Lullaby for the Nameless (5 page)

Steve’s brow furrowed. “We didn’t handle anything.”

“Then explain why we were called out to investigate something ‘suspicious.’ Explain why a team had already been called out to process the evidence. I mean, all you had to do was take one look at what was in the Dumpster—”

There was the tiniest gasp as Ashlyn’s breath caught in her throat. Tain was familiar with her way of stopping the tremor of emotion that sometimes crept into her words, but so was Steve.

He pointed at her. “That’s why I want you off this case.”

“
You
want us off the case? You, or your superiors?”

“Ash.” Tain kept his voice low as he turned to look at his partner. There was a tension in her body he hadn’t seen in months, evident in the stiffness of her neck, the clenched hands, the color in her cheeks that hadn’t dissipated.

“I want you off the case.”

Tain watched as his partner’s face darkened. The first wave to hit was anger.

“Ashlyn—”

She held up her hand to silence Steve and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped before Tain could make sense of what she was going to say. The anger was followed by what he interpreted as disbelief and shock as her skin turned white, and she seemed to shrink half an inch. It took only a second for her to pull the door open, and she stomped out of the room before Tain had a chance to keep her from leaving.

Silence followed, and it was a moment before Steve spoke. “That’s why I don’t want you on this case.”

“Look—”

“You were at the crime scene. You asked for us. You think we don’t know why? You knew.”

Steve leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands for a moment. “But I didn’t know it was her.”

Spoken so softly that for a second Tain wasn’t sure if he’d imagined Steve’s words.

“What?”

When Steve looked up, Tain saw a muddled mix of sadness and frustration in Steve’s eyes and what he interpreted as a measure of desperation. The way Steve’s eyebrows rose made Tain feel as though his senior officer was pleading with him to understand, and the way the corners of Steve’s eyes sagged made Steve look as though he’d aged years.

Steve looked Tain straight in the eye as he spoke. “I didn’t know it was Millie Harper.”

“Then…why? Why call us out there? And why take us off now?”

A half smile flickered across Steve’s face as he leaned back and gave his head one small shake. “I wasn’t going to take you off.”

“But you said—”

“I said I wanted you off.”

“You implied—”

“Tain, it was…I was playing a hunch. Call it my way of toying with you if you want to. Hell, maybe I’ve felt like a mouse being dangled by its tail in front of a starved cat for so long I can’t help myself anymore. You guys got called out there because of the superficial similarities to that old case. It wasn’t my decision, and I’m not going to defend it.”

Steve’s hands were folded in front of his face and for a half second Tain almost wondered if he was praying with his eyes open, but then Steve nodded. “You’re right. And you’re right about the fact that I pushed Ashlyn, and I shouldn’t have.”

“You can tell her that yourself.”

Tain turned and started walking toward the door when he heard the creak of the chair. From the corner of his eye, he saw Steve stand up.

“But look at how she responded.” There was silence, and Steve didn’t continue speaking until Tain turned to look at him. “We didn’t know it was Millie. All we knew was that it was superficially similar.”

A test for both of them. Steve could claim he was concerned about Ashlyn, but Tain knew better. He was under as much scrutiny as his partner over this call.

“We didn’t want the press catching wind of it. Not since they found a body in the woods near Kelowna earlier.”

“Isn’t that where the manhunt is? The multiple murderer?”

“That’s what the press is saying.”

“And what about the RCMP?”

“Details are thin. It’s just, first a body in the woods, and now a body in a Dumpster…I was worried about Ashlyn before I knew it was Millie.”

Tain was beginning to see where Steve was going and what was really bothering them. The reason they’d been given limited details when they were called out. “There may have been some loose ends, but we closed the file. Campbell’s dead. Hobbs is in prison.”

This was about more than the connection Tain and Ashlyn had to Millie Harper and what he hoped were the coincidental similarities between her death and others they’d investigated before. For Steve, it was personal in a different way. Old cases and old wounds. The implications of Millie’s death had brought back painful memories for Sergeant Daly, and he was projecting his own fears onto Tain and Ashlyn.

“Then you should keep us on this case. Millie didn’t die like the others. There’s no reason to think it’s the same killer.”

“But the nightgown, the dumping of the body…the fact that she’d been tied up?”

“Circumstantial at best.” Tain knew they’d have to look at the other cases. It was standard procedure. But he had no doubt about Hobbs’s guilt and the role Campbell had played. “We know the history inside and out. We both knew Millie. We don’t have to be brought up to speed. The only person who knows this case as well as we do…” Tain paused as he considered what to say about Craig and his prolonged absence. “He’s not here. We are. You’ll be behind from the beginning if you take us off the case now.”

Steve stared at Tain for a moment, then nodded. “I know. But are you sure she can handle it?”

A question Tain wasn’t prepared to ask himself, never mind answer to Steve.

“Either you have confidence in us to do our jobs, or you don’t. You can’t have a list of conditions over what kinds of cases your officers handle. You either trust them with everything, or you trust them with nothing.”

With that he turned and walked away.

A woman brushed past Craig as she handed the sergeant a file.

“We’ve exhausted tips in Calgary and on Vancouver Island, and have a few more officers arriving tomorrow morning.” Yeager studied the contents of the folder she’d been handed. “Ballistics has been digging bullets out of trees. Too much damage to make a conclusive match, but it looks like it could be the same type of ammunition used in the murders.”

One of the things about the killing of the Jeffers family that didn’t make sense. Why use a rifle? If you’re going to murder your wife and children and then run, not even try to feign innocence, why not kill them in the house where the bodies could be concealed?

The killer had wanted them to be found. Quickly.

Yeager ignored her ringing phone, closed the folder and looked up. “If the evidence is correct, we’re closing in on Hank Jeffers. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to have my men shot at.”

“Glad we could be of service,” Mac muttered.

“And I’m glad he didn’t have better aim this morning because we need you to work the body.”

It was what Craig had expected when they were called in, but the words had the effect of having a bucket of cold water dumped on him in the middle of winter. He felt the shiver surge down his spine and through his arms as all the heat in his face disappeared.

Yeager stared at him with another look that suggested she could read his mind. “Do you have a problem with this?”

Craig almost jumped at Mac’s voice as Yeager shifted her gaze to Craig’s partner. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected Mac’s opposition; it was that he hadn’t expected Mac to actually voice his objections to his commanding officer.

Which told him that he’d misread his partner.

Which wasn’t exactly a comforting thought.

The sound of her phone ringing didn’t even make her blink.

“Respectfully”—Mac failed to soften the cynical edge in his tone—“we should stay on Jeffers. We need to find this guy fast, and—”

Yeager held up her hand. “And
we
will.
You
will ID the body in the woods, find out how she got there and arrest her killer.”

“Assuming he isn’t already in jail.”

Yeager’s head snapped so fast, Craig heard her neck crack as she turned to look at him. Her phone rang again, but she didn’t seem to notice. “That wouldn’t explain how the body got in the woods today, though, would it?”

Before she could continue or Craig could respond, Mac cut in.

“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t be on this case. He worked that serial killer thing a couple years back.”

Mac offered a curt nod and after a split-second hesitation, Yeager turned her attention back to Craig.

“I just meant that if the killer’s Jeffers, you might get him first,” Craig said. He could feel Mac’s disbelieving stare, but he kept his focus straight ahead, on the sergeant.

“For now it’s just the two of you. I expect you both”—she shifted her glance to Mac for a moment—“to keep that quiet. We’re prepared to pull resources as needed
if
they’re needed, but we don’t want to look like we’re jumping to any conclusions about this case before we even start investigating, and we sure as hell don’t need the media shit storm it’ll stir up if the press catches wind of it. Work fast and be thorough, and before you come back and tell me this is part of an old investigation, a loose string that should have been tied up more than a year ago, you make damn sure you’re right, because there’ll be hell to pay if we’re wrong.”

Those green eyes prying into Craig’s, boring a hole in his skull. Trying to impress upon him the importance of this investigation, of getting it right.

As though he needed the explanation.

As though he didn’t understand exactly what was at stake.

He nodded. “Yes, Sergeant. We’re on it.”

“Of all the goddamn useless ways to waste our time.”

Mac muttered the words as Craig drove back to the woods where the body had been found. He’d muttered a number of things since leaving the sergeant’s office, and Craig had resisted the urge to turn on the radio to block the sound of Mac’s words. It would be a response, which was what Mac was after.

Craig could hide behind the excuse of duty, of following orders, to explain his cooperation with the sergeant in her office, but now that he was alone with his partner, he knew saying anything would put him on a side.

“You got nothin’ to say about this?”

“No point complaining,” Craig said as he pulled his Rodeo over to the side of the road, near the other emergency vehicles. “It isn’t going to make me feel better, and it isn’t going to change anything.”

The manhunt had tapped their resources, all the way down to the need to use officers’ personal vehicles. Craig hadn’t drawn the short straw—he’d volunteered to use his. It had four-wheel drive and was built to handle the terrain. Plus, it meant he held the keys.

Ashlyn had told him once, when they’d first worked together, that he had control issues. Close his eyes and he could imagine her watching him, shaking her head, her dark hair contrasted against her creamy skin, saying, “Some things never change.”

He got out of the vehicle and grabbed the gear he needed.

Mac took the lead as they headed into the woods. “You want to work this case?”

By Craig’s estimation, even parking where they did, they had about a mile to hike through the woods. He’d already had fifteen minutes of Mac’s bitching on the drive over. “What difference does it make?”