The door cracked open. The face of a forty-year-old man glared down at Lane. The detective held up his ID so the driver could get a closer look. “Bring your licence, registration, and insurance when you step down, please.” Lane looked over his shoulder to see how traffic was doing behind them. A man in a sub-compact with snow on the roof smiled at Lane. He looked left as the pickup driver climbed down from the cab. He was a full head shorter than the detective, wearing a backwards-facing ball cap and a red-and-black prairie dinner jacket. Lane gestured the man should follow him to the sidewalk.
“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were a cop.” The man handed his paperwork over, tucking his hands under his armpits. He was round in the face and belly.
Nigel appeared on the passenger side of the Chev. Lane shook his head, leaning it to the left. Nigel headed back into the Chev.
Lane read the name on the driver’s licence. “Bill?”
The man nodded, stepping up onto the curb. Then he looked back at the detective. They were eye to eye. Lane looked down at his toes where they bumped up against the curb, but he remained at pavement level.
Bill looked down at his feet, then back at Lane, who saw an expression of confusion.
Surprise, Lane thought. “I’ve got murders to solve.”
Bill pointed at his chest with his right forefinger. “I…”
Lane shook his head and held out Bill’s ID, waiting for the man to grab it. “I’ve got no time for this shit.”
Bill nodded. “Thanks for that.” He looked down at his feet.
Lane shrugged, turned, and got back in the Chev. The light turned green. Nigel eased into the intersection. Lane turned, watching Bill following at a very safe distance.
“You sure you still want to go to Platinum? It’s Sunday. They’ll be closed.”
Lane looked ahead as the road took a dogleg to the right. “I have an idea and I want to get the lay of the land.”
MONDAY, JANUARY 27
chapter 8
Child Abductors to Appear in Court
Efram Milton, his wife Alison Milton, and Lyle Pratt appear in court in Calgary tomorrow to answer charges of attempted child abduction.
The three were arrested last Wednesday night at the Foothills Medical Centre. They allegedly attempted to abduct a newborn boy with the intent of transporting him to an undisclosed location in Utah. All three are members of Paradise, a polygamist community approximately 150 kilometres south of the city.
Crown Prosecutor Lilian Choi said, “These three plotted to kidnap an infant and hide him from his mother. The accused pose a considerable flight risk. I will ask that they be remanded in custody until a trial date can be set.”
A fourteen-year-old female accompanying the trio was released into the custody of her uncle.
Lori stood up from behind her computer screen. She held up the newspaper, pointing at an article. Lane could see she wore a blue knit sweater, a white scarf, and blue wool slacks. “You still have a way to go before you’re back in my good books.”
Lane set down the cardboard tray of drinks he’d brought with him. He lifted a cup of tea out of the tray, setting it next to Lori’s keyboard.
“Really?” Lori folded the paper into quarters, setting it down next to the tray. She pointed at the headline. “Just what gives them the right to come after Indiana?” Lori’s complexion moved into the red zone.
Lane nodded. He took off his winter jacket, put it over his arm, and lifted the tray with two coffees. The detective cocked his head to the right. Lori followed him into his office. He hung his jacket over the back of his chair, set a coffee down on Nigel’s desk, then pulled out the last cup, took a sip, and closed the door. “Sarah, my sister’s daughter, said they were planning to take Indiana to some compound near St. George, Utah.”
“In the desert north of Vegas?” Lori pulled the tea bag from her cup, swinging it with a wet thunk into the garbage can.
Lane nodded. “Apparently there are polygamist communities near there. Indiana is home now.”
“And you think I’ve forgiven you for keeping this to yourself?” Lori set her tea down so she could cross her arms.
Lane opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Your entire family must still be on edge after what happened to Matt.”
Lane shrugged. “They are.”
Lori gave him a look, the Lori look that said Don’t bullshit me.
“I need your help. I want you to go and get your hair done.”
Lori laughed. “You need my help? You think you can change the subject by telling me to get my hair done? That’s pretty pathetic.”
“Four of the women killed have the same hairdresser.”
“Four? I thought it was two.”
“Four.”
Lori laughed again. “You want me to get my hair done so I can be number five?”
“I just want to send you to the salon. You get your hair done and tell me what you see while you’re there.” Lane took a sip of coffee. “Nigel and I will be right next door.”
“What’s next door?”
“A bicycle shop.” Lane felt his face heat up.
“You don’t think hanging around in a bicycle shop in the middle of January will look a bit suspicious?” She shook her head and picked up her tea, watching Lane.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You betcha. Next time you let me know what’s goin’ on. That’s how I stay so well connected. And that’s how I keep your ass out of the flames. So, you think if I get out of the office to get my hair done, all will be forgiven? This is a funny way of saying you’re sorry.”
“The woman’s name is Donna Liu, and she works at Platinum.”
“Is she the killer?” Lori looked left at Lane’s extra-wide computer screen.
Lane shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s Cori I want you to watch.”
Lori nodded. “Will I use my real name?”
“No. Use a fake name. I’ll get you a cell phone with a new number you will use to contact Donna. That way you won’t be traceable. If you see any sign of trouble, I want you out of there.” Lane set his coffee down. “You can say no for any number of reasons, including the fact this is outside your job description and outside of normal procedure.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
Lane smiled. “Because I trust your judgement, and you know people.”
“I do know people.” She pointed a finger at Lane. “You got a phone number?”
Lane handed her a compact pink phone. She took it gingerly. “Where’d you get this?”
Lane raised his eyebrows.
Lori dropped her chin, lifted her eyebrows, and rolled her eyes.
“Okay. I’ve got some phones left over from when Matt and Jessica were kidnapped. That’s one of them.”
“Was that so hard? Now, what was Platinum’s number again?”
Lane read out the number, and Lori dialed. She gave him the thumbs up when the phone began to ring. “Hello, I’d like to make an appointment for a cut and trim with Donna.” She raised her eyebrows. “A cancellation? This afternoon?” Lori looked at Lane, who nodded. “I’ll take it. Two o’clock? My name? Ute. That’s right. New client. See you this afternoon.” Lori looked at the phone, pressing the end button. “We’re on.”
Lane smiled. “Ute?”
Lori rolled her eyes. “Ute was my grandmother’s name.”
Lane and Nigel sat in a Vietnamese restaurant within a snowball’s throw of Macleod Trail. Lane looked at the traffic easing along the six-lane roadway leading either to the centre of town or south toward the US border. Hoods and windshields glinted in the sunlight. Exhaust swirled from tail pipes. On either side of the road, pedestrians wore mitts, toques, and winter jackets to hold out the cold. Inside the restaurant, a man at a nearby table slurped spicy noodle soup. Nigel frowned at the noise. “I still can’t believe you did this.”