An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

Newton screamed,
“Mallory!” Mallory was taking aim for another shot and Newton lurched over and
kicked his arms. The gun fell to the ground. “Goddamn it, Mallory, I said not
to shoot!” Newton raced into the middle of the street and he could see Troy
holding his hand and he saw the surprise on his face. He couldn’t see the gun
in Troy’s hand. He saw Cherry move quickly and pick something up from the
floor.

She had
the gun. She held it with both hands and pointed it at Troy. She kicked him in
the leg and he came out of his shock. He even said “ouch”. When he saw the gun
he flinched and held his hands up to his face. Blood dripped from a gash on the
heel of his right hand.

“Cherry,”
Ward said. “Hand me the gun.”

“How does
this feel, huh? How does it fucking feel?” Cherry screamed into Troy’s ear.
Troy cowered.

“Don’t
shoot. Please. Don’t hurt me.”

“Cherry.
Give me the gun.” Ward was out from behind the counter now and he held out both
hands as he walked slowly towards Cherry.

“Don’t
come no closer,” she said. She was crying. “Don’t come no closer.”

“Cherry.
Listen to me. You don’t want to do this. This is not the way this ends. Come
on. Hand me the gun.”

“Hand him
the gun,” Troy said.

Cherry
sniffled. She said, “This is the last time you do this to me.” She looked at
Ward and Ward thought there was an apology in her eyes. She put the gun to
Troy’s head. Troy whimpered. Cherry pulled the trigger. Her eyes were closed.
Ward leapt at her, knocking Troy out of the way. He snatched the gun from
Cherry’s hand.

“The
safety was on,” he said.

“I know
how to use a gun,” Cherry said. “I wanted him to fear me.” She turned and
walked towards the door.

Troy was
on his knees. Cherry passed Newton and one of the other officers on her way
out. Poynter grabbed her as she exited and she hugged him and she sobbed.

Ward
kicked Troy onto his front and Newton said, “You okay?”

The
officer cuffed Troy and started to pull him to his feet, blood dripping from
the gash on Troy’s hand.

“I got
him,” Newton said. “Wait outside.”

The officer
seemed confused.

“I said I
got it. Tell Mallory and the others they speak to me before filing any reports
on this.”

“Yes,
sir,” said the officer and he let Troy drop to his knees and he left the diner.

Newton
grabbed Troy’s hair and he pulled his face towards his. Troy saw Newton’s face
upside down.

“Have you
got your faculties intact, son?” Newton said to Troy. Troy didn’t react. Newton
cuffed him across his head and came around and crouched down in front of him.

“Okay,
okay,” Troy said.

“Good.
Ordinarily I don’t cut deals with punk-ass little bastards like you but I’m
gonna cut you one so listen up and listen up good. You’re going to sign me a
statement that says Ward didn’t assault you and it was one of your junkie cohorts
who took offense at you owing him money. And then you’re going to leave this
town and you’re never going to come back. Because if you do, and know this for
a goddamn certain fact as sure as Christmas, I will put a bullet in your head
myself and call it an unfortunate accident while you was resisting arrest. You
got that?”

Troy
stared at Newton. His nose started to bleed a little. And then he nodded and a
speck of blood dripped onto his jacket.

Newton
said, “I ought to kill you right here and now, you son of a bitch.”

“You
could’ve killed me.” Ward was in Mallory’s face. He pointed to the scuff mark
on the shoulder of his jacket where the bullet had grazed it.

Mallory
smiled. “Didn’t, though. Maybe I’m not as good a shot as I thought.”

Ward
punched him and he felt something crunch in his hand, a lightning bolt of pain
shooting up his arm. Mallory’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Newton
pulled Ward away. Ward shook out the pain but it wouldn’t go. Might have been
broken already from Troy’s beating. Now it was definitely broken.

“Mallory.
Stay down, son. You heard my orders. You got it coming a long time.”

Mallory
wiped the blood from his nose and spat a pink gooey spit on the pavement. Ward
thought the red paintwork on his picket fence teeth suited him. He turned and
walked towards Cherry.

The
little boy, Percy, sits on a chair next to Newton’s desk. He has a can of
Coca-Cola in his hand and he looks around the station with wide eyes. His
father is standing next to him and he stares sternly at the detective, who is
leaning forward in his chair.

“Just
tell me what happened,” Newton says. “You saw Ryan, right?”

The
little boy looks at his father, who nods.

“I saw
him in the street. He seemed kinda upset so I asked him if he was okay and he didn’t
say nothing. I put my arm around him to try to cheer him up but he wasn’t in no
mood for talking. I let him be and he walked off.”

“Did he
say anything at all? Did he say where he was headed?”

“Didn’t
say nothing. He was sniveling.”

“Was he
hurt, you think?”

“Didn’t
seem it. Just sniveling.”

“Did you
see anybody else or was he on his own?”

“I didn’t
see nobody else apart from Mister Parrish, who drove past and I waved at him.”

Percy’s
father says, “Ray Parrish.”

Newton
nods without taking his eyes off Percy. “So, did you see which way Ryan went?”

“He just
carried on walking up the street.”

“And
you…”

“I just
doubled back,” Percy says and then tears appear in his eyes. “I just wish I’d
stayed with him and then maybe he wouldn’t be missing and maybe…”

“It’s
okay, son,” his father says, and he puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Say, can
we wrap this up now? Boy’s getting tired.”

“Of
course,” Newton says, and he puts a hand on the boy’s knee and squeezes gently.
“You’ve been a great help. Hey, how about you come back in sometime and we’ll
give you a full tour of the station. Show you everything. You like that?”

Percy
nods and his father smiles.

“Thanks
for coming in,” Newton says to Percy’s father.

“No
problem. And if there’s anything I can do to help. I guess times like these we
all pull together as a town and do what we can.”

“That’s
what we do.”

He
watches them stand and leave and he stares at the skittish boy, whose legs move
quickly at the side of his father’s long stride. Something about the boy. He
shakes the thought out of his head.

“Funeral’s
tomorrow. You’ll be there?” Newton said.

“I didn’t
realize they’d released the old man’s body. And I’m still suspended.”

“Not for long.
I got that in hand.” Newton touched Ward’s arm. “Good work back there.”

“Thanks.
Mallory takes a good shot.”

“He does.
Even if he is slow-minded. Go get that hand seen to. It’s met too many chins
recently. Probably broken.”

“I know
it.”

Everybody
was gathered around the whiteboard, which had various pieces of evidence from
the case and Ward’s scribblings. Newton stared at the board as Ward walked into
the station. Mallory offered him a glare and Ward ignored it
 
as
he drew up alongside Newton. His hand was strapped up lightly. Looked like a
homemade solution.

“Okay?”
Ward asked. Newton didn’t reply at first. Just stared at the board.

“I’m
looking but not seeing,” Newton said, and he rubbed the base of his back.

“You want
to take this?” Ward said. Newton nodded and then he turned to the gathered
police. “Okay, we’ll keep this brief. We got pressure to get a result. I know
you’ve already done it but I want everybody to take a look at what we’ve got.
Go over things again. Ask each other questions. The victim is being buried
today at Gabriel Heights. I want Mallory and Poynter there but at a respectful
distance. Take an unmarked car. Park on the cemetery road where we have eye
contact.
Myself
and Ward will be there too. We keep an
eye out for anyone who stands out. Our perpetrator could be there so keep
vigilant. Anyone raises any suspicions, we take them after the funeral. You got
that?”

Mallory
grunted and Poynter nodded. Newton handed out the facial composite he had had
made up of the man he thought was Ryan Novak.

“This man
is a person of interest. Extreme interest. If you see this person you let me or
Ward know. Don’t spook him. You listening, Mallory? No fuck ups.”

“Yes,
sir,” Mallory said in a low rumble, the left side of his face sporting fresh bruising.

Newton
said, “Okay. That’s it. Any questions?”

Nobody
said a word.

“Okay,
good, then.” And then Newton walked to his desk. Poynter took his usual place
by McNeely’s desk and admired her as she ate. Mallory loped away like a coyote,
nervously looking at Ward as he walked past him.

Ward was
about to follow Newton to his desk when Newton suddenly spun around and pushed
past Ward. He looked at the evidence board.

“Son of a
bitch,” he said.

“What is
it?” Ward said.

Newton
unpinned the copy of the photo of Ryan Novak from the board. “Look.”

Ward
looked at the photo. “You’re going to have to give me a clue.”

“Son of a
goddamned bitch. 1985. That’s when Ryan disappeared. You see 1985 in this
photograph?”

“Could
be,” Ward said.

“Look
again. At the TV.”

Ward
squinted at the photo and he steadied Newton’s hand which had begun to shake.
He saw it then. On the television behind Ryan.

“We sure
it’s what it is?”

“Can only
be one thing. That’s the inauguration of Bill Clinton. 1993, no? Ryan was already
gone a few years.”

Ward took
a closer look. “McNeely.”

McNeely
was already there. With a magnifying glass. Ward looked at the photo again. He
nodded at Newton.

“That’s
not Ryan,” Newton said. “The old guy had this photo in his room.”

“Hidden
behind the Bermuda picture,” Ward added.

“But
that’s not Ryan. Now why would he keep this? Who is this?”

“The
writing on the back. John 1 20. It’s not a Bible reference. It’s the date the
photo was taken. The date of Clinton’s inauguration. Gotta be. Always in January,
right?”

“So he’s
called John. John Doe.”

“My guess
is this is your guy. The guy you chased.”

“The guy
who bears a striking resemblance to Ryan Novak.”

Ward
scratched the back of his neck. “Ryan’s mother had another child. A
stillbirth.”

“You
don’t—do you think…” Newton’s words trailed off into a forest of questions.

“We need
to go back to Alice White,” Ward said.

By the
time Newton, Ward, Mallory and Poynter rolled out of the station parking lot it
had started to snow. Small flakes of snow that dusted the roadside and
sidewalks. Mallory managed to pull out a skid as he joined the street. As they
left a car pulled past them into the parking lot.

“Internal
Affairs,” Newton said. “Nobody’s told them. A long way to come for a wasted
journey. We’ll let Gammond explain.”

“Snow,”
Ward said.

“Been
coming a while now,” Newton said.

They
pulled into the cemetery entrance and drove up a short ramp, then swung left
onto the eastern pavement. They could see a gathering of people up ahead and
others making their way from the parked cars. There were dozens of parked cars,
recently arrived from the Westmoreland Gospel Church where they had whooped
their hallelujahs and Bill O’Donnell had been commended to God, his redeemer
and judge.

Ward and
Newton stopped a short distance away and Mallory and Poynter drew up behind
them in their unmarked car. Nobody turned to look at them. Just walked with
heads down, some bearing handkerchiefs, sobbing. A raven’s
 
distant
call, and then another closer, shot through the somber moans.

And the
people streamed up towards the grave and their numbers swelled. Many were
black.

“From his
church,” Newton said but didn’t need to.

They sat
in the car as the flakes of snow settled on the windshield and then melted,
fifty at a time, and then another fifty. There was a covering on the ground and
Ward leaned forward and looked up at the sky.

“Okay,
let’s go,” Newton said, and he opened the door and squeezed himself from behind
the wheel, holding his breath as his back threatened to spasm.

They
crossed to where the people snaked towards the graveside, moving slowly as if
all were pallbearers carrying a giant’s burden. Newton and Ward joined them and
Newton turned to check on Mallory and Poynter. He saw the fidgeting shape of
Mallory with binoculars.

They
walked up the hill and as it leveled off the gathering masses of people had
come to a halt and the people shook hands and they touched arms and some
hugged. There was Principal Taylor. Other teachers and members of the school
staff.

A hand
touched Newton’s arm and it was Alice White and her eyes were wet but her mouth
smiled. Newton smiled uncertainly back at her and they walked together to the
graveside, her arm intersecting his, and Ward followed behind, his eyes working
through the people. There was a mist of calm cast over them all and the blanket
of low snow clouds seemed to muffle the sobs and the murmured conversations as
it came down thick and sticky.

The
casket was there, suspended on straps fastened to a metal frame which bordered
Bill O’Donnell’s final resting place. Snow had already covered the top. The
people circled it like crows in a meadow of marble and granite, and the sobs
grew and silenced the murmurs. Reverend Adrien Baptiste weaved in and out of
the gathering and offered comforting words in a deep rumble which seemed to
spiral through his congregation.

As Alice
and Newton reached the graveside, people made way for them and Alice said
“thank you” and Newton let her arm drop but she grabbed his hand and pulled him
gently forward. They stood at the head of the closed casket and Newton stared
at it with teddy bear eyes and a tear ran down his cheek and he almost coughed
out a sob but choked it back. Alice noticed and she gently turned him to face
her so she looked directly into his eyes.

“He’s
found his peace,” she said. “Now can you?”

And the
sob came out. And then Newton gulped in air and swallowed the rest of it, his
eyes streaming.

Ward had
deliberately held back. From where Newton and Alice stood line of sight
 
with
Mallory and Poynter was lost, and Ward knew that Newton was lost now too. And
he understood.

The
Reverend took his place beside the casket and the sobbing grew in intensity and
then he started to speak. Ward tried to remain still but he struggled to see as
many faces as he would like and he rocked on his heels, side to side, with the
rhythm of Reverend Baptiste’s words and tried to crane a look at faces
opposite, at faces beside him. None of the faces rang alarm bells. And as Reverend
Baptiste’s words settled on him like the snowflakes falling from the heavens,
Ward turned to look over at Mallory and Poynter.

For a
moment he didn’t see the man. He saw Poynter tug Mallory’s arm first. And then
he saw him. Mallory was waving at Ward with both arms and indicating the man
who strode towards him and Ward knew it was him. He wore a thick padded coat
and a wool hat and an extra hood. He could take him before he got to the other
grievers. Mallory and Poynter were out of the car, ready to make a move on
Ward’s order. Mallory shifted from one foot to the other like he was wearing
tight boots. Ward turned towards Newton, who had his back to him, but Alice
White was looking at Ward and looking beyond Ward and her eyes closed for a
second or two and she nodded her head slowly. When Ward turned back to the man
he was almost upon them but still far enough away for Ward to slip out and take
him but he didn’t. He settled into the service again and then he heard the
footsteps running up the hill.

Mallory
was sprinting towards the man and the man turned and saw him. He turned to
Alice and then back to Mallory and he looked to turn and run but Mallory was
there then and Mallory dived for the man’s feet as the man made the decision to
run too late and Mallory was on top of him as the man swung his arms, his
scrambling feet struggling to grip on the snow-covered ground.

The
commotion had the congregation craning to see what was happening and shocked
voices gasped and murmured. Reverend Baptiste stopped speaking and he rose up
on his toes and he bellowed, “What is this?”

Mallory
was on top of the man, who wriggled desperately to be free, but Mallory had his
giant hands around the man’s forearms now, pinning him to the ground. As the
man struggled he tossed his head from side to side and the hat and hood shook
free and Mallory looked straight into his face and he said, “It’s you.”

Ward
dragged Mallory off the man and Mallory fell back and sat on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Ward said. “What the hell—”

Mallory
looked up at Ward and said, “I’m making an arrest.”

“We won’t
have this. Not here and not now,” the Reverend boomed.

Ward said
to Mallory, “Get away,” and he tried to take the hand of the other man to help
him to his feet but the man waved Ward away and he just lay there with his
hands in fists at his temple, his eyes shut tight and his clothes spattered
with dirty snow. Ward thought he looked like a little boy who had been beaten
on by a bully.

It was
Alice who went to him and calmed him down with soothing words. The man slowly
and shakily raised himself up onto one knee and then both feet and Alice led
him away, up to the top of the hill and the graveside where Newton still stood.

Mallory got
to his feet then and he turned and stomped back down the hill, the snow
underfoot once trying to
fell
him. Ward watched him
all the way back to his car and Mallory jumped straight in and slammed the door
closed and then Ward heard the deep voice of Reverend Baptiste start up again.

As
Reverend Baptiste reached the end of the committal prayer a wail went up from
somebody out of Ward’s sight and everybody said “amen.” Ward saw that Newton’s
hand was covered in dirt and Alice White took hold of it. The casket began its
descent and Reverend Baptiste led the congregation in the Lord’s Prayer and
Ward joined them. The man’s arm was across Alice White’s juddering shoulders
and Ward didn’t take his eyes off him.

Then the
Reverend started singing “Just a Closer Walk
With
Thee,” and around thirty voices joined him and it became darker around them all
or so it seemed.

“He’s one
of my children,” Alice White said to Ward. Newton looked on and didn’t say
anything. “He’ll come with you.”

Ward had
his hand on his handcuffs.

“He’ll
come. No need for handcuffs, detective.”

Ward
relaxed and he guided the man away. The man wiped his face on the back of his
hand. And then again with the other hand. Ward waited until they were far
enough away from the others before he softly uttered the Miranda warning. The
man nodded to indicate he’d understood Ward. The man then looked over his
shoulder and Alice White held up her hand. Ward walked him down the hill to the
car. Mallory and Poynter drove away before they got there. Newton joined them a
minute later and the journey to the station was silent.