The words seemed to lack punch now as he chanted them.
With the tears leaking out his eyes, he took one final look at the man on the bed, and realized that his final goodbye would never come now. The detective had made sure of that.
‘Goodbye,’ he whispered.
It was all he could do.
One Hundred and Eighteen
When the line had gone dead, Striker knew it was time to change tactics. Tom Atkins – or whatever alias the man was using – would never return to the care hospital now.
Striker got on his cell and called up the regional RCMP brass who had lent them the plainclothes units. After a lengthy discussion, the RCMP Superintendent agreed to maintain surveillance of the Sunset Grove Care Centre, just in case the bombers returned. With the place now secure, Striker and Felicia headed out to speak with the Davies family. According to the hospital documents, Archer’s wife’s name was Lilly, and she lived in White Rock with her two children, Logan and Rachel.
It was just a ten-minute drive down the road.
The lot was small, as was the house on it, which was composed mainly of blue wood trim and old white stucco that was now a dirty beige colour. The place looked like it had been built in the 60s. So did the old Ford jalopy in the driveway.
They parked and climbed out.
Striker reminded Felicia, ‘I’ve already instructed the care home not to call Mrs Davies until I tell them to do so. So whatever you do, don’t mention Archer’s death. Right now we need to get information from this woman. We need her calm.’
‘Of course.’
‘And be ready for anything.’
Felicia just nodded and adjusted her holster.
They knocked on the front door, and minutes later were inside the living room with Lilly Davies. She wore ironed slacks and a cream blouse. She was clearly of Eurasian descent, and a Japanese strictness flowed through her in everything she did, from the way she offered them tea and cookies to the way she sat – her back board straight, her hands cupped in her lap, her head held high.
‘Thanks for seeing us,’ Striker said.
‘Especially without any notice,’ Felicia added.
The woman smiled politely. ‘It is no problem, Detectives. Though I still don’t quite understand the connection here . . . how is this related to my husband?’
Striker avoided the details. ‘We’re not entirely sure, Mrs Davies. We’re checking out all the possible links we have – family, police, you name it.’
Lilly Davies nodded as if she understood but the confusion remained in her eyes.
‘Are your son and daughter here?’ Felicia asked.
She shook her head. ‘Logan is visiting my sister right now. In Toronto. And Rachel is at work – at The Sizzle.’
‘Is that a restaurant?’ Felicia asked.
‘Yes. She waitresses there. Like me. Actually, I got her the job.’
Striker nodded. ‘You like working there?’
Lilly Davies offered a weak smile. ‘It helps us get by, especially with both children fast approaching college.’
Striker nodded. ‘I know the feeling.’
He looked at the fireplace mantel, at pictures of the kids. Both were good-looking, with much of their mother’s Japanese features in them. In the photos, they both looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. The boy was dressed in a school basketball uniform; the girl in a dance costume of some kind.
Striker pointed to the girl. ‘When was the photo taken?’
‘That? Oh, just last Christmas. Rachel’s dance class.’
‘And your son obviously loves basketball.’
‘Well, hockey was his first love – just like figure skating was Rachel’s. But after Archer’s injury, well, we just couldn’t afford it. Hockey and figure skating are very expensive sports.’
‘They’re nice-looking kids,’ Felicia said.
Lilly smiled politely.
Striker moved past the niceties and got down to business. ‘I’m sorry to stir up bad memories, Mrs Davies, but could you tell us a little bit about your husband – his history, and how the two of you met?’
Lilly Davies nodded. ‘I met Archer during one of his leaves.’
‘From the police department?’
‘No, from the RLC.’
That made Striker pause. ‘RLC? You mean the Royal Logistics Corps?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who’s the RLC?’ Felicia asked.
Striker cast her a glance. ‘They’re part of the British Army. We got a couple of guys on the job from over there. They’re good men. Smart. Tactical. Well trained.’ He turned back to Lilly. ‘So Archer was from the UK?’
‘Oh yes, he never could lose the accent.’ She laughed softly. ‘As I said, he was taking a leave when we met, in fact. He was here visiting his brother – the poor man passed away from cancer a few years after Archer was injured.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Striker offered.
Lilly kept talking as if she hadn’t heard the condolence. ‘One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Archer was taking all his leaves here. And then we were married. He left the RLC and joined the Vancouver Police Department. With his military experience, he was fast-tracked into the Emergency Response Team. As a reserve.’
‘Did he miss the old job?’ Felicia asked.
Lilly nodded emphatically. ‘Oh yes. He did a great deal. But his squadmates came over to visit him a few times. And that made him very happy.’
Striker asked, ‘You two ever go back there?’
‘Oh no, never. Archer loved his squad, but he had no love for the UK, and he hated London. Called it a dirty little town.’ She looked down for a moment, and the teacup trembled between her hands. ‘I often wish he’d stayed there and brought me over instead. Then he never would have joined the Vancouver Police Department.’
Striker nodded. It was understandable. ‘These squadmates of his—’
‘They called themselves The Untouchables.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, back then, they’d all served several tours, and yet none of them had ever been killed. Not even injured.’
‘And now?’
Lilly’s face saddened. ‘They’re almost all dead now. I don’t know the details . . . I don’t want to know the details.’
‘And the ones who still live?’ he pressed.
Lilly sighed. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t heard from any of them in years. Not since the first time they came to see Archer, and that was . . . well, I don’t even know when.’ She looked at the photos on the mantel shelf. ‘Logan and Rachel are almost grown up . . . if only Archer could see them now. He’d be so proud of how they turned out.’
For a moment, Striker thought the woman might break down on him; so he changed the subject. ‘When your husband worked for the Vancouver Police Department, did he ever confide anything in you?’
‘Confide?’ She spoke the word with caution.
‘Tell you any secrets. Anything you think we should know at this particular point in time?’
Lilly shook her head, confused, and Felicia spoke next.
‘Ms Davies, the reason we’re investigating your husband isn’t because he’s suspected of any wrongdoing. Quite the contrary, I think he was an impressive cop with a strong moral compass. What we’re investigating is the latest string of bombings that have been going off in the Lower Mainland . . . We believe there’s a connection to your husband.’
‘To Archer?’ Lilly Davies’ face flushed with the words. It was the first glimpse of true emotion that Striker had seen in the woman.
‘We don’t know the reason yet,’ she continued. ‘But there are many connecting factors here. And they all seem to lead back to your husband. Is there anything he was working on he told you about? Anything off the books?
Lilly’s face remained white. ‘No. No, he never told me anything about his work. Nothing at all. He kept his work very private.’