SATURDAY, AUGUST 13
Matt woke to the sound of the train grunting its way up the river valley. The locomotive was building up momentum to tackle the Rocky Mountains. Matt stood on the bed to look out of the window. It must be late morning.
Not much to see but tree tops and the other side of the valley. He sat down on his bed and looked over at Jessica.
Outside the door and down the hall, a phone rang.
Matt held his breath.
“Where’s my coffee?” the devil asked.
Matt saw that Jessica had her thumb stuck in her mouth. There was a silver pool of drool on the pillow.
“Wuddya mean he’s thinking about more insurance?” the devil asked.
Matt took a slow breath and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Look, if he’s getting ready to do something else, he’d better let us know what’s up. I’m not gonna hang around here much longer listening to that kid scream. . . . I don’t care if Kev had a bad night. He needs to make up his mind!”
Matt heard the sound of plastic slammed against plastic.
He put his elbows on his knees and listened.
“Yes, I’d like to order some coffee. You know, the usual. Twenty minutes? Okay,” the devil said.
Matt waited. He knocked on the door.
“What?”
“Bathroom,” Matt said.
The devil smelled of sweat and day-old pizza as he opened the door. “Make it quick.”
“Okay.” Matt walked down the hall to the bathroom. He left the door open, dropped his pants and sat.
The devil watched him from the other end of the hall.
Matt glanced at the garbage can. Inside was a paper coffee cup with a cardboard heat sleeve. Matt leaned forward.
The devil faced away as he dialed and put the cordless phone to his ear.
Matt reached into the wastebasket, pulled out the empty cup, pulled off the sleeve and put the cup back in the trash.
“He always takes care of himself first. The plan is changing and I don’t like it!” the devil said.
Matt stood up.
“If he says he’s getting more insurance, it means he’s about to cut us loose. Find out more! Kev will leave us to take care of these kids and take all of the heat from the cops!” The devil stabbed at a button on the phone.
Matt flushed the toilet, pulled up his pants, put the cardboard sleeve in the sink, washed his hands and rolled the cardboard into a wet ball. He squeezed the moisture out of the sleeve and palmed it.
He stepped outside the bathroom. “Finished.”
“You know what to do.” The devil pointed at the room with a doorknob on the outside but none on the inside.
Matt reached the door, opened it and used his thumb to jam the ball of cardboard into the mortise. Moisture trickled down the doorjamb. Matt smoothed the wet cardboard with his thumb. I hope I got it right. He closed the door. Jessica sat up in bed. He put his forefinger to his lips. She nodded.
He waited for the devil to twist the deadbolt. Instead, the man dialed another number. “I want to order a pizza.”
Arthur opened his eyes, took a sip of coffee and studied the charts on the wall, all tagged with multicoloured sticky notes.
He set the cup down on a coaster.
Christine was gently snoring where she lay on an air mattress to one side of the living room floor.
Roz lifted her head and wagged her tail.
Daniel appeared in the door to the kitchen. “Want another coffee?”
Arthur smiled. “Perfect.”
“Anybody phone?” Erinn stood at the top of the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. She was dressed in a redflannel pajama top and matching bottoms. She held her belly as she felt her way down the steps.
“Not yet,” Daniel said.
Mary wiped Joshua’s face. He swung his head from side to side attempting to escape the facecloth.
“That’s mean.” Dee Dee entered the common room. “Let me take him for you.” She reached out her arms.
“No, thanks.” Mary tried to hide the anger in her voice as she stood and grabbed the empty baby bottle.
“Just trying to help.” Dee Dee rolled her eyes. “New mothers.”
“Give me a break! You call yourself a doula?” Mary took Joshua and headed for the back door. “See you next time.”
“What did you say to me? I know what that means! How could you say that to me? I was trying to help!” Her shrill voice followed Mary down the hall.
Mary stepped out the back door. She looked at her son. We need to get out of here.
Lane closed his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hand. He inhaled. It’s getting a little gamey in here.
Harper shifted his position in the driver’s seat. “Want a cup of coffee?”
“How long did I nod off?” Lane looked up at the ninth floor of Kev’s apartment building nestled in the picturesque river valley. I need a shower.
“Thirty-five minutes.” Harper pointed as a truck arrived at the front entrance of the apartment. He grabbed the binoculars. He focused on the driver and waited until he could see the rear license plate. “It’s one of the trucks on the list. Let’s see what he’s delivering.”
They watched as the driver parked, opened the door and stepped out holding a tray with a pair of coffees and a juice.
Lane looked at his watch.
A blue jay squawked from a nearby tree.
They ignored the bird.
The deliveryman stepped out of his truck, pushed open the front door and reached for a cell phone.
Lane checked his watch and wrote down the time, the license number and a description of the driver.
“Use the camera,” Harper said.
Lane tapped the side of his head. “It’s in here.”
The deliveryman stepped out the front door three minutes later, pulled away from the apartment, ran the stop sign at the three-way intersection and turned left in front of them.
“What’s the rush?” Harper asked.
“Don’t know.” Lane’s phone rang and he reached for it. “Hello.”
“It’s Keely. I’ve got two more shelters to check on. Mary has to be at one of them. I’ll let you know if I find her,” she said.
“Do me a favour?” Lane asked.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Be sure to wear your vest. I can feel this thing rising up to a boil and who knows which way it will go.” Lane thought, I could have explained it better.
“You got yours on?” Keely asked.
“Yes,” Lane said.
“Okay, then,” Keely said. “I’ve got some news for you.”
Lane leaned forward and glanced at Harper. “Go ahead.”
“Russell Lowell is dead. Stabbed behind Kev’s restaurant at about one o’clock this morning. Moreau is claiming that Robert Rowe was waiting at the back of the restaurant and is responsible for the murder.” Keely waited for a reaction.
“If we’re right, Rowe had a reason for coming after Mor-eau. But why would he want to hurt Russell Lowell?” Lane asked.
“Don’t know. Details are sketchy so far,” Keely said. “It’s kind of ironic, though.”
“How’s that?’ Lane asked.
“Kev was being interviewed on TV this morning. He was whining about the recent string of murders and complaining that the police aren’t doing enough to protect citizens.”
Lane said, “If things work out today, he may be complaining from a cell after being arrested for murder.”
“Let’s hope so.” Keely hung up.
Mary sat under the apple tree in the shelter’s backyard. Each time she looked up at the second floor of the shelter, the curtain to Dee Dee’s window would shift to one side or the other.
“Don’t pay no attention to her. She’s here two or three times a year, and she always goes back to the bastard. Sometimes you just wanna shake your head. Thinks because she’s a regular she has some kinda special status around here.” Rita used her key to open the back gate. She carried a new shovel and digging fork. As the gate shut and locked behind her, she held the pair up. “Wore the other tools right out. Got my first pension check, so I decided to treat myself.”
Mary looked up at Dee Dee’s window and saw the curtains move again. “Dee Dee gives me the creeps.”
Rita stuck the spade in the soil and used the fork to turn over the dirt in the flowerbed. “I know. She pretends to be all nice and sweet, but underneath she’s just plain mean. Loves to manipulate people around this place, then gets all offended when they won’t play her games. She’s one twisted woman. Keep on expecting to see her pop up on some reality show.”
“You’re starting to sound like a shrink.” Mary put Joshua down on the grass. He crawled in the general direction of Rita, spotted a grasshopper and stopped to see whether he could grab it.
“When I worked for the city, people were always comin’ to me for advice. Askin’ me what they should do. Tellin’ me their problems.” Rita turned and smiled at Joshua. The grasshopper jumped. Joshua followed.
“I get the feeling it’s time for me to move on.” Mary glanced over her shoulder.
“Where you gonna go?” Rita asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” Mary said.
“Family messed up?” Rita asked.
“Alcoholics.” Mary watched her son like a mama grizzly bear watches over her cub.
“You want to protect him. That’s natural,” Rita said. Joshua reached for the grasshopper and it leapt away.
“You don’t understand,” Mary said.
Joshua began to chuckle. Rita smiled.
“Candace was there, wasn’t she? When Moreau and Pike picked up Zander. Russell — my husband — told me there was a girl in the car. Russell still has nightmares about it. Pike conned Russell into bringing Zander to Moreau’s car after school that day. Russell watched them drive away with the kid.” Mary looked at the gate, then up at Dee Dee’s window.
Except for Joshua’s laughter and a robin, there was silence. Rita coughed. “Candace told me about it just before she left. She said they took Zander to an industrial park. Then Pike and Moreau took the kid inside a shop. About ten minutes later, they came out without the boy. Moreau told her, ‘Don’t worry, we’re just teaching the kid’s big brother a lesson. Zander is fine.’ But after a couple of weeks, she knew Zander wasn’t fine. She started to ask questions. A week after that, Pike showed the movie of her and Kev to kids at her school. She said Moreau and Pike showed it because she asked too many questions about Zander.”
Mary heard the resignation in Rita’s tone.
Rita said, “The thing is — you and I know what Kev is capable of. Most people don’t. They buy his act. Neither of us falls for his charm. There’s an advantage in that.”
“Yes, but where’s our advantage when he’s got the gun?” Mary asked.
Matt touched Jessica’s hand.
He pointed at her pink shoes with the flashing heels.
She walked over to the head of her mattress and brought her shoes to him.
From just outside of the door, the devil said, “I ordered that pizza you’ve been waitin’ for. It’s comin’ for lunch. You hear me?”
“Thanks,” Matt said. Time for our last meal? He heard the rustle of a newspaper and the footsteps of the devil walking down the hall. Matt bent to do up Jessica’s right shoe. “Hold on to this one.” He handed her the left shoe.
The bathroom fan turned on. Matt heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the tile floor. He grabbed Jessica’s hand. She dropped her left shoe.
Now! He put his free hand up and covered his mouth.
Jessica did the same. Matt reached his fingers under the door and pulled it toward him.
Jessica grabbed his wrist with both hands. The door swung open and the latch clicked. Shit! Matt thought when he heard the sound. He waited.
The devil turned the newspaper page and grunted.
Matt opened the door, picked Jessica up and swung around to close the door behind them. He looked down the hallway and saw the devil’s knees with his pants around his ankles. The devil’s hands were on either side of the newspaper. The rest of the devil was hidden behind the open door.
Matt tiptoed over to the apartment door, opened it, stepped through and set Jessica down. He used his hand to slow the closing of the door. He waited until he heard the latch make a whispered click. He bent, picked Jessica up under the armpits and walked down the hall. With every footstep he expected to hear the sound of a door opening and the devil’s footsteps behind them.
Matt reached the stairwell door, pushed it open and let it close slowly. By the time they’d made their way down nine flights of stairs, his calves were burning, his arms were aching and his back was groaning.
The midday light greeted them as he opened the door to the main floor. He turned left, ignoring the front exit, turned the corner and opened the back door. He felt a rush of optimism when he inhaled fresh air.
Jessica asked, “Where’s my daddy?” Matt followed a sidewalk that turned into a trail when it passed under the trees. He skidded on loose gravel where the trail curved its way down to join a paved path that followed the river. They went under the bridge with the river on their left. The sound of the water helped to calm him.
Jessica had her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear. “Where’s my mum?”
Mary carried Joshua inside the shelter.
“You need to see this!” Dee Dee called out to Mary from the common room.
Mary looked at the TV. A reporter stood in front of Kev’s restaurant. The reporter lifted his microphone. “Police discovered the body of Kev’s chef Russell Lowell in the alley behind this restaurant just after two AM this morning.” Mary felt as if she wanted to run but her feet kept her staked to the floor.
The reporter continued. “Kev Moreau is the owner of the restaurant.”
The image switched to Kev Moreau facing the camera. “Russell was a long-time employee. I tried to get between him and Rowe, but it all happened so fast.”
The reporter asked, “So you witnessed the murder?”
Moreau nodded. “It happened right in front of me. Rowe stabbed Russell before I could intervene. How could the prison system let a guy like Rowe just walk away from jail? Makes me wonder who will protect any honest citizen from people convicted of violent crimes.”
Mary felt the tears running down her cheeks. She felt Joshua’s hand on her arm. Kev is lying! She looked at Dee Dee.
She saw the smile on Dee Dee’s lips.
Mary turned away and walked toward the stairs. Russell, I tried to tell you.
Lane reached for his phone. “Yes?”
“It’s Arthur. Uncle Tran’s friend got an order for the pizza we’ve been waiting on. The phone number is a match for one of Moreau’s drivers. The pizza will be picked up in twenty minutes,” Arthur said.
“We’re ready.”
“Lane?” Arthur asked.
“I know. I’ll call you as soon as I know. Right now I’m trying to concentrate and make sure we’re ready.” Lane tucked the phone in his pocket. He looked at Harper. “We’re on in less than thirty.” Lane dialed McTavish’s number.
There was a gentle knock on Mary’s door.
Mary picked Joshua up and held him close. “Who is it?”
“Rita.”
Mary opened the door. Joshua stuck his tongue out.
Rita tried to smile. “I was just downstairs and overheard Dee Dee on the phone. She clammed up tight when I walked into the common room. You two had better come home to stay with me for a few days.”
Mary began to decline, then looked at her son. “When do you want to leave?”
“Meet me at the back gate in fifteen minutes.” Rita reached for the doorknob.
“Russell is dead. He was killed this morning,” Mary said.
“All the more reason for you to leave.” Rita closed the door.
Kev Moreau tapped the sous-chef on the back as he prepared vegetables for the lunch crowd. “I’ll be back soon. I’m leaving you in charge, chef.”
The newly promoted chef beamed at Moreau.
Moreau smiled back. “You’ll be just fine. I have every confidence in you. I have something that needs to be taken care of right away.” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket as he walked out the back door.
Keely stopped at a red light. She looked at the address of the last shelter on her list. The light turned green. She headed west along the north side of the river across from the towers of the downtown core.
Matt carried Jessica under the bridge. He heard traffic humming overhead. In front of them, a paved path headed east into a park where trees and shrubs would hide them.
“We have to go this way, Jess,” Matt said.
Jessica had one arm around his neck. “Home?”
“Yes, we’re going home.” Matt followed the trail deeper into the cover. He remembered a series of pedestrian bridges that connected the south side of the river with the north. “This way might take us a little while longer, but it will be harder for anyone to find us. Can you walk?”
Jessica released his neck. He put her on the ground. She was unsteady on her feet.
“Feels funny to walk after being in that tiny room for so long.”
Jessica walked ahead of him. Her single heel flashed red.
“We forgot one of your shoes.” Matt looked down the trail. We need to put some distance between us and the devil!
Lane and Harper had walked over to wait in the apartment foyer. Moreau’s relative drove up in his late-model Ford pickup. He stepped out of the truck with a pizza in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He looked to be about thirty and weighed maybe one hundred fifty pounds. The man wore a red-and-white hockey jersey and a red ball cap. The information supplied by Saadiq’s friend told them that this cousin went by the name of Billy Moreau. He left the diesel engine of his pickup idling.
McTavish stepped out from cover. He leveled a shotgun at the man’s nose. “Put the pizza on the hood, Billy.”
“Do you know who you’re messing with?” Billy’s cigarette fell from his mouth and rolled under the truck.
“Billy Moreau. Cousin to Kevin Moreau.” McTavish held out his police ID.
Billy put the pizza on the hood of the truck.
“Move to the front of your truck and put your hands on the hood,” McTavish said.
“Yep.” Billy made to inhale on his cigarette, frowned when he discovered it was gone, stepped over to the front of the Ford and leaned with both hands on the chromed brush guard.
McTavish placed the barrel of his shotgun on the collar of Billy’s jersey and pressed the metal up against the back of his neck.
“I just do what I’m told,” Billy said.
McTavish used his free hand to check Billy for weapons. The officer found a cell phone in Billy’s right pants pocket.
“That’s my phone, man!”
“You’ve got other problems now. Unlawful confinement is one of them. I’m going to detain you.” McTavish pocketed the phone and reached for handcuffs. He attached one end of the handcuffs to the truck’s brush guard and the other to Billy’s right wrist. Then he stood back and faced Moreau.
“What do you say to him when you deliver the pizza?” McTavish asked.
“Nuthin’,” Billy said.
“I’m only going to ask once more,” McTavish pointed the shotgun at the pavement.
“Nuthin’! I told you, nuthin’! Just knock once and go easy, man, he’s my brother,” Billy said.
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Daryl. The kids are fine. No reason to hurt anyone,” Billy said.
McTavish walked to the driver’s door of the truck, reached inside, shut off the engine, pocketed the keys and asked, “What room number?”
Billy said, “Nine oh five.”
McTavish looked at Billy and put his forefinger to his lips.
Billy nodded. “Yep. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Just don’t shoot my brother.”
McTavish pushed the door of the lobby open and handed the pizza box to Lane.
Harper pressed the button for the elevator. The white arrow lit up. The elevator door slid open.
McTavish pulled a phone out of his pocket as he stepped inside the elevator. “The clock is ticking. I’m calling for backup.”
Keely found the women’s shelter two blocks back from a bluff overlooking downtown. She parked across the street and stared at the white two-storey building with its twometre-high hedge shielding the grounds from prying eyes. It was flanked by one mansion made of red brick and another of sandstone.
She put her keys into her pocket, stepped out of the Chev and crossed the street. Keely looked at the trellis flowers visible over top of the hedge marking the front gate to the shelter. The hedge was manicured into an arch. Inside the yard, a woman gathered a shovel and garden tools from the far corner of the yard. She placed them in a wheelbarrow.
Another woman, with a bruised face, opened the front gate and smiled in Keely’s direction.
Keely heard a car door close to her right. She walked between two parked cars and stepped onto the sidewalk. What she saw next became a series of impressions accompanied by her instinctive reactions.
She saw that Kev Moreau had a handgun pointed at her.
Keely reached for the Glock on her hip.
Moreau smiled with an expression that said she was too late.
Keely reacted by diving back between the parked cars.
Moreau’s silenced gun spat one round.
She heard it whiz past her left ear. The second round struck her in the left breast. She screamed in pain at the impact. Her head caught the corner of the car’s grille. She smelled antifreeze and blood as she fell under the front bumper of the parked car.
Moreau looked down on the officer and saw the blood pooling around her head. He turned to walk through the gate. Dee Dee held the gate open for him. “She’s around back with the kid.”
“Puppy.” Jessica pointed at a red animal walking across the near end of a pedestrian bridge crossing the Bow River.
Matt picked her up. “Fox.”
The fox yawned and turned west as it stepped off the bridge and disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Mine?” Jessica pointed at the fox logo on her running shoe.
“That’s right.” Matt carried her onto the bridge and over the river to the north bank.
“Mommy’s be mad.” Jessica held up her toe and sock as proof.
Matt looked at the pink sock and its dirty sole. He smiled. “No, your mom won’t be mad you lost your shoe. She’ll be too happy to see you again.”
“Promise?” Jessica said and put her left hand on his shoulder as she held on to his shirt front with the right.
“Promise.”
McTavish pointed and indicated that Harper and Lane should stand on either side of the door. He handed the shotgun to Harper.
Lane held the pizza between McTavish and the door, just above the doorknob.
McTavish drew his Glock with his right hand and knocked once on the door with his left. He tucked his gun under the pizza box.
They heard a chair being pushed back.
A pair of boots crossed the floor.
“Billy?” asked the voice on the inside.
“Yep,” McTavish said.
The door opened.
Daryl looked at the pizza. He raised his eyes. They opened wide and he reached for the weapon on his hip. His eyes crossed when he saw McTavish’s left fist connect with his nose.
Daryl stumbled back and cupped his hands over his bloody nose.
Lane tossed the pizza against the opposite wall and stepped inside. The rage he had contained for the past days exploded as he grabbed Daryl by the hair, kicked the feet out from under him, twisted him in mid-air and dropped him face first onto the floor. Lane landed on top of Daryl with a knee in his back. Air whooshed out of Daryl’s lungs.
By the time Harper stepped into the room, Daryl had both hands cuffed behind his back. He was taking in big gasps of air, coughing and spitting blood. After a minute, he asked, “What the fuck? You broke my nose!” Harper put a black nylon bag over Daryl’s head.
McTavish grabbed the suspect by the arm, lifted the devil’s pistol out of its holster and propped Daryl up against the wall where his nose could bleed onto the front of his black T-shirt. McTavish walked down the hall and checked the bathroom.
Lane drew his Glock and held it at his side. He held his finger lengthwise over the guard.
Harper closed the door to the apartment.
Lane looked at the kitchen table and saw Matt’s phone. He reached for it.
Harper stopped him with his left hand. He shook his head. Harper pointed at the devil’s mask near the remote control on the coffee table. He held up his left palm. He mouthed the words, We’re not here.
McTavish reached the bedroom door, tried the handle and then raised his shoe and kicked the door open. It flew against the wall, smashed back against the casing and opened about halfway.
McTavish looked inside of the room, then over his shoulder. They could read the puzzlement in his eyes.
Harper leaned his head to the left.
Lane went to stand behind McTavish, who stepped inside the bedroom.
Inside the room was one mattress with two pillows on the floor. Next to the mattress, a pink running shoe lay on its side.
McTavish asked, “What is this child’s running shoe doing here?”
The door opened too easily, Lane thought. He looked at the casing and spotted something jammed in the mortise. He pointed at it.
McTavish leaned to take a closer look. Then he looked at Lane and frowned.
Harper looked at them and opened his left hand as if to ask, What’s going on?
McTavish put his finger to his lips. He held up the running shoe to make sure that Harper could see it.
Harper blanched and nodded.
McTavish said, “The place is empty except for you, Daryl.” With his free hand, he motioned that Harper and Lane should wait in the living room.
Lane resisted an impulse to kick Daryl in the ribs as he walked past.
Harper cocked his right leg to kick Daryl. Lane shoved Harper, who stumbled into the living room. Daryl sniffed.
McTavish tried the door of the next bedroom. He opened the door and looked inside. He waved at Lane and Harper to come and take a look.
Another mattress was close to the door. The rest of the room was stacked floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. McTavish hauled one down and opened it. He held up a wad of cash and waved it. “Room is filled with boxes.” He lifted his chin and indicated they should leave the apartment.
Lane and Harper went outside and down the hallway. Harper asked, “What did you see?”
“The bedroom’s empty. You saw Jessica’s pink running shoe. It was on the floor. It looks like Matt’s phone on the table. And there’s something jammed in the mortise so the door wouldn’t lock.” Lane leaned against the wall. “I don’t know where Matt and Jessica are.”
Harper put his free hand on Lane’s shoulder.
McTavish opened the apartment door while keeping his gun trained on Daryl. The sergeant said, “He says he doesn’t know where the kids are. Said the kids were there this morning. Seemed real surprised the room was empty.” With his free hand, McTavish reached for his phone and pressed speed dial. “With all of the cash in that room, this place is going to be real busy, real soon.” He lifted his chin to indicate that they should leave, then spoke into his phone. “Hello. It’s McTavish. I need the Forensic Crime Unit.”
“Arthur? It’s me.” Lane thought, What do I say to him?
“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked.
“I . . .” Lane followed Harper across the street as they headed back to the Jeep.
“What? Tell me!” Arthur said.
“They weren’t there. Matt’s phone was there. Jessica’s running shoe was there. Someone had jammed something in their door to keep it from locking. The guy who was guarding them was surprised the kids weren’t in the room. I don’t know where they are right now!” I can’t think, Lane thought. I need to think and I can’t!
“Pull it together, Detective,” Arthur said.
Lane was sure there was a smile behind Arthur’s voice. Lane thought, What’s the matter with him?
“What does the evidence tell you, Detective?” Arthur asked.
“They escaped?” Lane opened the passenger door and climbed into the Jeep.
“You bet they did.”
Harper started the Jeep. “Of course they escaped. Matt jammed something into the lock and walked them both outta there. Now, where did they go?”
Mary had Joshua snugged on her right hip and two plastic shopping bags in her left hand. She put the bags down to open the back gate.
“There you are,” Kev Moreau said.
Mary recognized the voice and reached for the gate latch.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Mary turned and held Joshua close to her side.
Kev stood on the back door step. Dee Dee stood behind him.
“I’m leaving this place. You have nothing to fear from me,” Mary said.
Kev stepped down and stood on the lawn with his hands on his hips. Dee Dee remained on the steps with her arms crossed under her breasts. She was smiling.
Kev held his hands open.
Mary saw the gun in its holster under his left arm.
“It’s not that easy. Things got complicated after you killed Pike.” Kev took one step closer.
“He was going to take Joshua. Just like the two of you took Zander.” Mary saw Rita walking down the side of the house with the shovel in her right hand. Moreau had his back to Rita.
Kev drew his gun and pointed it in Mary’s direction. “See what I mean about things being complicated?”
“Yes, that means I get a two-bedroom apartment instead of one,” Dee Dee said.
Kev turned and fired.
A red mark appeared on Dee Dee’s forehead, and she took a step back.
Kev shot her in the heart.
Dee Dee bent at the knees and fell sideways into a shrub.
Kev turned to face Mary. “Put the boy down on the grass. If you hadn’t told me what you know about Zander, I might have let you walk.”
Mary moved to her right and sat Joshua down on the grass. She retreated from her son. “How did Russ die?”
“He got in the way of Rowe’s knife,” Kev said.
“So, you used him as a shield.” Mary watched as Rita moved closer to Moreau.
“That’s why this needs to be done. You know too much and ask too many questions. Women like you always ask too many questions.” Kev raised his pistol.
A whistle of steel cut through air. Kev started to turn his head. He heard a moist thunk as the shovel blade chopped through flesh and bone. Kev’s head flicked to the right.
Mary stared at Moreau.
His face paled. The gun dropped from his useless right hand. He reached over with his left hand, trying to pull at the shovel blade embedded between his neck and shoulder. “Wait a minute,” he said to Mary. “Just wait there.” His right hand flopped and swung uselessly at his side. He turned to face Rita, who had picked up his gun and was pointing it in his general direction.
“I’ll take that.” He took a step toward her.
Rita stepped to her right.
Moreau stumbled forward, turned to follow her and — as he did so — continued to pull at the shovel with his left hand. “Why did you do that?”
Mary wondered at the offended bewilderment in Kev’s voice.
He dropped to his knees. “I don’t even know who you are.”
Rita leveled the gun at Moreau’s face. “I’m Candace Barnett’s aunt.”
“Candy’s aunt. How is Candy?” Moreau put his left hand out to keep himself from falling sideways.
“Haven’t seen her in years,” Rita said. “She was another woman who asked too many questions, remember?”
Mary saw that Joshua had spotted a dandelion and was crawling toward it. She went to pick him up.
“What did you hit me with?” Moreau asked.
“A shovel.” Rita kept the gun aimed at his eyes.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Then he did something that left both women looking at each other with bewilderment.
He began to laugh.
The Jeep rolled out of the valley.
Harper’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Lane.
“Lane here.”
“Simpson. We have a report that Detective Saliba has been shot and is requesting assistance. Will you two move on it?” he asked.
“What’s the location?” Lane asked. How did he get this number?
Simpson read the address to Lane, who relayed it to Harper.
Harper turned onto Crowchild Trail and accelerated.
What the hell happened to Keely?
Arthur wrote the grocery list for Daniel and pushed a credit card across the table with his free hand. “Take this.”
Daniel took the card. “I’ll take my phone just in case you think of anything else.”
“You go with him.” Arthur pointed at Christine.
“But we don’t know where they are,” Christine said.
“We do know where they’ll be headed. They were being held maybe five kilometres from here,” Arthur said. “And I know when they get here we’re all going to need something to eat.”
“Go on, we’ll be here.” Erinn looked at Arthur with a mixture of hope and dread.
Matt sat Jessica down on a bench toward the top end of the paved pathway leading up out of the river valley. He sat down beside her and looked further up the path where it wound its way into an established neighbourhood. Mature trees on either side of the path provided shade and cover.
They sat and watched a pair of boys race down the hill on their bicycles.
“I’m tired.” Jessica held up one dirty-socked foot, rested it on Matt’s leg and brought up the other foot with its pink running shoe. She rested her head on the back of the bench.
“Me too,” Matt said.
“I want to go home.”
“Me too. So, let’s get going.”
Jessica reached up, and he lifted her onto his shoulders.
Mary looked at the scene from the back of a police cruiser. Joshua slept beside her on the seat. She kept one hand on his head.
Mary could see the back of Rita’s head as she sat in a cruiser further down the street.
A Jeep pulled up and parked next to her. Two men got out and ran toward a woman on a stretcher, who was being loaded into an ambulance.
Lane found Keely on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. “What happened?”
Keely tried to lift her head. It was wrapped in white gauze. Her face was streaked with blood and tufts of her red hair were matted with it.
The EMT — whom Lane knew to be the mother of three — put her hand on Keely’s shoulder to keep her horizontal.
“This is ridiculous. I was wearing a fucking vest!” Keely said.
Lane climbed into the back of the ambulance while the EMT put an oxygen mask over Keely’s mouth.
Keely pulled the mask off. “They said some woman killed Moreau?”
“With what?” Lane asked.
“A shovel,” the EMT said.
“Are you kidding me?” Keely asked. “I want to meet this woman. I mean, after the bastard shot me, the least I could do is thank her.”
The EMT shook her head. “You can thank her later. We’re taking you to the hospital. The bullet hit your vest very near your heart. You need to see a doctor. Besides, that scalp wound will need stitches.”
“It didn’t hit my heart, it hit my boob!” Keely rubbed her breast. “Shit, that hurt!”
The EMT looked at Lane.
“Better get her to the hospital,” Lane said.
“Can’t be soon enough.” The EMT smiled.
Lane backed out of the ambulance and into Harper.
“She okay?” he asked.
Lane nodded. “Yes. I think she’s at the tail end of an adrenalin rush. What happened back there?”
Harper looked at the open front gate of the women’s shelter. “Two bodies in the backyard. One of them is Moreau. Face down in the grass. Looks like someone buried a shovel in his shoulder or his neck — hard to say which. The other body is an unidentified female. Fibre is on his way.”
“Hey! Shut the doors, will you?” The EMT sat down next to Keely.
Lane grabbed one door and Harper the other. They closed and locked the back doors of the ambulance.
The ambulance’s lights came on and it slalomed around the police cruisers and their flashing lights.
“Keely’s okay.” Lane looked at Harper.
“You said that. Now we have to find Matt and Jessica. Where the hell would they go?”
Lane looked at the ground and tried to think.
“You’re always telling me that you like to walk the dog in that part of town. Where the hell would you go? You’re the fucking detective,” Harper said.
Lane thought for a moment. “There’s a trail that runs up the north side of the river valley. Come on! Are you going to drive or stand around asking me questions?”
Jessica locked her fingers at the base of Matt’s throat. He carried her piggyback while he walked over the bridge crossing Crowchild Trail.
Matt looked ahead.
“Are we there yet?” Jessica asked.
“Another half an hour.”
“My arms are tired.” Jessica tucked her head against his shoulder.
Harper drove the Jeep up the pathway on the north side of the river.
An approaching cyclist came around the corner and was forced onto the grass. His mouth formed a curse that became unintelligible as he bumped over the uneven surface and past the Jeep.
“What happens if we don’t find them here?” Harper asked.
“Then we head back to the river and work our way west.” Lane pointed ahead.
A woman — pushing a stroller almost as wide as the Jeep — shoved her child off to the side of the trail and shouted, “Motherfuckers!”
“Friendly bunch,” Harper said. “These are your neighbours?”
Robert Rowe rested his elbows on the concrete wall of the pedestrian bridge running between Edworthy Park and the north side of the river. He stood between two circles in the cement. Each circle was inlaid with parallel lines of wire. Below him, the Bow River ran east. He spotted the shadow of a trout idling behind a rock. The green water swirled over the rock, creating a wave but no white water. The trout swam lazily, waiting for food to become trapped in the reverse current created by the rock and the river’s flow. Robert backed up to look at the trout through the wire. He smiled at the thought of eating the fish.
A woman walked down the middle of the bridge. She saw the blood on Robert’s shoes and walked a little faster. When she reached her car, she pulled a phone from her purse and dialed 911.
Fifteen minutes later, a police cruiser arrived in the parking lot on the south side of the river. They parked in the Edworthy Park lot, walked past the cooking shelter, paralleled the river and then walked up the sloped southern end of the bridge. Both officers were over six feet tall and each weighed more than two hundred pounds.
Robert focused on the trout and wondered whether he could wade into the water to catch it. “It looks to be at least two pounds.”
The officers looked at one another. “He matches the description,” one said.
“Robert Rowe?” the other officer asked.
Robert turned to face the officers.
The officers noticed the blood on the front of his shirt and down the front of his pants. The officers separated, keeping a distance of about two metres between them.
Robert reached into his pocket.
“Put your hands up and keep them away from your body!” Both officers put their hands on their Glock handguns.
Robert lifted the dandelion weeder out of his pocket. He held it out front with his right hand and pointed the weapon at the officers.
A cyclist rang his bell, rode between the officers, stood up on his pedals, passed Robert and accelerated.
One of the officers spoke into his radio.
“I didn’t kill anyone that night. I was a passenger when those guys shot Moreau’s cousin. I didn’t know where they were driving or that they had guns until after I got in the car. But I was the one person someone recognized from that night. And that’s why Zander died.” Robert made eye contact with each officer in turn. “My brother died for no good reason.”
“Drop the weapon.” The officer looked to his right. Cyclists and pedestrians were gathering at the south end of the bridge. He looked to the north. More people were gathered at that end.
Robert looked at the dandelion weeder. “Killing that guy last night was an accident. I was after Kev Moreau.”
“Moreau is dead,” the second officer said.
Robert looked at the officers. “Somebody else killed him?”
The officer nodded. “That’s correct. Now put the weapon down.”
“It’s a dandelion weeder.” Robert stared at the blood he hadn’t managed to wipe from the metal.
A siren sounded on the north side of the river. Robert looked north and focused on the concrete circles at that end of the bridge.
Another cyclist rode between the officers. This cyclist looked at Robert and said, “Fuckin’ loser!” Then the rider spat on Robert.
Rowe swiped the dandelion weeder in a wide arc and caught the cyclist on the thigh. The rider screamed, lost control of his bike, fell and slid into the opposite wall.
Robert lunged at the cyclist.
One officer shouted, “Stop!”
The other fired two rounds.
Robert dropped the dandelion weeder, looked at the hole in his chest, looked through the circles at the north end of the bridge, stepped back toward the circle in the wall, sat down and looked down through the mesh to see whether he could spot the trout behind the rock.
“Here, you chop the celery.” Arthur handed a knife and cutting board to Erinn.
“Thank you,” Erinn said, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
Arthur said, “We have to keep busy. We’ll get news soon. I just can’t sit and wait anymore.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Arthur and Erinn raced for it.
Maria stood on the doorstep with a fresh-baked pizza. “Hungry?”
At the top entrance to the trail, a vertical white metal pole blocked Harper’s path.
“What do we do?” Lane asked.
Harper stopped, shifted the Jeep into low and moved ahead slowly. He smiled at Lane. When the Jeep’s bumper met the pole, it fell over onto the pavement.
Matt’s legs ached. His back ached. His feet ached. He felt wonderful and free. “Not much further.”
He looked to his left. A pair of kits played tag above the sandstone rocks on the first level of the retaining wall. Matt looked for the mother but couldn’t spot her. He heard the sound of an approaching car and the sound of brakes being applied hard. Matt looked over his shoulder. He swung Jessica off of his back, tucked her on his hip and made ready to run.
“Matt!” Christine was halfway out of the passenger window. When Daniel got the car stopped, she had some trouble getting back inside because she’d opened the door before releasing her seat belt.
Matt set Jessica on her feet.
Christine jumped from the car. She ran, grabbed Matt around the neck and kissed his cheek. “Matt!” Then she recoiled. “You stink!”
“Me too?” Jessica held her arms up.
Five minutes later, Jessica stepped in the back door carrying a bag of groceries. “Christine told me to bring these.” She held up the bag.
Erinn turned, saw her daughter, blinked and scooped up her child.
“Mommy! You’re squishing me!” Jessica said.
Lane’s phone rang as they rolled along a trail set in between condos and an open field. “Yes?”
“They had to have gotten at least this far,” Harper turned left into a parking lot and searched the area systematically with his eyes.
“They’re home,” Lane said.
“Home?” Harper turned to stare at Lane.
Lane nodded. “Christine and Daniel found them within a kilometre of my house. We’re supposed to go there and have something to eat.”
“You’re kidding.” Harper’s eyes filled with tears. He stopped the Jeep, leaned against the wheel and wept.
Lane rubbed his friend’s back with his left hand. “No, I’m not kidding. They’re home.”