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  Lane pointed at the passenger side of the front seat.

  Fibre got in. “This is unusual. Why are you meeting me here, and why is Deputy Chief Harper here?”

  “We’re supposed to ask the questions.” Lane tried to smile.

  Fibre opened his lunch bag, looked around him and closed the bag.

  You’ve taken Fibre out of his comfort zone. Go easy. Lane said, “We were hoping you could give us a forensic update on Stan Pike.”

  Fibre nodded. “My lawyer said you gave me good advice. He said that you were right. Gaia’s lawyer already sent the medical report. She is pregnant with triplets. We’re in the process of confirming paternity, and I’ve chosen a realtor.”

  “What did she say about the house?” Lane asked.

  “Actually, I proposed a duplex.” Fibre turned in his seat so that his back was to the door.

  Keely looked at Fibre like he’d just landed on the planet. Lane heard Harper inhale impatiently.

  “So you can live in one side and she in the other?” Lane thought, Let him tell his story first. He’s obviously got to let this out before he can talk about the rest.

  Fibre nodded.

  “Very clever. That way you can see the kids and live close to them at the same time.” Lane smiled at the doctor.

  Fibre nodded, smiled, looked at his lunch, appeared to remember why he was in the car and began to talk evidence. “The petroleum signature on Pike’s effects was a match to a sample of accelerant found at the King residence. Mr. Pike’s femoral artery was severed at an angle and exsanguination was the result. The fingerprints on the knife that killed Pike belong to a Mary Lowell. She was caught shoplifting a few years ago and processed.”

  “Anything else you can tell us?” Lane asked.

  “No matches were found to the hair and fibre samples found at the Lionel Birch crime scene.” Fibre opened his door. “But he was shot twice: once in the head and once in the heart. The same way Zander Rowe was killed.”

  “Will you call Detective Saliba with any other evidence?” Lane asked.

  “Yes.” Fibre climbed out of the car. He closed the door and walked down the ramp and out of the parkade.

  “Where do you want to be dropped off? ’Cause where I’m going you can’t go,” Keely said.

  “What does that mean?” Harper asked.

  “It means,” Lane said, “she’s going to look for the missing Mary and her son. Keely thinks maybe Mary and the boy ended up hiding in a women’s shelter. Keely figures two men tagging along will be a handicap. So you and I will track from another angle.”

  “Didn’t know I was that transparent,” Keely said.

  “Can you drop us off near the Children’s Hospital?” Harper asked.

  Keely followed Harper’s directions. She stopped in a graveled back alley behind the double garage of a sprawling bungalow. It sat on a lot big enough for two houses.

  Lane and Harper got out and watched Keely drive out of the alley.

  The dust of her departure hung in the air while Harper pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and walked alongside the grey-stuccoed garage. “Give me a second to open the door.”

  “Whose place is this?” Lane asked.

  “My folks’. They’re on holidays.” Harper stopped at the side of the garage, stuck a key in the door lock and wiggled it up and down.

  Lane waited in the alley and a minute later Harper opened the metal garage door. Light poured in. The smell of dust, oil and wood seeped out. A twenty-year-old pickup truck sat with its grill pointed toward Lane. “Does it run?”

  Harper smiled. “Of course. And it should fit right in where we’ll be going.”

  Harper climbed inside the cab. He fumbled with the keys.

  Lane looked down one end of the alley and up the other.

  The starter whined. Lane thought, Just stay focused. Forget the what-ifs. Find Matt and Jessica and bring them home.

  The engine caught. Harper eased the truck out of the garage.

  Lane saw a half moon of rust eating its way over the rear wheel well. He closed the garage door and climbed in the passenger side.

  “How are you staying so cool?” Harper asked.

  Lane fumbled between the cushions for the seat belt. “You should know me better than that.”

  “You’re on the hunt, then?” Harper aimed the truck down the alley.

  Lane nodded and finished putting on his seat belt.

  “We need to agree on one thing.”

  “We’re going to get Matt and Jessica home safe.”

  “Not just that.” Harper stopped at the end of the alley.

  “You mean about Moreau?” Lane asked.

  “That’s right,” Harper said while he put the left signal light on. “We agree that Moreau will not walk away from this one. If we have to take care of him, then we do it.”

  “Understood.” It’s so easy to go over to the other side — the dark side.

  “He won’t come after our kids again,” Harper said.

  “No.”

  “Where do we start?” Harper asked.

  “Lori and Arthur are working on a list of Moreau’s properties. When we have that, we narrow the list down. Then we watch for pizza deliveries,” Lane said.

  “Pizza?”

  “Matt loves pizza and so does Jessica. It’ll be a signal,” Lane said.

  Harper stopped at a red light. “You’re joking, right?”

  “You remember a couple of weeks ago, we ordered pizza?” Lane asked.

  “Of course. Jessica ate her weight in it.” The engine began to run rough. Harper tapped his foot on the accelerator. The engine smoothed itself out.

  “That was the special from Florence Pizza. It’s the only one in town. In fact it’s right in the middle of Kev’s neighbourhood. I know the owner. He’s a relative of Uncle Tran. We can trust him because of that. Once we have a list of Moreau’s properties, we wait until a Florence Special pizza is ordered from one of Moreau’s addresses.” Lane looked ahead.

  “So, we’re gambling their lives on a pizza?” The engine died. Harper restarted the truck.

  “Matt’s smart and he loves pizza. He’ll manage to send us that signal somehow. If not, we have a backup,” Lane said.

  “Well?”

  “The kidnapper will need to have food delivered. It’s a safe bet Moreau will use his relatives to do the deliveries. Saadiq is preparing a list of the vehicles owned by Moreau’s delivery team. The only problem is we have to know which property to watch first.” Lane looked out his window. Two kids were aiming water guns at one another. Both fired at the same time.

  “So Saadiq’s friend will tell us which vehicles to watch out for?”

  “Exactly.” Lane grabbed his phone and dialed.

  “I’m hungry,” Jessica said.

  Matt got off the bed and knocked on the door. He waited.

  Footsteps approached from the kitchen. The devil said, “Yep.”

  Matt thought, Keep it short. Don’t give him much. “We’re hungry.”

  “It’s on the way,” said the voice behind the devil mask.

  He’s got to sleep sometime. “Bathroom break.”

  “After you eat. You know the rules.”

  Matt looked at Jessica, who was sucking her thumb. He smiled at her. She waved at him without removing her thumb. He reached down and checked the sock on his right foot. My phone is gone. Of course it’s gone. He caught a whiff of his armpit. And I’m beginning to smell.

  Jessica took her thumb out of her mouth and said, “Stinky.”

  “How about a shower too?” Matt asked.

  “Rita, what does MSF stand for?” Mary sat on the step overlooking the backyard of the women’s shelter. Joshua squirmed on her knee.

  Rita was on her hands and knees pulling a thistle out of a bed of blue flax. “It’s the organization my niece works for.” Rita grunted, the thistle’s root let go and she fell backwards to sit on the grass. “Médecins sans frontières. It’s a French name
. It means ‘doctors without borders.’ They go around to places in the world where people need help. MSF stays out of the politics and sets up medical care.”

  “How come she left the city?” Mary set Joshua down on the grass. He looked at a dandelion and leaned over to pick it. “Do you spray the dandelions?”

  Rita looked over her shoulder at the baby and smiled. “Nope. Thanks for the help there, Josh.”

  Joshua stuck the yellow flower in his mouth, then coughed, made a face and spat the yellow out.

  Mary watched her son try a dandelion leaf. He chewed on one and picked another.

  “It was that pervert Pike. He made a movie of my niece and Kev Moreau.” Rita groaned as she got to her feet. She leaned on her shovel and looked at Mary.

  Mary had heard the venom in Rita’s voice. “A movie?”

  “A porno. He made a movie of Candace and Kev having sex. Then he played it for some of his boys at her high school. She was devastated. You can imagine. Candy wouldn’t go back to school. Some of the teachers got together and made it so she could graduate. Then my sister sent her away to university. Somehow, the school got her scholarships so she could afford an education. A teacher named King made it all happen. Candace hasn’t been back to this city since.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” Mary asked.

  Rita looked at Mary.

  Mary picked Joshua up and pulled a leaf out of his mouth.

  “Promised Candace I’d never talk about it.”

  A window slid open on the second floor.

  Rita looked up and spotted one of the other women at the window. Rita put her head down and walked up to Mary. “Let me show you some flowers on this side of the house.” She pretended to look up. “That’s Dee Dee Tee. A regular around here. A regular pain in the ass who always ends up goin’ back to the guy who beats her. She’s always listenin’ in for juicy bits of gossip. Don’t trust her one bit.”

  Mary stood up and followed.

  Between the fence and the building, flowering plants — including nasturtiums, blue flax and marigolds — grew tightly planted next to one another.

  Rita turned to face the younger woman. “Just watch what you say. Moreau has offered an apartment for anyone who locates you. So you need to keep yourself under wraps. Don’t tell anyone your name.”

  Mary hugged Joshua closer. “Pike tried to take my son.”

  Rita nodded. “Mr. Pike won’t be doing that again. And he won’t be makin’ no more movies neither. I feel like I owe you one because of what Pike and Moreau did to my niece. You took care of Pike. He had it comin’ and so does Moreau.”

  “What else did Moreau and Pike do?”

  A woman with a sleeveless top and right arm in a sling appeared at the side of the house. She stared at Mary and Rita.

  Rita waved at the woman and turned her back. “We’ll have to talk about that later.”

  Arthur sat on the edge of the couch and looked at the posters he had arranged on the living room wall. Each poster listed a separate property or business owned by Kev Moreau. Next to those he had a list of the license plates, makes, models and colours of vehicles owned by Moreau’s relatives. Another chart was blank and waiting for information that did not fit under the other headings.

  He sat back and began flipping his thumb through a pad of sticky notes. He looked at the other packages of notes that came in a variety of colours. Roz sat beside him. She looked at the wall. Arthur looked at some of his notes on his right. Then he looked at the article in the paper. “How come ten percent of those apartments are unoccupied?”

  Roz looked at him and tilted her head to the right.

  “What did you say?” Christine stepped out of the kitchen with a glass of water. She sat next to Arthur and looked at the wall.

  He pointed at the middle poster. “Ten percent of those apartments have been empty for the last three years.”

  “Are they all on one floor?”

  “Good question. I’ll find out.” Arthur picked up his phone, dialed and asked, “Lori? Arthur here. Could you please use your contacts at City Hall and Enmax to find out if the power bills on one floor of Kev Moreau’s apartment building are lower than the others?”

  After he finished the call he turned to Christine. “It’s fortunate that Moreau’s building bills each resident for power. We’re going for lunch.”

  “Where?” Christine asked.

  “Chinatown. Uncle Tran’s place. I need to talk with him.” Arthur reached for his car keys.

  “Daniel will drive us,” Christine said.

  “Daniel?” Arthur turned to look at her.

  “He’s using his parents’ car. It’s less conspicuous. We don’t want the wrong people spotting us whenever we go somewhere.” Christine walked over and stood at the top of the stairs leading to the family room. “We’re ready, Dan!”

  Daniel came up the stairs. “Where are we off to?”

  “Haven’t seen Mary in five years,” Lauren O’Connor said.

  Keely looked down the hallway. O’Connor was a bleachedblonde anorexic wearing a grey housecoat. She floated in a cloud of mouthwash, chewing gum, peppermint and alcohol. “Does she stay in contact with you?” Keely asked.

  The woman shook her head. “No.”

  How is it possible to slur the word ‘no’? “So, you have no idea where I’ll find her or her baby?” She resisted the impulse to take a step back for a breath of fresh air.

  “Baby?” O’Connor asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Bitch never told me I was a grandmother!”

  “I just needed to confirm that Mary Lowell is your daughter.” Keely took a step back. If this was my mother, I’d keep my kid away from her too.

  “So she did marry that Russ Lowell. What an asshole! Always hanging around here, sniffing like a dog after a bitch in heat.” Lauren leaned against the wall and looked at the floor. She gave the worn linoleum an accusatory glare.

  “We’re trying to find her and could use your help.” Keely took out her card and set it on a ledge next to a plant with yellow, curled-up leaves.

  Lauren laughed. The laugh turned into a cough. She lowered her head, put her hands on her knees, cleared her throat, and pulled a tissue from her sleeve. She spat into it, wrapped up the phlegm and tucked it into her pocket. “She doesn’t come here, doesn’t call. Too good for her poor mother.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Keely said.

  “What did you say to me?”

  Keely reached for her phone, dialed and spoke. “Arthur?” She turned her back on Lauren O’Connor and walked down the front steps.

  “Who are you to judge me? What are you? You’re just another fuckin’ cop!”

  Keely pulled her car keys from her pants pocket and walked down the front walk.

  “Take your fuckin’ card and shove it up your ass!”

  “No sign of Mary or the baby at the mother’s place.” Keely shut the phone off and stuffed it in her jacket pocket as she approached the Chev.

  Her phone rang as she settled behind the wheel. She checked the caller’s ID and hesitated. “Dylan?”

  “What can I do next to help?” Dylan asked.

  Keely put her head in her left hand. “Arthur could use some help at his end. My RCMP supervisor is telling me that after this case I’m no longer on loan to the city police.”

  “Have you told Lane?” Dylan asked.

  “No. Not yet. It’s the wrong time.”

  “Can we get together later?”

  Keely lifted her head and looked out the windshield.

  “Where?”

  Uncle Tran’s hair was entirely white. For a five-foot-tall man who weighed no more than one hundred twenty pounds, he managed to fill the room with his enormous presence. Tran smiled as Arthur followed Christine and Daniel into the Lucky Elephant Restaurant.

  The smile disappeared.

  Christine and Daniel allowed Arthur to pass them.

  “There is a problem,” Uncle Tran said
.

  Arthur nodded.

  “Sit down. We will discuss this over lunch.” Uncle Tran shook hands with Christine and Daniel. “Your family continues to grow.” He smiled as he saw Daniel looking at Christine the way one lover looks at another.

  Arthur sat down next to Tran. “In a way, that’s why we’re here.”

  “This Moreau is a cruel one.” Tran poured tea for Arthur. “I’ve seen his kind before.”

  “My nephew, Matt is . . .” Arthur began but couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Tran held up his hand. “I know.”

  “How?” Christine asked.

  Tran shrugged and poured her a cup. “People say things in restaurants thinking they will not be overheard.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Daniel asked.

  “Not yet.” Tran waved at one of the waiters. He said something in Vietnamese. The waiter moved to the door and locked it. He turned off the OPEN sign. Tran asked, “We will have a private conversation?”

  “Thank you,” Arthur said.

  “Will you help us?” Christine asked.

  “We are friends?” Tran asked.

  Arthur smiled.

  Christine said, “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, then how can I help? And after we discuss that, I will tell you what is already being done.” Tran waved the waiter over. “First, we will have something to eat.”

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 12

  chapter 12

  “You’re not much good if you don’t sleep.” Harper sat in the driver’s seat. They were parked a block away from Moreau’s home. It was an all-brick, two-storey house backing onto the river. The wall around the property was nearly two metres high.

  “Not all of us can fall asleep like you can.” Lane sipped the coffee they’d picked up after a night of sitting in the truck. “How do you do it, anyway? You must have slept for four hours straight.”

  “I don’t know. The more stressful it gets, the more I’m able to recharge. Anyway, Jessica is not at Moreau’s place. No one has been in or out all night. And Arthur’s got more promising leads.”

  “You sure?” Lane asked.