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  “Arthur has breast cancer. It looks like the surgery will be at the end of the week.”

  She studied him. “You really are juggling right now. What’s the prognosis?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “We need to start thinking about having the whole family in for a session when Arthur is back on his feet.”

  Lane knocked on the door of the two-storey, sand-coloured condo where Keely and her family were staying. In his other hand was a tray with three cups of coffee.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Lane.”

  The door opened wide enough for Amir to see him. “Come in.” Amir looked past Lane and shut the door.

  “How’s Keely feeling?” Lane asked.

  Amir pointed down the hall. “In the kitchen.”

  Lane walked down the hall and set the coffees on the table. He looked sideways at Keely, who sat near the window. The right side of her face was beginning to bruise. Another bruise and a series of stitches were visible along her scalp line.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Keely said.

  Lane handed one cup to her and one to Amir, who sat down beside his daughter. Lane took a sip from his cup and watched her. “Where does it hurt?” He smiled and winced.

  She smiled back and grimaced. “You know as well as I do that it hurts everywhere.”

  “I’m going to talk with Fibre. You want to come?” Lane asked.

  Amir said, “Kharra alhek.”

  Keely held up her hand, “Let me finish my coffee, then I’ll get ready. Dad, it’s rude to say ‘Shit on you’ to Lane.”

  Amir didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed. “The doctor says she needs to rest!”

  “It’s okay, dad — we’re just going to talk with a guy who can give us some answers. There’s no danger involved.” Keely set her coffee down. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

  Amir said, “Majnoon.”

  “Dad. Look at me. This is my decision, not his.” Keely hugged her father. “By the way, Lane’s not crazy, and I’ll be careful.” She made her way to her bedroom and closed the door.

  “What happened to your last partner? Did he get killed?” Amir asked.

  Lane kept his tone matter-of-fact and didn’t smile, even though he wanted to. “He’s the acting deputy police chief.”

  Amir went to reply and stopped. He looked thoughtfully at Lane. They drank their coffees in silence for ten minutes.

  Keely opened her bedroom door and went to the bathroom.

  Amir finished his coffee. “Keely said you stayed with her in the car until the fire department got you out.”

  “She was bleeding and my door was up against a guardrail. I didn’t want to move her in case there were other injuries.” Stick to the facts, Lane thought.

  “She said you just talked to her.”

  “That’s right. I was worried she might have a concussion.”

  Amir looked at his coffee. “You could have left her there and got out.”

  Lane shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

  Amir studied Lane but said nothing. They heard Keely’s footsteps and turned as she approached. Amir got up and went to hug her. She winced in pain as he put her arms around her shoulders. “We won’t be long,” she said.

  Lane parked the Jeep in front of the glass-and-metal office building that was part of the Foothills Medical Centre where Fibre worked.

  “I’m sorry about my father,” Keely said.

  Lane smiled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I like the guy.”

  Keely laughed and grimaced. “Oooh, that hurts. Even when he’s swearing at you in Arabic?”

  “Especially when he’s swearing at me in Arabic. It’s what Arthur does. And what your dad doesn’t know is that I understood all of what he said.”

  Keely laughed and moaned.

  “You hungry?” Lane asked.

  “Starved.”

  Lane reached for his cell, flipped it open, and dialed. He looked at Keely.

  “Yes, Dr. Weaver?” Lane listened, then said, “We’d like to meet for lunch. Yes, perhaps a bit unusual. Yes, I’m sure you always bring your lunch. Yes, today is different. We’d like you to come with us and get a little fresh air. Yes, both of us are in the car outside waiting for you. We’ll wait for a minute until you get here.” Lane closed the phone.

  “Do you think he’ll come out?” Keely asked

  “We’ll give him five minutes. Apparently, he enjoys routine.” Lane looked sideways at her and raised his eyebrows.

  Keely leaned against the door. “How did you know about the bomb?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just before the explosion, you changed lanes and I can remember the roar of the engine.” She looked out the window, seeing it happen again.

  “Flashback?” Lane asked.

  “Yes. A flashback. Answer the question.” Keely turned to look at him.

  “Something wasn’t right. I saw the plastic container duct-taped to the curb and the pavement. And it looked like the top was taped closed. It was an instinctive reaction to something that was out of place.”

  “So it would have exploded much closer to me if you hadn’t reacted the way you did.”

  Lane nodded.

  “Thank you. I owe you.”

  “Let’s get one thing clear,” Lane said. “You don’t owe me a thing. We’re partners.”

  “Grumpy?” Keely smiled.

  “A little.”

  “Would you look at that?” Keely pointed.

  Fibre stood outside. He looked from side to side. Lane started the engine and pulled around to pick the doctor up. Fibre had trouble opening the back door but finally managed to get in the back seat. He searched for the seat belt.

  “Thank you for joining us, Colin,” Lane said. “Please close the door.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Fibre closed the door. “Ready.”

  Lane looked at Fibre in the mirror. The doctor sat with his lunch bag on his lap.

  Ten minutes later, they parked near the river and close to a crescent where a wicker furniture store, a fabric shop, and a couple of apartments faced a restaurant in a permanent state of expansion and renovation.

  Lane groaned as he exited the car. Keely did the same. Fibre got out, closed his door, and went inside the restaurant without a backwards glance. Lane followed and held the door open for Keely.

  Inside, they found an almost exclusively female clientele casting sideways glances at Fibre’s glamour-boy face and physique.

  Lane looked at Keely to see if she’d noticed. She smiled back, shook her head, and mouthed a single word: “Unbelievable.”

  They sat down across from the doctor, who was studying the menu, which was written in a variety of colours on a whiteboard on the wall behind the cash register. “Thought I’d better get a table. Are the Nanaimo bars good here?”

  “Delicious. You’ve had them before,” Lane said.

  “I’ll have two.” Fibre opened his lunch bag, unwrapped a sandwich, and began to eat while looking out the window. Lane caught a whiff of peanut butter and jam that smelled of saskatoon berries.

  Lane and Keely decided on what to have for lunch and got up to order.

  “My treat,” Keely said.

  “No,” Lane said.

  “Yes.” She glared at Lane. He put his money back in his pocket. “It’s the least I can do. You saved my life and my father insulted you for it. At least as far as you and I go, one good turn should be rewarded.”

  After they sat down and the coffee had arrived, Fibre looked at them. “Initial findings are that the rear of your vehicle took the brunt of the explosive force and absorbed most of its energy. The explosive device was a mixture of nitro methane and ammonium nitrate. We believe that a cellphone was used to trigger the device. No nails, ball bearings, or other bits of metal were found nearby. Devices like this often use shrapnel. This one did not.” Fibre looked side to side as he rolled up the sandwich wrapper, folded up the bag,
and tucked the wrap inside a fold. He opened his jacket pocket and slid the bag inside.

  The waiter brought sandwiches on thick slices of kettle bread to Lane and Keely. Fibre stared at the plate with its pair of Nanaimo bars; to him it appeared to be the only food in the café. Lane sipped his coffee and watched Fibre slice off one corner with his fork, speared it, and put the morsel in his mouth. His eyes went wide, then closed as he swallowed and smiled. He looks like he’s about to have an orgasm! Fibre’s eyes opened. He cut off another section of Nanaimo bar, repeating the process all over again.

  After the fourth bite, Lane looked around. Some of the women stared, a few looked away, and one dabbed her forehead with a napkin.

  “Anything new on the pipe bomb?” Keely asked.

  Fibre opened his eyes and reoriented himself within his surroundings. “No. The device is clean. We checked for blood, skin cells, and fingerprints. The bombmaker was very cautious about leaving evidence behind.”

  Lane began to eat his sandwich. He watched Keely cut off small bites of bread with a knife. She saw him watching her. “My jaw hurts.”

  “I’m finished.” Fibre stood up and went outside. He stood waiting by the car until Lane and Keely arrived five minutes later. They traveled in silence back to Fibre’s office. He closed the back door of the Chev and walked into the building, all without a wave, a thank-you, a backward glance, or a goodbye.

  “Very odd,” Keely said.

  “And very good at his job. He grows on you after a couple of years.” I never thought I would say that.

  “So what’s next?” Keely asked.

  “Wait for a break?” Lane didn’t have to wait long for Keely’s reaction.

  “No way. We’re getting close. Either it’s someone inside the force or it’s Jelena.”

  “You sound like it’s getting personal,” Lane said.

  She looked at him. “Somebody tried to kill us. You bet it’s personal. Who do we concentrate on?”

  “The bomber is the most immediate threat.” Lane rubbed what was left of his earlobe.

  “You think it’s the same one who blew up my car?” Keely asked.

  “I think it was someone who knew we’d be at a certain place at a certain time.” Lane looked at Keely.

  “I looked at the map again. The route we took is actually one of two roads into that development. There is another way in, but it would take a lot longer, and it’s more complicated.” Keely leaned away from the door and rubbed her right shoulder.

  “So the most likely suspects would be Jelena or whoever had access to our communications. When did you call it in?”

  Keely thought for a moment. “About thirty minutes before we left my place. That gave the bomber at least forty-five minutes to get everything in place.”

  “Plenty of time. We should expect that there are more explosive devices available to the bomber.”

  “That’s a given. Then we need to ask ourselves if Mladen would have access to the information.” Keely massaged her temples.

  “Not likely.”

  “Is the bomber after me or both of us?” Keely asked.

  “We’ll know that only after the bomber is caught.”

  “Take me home. I need some rest. We’ll get back at it tomorrow.” Keely closed her eyes.

  Lane started the engine.

  “Yesterday you almost get blown up, and today you go back to work! Are you nuts?” Christine stood over Lane. He was sitting on the couch with his feet up.

  Lane looked at Matt and Arthur for support. Daniel looked at the front door as if searching for an escape route.

  Matt said, “She’s right.”

  Arthur put his fists on his hips. “You’ll get no sympathy from me!”

  Lane looked at Daniel. A glare from Christine froze her boyfriend in place.

  “Are you ready?” Matt asked.

  “For what?” Lane asked.

  Roz tilted her head to one side and gave him a quizzical look.

  “For dinner at Lisa and Loraine’s.” Christine rolled her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you remind me?” Lane asked.

  “We did,” Matt said.

  Lane drove while Arthur, Matt, Christine, and Daniel talked.

  It took twenty-five minutes to drive to Lisa and Loraine’s house, which was situated on a street lined with mature trees, a motor home or two, and several aged automobiles. There were cars parked on either side of the street in front of their house. “Somebody’s having a party,” Lane said.

  “Ya think?” Christine asked.

  The inside of the car was quiet as he parked half a block away. They climbed out of the Jeep. Arthur took two bottles of wine and a gift for the baby from the back of the vehicle.

  Lane followed the four as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door. A note was taped to the glass: GO AROUND BACK.

  When they reached the side of the house, they heard voices and laughter. A baby said something delightfully unintelligible. Another tiny voice said, “Mom? Mom!”

  They rounded the corner. Lane saw familiar faces.

  Harper’s daughter Jessica climbed up into his arms. Harper walked toward Lane and offered his hand. “A clandestine meeting. Everyone here can keep this meeting secret, I hope.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Good to see you.” Lane smiled and received a hug from Erinn, Harper’s redheaded wife.

  She said, “We’ve missed you.”

  Jessica wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and glared at Lane.

  “She remembers me!” Lane said.

  Erinn laughed. “She’s daddy’s girl and thinks you’ve come to take him away from her.”

  Arthur was getting a group hug from Lisa and Loraine and their infant son Ben. Christine and Matt introduced Daniel to Harper’s nephew Glenn.

  Lane looked over Erinn’s shoulder. Keely stood behind Loraine. Lisa released Arthur and turned, Ben squirming in her arms, wanting to be put down on the grass.

  He heard Keely say, “My dad told Dylan he was going to have to convert if he wants to marry me.”

  “What does your mom think of that?” Loraine asked.

  “She wouldn’t convert when they got married. She thinks going to Catholic school for eleven years was more than anyone should be asked to do in the religious department.” Keely kicked her sandals off.

  “Eleven years?” Loraine asked.

  “She got kicked out of school at the end of Grade Eleven. There was a discussion about the rights of women as they’re written in the Bible. She stood up and said there are no rights for women as far as the Bible or the Catholic Church are concerned. She got suspended for being disrespectful and confrontational. She finished up her Grade Twelve in another school. Then she went into law.”

  Dylan walked out the screen door with a beer in one hand and a soft drink in the other. He handed the soft drink to Keely, took a swig of the beer, and asked, “Do you want me to convert?”

  “Eavesdropping again?” Keely asked. “Do you want to?”

  Dylan blushed and shook his head. “No.”

  “Then don’t.” Keely looked at Lane. “Are you surprised?”

  Christine laughed. “The legendary deductive skills of Detective Lane! He had no idea that all of you would be here.”

  Harper laughed. “Since we’re talking about your reputation — you’ve wrecked three cars in the last year or so. Could you give me a rough estimate on how many you’ll need for next year? We’re in the middle of budget negotiations.”

  Lisa hugged Lane, and baby Ben squirmed between them. “I hear you’re getting on-the-job training with high explosives.” Lane winced. “Just trying to stay current on the latest data concerning injuries caused by improvised explosive devices.”

  Keely laughed. “Yes, Detective Lane believes in hands-on training methods. Since explosive devises are becoming more and more common, he decided to make them part of our investigation and part of my training regimen. So far, I’ve had first-hand experience with two types of
explosions.”

  Harper raised a bottle of beer. “Careful, Keely — it gets even more interesting from here on in!”

  Erinn said, “I’m just glad you’re both in one piece.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Christine reached for Ben. Lisa handed him off. Then Daniel reached for Ben. Ben smiled, turned to Christine, and grabbed the collar of her sleeveless top. “Hey, Ben! Watch what you’re grabbing!” she said.

  Arthur touched Lane on the shoulder. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “A cold beer, please.” Lane sat down and was joined by Keely, Loraine, Erinn, Lisa, Arthur, and Harper. Soon, Dylan, Christine, Glenn, and Matt were playing with the younger children. The older people sat in a circle of lawn chairs.

  Lane listened to the conversations swirling around him. Mladen lost all of this. What would I do if someone took my family away?

  Erinn asked, “When do you go in for your surgery, Arthur?”

  The party fell quiet.

  Arthur looked over her head. “It’s not one hundred percent for sure yet. I have an appointment tomorrow. But it looks like Friday.”

  “That’s quick,” Lisa said.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Harper asked.

  “Now that you mention it, you can keep Lane from being blown up or shot,” Arthur said.

  Harper raised his glass and said, “To long life and good friends.”

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 28

  chapter 14

  “Detective Lane?”

  Lane recognized the voice. He tucked the phone next to his ear and held it there with his shoulder while he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced at the clock; it was just after five in the morning. “Chief Simpson.”

  “I just got off the phone with the defense lawyer for Officer Stockwell. Stockwell is to be charged with the bombing of Officer Saliba’s vehicle. Is it possible for you to view the interrogation as a bystander? Is Detective Saliba well enough to be there also?”

  “I think so. She’ll be my next call.” Lane stood up. His ribs ached from the bruises left by the seat belt and the airbags.

  “How was Stockwell’s involvement uncovered?” Lane asked.