Lullaby for the Nameless (15 page)

The demanding tone was so unexpected Ashlyn wondered for a split second if the phone had been answered already and she hadn’t heard.

“Mrs. Wilson?”

A pause. “Who’s this?”

“Constable Ashlyn Hart, from the RCMP.” Ashlyn drew a breath. “You placed a call, something to do with the investigation into the disappearance of those girls.”

Silence.

“Mrs. Wilson, I’m calling because you left a message that said you knew something about the missing girls that could help our investigation.”

Ashlyn paused. Since the day she’d been transferred to Nighthawk Crossing, she’d made at least three hundred phone calls. Most had been useless, but the process of determining whether the would-be tipster was crazy or confused was unpredictable. Some proved unreliable from the moment they answered the phone, like Mrs. Bird, and others prolonged the ordeal by seeming lucid and serious for several minutes before their stories unraveled.

A few had called because they knew one of the girls and just wanted to talk.

Those were the hardest ones. Ashlyn never knew what to say. There had been one phone call from someone who knew Mary Donard, and all Ashlyn could do was agree when the girl had said they hoped Mary had just run off and would come home soon.

They’d succeeded in limiting the press coverage of the discovery of the bodies in the woods, and that included concealing the identity of the older victim. The press didn’t know about the baby, and they wanted to keep it that way. The advantage they had was that they still controlled the details that went public.

“Mrs. Wilson, do you have some information for us?”

“That girl in the fire. The body. It was Jenny Johnson.”

Ashlyn straightened up. “Which fire?”

“The inn. The house across the street. The body inside.”

“The fire at the Blind Creek Inn?”

“It was Jenny Johnson’s body.”

“How do you—”

The click was followed by the familiar sound of dial tone.

Ashlyn stood. Adding the bogus calls to the thick file of useless tips was instinctive, and she placed the calls from family and friends in another folder. The few slips of paper that might contain helpful information had been placed on her notebook.

She grabbed the small pile with her left hand and picked up the message from Mrs. Wilson with her right, then marched down the hall to the small room where they’d previously met for shift changes.

Now, they met there when summoned, the shift lines blurred as they worked as long as they could to follow up on any possible leads. In the three days since discovering Mary Donard’s body, they hadn’t done much more than annoy the media.

The long table had been removed so they could try to comfortably seat a group of people who functioned as a team in name only. A handful of scattered chairs took up a fraction of the floor space, and a small table had been placed in the corner. A coffee urn sat on top.

Sullivan paced back and forth along the far wall.

It seemed Nolan was being groomed for leadership. The older officers appeared indifferent to that fact, while Tain made no effort to conceal his contempt for the constable.

Oliver entered the room, walked over to the urn and poured himself a cup of coffee. As he turned he took a sip, his face scrunched into a look of disgust and he spit the liquid on the floor.

“Tastes like lukewarm piss,” he said.

“Time for the little lady to prove herself useful. Make them some coffee.”

The all-too-familiar voice came from behind her, to her right side. She turned and glanced at Tain as he leaned back against the wall on the other side of the door, then realized it was a mistake.

She’d acknowledged the comment was meant for her.

The three older men didn’t seem to know whether they were supposed to laugh at Tain or lecture him. Oliver turned and set his cup down, his face a crimson shade. Campbell and Aiken glanced at Sullivan, who’d turned to stare at Tain.

Nolan walked to the front of the room.

“Hart’s been doing an excellent job—”

“On clerical duty.”

Tain’s voice again, eliciting a snort from Aiken that was quickly stifled when he looked up to see the sergeant glaring at him.

Ashlyn sat up in her chair. A trucker would make sense. It explained the size of the region the girls had disappeared from. Truckers knew the roads, knew the areas, and their presence didn’t automatically arouse suspicions. It was a promising lead.

“Hitches a lift with a trucker eighteen, nineteen months ago,” Campbell said. “That’s a whole lot of help.”

“It’s a place to start,” Nolan said.

“Thousands of hitchhikers get in semis every year. She could be on the other side of the country. It’s a waste of time.”

“This is what we do, Campbell. We follow the leads we have until we either exhaust them or turn up some useful information.”

Campbell shook his head. “What you’ve got is nothing. It’s a dead end.”

“No. It’s a beginning.” Ashlyn had surprised herself by saying the words out loud, and apparently everyone else in the room had been caught off guard as well. They were all looking at her, so she tried to explain.

“There would be shipping records, weight scale information from the highways. If we can get someone out to the truck stop and talk to other truckers we might find some guys who work regular routes in the area.”

“Which would tell us what?” Campbell said. “Who delivers produce and who’s hauling livestock? We’ve got no probable cause. You can’t send us out there to start questioning truckers and requesting shipping manifests without a damn good reason.”

Campbell jumped out of his chair. “You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with here.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” she snapped back, sick of Campbell’s attitude and unable to conceal her frustration.

Campbell looked at Sullivan, and some of the color drained out of his face. His breathing steadied, and he sat back down. “Look, so what if one of them got a ride near here a few months ago? It makes sense since they all went missing from this area. There’s nothing suspicious about that.”

“Except the fact that the trucker hasn’t come forward,” Ashlyn said. “I’d like to know why.”

“Then you follow up on it. I’m sure if you could find some tight jeans and park yourself outside a truck stop you’ll have no problem getting the guys to talk to you.” Campbell almost smiled. “They’ll probably tell you anything you want to hear.”

“You know what, Campbell? I think she’s got a point,” Tain said.

“Oh, well, aren’t you suddenly the knight in shining armor.” Campbell’s sneer didn’t fade when he looked at Ashlyn. “Don’t worry, hon, it’s not all about you. Tain’s got a hard-on for a couple of local punks he hasn’t been able to bust, and since they work for a shipping company, I’m sure he figures this is a good chance to try to find something he can use on them. Isn’t it, Tain? Only problem is, you tried that already, and you came up empty-handed because there’s nothing to find.”

“Yeah? Maybe I came up empty-handed because you shot off your mouth.”

Campbell was on his feet, quickly followed by Sullivan, Aiken and Oliver. The accusations and insults were lost in the chorus of shouting, and Ashlyn looked at Nolan, who’d stayed out of it.

Tain slithered back to his spot against the wall, and the others found their seats. Campbell’s face was as red as a ripe tomato.

“Look, this is a tough investigation. We don’t have the resources city departments have, and we don’t have enough manpower,” Sullivan said. “I understand that everyone’s tired and we’d all like to see some progress, but we can’t start pointing fingers at one another, especially without facts.”

The speech was followed by silence, but Ashlyn noted that the color didn’t fade from Campbell’s face. He also hadn’t looked up since he’d been ordered back to his chair.

“You don’t actually think it’s somebody local who’s killing these girls, do you?” Oliver said. “Those of us who’ve worked here for a while, who’ve put down roots, we know these people. Sure, you’ve got your drunks, you’ve got your bullies who use their wives as punching bags, and there’s the odd bit of petty theft, occasional drug use, but most people in this town are good folks.”

“We have to look at every possibility,” Sullivan said. “Until we’ve made an arrest, that means chasing down every possible lead. Okay, before we get to assignments, anybody have anything else?”

“Actually, I have something I want to chase down,” Ashlyn said.

“Oh really? What’s that?” Tain asked.

Ashlyn ignored him and kept her focus on the men at the front of the room. “It might be nothing, but we had a call about the body in the fire. I have reason to believe she could be one of our missing girls.”

“You mean the body found at Blind Creek Inn? We don’t have an ID yet that I’m aware of, and there’s been nothing to tie that victim to our investigation,” Sullivan said. “What have you got that suggests a connection?”

Ashlyn held up the slip of paper in her right hand. “A tip that says it was one of our girls.”

“Credible?” Nolan asked.

She nodded. “I think so. At least worth following up on.” She almost held her breath. Sullivan had every right to pass the tip over to Tain, and she knew it.

“Which victim?”

Tain’s voice cut through, but his tone had changed. The attitude and arrogance were gone, replaced by something bordering on concern. There was a look in his eyes, as though he was going back over some information in his mind, trying to piece something together.

“Jenny Johnson.”

“Okay, Hart. You and Nolan can track it down.”

“Sir—” Tain said. Sullivan cut him off.

“Tain, you have other things to deal with, and I told you before, it’s the team’s case. Not just yours.” The sergeant glared at him for a moment, then turned back to Hart. “Let Tain know if it’s credible. We can’t afford to ignore anything that hasn’t been called in by a crazy. Oliver can start tracking down shipping records and weight scale information,” Sullivan said. “Campbell, you and Aiken will deal with the truck stop.”

“Hang on. They found three bodies in Surrey this week, all young girls who’d been sexually assaulted. Each one had been stabbed through the chest,” Campbell said. “Why aren’t we looking to see if there’s a connection?”

“Were the girls held? Were they impregnated?” Tain asked. “Dressed in an old-fashioned white gown, partially wrapped in plastic and frozen before their body was disposed of?”

“Maybe they were,” Campbell said. “It’s not like we’re releasing all the details.”

She looked at Sullivan.

“We’ll be following up on that investigation, to see if there’s a connection. Campbell, you and Aiken start coordinating with Surrey, but if it turns out to be a dead end, I want you to follow up with Nolan’s lead right away. And, Campbell, that’s an order. Understood?”

Campbell glared at Nolan as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Ashlyn stood, aware of Tain watching her with a solemn gaze. She wasn’t sure if he intended to intercept her, but she hoped she could exit the room quickly and avoid any other confrontations.

“Hart?” Sullivan gestured to her and pointed at Nolan as he walked toward the front of the room. When he passed Tain he said, “I would have thought this would make you happy.” Tain only glared at Ashlyn and Nolan before marching out of the room.

Sullivan shook his head. When he reached Ashlyn and Nolan he started to talk about her valuable contributions and that he hoped she felt settled and like part of the team. Placating her because of Campbell’s comments, compounded by Tain’s sexist jabs and his own inability to quash them or discipline his men. That’s what she suspected. The fact that Sullivan hadn’t even tried to give Tain instructions hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Whatever Tain was working on, it trumped the body from the fire, and it seemed he was getting his instructions privately.

A voice from the back of the room cut through her thoughts.

“Sergeant Sullivan? There’s a man here to see you and Constable Nolan.” Ashlyn turned to see the same uniformed officer who had escorted her and Nolan through the woods only a few days earlier, the one Nolan called Getz.