Fifth Son (36 page)

Green felt the horror like a physical blow to the stomach, and he fought to draw breath. “Jesus,” was all he managed.

“Yeah. Jesus. He figured we'd get rid of it all. All the sins, all the ugly little secrets.” Tom took the forgotten cigarette from Green's fingers and sucked the smoke deep into his lungs. “Benji never did get away from the nightmares. Till he took the only way out he could think of. And Lawrence... Fuck, look what we did to that poor kid. He could've had some kind of life, with the drugs there are now and us sticking by him.”

Green regained his professional footing with an effort. “He didn't have a bad life in St. Lawrence, Tom. He did have a family of sorts.”

Tom didn't seem to hear. He twirled the cigarette in his hand. “I was so mean to him when he was a kid. He was a nice little kid, kinda cute, you know? But he should've been protected, like Kyle. But you can't go back, eh? Even the old cottage ain't the same no more.” He shrugged as if disappointment was second nature to him. “Me and Robbie figured we'd bury him out in the village in that little graveyard by the church. Can't think of much else I can do to make it up to him.”

It was a nice idea, Green told him, to give him something to hold on to in the days ahead. After the
OPP
officer led Tom back to his cell, Green sat alone in the interview room for almost five minutes, gathering the courage to get up.

On the long drive back into the city, the two detectives picked over the case in a desultory fashion, trying to gain their own sense of equilibrium with the events of the past few days. But their hearts weren't in it, their bodies ached and their minds were too foggy for creative thought. Finally Green tilted his seat back and shut his eyes, profoundly weary. Even with two strong painkillers, every muscle in his body ached, and his bandaged hands throbbed.

“Jesus, what a night,” he murmured. “I'm getting too soft for this kind of thing.”

Sullivan glanced at him. “You violated just about every rule in the book, you know. Luckily, they'll never know the half of them.”

Green opened his eyes. Smiled. There was a ring of the old warmth in Sullivan's tone, from the days when they were partners. “And luckily, you were right there to fix them, eh?”

Sullivan nodded. Flicked his signal casually and pulled out to pass a tractor. “I might have to stay in
CID
just to keep you from getting killed.”

Green didn't reply. Didn't dare jinx it. He let the painkillers wash over him, and the next thing he knew, Sullivan had pulled into the driveway of his Highland Park home. Sharon folded him into her arms, led him straight upstairs and settled him in bed with a hot cup of tea.

“I see the house is still standing,” he murmured as he sank into the pillows.

“Yes, but Bob's working on it.” She chuckled as she closed the blinds against the midday sun. “Do you want to sleep?”

He reached his bandaged hand to hers. “Stay with me while I have the tea.”

She snuggled in beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. “What an incredible story. Look at how many lives that woman ruined.”

“Not just her. All the parents.” Anger knotted his stomach. “There's no way to get back all those lost years or stolen lives. But at least we got her, and maybe that will help the survivors get their lives back on track.”

“I keep thinking about Tom,” she said. “In a crunch, he came through and saved Kyle's life. Maybe the first time he's ever done something right.”

He nodded. “Probably surprised himself.”

She traced her fingers down his arm. “I don't suppose there's any way you can persuade Jules not to press charges on all those violations he racked up.”

“Officer's discretion?” He gave a wan smile. “I'll be working on it. But even with Jules or Devine's blessing, I won't have the power to make everything disappear. I can probably avoid a kidnapping charge, because it seems clear he didn't know Kyle was in the truck. Plus he took good care of him once he found him. We may even be able to drop the vehicular theft. I don't imagine Edna McMartin will be making much noise.”

“And her husband is probably grateful Tom saved his son's life.”

Green sighed. “But the media and Jacques Boisvert would crucify me if I tried to drop the assault on Isabelle. I mean, bashing nice ladies on the head is a no-no, no matter how you spin it. Besides, Tom has to learn that even though you don't get dealt a fair hand in life, you can always try to tip the balance in your favour by doing what's right.”

“Maybe he's made his first small step in that direction.” She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I wonder if he'll move back up here when he gets out. I'd kind of like at least one happy ending to come out of this.”

“Happy ending?”

“For him and Robbie. Maybe they'll buy back the farm from that obnoxious Boisvert guy and start over again. You never know.”

Green remembered the care with which Tom kept Kyle warm on the beach, the crushing regret he'd finally faced up to at the Madoc jail. For the first time, Green felt a little hope. Well, you never know.

He set down his tea and slipped his bandaged arms around her. Her skin felt soft against his and the warmth of her body sent a yearning through him that eclipsed pain and fatigue. He tilted her chin and kissed her.

“Where's Tony?” he whispered.

“Down the street at Jesse's. I asked if they could play.”

“Clever woman.” He kissed her again, revelling in her delicious taste and in the tingling softness of her tongue. Just as he was groping beneath the sheets for flesh, the door slammed and footsteps mounted the stairs. Hannah's head appeared in the doorway.

“Oh. You're back.” Deadpan Hannah.

He disentangled himself and arranged a hasty smile on his face. “Hi, honey. Thanks for your help this morning. It might make the difference to our convicting her.”

“Oh, gee,” she said. “And that'll make up for twenty years of heartbreak in a flash.”

“Nothing will. But—” He trailed off, for her head had disappeared and the only sound he heard was the soft closing of her door. He eyed the empty doorway with a pang of sadness. “Tough cookie, that one. She's making me pay.”

“Well, you know, Green,” Sharon replied. “Speaking of happy endings, teenage daughters don't come cheap.”

Barbara Fradkin's
work as a psychologist provides ample inspiration for her tales of murder. She has an affinity for the dark side, and her short stories haunt several anthologies and magazines, including Storyteller and the New Canadian Noir and Ladies' Killing Circle anthologies.

Fifth Son
is the fourth in the Inspector Green series. The first,
Do or Die
, was published by RendezVous Press in 2000. The second,
Once Upon a Time
(2002), was shortlisted for an Arthur Ellis Award for Best Novel. A third,
Mist Walker
, followed in 2003.

Barbara lives in Ottawa and is an active participant in Canada' crime writing community. She is currently the president of Crime Writers of Canada.

More information on Barbara's activities can be found at
www.barbarafradkin.com

Text © 2004 by Barbara Fradkin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.

Cover art: Christopher Chuckry

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program.

Napoleon Publishing/RendezVous Press Toronto, Ontario, Canada www.rendezvouspress.com

Printed in Canada Second printing 2005

08 07 06 05 5 4 3 2

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Fradkin, Barbara Fraser, date Fifth son / Barbara Fradkin.

(An Inspector Green mystery) ISBN 1-894917-13-8

I. Title. II. Series: Fradkin, Barbara Fraser, date- . Inspector Green mystery.

PS8561.R233F53 2004 C813'.6 C2004-903178-3