“You think it was a choice? It was a necessity.”
“How is that?” Lane glanced to his right, checking for cover in case Jelena aimed her rifle.
“It was war. I had no choice. If I wanted to survive, I had to join them.”
She sounds like she’s still trying to convince herself. “So you were at the village. You saw what the Tarantulas did?”
“Yes, I saw.”
“Does Zacki know?”
“My daughter knows nothing!” Jelena lifted her rifle by the barrel so that she could lean on it when she stood.
A flash of insight struck Lane. She wants me to shoot her! Then we have our killer and Zacki is free of it all!
Jelena extinguished her cigarette against the tree trunk. “The others are coming.”
“I don’t hear them.”
Jelena looked east. “I do.” She stepped away from the trunk of the tree.
The rest was a series of impressions.
Jelena lifted her rifle, pointed it at the sky, and pulled back the bolt.
Lane lifted his Glock.
Jelena pitched forward, off-balance.
She rolled down the hill.
Keely slid down the slope behind Jelena.
The rifle cartwheeled down the slope. Lane stepped to his left as it spun past him.
He looked to his right as Jelena rolled onto the path. Keely landed on top of the sniper.
He ran forward.
Jelena grabbed for Keely’s hair.
Keely had a canister in her hand. She sprayed Jelena in the face with pepper spray.
Jelena screamed.
Keely rolled Jelena onto her belly.
With her knee against her spine, Keely pulled one of Jelena’s arms behind her back.
Keely’s hair was filled with leaves and twigs. She tossed Lane the pepper spray. “Your handcuffs, please? I seem to have lost mine.”
He handed her his cuffs, then covered Jelena with his gun while Keely fastened her wrists.
They sat Jelena up on the path. Her tears washed away some of the pepper spray. “What did you do to me, you Muslim bitch?”
Lane said, “She messed up your plan.”
Jelena looked up at him. She tried to focus through her tears. “What are you talking about?”
“You were waiting for us to kill you.” Lane leaned over to pick up Jelena’s backpack. He looked down the slope where the rifle lay against the base of a tree.
Jelena shook her head. “I need a smoke. It would have been better for you to kill me.”
Lane looked at Keely. “I need your phone.”
She handed it to him, then brushed the debris from her hair. A trickle of blood leaked from the stitches along her forehead.
Lane dialed the phone. “Harper? It’s me. We’ve got the suspect. Saliba disarmed her. We’re coming out. Can you advise the tactical team?” He listened. “That’s right, I trust you. I don’t trust Smoke’s good ol’ boys.” Lane flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Keely.
He stepped off the trail, skidded down the slope, and returned a few minutes later with the rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Let’s go.” Lane took Jelena by her elbow and helped her up.
Keely walked ahead.
They stopped halfway to light a cigarette for Jelena. She walked and smoked with the cigarette between her teeth. When they arrived at the end of the trail in the shade of the bridge, tactical officers stepped out from behind cover. Keely, Lane, and Jelena waited alongside the river.
Lane looked left. The river swirled around a bridge support. Traffic hummed over the bridge fifty metres above them. Lane spotted Staff Sergeant McTavish. Good, he thought. Lane looked at Keely and moved his head to the right. They walked toward McTavish.
The Staff Sergeant smiled at Lane’s approach. “In the middle of the action again, I see.”
Lane chuckled. “Have you met Detective Saliba?”
McTavish shook Keely’s hand. “Pleasure.”
Lane looked beyond to the paramedics parked by the bridge support. “Ms. Branimir needs medical attention. Pepper spray and a few abrasions.”
McTavish turned and waved. “We need the paramedics.” He turned back to Lane. “The deputy chief gave me specific instructions. You hand the suspect into my custody. After that, he expects you in his office as soon as possible. A blue and white is waiting for you at the end of the trail.” McTavish pointed to a trail winding its way through a stand of evergreens. He took Jelena by the arm and handed her over to a pair of black-clad officers. “Do either of you need medical attention?”
Keely looked at Lane and shook her head. McTavish pointed at her bloody scalp.
A member of the bomb squad reached for Jelena’s backpack. Lane handed it over to him, along with the rifle.
The detectives walked past the officers standing alone and in pairs. No words passed between them. Lane and Saliba looked ahead toward the clearing. As they left the stand of evergreens, Keely asked, “You really think she was trying to commit suicide?”
“Absolutely. She set off a bomb to attract our attention, then waited for us to catch up.”
“I still don’t see how…” Keely brushed a burr off her shoulder.
“She made a point of explaining how she killed her husband. But first, last night, she took her daughter somewhere safe. It’s all very calculated. A diversionary tactic to protect someone else.” Lane inhaled the scent of the evergreen trees as he and Keely walked from shade to sunlight and back into shade.
“So she was protecting Zacki.” Keely looked ahead and saw the blue and white parked next to a dumpster. The driver was leaning against the fender. The constable stood up straight as she recognized the detectives. She handed the keys to Lane, then opened the passenger door.
Ten minutes later, they were close to the Trans-Canada Highway when Keely asked, “How many bombs did Jelena make?”
Lane glanced at his partner in the rear-view mirror. “The one she used on us and the one at the bridge.”
“Could we be missing one? Remember, Zacki bought diesel fuel first and then went to the hobby shop.”
“Give me the radio,” Lane said. The constable handed him the mic. “Dispatch? This is Detective Lane. I need immediate and direct communication with Staff Sergeant McTavish.”
Lane waited a full thirty seconds.
“McTavish here.”
“It’s Lane. There is a high probability of another explosive device. Probably located at Jelena Goran’s home.” Lane gave McTavish the address.
“Understood,” McTavish said.
Lane turned left off Sixteenth Avenue. “Where are you going?” Keely asked.
“To visit Arthur.” Lane smiled.
“You sure the deputy chief won’t mind?”
“If he does, I’ll have a talk with his wife.”
Within five minutes they were exiting the elevator on the tenth floor of the Foothills Medical Centre.
They found Arthur sitting up and dozing. Matt was leaning against the wall. Christine was in a chair across from the bed. She glared at Lane.
Lane asked, “How’s he doing?”
Christine shook her head. “They gave him something to help him sleep. Something for the pain.” She looked at Keely. “You’re bleeding.”
“Some kind of painkiller,” Matt said.
“It’s nothing,” Keely said.
Arthur opened his eyes. “What’s for lunch?” He spotted Lane. “Did you bring me a sandwich?”
Lane looked at Keely. She shrugged.
Arthur swung his legs around to get out of bed.
“We had to stop him once already.” Matt leaned away from the wall.
“The lady serving lunch was pretty mad,” Christine said. “The guy next door has a better lunch,” Arthur said with a smile.
“Better stop him, Uncle Lane,” Christine said.
Matt blocked the door. “He’ll steal another lunch if you don’t.”
“If I promise to bring you a sandwich from the café, will you stay in bed?” Lane asked.
Arthur sat back down, leaned his head against his pillow, and began to snore.