The Detective Lane Casebook #1 Page 33

  Cole said.

  Loraine stood up and waved Lane closer. Then Loraine looked at Harper and Andrea. The glare gave a clear message—leave the room.

  Harper went to set his tape recorder on the coffee table.

  Loraine shook her head to say no.

  Andrea and Harper left the room.

  “Cole?” Loraine waited until the child looked at her. “We need to talk. Where would you like to sit?”

  “By the window.” Cole walked toward the easy chair near the window and sat.

  Lane and Loraine sat on the couch while Jay grabbed a chair from the kitchen and completed a lopsided circle.

  Loraine leaned forward.

  Cole watched her warily.

  “We would like to ask you some questions,”

  Loraine said.

  “You want to know what happened to Kaylie and my dad,” Cole said.

  “Cole’s smart. You have to talk with him like he’s an adult,” Jay said.

  Loraine said, “You’re right Cole, that’s what we want to know. Are you able to tell us anything about what happened to your sister or father?”

  “Kaylie wanted to go and see my dad. She said she was going to ride her bike to see him,” Cole said.

  Lane remembered the pink bicycle sitting in the Reddie front yard.

  “What happened then?” Loraine asked.

  “My mom took the wheel off of Kaylie’s bike.” Cole stared out the window, reliving the experience.

  Loraine waited.

  Lane saw tears running down the boy’s cheeks. Cole wiped them away with a sleeve. “I thought my mom and Kaylie were asleep, so I took Eddie to the vet.”

  “Eddie?” Loraine asked.

  “The dog,” Lane said.

  “Can you tell us more about Eddie?” Loraine asked.

  “His ear was cut off, and his paw was hurt. He was bleeding,” Cole said.

  “Do you know what happened to Eddie?” Loraine asked.

  “Yes, Kaylie made my mom mad.” Cole wiped his eyes.

  “I don’t understand,” Loraine said.

  “Kaylie was bad, so Eddie’s foot was smashed with a hammer. Kaylie still wanted to see my dad, so Eddie lost an ear.” Cole’s voice was beginning to sound disconnected from the experience.

  Loraine waited, formulating a careful question.

  “Will you tell us more?”

  “Punishments and reward.” Cole took a long shuddering breath. “If we were bad, my mom would hurt Eddie. If we were good, she would take Eddie to the vet.”

  Loraine looked away, shook her head, then took a breath.

  Lane thought, So far, everything he’s said is supported by the vet, Dr. Dent.

  “Will you tell us more about that night?” Loraine asked.

  “I came home. The lights were on. My mom said I had to get in the car,” Cole said.

  “Is there more?” Loraine asked.

  “Yes.” Cole began to sob. Tears and mucous created a sheen on his cheeks, lips, and chin.

  Loraine waited.

  “Will the footprints match?” Cole asked.

  Lane said, “We don’t know yet.” This kid has really thought this through, Lane decided. He looked at Jay.

  “When will you know?” Cole asked.

  “It depends on how hard it is for us to get a footprint from Bobbie Reddie,” Lane said.

  “It’s hot in Jamaica. People don’t wear shoes there do they?” Cole asked.

  Lane looked at Jay.

  Jay shrugged as if to say, ‘I told you.’

  “My mom said if I say anything about what happened to my sister or my dad, then someone will burn,”

  Cole said.

  “Are you afraid she’ll burn you?” Loraine asked.

  Cole’s voice was as hollow as a house that hasn’t been lived in for a month when he said, “That’s not how it works.”

  Loraine spent a half-hour more talking with Cole.

  No more information was forthcoming except when Cole said, “If the footprint does match, then ask. Kaylie is dead. My dad is dead. I don’t want anyone else to be dead.”

  Lane said, “Eddie isn’t dead. You saved Eddie.”

  Cole looked back with an unfamiliar expression. An emotion that, up to this point, had been out of place on the child’s face. It took till the evening for Lane to understand that he had seen hope in Cole’s eyes.

  “Matt wants to hand out candy to the kids tomorrow night,” Arthur said. They stood together at the arena. Martha wore a blue satin scarf to keep her head warm and stood next to her brother. Lane had a few minutes before he had to get changed.

  “I forgot all about Halloween,” Lane said.

  “I’d be happier if everyone forgot about Halloween.

  It’s not very Christian,” Martha said.

  “You’ve really had your nose deep in this case,”

  Arthur said to Lane as if he hadn’t heard his sister.

  “I still do,” Lane said.

  “You’re worried about the kid,” Arthur said.

  “If we don’t solve this one soon, the boy could go back home,” Lane said.

  “Over my dead body! There’s no way on God’s green earth that Matt’s going back to his father!”

  Martha said.

  “We’re not talking about Matt,” Arthur said.

  “Oh,” Martha said.

  “Hey! Lane! How you doin’?”

  They turned to face Bob, the head referee. He had a big smile on his Marine recruiting poster face and a brand new haircut.

  “I’m Bob.” He held out his hand to Arthur. “Nice shiners.”

  “I’m Arthur and this is my sister, Martha,” Arthur said.

  “Nice scarf,” Bob said to Martha before turning to Lane. “Heard you’ve had some fan problems lately and you handled ’em. We’re getting calls from people who say they like your work. Never happened before. Then there’s the asshole, Mac, who called to complain that he got arrested. But, then everybody in hockey knows he’s an asshole!” Bob slapped Arthur on the back.

  Arthur’s eyes reflected a mixture of amusement and shock.

  “We’d better get changed,” Lane said.

  “Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll keep Lane safe!” Bob winked at Martha.

  Lane thought, It’s going to be a long night.

  Bob talked all the way down the hall, during the time it took to change, and while he skated behind Lane as they circled the ice. Bob just wouldn’t shut up.

  “We’re buddies,” Bob said several times.

  Lane decided there was a hell, and maybe Martha was right afterall. If Bob didn’t shut up, Lane decided, he was either going to have to find religion, or dismember the head referee.

  Bob didn’t let up through the first fifty-nine minutes of the game. “Amazing, simply amazing. That nephew of yours is amazing. Sure knows how to protect a one-goal lead. Only a minute left, and he’s keepin’ his team in the game. Listen to the crowd.” The parents were chanting while the teams changed lines for perhaps the last time. The face-off was in the opposing end.

  The centres cruised over and took their positions.

  Lane stood between them. He looked around to make sure the wingers and defencemen were properly aligned.

  “OFFENCE!” the parents at one end of the stands roared.

  “DEFENCE!” the parents at Arthur and Martha’s end roared.

  Lane dropped the puck.

  The centre poked the puck between the legs of Matt’s centre.

  Matt’s defencemen turned to intercept the opposing centre, who accelerated down the ice. The centre squirted between the defencemen. There was nothing but open ice between him and Matt.

  “BREAKAWAY!” a fan yelled.

  Lane skated down the left side, a stride behind the centre. He glanced down the ice. Matt had his goalie stick hitched up awkwardly in his right hand. His glove hand opened and closed.

  The centre deeked right and went left.

  Matt tried to follow. He los
t and regained his balance. The centre shot high for the open top-half of the net.

  Matt’s glove hand rose up. His elbow worked like a cog with a few teeth missing. The glove jerked up.

  The centre raised his hands, certain the puck was going in.

  Matt’s glove plucked the puck out of the air.

  The crowd roared.

  Bob blew his whistle and waved his arms to indicate no goal.

  Matt fell over.

  Lane leaned over to take the puck from Matt’s glove.

  “Nice save,” Lane said.

  “Thanks, Uncle.” Matt’s invisible grin seemed to stretch the width of his face mask.

  They drove home with the windows open. Lane and Matt were sitting in the back seat. Lane was sure he smelled better than Matt who smiled, elbowed Lane, and said, “Uncle, you stink.”

  Lane felt a momentary, unfamiliar glow of acceptance. He found himself grinning all the way home.

  Saturday, October 31

  Chapter 23

  TONY REACHED FOR the phone. His voice was thick with sleep when he said, “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Jay said.

  “You okay, man?” Tony asked.

  “Yep,” Jay said.

  “Cole okay?” Tony asked.

  “He finally fell asleep. Figure I’ve got a little bit of time before the nightmares start,” Jay said.

  “Man, what time is it?” Tony covered his eyes as his mother opened his bedroom door and turned on the light. He put the receiver on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, mom, it’s Jay.”

  She frowned and closed the door, leaving the light on.

  Jay said, “It’s three o’clock. Look, I need Rosie’s number.”

  “Man, you’re crazy if you call her now, she’ll—”

  “I need to talk with her,” Jay said.

  “If I give you the number, will you wait seven hours? I mean she’s really grumpy in the morning.”

  “Okay,” Jay said.

  Tony gave him the number.

  “Thanks,” Jay said.

  Tony said, “You and Cole are all over the news. My mom watches it all the time. You’re a star.”

  “Tell me about it. Cole’s like a zombie sitting in front of the TV. If we shut off the TV, it’s worse. Then, he does this nonstop talking routine. It’s scary. We can’t get outta here. It’s drivin’ me crazy,” Jay said.

  “At least Bobbie can’t get at you there.”

  Jay laughed. “We’re prisoners and she’s free. Go figure. Shit!” Jay said.

  “What’s the matter, man?” Tony heard the wail of a child in pain.

  “Kaylie!” Cole said. “Why can’t Kaylie ride up here with me?”

  “Gotta go, man. Cole’s havin’ a nightmare.” Jay hung up.

  Jay made it to Cole’s room about three steps ahead of the police officer, Andrea.

  “Kaylie!” Cole said.

  Cole’s voice crawled up Jay’s spine and sparked a memory. The image of his parents, and their closed coffins. His sister crying and smiling at him behind her handkerchief. A smile only Jay was meant to see.

  Jay lifted Cole to a sitting position. The back of the child’s T-shirt was wet with perspiration. “Cole, it’s me, Jay.”

  “Uncle Jay?” Cole asked without opening his eyes.

  “It’s me, Cole. I’m here,” Jay said.

  Cole opened one eye, blinking at the light.

  “Kaylie?”

  “She died, Cole,” Jay said.

  Cole sobbed, shivered, and wept for a solid halfhour until falling asleep.

  Andrea sat there, waiting, without saying a word.

  Jay covered Cole.

  “You need some sleep?” Andrea asked.

  “Maybe later.” Cole’s nightmare had left Jay wide awake and energized by an adrenaline rush.

  Andrea sat down in the front-room chair and swivelled it so she could face Jay. “Loraine said she’d be here again in the morning.”

  “Can we call her when Cole gets up? He might sleep for a while now,” Jay said.

  “I’ll ask.”

  “I’m gonna make a phone call.” Jay stood up.

  Andrea said, “Absolutely no clues about where we are. And I mean absolutely none.”

  “Deal.” Jay sat down at the kitchen table before reaching for the phone on the wall.

  The phone rang ten times at the other end before a voice mumbled, “Hello?”

  “Rosie?” Jay said.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Jay. I’m sorry, Rosie, but . . .” Jay said.

  The words at the other end came in a rush of Vietnamese.

  Jay didn’t understand the words, but he got the message. “Look, it’s the only time I could call. I’m sorry but I wanted to talk with you.”

  “How’s Cole?” Rosie’s tone said all was not forgiven, yet.

  “Asleep,” Jay said.

  “More nightmares?” Rosie asked.

  “And he’s beginning to cry. I think he’s grieving. Or maybe it’s safe to cry now. I don’t know. The front of my T-shirt is soaked.”

  “Spilling more than you’re eating?” Rosie began to chuckle.

  “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

  “Not yet, but keep talking,” Rosie said.

  Lane awoke to the sound of someone with the dry heaves.

  Arthur breathed deeply next to him.

  “I swear, you could sleep through an earthquake,” Lane said. The reply was more snoring.

  Lane got up and looked in the open door of the bathroom. Martha was on her knees at the toilet, wiping her mouth with a tissue.

  “Want some water?” Lane asked.

  She slowly turned to look at him over her left shoulder and nodded.

  Lane went into the kitchen. Riley nudged him with his nose as Lane filled a glass with water. He patted the dog’s flank. Riley ambled into the dining room and settled under the table.

  “Thanks,” Martha said as Lane handed her the glass. She sat on the closed toilet lid and sipped tentatively. “Feeling any better?” Lane asked.

  “A little bit.” Martha looked directly at Lane.

  “You’ll take care of Matt for me. You and Arthur, you’d do that for me?”

  “Yes,” Lane said.

  “Good.” She nodded, stood, and grabbed the towel railing.

  “Going back to bed?” Lane asked.

  “Nope. I want to see the sunrise.” She pulled out what appeared to be a cigarette from her housecoat pocket. “And I’m smoking this while I watch.” Martha held the joint up so Lane could see it.

  “Where’d you get that?” Lane thought, What am I going to do, arrest her?

  “A guy at the hospital gave me a couple. Said that it would help if the nausea got rough. Got any matches?”

  “I think Arthur keeps some wooden ones in the kitchen for lighting candles.” Lane thought, I hope this helps, because you must have lost another five kilos.

  Five minutes later, they sat wrapped in their winter coats in the backyard. The pungent smell of weed filled the air while pinks, oranges, and purples filled the sky. “The air is cold this morning,” Martha said.

  “We’re supposed to get a snowstorm later today.”

  “Feels like something’s coming our way.” Martha took another tentative puff of weed.

  “What’s that smell?” Harper asked.

  “What smell?” Lane said.

  They sat next to the window in a coffee shop on Parkdale Boulevard, about four blocks away from the place where Jay and Cole were staying. It was in between lunch and dinner. A group of four people sat at the other end of the shop.

  “Weed, Lane. Weed. You smell like weed,” Harper said.

  “Martha’s smoking it to help with the nausea from the chemo.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” Harper began to laugh.

  Lane chuckled, “Thought you had me, eh officer?”

  “Glad you still have a sense of humour,” Harper said.

  �
�So am I.” And I’d like about twenty-four hours of nightmare-free sleep, Lane thought.

  Harper decided to get down to business. “Lisa has a copy of the footprint from Jamaica. She’s getting her expert to take a look. We haven’t heard anything back from Bobbie’s lawyer. Might not hear till next week. Dr. Fibre is still working on the samples from the trunk of Bobbie’s Chrysler. The newspapers are full of stories about Bobbie Reddie, and how she thinks the police are victimizing her. So far, only one editorial says Bobbie should provide the footprint. After all, she’s got nothing to hide.”

  “Chief got anything new to say?” Lane asked.

  “Not this morning.”

  Lane looked outside. A car pulled up in front of the coffee shop. The driver stepped out. The wind whipped at his hair and swung his door open. The white fog of the driver’s breath appeared and was carried south. A few snowflakes plastered themselves against the glass in front of Lane.

  They waited, rehashing the case, and keeping an eye on the weather. The call came at about three o’clock.

  Lane’s phone rang. He flipped it open.

  “It’s Loraine,” she said.

  “I’m sitting here drinking coffee with Harper,” Lane said.

  “Call it a day. Cole is still asleep. Apparently, he had another bad dream last night. He cried himself out. A good thing, I hope. Anyway, Jay and I are getting to know one another. You know, he’s been on his own since he was fifteen? He managed to graduate high school, and now he’s working on a degree in psychology. It’s beginning to look like he’s had lots of first hand experience dealing with abhorrent behaviour. Anyway, I’m heading home as soon as the next officer arrives to relieve Andrea,” Loraine said.

  “Say hello to Lisa for us,” Lane said.

  “Oh, I almost forgot, she sent the footprint and the impression from the Jamaican crime scene to the expert. She asked me to pass that on,” Loraine said.

  “Thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow?” Lane asked.

  “Maybe tomorrow we’ll be able to talk with Cole.” Loraine hung up.

  Riley was waiting with his leash in his mouth when Lane walked in the door. There was a hint of marijuana in the air.

  Arthur asked, “How are the roads?”

  “Getting slippery. Give it a few more hours, and it’ll be tricky. Glad I’m not a traffic cop,” Lane said.