiropractor’s nightmare.
The more they talked, the taller she got.
They’d left him sitting in his Rodeo, on the front passenger seat with the door open and an ice pack pressed against his jaw.
The ice was doing more to help his hands at the moment. He lowered the pack and switched it to his left hand, already bruised and swollen. The dried blood on his knuckles worked like a glue on the gashes and he felt the protest when he tried to straighten his fingers.
Someone shut the back door to the ambulance and knocked on it before walking around to the passenger side door. The officers who’d been getting the third degree from Yeager were getting into their cars. One cast a glance in Craig’s direction and shook his head. The ambulance parked on the other side of them was crawling along the alley, lights flashing off the buildings silently. On cue the crowds began to disperse, one group heading into the back door of the bar, another cluster walking behind the ambulance toward the apartment building that shared the alley, a few others coming toward Craig, down the other alley that led to the nearby shops.
Yeager marched across the parking lot and overtook the stragglers walking down the alley. They slowed, staring openly at Yeager and Craig until she turned and glared at them. Their pace quickened, and once they’d passed, Yeager turned back to Craig.
“When I reassigned you, you took it well.”
Craig shifted the ice back to his right hand.
“I knew you wouldn’t want the case, but I gave it to you anyway. And you never complained.”
He risked a glance at her face. Anger etched in stone was what he expected, but there was a softness in her eyes he didn’t anticipate, as though she was begging him to cooperate.
“MacDougall was a pain in the ass. Openly arguing. I know he wasn’t showing up, and I know you covered for him.” She glanced to her left—the bar Mac had come out of—and sighed. “And I know he’d been drinking on shift.”
There was silence for a moment, but he didn’t look back up. “What I don’t know is why you assaulted him.”
Mac’s words: Who’s gonna believe that when the reporter’s a woman you’re known to be tight with, Nolan?
The look on Emma Fenton’s face when he’d kicked her out of his motel room flashed through his mind.
Mac: Feisty little thing too. I mean, from what I hear.
Craig lifted the ice pack back up to his jaw and looked at Yeager, returning her steady stare. Tough as she was he thought he saw a flicker in her eyes—disappointment, sadness, maybe regret—but as soon as he thought he saw it, it was gone, perhaps nothing more than the trickery of sunlight as the clouds broke for a moment, then closed in over them again.
The softness, if it had ever really been there, was gone.
“Have it your way, Nolan. You’re suspended, pending an investigation into this incident.” She paused. “And if MacDougall decides to file charges this silent tough-guy crap won’t help you.”
Yeager turned around and started to walk to her car, the one lone police vehicle that remained in the alley, before she stopped and looked back.
“And Nolan? Don’t leave town.”
He sat, half in and half out of the vehicle, and watched her get in her car and drive away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I used to think I’d like to spend some time here in the summer. With the mountains and the lake it’s so pretty, and there’s waterskiing, tubing, Jet Skiing…”
“Looking for Ogopogo.”
“Said with the scorn of a disbeliever.”
Tain shook his head. “Just a gimmick to sell key chains and stuffed monsters to tourists.”
“Wait.” Ashlyn held up her hands, her mouth wide with the feigned look of sudden revelation. “Isn’t that what some people say about the RCMP?”
“It’s obviously not the same thing. We’re for selling stuffed moose and bears in little red serge coats.”
For what seemed like the first time in days, a smile lit Ashlyn’s face, one that seemed to reach her eyes. She’d been quiet ever since he’d told her what Sims had learned, and they’d spent the drive into the mountains in silence.
“So what changed your mind?” Tain asked.
“Hmmm?” She glanced at him as she stopped the car for a red light, brow furrowed.
“About spending time here in the summer?”
The lines vanished as her face lengthened. “Too close.”
He nodded. It wasn’t an explanation that needed more words for him to understand.
She followed the directions to the hospital. Ashlyn had parked the car and was halfway out of the vehicle before she stopped.
“We haven’t checked in,” he said.
Ashlyn climbed back into her seat and groaned. “They’ve got a big case, the manhunt. I haven’t been reading the papers and I know we’ve missed the briefings, but I still overheard something about it at the station.”
“Ever since we found Millie in the Dumpster, I’ve been avoiding the news.”
“This could take a while.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
She looked at him with her eyebrows raised into an Are you kidding me? expression but didn’t argue with him.
He pulled out the map and guided her through the turns, somehow managing to muddle up a detour around an accident that had one road closed. It wasn’t until they were a few blocks and one last turn away that Tain set the book down.
“Oh my God.”
Just as quickly as Ashlyn had said the words, she’d clamped her hand over her mouth but it was too late. Tain looked past her and followed her gaze to the woman walking out of the coroner’s office, toward the sidewalk.
First Millie, followed by the newspaper clippings—something he realized he hadn’t even told Steve about—then the link to Nighthawk Crossing.
And now Summer Young.
Tain closed his eyes for what felt like a second, and when he opened them they were parked outside the RCMP station.
Checking in should have been a formality, perhaps more time-consuming than usual because of the manhunt, but straightforward nonetheless. When Tain had checked in with Steve to tell him they were leaving, Steve had assured him he’d call ahead to let Kelowna know they were coming.
“Yeah, someone called about that.” The reception area was in chaos and the person behind the counter mumbled the words while changing extensions on the phone as they riffled through a stack of message slips that was thicker than a paperback novel. “Kelowna R…They haven’t answered yet?…I can try…Just a moment.” Identified only as ‘Joe’ by his nametag, the man glanced at them. “Sergeant said to go ahead, but come back before you leave town. She wants to talk to you, but she’s in the middle of something right now…”
Joe shrugged as he punched another button and started talking.
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Tain and Ashlyn left the station in silence and returned to the hospital.
“What was Sims able to tell us?” Ashlyn asked.
“Just that she’d been admitted here about nine weeks ago.”
They found the reception area and went through the formalities of presenting ID and explaining what they were after, first to one woman, then another, then a shift supervisor, then someone from management who didn’t look like a doctor.
After explaining who they were and what they wanted for the fourth time, they were left in a small room with a few armchairs, a couch, a poster about STDs and another poster about the benefits of getting the flu shot.
When the door opened, the woman from management accompanied a female doctor, who had dark hair pulled back in a bun and glasses with thick, black frames. “I’m Dr. Waters,” was all she said as she sat down.
Both women carried folders.
Tain glanced at Ashlyn, who held up her ID. “Constables Tain and Hart. We have a few questions about a patient you treated just over two months ago. Millie Harper.”
The doctor glanced at the bureaucrat, who nodded.
“Ms. Harper was treated for a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist, as well as a concussion.”
“Did she provide a local address?”
The manager opened her manila folder and cleared her throat. “Nighthawk Crossing.” She extended a sheet to Tain. “You can keep this copy.”
“Do you know why she came to this hospital?” Tain asked the doctor as he took the offered paper.
Dr. Waters hesitated. “No.”
“But you have a theory.”
“She only wanted me to look at her ankle and wrist, but the moment I touched her, she winced and pulled back. That was to be expected with her injuries, but I moved my hand up her arm and she cried out. When Ms. Harper changed into a gown there were faded bruises visible upon examination, as well as bruises that were purple and black on her arms, legs and back.”
“You’re saying she was abused,” Ashlyn said.
Dr. Waters paused and glanced at the manager, who looked down as she smoothed her skirt. “She claimed she fell down the stairs.”
Tain looked at the sheet in his hand. The reason they’d been forced to jump through hoops and the reason the doctor was being supervised as she answered questions was clear: there was reason to suspect abuse, but the hospital hadn’t reported it. “I understand it was her right foot that was injured.”
The doctor flipped through the pages in the folder. “That’s correct.”
“Did she drive herself?”
“No,” Dr. Waters said. “She was dropped off by an RCMP officer.”
“He left his card,” the manager said smoothly. “I have a copy for you.”
Tain took the sheet and stared at it for a moment. He looked up to see Ashlyn watching him, her forehead pinched.
The hospital had assumed the RCMP officer brought her in after she’d filed charges.
“Did you speak to this officer?”
Dr. Waters shook her head. “I didn’t see him when she was admitted. According to the file, he picked her up when she was released.”
“How did you get his card?”
“He left it with the nurse who admitted Ms. Harper,” the manager said.
“And he never questioned you about her injuries, requested a medical report?” Ashlyn asked.
The doctor shook her head.
“Can I get the name of the nurse who admitted Ms. Harper?”
The doctor and the bureaucrat exchanged a glance, and the manager cleared her throat. “Shelly Brown. She was a temp, and hasn’t worked here since.”
“Do you have her address?”
The bureaucrat offered a thin smile. “I’m sure you understand we have to follow protocol when it comes to releasing confidential information. As it is, we’ve volunteered information to you about Ms. Harper’s case willingly, in an effort to demonstrate our willingness to cooperate with the authorities—”
“You mean cover your ass because you didn’t report suspected abuse to the police when you saw the nature of Ms. Harper’s injuries,” Ashlyn said.
There was silence for a moment. Dr. Waters looked at her lap while the bureaucrat stared back at Ashlyn. Tain cleared his throat.
“Okay, we’ll need a copy of her medical file from when she was treated.”
“We’re correct in believing that Ms. Harper has filed assault charges?” the manager asked as she turned to look at him.
“No, she never filed charges,” Tain said as he stood.
The manager rose to her feet. “Then why—?”
“She was murdered.”
When they returned to the station, they were intercepted before they even had a chance to approach someone and show their ID. They were directed to an office assigned to a Sergeant Yeager, where they were left to wait.
The woman who entered the room a few minutes later was the no-nonsense type and didn’t ask them to be seated.
“Did you fail to catch the real killer?”
Tain was aware of Ashlyn’s sideways glance at his face, but he didn’t look at her. He kept his focus straight ahead, on Yeager’s unyielding stare.
“The Missing Killer case. Did you”—the woman took care to enunciate every syllable slowly—“make a mistake?”
“No, Sergeant.”
She had piercing green eyes that seemed to be trying to bore a hole through his skull. “Yet here you are, investigating the murder of one of the original abductees. You’ll forgive me for being a little sidetracked with this search for a multiple murderer that I’m dealing with, but from what I understand, there are similarities between how she was killed and the murders in Nighthawk Crossing.”
Tain swallowed. “Yes.”
“Why is it I seem to be the only person who thinks maybe you made a mistake and that there’s someone out there who’s finishing what they started a few years ago?”
“With all due respect—” Ashlyn began.
Tain cut her off. “It would be rash to form such a conclusion based on the facts available at present. If we find any evidence that suggests that there was another participant in the murders, who was not apprehended, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Then you’re maintaining that your victim doesn’t have anything to do with the body we recovered in the woods here, a few days ago?”
He hesitated. “It’s too soon to say. We haven’t had a chance to review this new case.”
Yeager maintained her stare. Tain had seen fish that blinked more often.
“We will pursue every lead until exhausted,” he told her. “That’s why we’re here.”
She shifted her glance to Ashlyn, who remained silent, and then Yeager nodded. “I expect you to.”
“We’re going to need access to the files. Who’s working the case?” Tain asked. He ignored the sharp glance Ashlyn gave him.
Yeager sighed. “Nolan was pretty much handling this on his own.”
“Craig Nolan?”
She nodded.
“Is he here?” Tain asked.
Yeager’s mouth formed a hard line. “He’s been suspended.”
From the corner of his eye, Tain could see the color drain out of Ashlyn’s face. He didn’t know what to say.
He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers Yeager might have for him.
“I can give you his local number.”
“And an address for where he’s staying. We’ll need to talk to him.”
Tain watched her nod as she picked up the phone, dialed an extension, requested the phone number and jotted it down before hanging up without so much as a quick thank-you. She passed the slip of paper to Tain. “Keep me informed” was all she said before she dismissed them.
Once they were back in the car, Ashlyn turned to look at Tain. “What the hell is going on?”
“I have no idea,” he told her as he handed her the second piece of paper with the photocopied image of Craig’s business c
ard. He’d only needed a quick glance to confirm the number for the cell phone was the same number Yeager had given him moments before. “But we need to find out. Fast.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Whatever had happened between Craig and Ashlyn in the aftermath of her assault, Tain had never asked.
She’d stayed with him during her medical leave. For hours at a time he was at the station and he’d never questioned her about how she’d spent her days. One afternoon when he’d returned home, he’d found her sorting through some boxes.
More things she’d brought from the house she’d shared with Craig.
Whatever had happened between them, he’d told himself it wasn’t any of his business. He’d told himself he didn’t need to know. He’d told himself Ashlyn was one of the strongest people he’d ever met, and that in time, she’d come to terms with her grief over the loss of her unborn child.
He’d never concerned himself with whether she’d come to terms with the end of her relationship with Craig. Craig, so hell-bent on questioning whether his father was infallible that he wasn’t there for Ashlyn when she’d needed him most.
There were days he found himself wishing Craig would rot in hell. Usually, they were the days he saw the shadow of pain in Ashlyn’s eyes as she walked by Craig’s empty desk, the paleness of her skin when someone mentioned his name. The act of walking into her sergeant’s office served as a daily reminder.
He would have throttled Craig himself if he could be certain that every ounce of pain he inflicted would be less pain Ashlyn would need to carry, but it didn’t work that way. He knew that. His own scars ran too deep, and in the years since the death of his daughter, he’d come to terms with the hollow realization that no amount of punishment Noelle’s mother faced was enough. The woman who’d given Noelle life and then ultimately took it from her had faced justice from the courts, but the judgment against her had only compounded the grief he still carried within him. The years of Noelle’s life that she would never have had been measured against the time her mother had served when they released her on parole after only a few years behind bars.
Lullaby for the Nameless (Nolan, Hart & Tain Thrillers) Page 49