The Frailty of Flesh (29 page)

“More like ten times that amount,” Tain said.

“Agreed. You want to babysit with me? I can have patrol on standby to follow anyone who leaves the house. What do you say?”

Tain saw the flicker of doubt in Ashlyn’s eyes. “Go. I’ll handle the monitoring,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“Just update Zidani.”

She grinned. “I could delegate that responsibility, you know.”

“Me dealing with Smythe and Luke isn’t enough?”

The smile slipped from her face. “Yeah, yeah, all right, I’ll call.”

Ashlyn gathered what she needed from the car, then called Zidani. She watched while Liam gave Tain a card, and they attempted to make small talk. When she was finished on the phone she got out and walked over to Liam’s vehicle.

“What did he say?” Tain asked.

“Words of profound insight and inspiration, sure to warm even your heart. ‘Proceed as planned.’ ”

Tain watched Ashlyn and Liam get in the car and looked at the card in his hand. The urge to stop them and insist Ashlyn trade places with him was overwhelming, but he held back and watched them drive away, unsure of whether his gut was telling him something about Liam Kincaid, or if he just wanted to avoid the Reimers and what they reminded him of.

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was a basic motel room—beige carpet, a nondescript bedspread, generic wildlife painting on the wall. A simple dresser had a large TV on top, a small table and two chairs were positioned close to a short counter with a kettle, mugs and everything needed to make tea or coffee. Thick curtains obscured the midday light, making the room seem unnaturally dark for noon.

Craig flicked on a light, pulled off his boots and mitts, set his bag down by the closet and then picked up the box with the case files. The daily newspaper was lying on top. He set the box down on the bed and picked up the
Sun.

The lawsuit was official, and it had made it into the public domain with a splash, along with the news of Donny’s release from prison. Not only had Donny Lockridge sued the department and everyone involved in his conviction, but Lisa Harrington had also filed a suit against the department “for misconduct.” She alleged that the police had focused on Donny while refusing to consider other evidence that suggested someone had broken in to the Harrington home and abducted Hope, which explained the missing blanket and the fact that the killer had used a weapon taken from the victim’s house.

It also explained the DNA found on Hope, DNA that was not a match for Donny Lockridge. What remained unexplained in her scenario was how the murder weapon had been returned to the house, which Lisa’s lawyer dismissed as “a minor detail.”

“What better place to hide it? It cast suspicion on others and effectively allowed the guilty party to go free.”

None of that, however, was the big news. What had landed in the headlines were Lisa’s allegations that one of the RCMP officers working the case coerced her, made her believe Donny was a danger to her and her other daughter, and pressured her into a sexual relationship and a pledge to lie on the stand about Donny hitting Hope in order to guarantee they’d find sufficient evidence to ensure Donny was convicted. She’d been scared and manipulated by the people she trusted to protect her. Now she wasn’t sure Donny was guilty.

And approximately nine months after Hope’s murder Lisa had given birth to a little bundle of alleged proof.

Emma had warned him. While the article didn’t name Steve Daly as the accused, he had been in charge of the investigation.

Craig’s cell phone beeped and he pulled it out. A text message from Ashlyn. He scratched his head for a moment, looked at the phone but didn’t open it or read the messages before he put it away.

He felt like he was a piece in a Jenga game. The lawsuit, investigation, Dad, Smythe, Emma, Zidani, the break-ins, Ashlyn…It wasn’t like someone piling on. Each thing felt like another piece of his foundation being pulled out from under him, just one more thing and his world might come crashing down. Whatever Ashlyn had to say, he couldn’t face it. Not now.

What if…?

He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his elbows into his knees as he clawed his head with his fingers. No. He refused to think about it.
Just focus on the case. Do your job.
As though it could be that easy.

Brandy hadn’t been home when he’d gone to the house, before he’d checked into the motel. The family business had been easy enough to track down, but he hadn’t gone in to speak to them. With any luck he could talk to Brandy first.

Craig stopped at Subway before returning to the Lockridge home. It was an older house, but large and on a fairly big lot. He dreaded the thought of spending hours in a vehicle with nothing but his thoughts for company, and he looked at the book on the front passenger seat. During the night Ashlyn had obviously gotten up and brought it downstairs, because he’d forgotten to pack it.
The 50/50 Killer.
The premise made his stomach twist now, as he thought about the look on Ashlyn’s face when he’d said good-bye and walked out, and the fact that she had still taken his book downstairs so that he would have it.

Close his eyes and he could see her as she was when they first met. Hair a bit shorter, impulsive, stubborn. From day one she’d made it clear she wouldn’t take crap from anyone. He smiled. Some things hadn’t changed.

If it wasn’t for this case, if this hadn’t happened now. A matter of days. What if he hadn’t decided to wait for Christmas?

He opened the book. Music hadn’t been enough to distract him from replaying the arguments over in his mind on the drive to Kelowna, and he needed something to block it out.

After a few hours a dark green Saturn Vue pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t need to look twice to know it was Brandy. In ten years she hadn’t aged much in terms of her appearance. Stylish leather coat, dress pants, hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail, showing off the diamond earrings. What had changed about Brandy’s appearance since the photo Wendy had showed him was the price tag of her wardrobe.

“Mrs. Lockridge?” he said as he approached the vehicle. She had the back door open and was removing a child from a car seat.

Brandy’s head snapped around to look at him. When she saw the ID she exhaled. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. Constable Craig Nolan. Coquitlam RCMP.”

“Coquitlam?”

“I’m reviewing Hope Harrington’s murder.”

Her eyes narrowed and she turned to lift the child out of the backseat. “Hope was murdered in Aldergrove. Doesn’t Langley RCMP handle policing there?” She pushed the door shut, propped her son up with one arm and took her purse off the driver’s seat. Then she slammed that door shut and started walking toward the house.

“They do.”

“So what is this about? You guys trying to make it look like an impartial investigation?”

Craig allowed himself the smile, since she had her back to him. Hardly.

“I met with Lisa Harrington last week, and I understand your brother-in-law is out on parole.”

Brandy stopped, then turned around. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“You were friends with Hope. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I answered questions back then, when it happened.”

“Sometimes, we see things differently later. Maybe back then you thought the cops must have got it right, since a jury convicted him. And maybe now you think they got it wrong.”

“What difference does it make what I think? My brother-in-law still went to jail. He lost ten years he’ll never get back.”

“And what about the years Hope lost?”

Brandy shifted her son to her other hip. “Look, I’m sorry about that, all right? But it wasn’t my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So that’s it? Even if a murderer is back on the streets?”

She rolled her eyes the way younger girls do to express irritation with a stupid adult. The curl to her lips, the way her hip jutted out just a bit, it suggested to Craig a petulant child. Brandy set her son down and unlocked the door. “Come inside, Donny Let’s get your boots off.”

Donny.

Craig was surprised Brandy didn’t shut the door on him. Once she had her son out of his boots and coat she turned and said, “Look, come in, ask your questions, then go. I don’t want you here when Darren gets home. He wouldn’t be too happy if he knew about this. Donny getting out…They spent last weekend celebrating.”

Did that mean Darren had been in the Langley area over the weekend? He used to live there, he’d know where Lisa lived…Craig complied with Brandy’s instructions, giving her space as she set her son on the couch with a blanket, a bottle, a plate of animal crackers, then turned on the TV. It was a sunken living room, three steps down from the main level, which gave it the appearance of a vaulted ceiling. The large windows on both sides of the room and white paint, offset with wooden trim and hardwood floors, made it look bright and spacious.

The kitchen, which was the first room on the main floor after the entry, was big but the dark wood cabinets were matched by dark green counters. On the far side, Craig could see an alcove opening to a dining room.

Brandy returned to the kitchen. “I honestly don’t know what more I can tell you.”

“Why don’t we start with the obvious? You don’t believe Donny murdered Hope.”

“Of course not. Donny treated Hope like a queen. He was”— she shook her head a little too emphatically—“he is a wonderful person.”

Craig noted the way she caught herself, but didn’t comment. Ten years in prison was a long time. How much had Donny Lockridge changed from the person he was? “You liked him back then.”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the counter. “So?”

“Maybe you weren’t the most objective person.” When she didn’t respond he said, “Your husband gave you a locket when you got engaged. I saw it in a photo. Do you still have it?”

Her whole face clouded then. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you still have it?”

“And if I don’t? You’ll be back with a warrant?” She uncrossed her arms and started down the hallway, putting up her hand to indicate he should wait there. After a moment she returned and passed him the necklace. “There. Satisfied?”

“Why did Darren give you a locket?”

“Why is that any of your business?”

“You’re aware that Hope wore a locket that looked exactly like this, and it was never recovered after her murder?”

“And you think Donny would be so stupid he’d give it to his brother? Go ahead, take it. Do whatever you want with it.” She sighed as her hand landed on her hip. “Truth is, Darren said he had it made for me, but it creeped me out. Hope never took hers off. I wore it for the photo, but that’s it. It reminded me of her a little too much.”

Craig pulled a form from his pocket and had her sign it, giving him permission to run tests on the locket. The reason he’d come had been to get the necklace, but he hadn’t dared to hope it would be so easy. Pushing Brandy’s buttons wasn’t hard, and she’d responded accordingly. He placed the locket in a plastic bag.

“Let me ask you something. If Donny’s innocent, who do you think killed Hope?”

“I don’t know. Her slut of a mother? One of her mother’s boyfriends? That woman had so many guys going in and out of there, half the men around could have gotten their hands on the murder weapon. Lisa Harrington’s one of those women who sleeps her way into pregnancy just to stay on the system and get the extra cash.”

“Then why would she kill Hope? Wouldn’t she want Hope to stay at home?”

“Hope wanted to move here with Donny and his family.”

“Didn’t Donny want her to come with them?”

Brandy shook her head. “Donny wasn’t going to move. He was going to stay in Langley.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you ask him? Look”—she glanced at the clock on the wall—“Darren will be here soon. You should go.”

Craig nodded, took out his card and held it out to her. “If you think of anything else.”

She glared at the card for a second, then snatched it from him. Once he had his boots on and stepped outside he thanked her again, told her where he was staying just in case she remembered something before he left town and walked back to the Rodeo.

Tain checked his watch and looked at Luke. Not much longer. His cell rang and he looked at it. As though she could read his thoughts.

“Anything?” he asked as he answered the phone.

“No. We have the alley behind the house covered. The nice thing about hills is that it’s easy enough to park someone a few blocks up and monitor their back door. I’m telling you, Tain, criminals should invest in trees. They almost make it too easy.”

“How considerate of them.” He paused. “You okay?”

“Of course.”

“Any word from Craig?”

He heard her breath catch in her throat. “No. I can’t imagine he’s too happy.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Call me as soon as they make contact.”

The other cell phone rang just as Tain closed his. Luke was hovering over Richard Reimer’s shoulder. Richard answered the phone.

“You have the money?”

The voice was muffled, but not in a consistent, professional manner. Tain frowned. It sounded tinny, as though someone was talking through a can. Audio analysis wasn’t his strong suit, but despite the low tone there was something in the voice that made him think it was a woman.

Richard looked at him and he nodded. Tain had spent the past few hours coaching the man. Now it was time to see which rule book he was playing by.

“I want to talk to Shannon.”

“When we get the money.”

Richard paused and looked at his lawyer before he asked, “How do I know she’s okay?”

Tain glared at Smythe, who averted his gaze. When he looked back at the desk he saw Richard wipe his brow with a shaky hand. “I want to talk to her.”

“You pay or you never talk to her again.”

“Fine, okay. Half a million dollars. I have it.”

“One million now.”

“Bu-but you said—”

“One million. Mrs. Reimer will leave it in a black knapsack at the water park at Rocky Point. She knows the place.”

Richard’s eyes widened and his lip quivered. It took two false starts for him to get the single word out. “When?”