The Frailty of Flesh (8 page)

Tain didn’t even need to look at Ashlyn to feel her smile. “Guess that’s our quota for this case blown,” he said.

She started to laugh. “And yet the sweater was wet, so the evidence may be contaminated. A defense attorney can argue someone stuffed their sweater into a bloody knapsack, unknowingly. I’d hoped we’d find some evidence of Shannon’s movements, if she came down here to toss the bag in the water.

“And what about her pants?” Tain asked. “Wouldn’t they have blood all over them? Why dump a sweater and not the pants?”

Ashlyn shook her head. “Not a break in sight with this investigation.”

Tain saw the question on Sims’s face as he looked from one of them to the other. “Luck, Sims. I doubt whoever threw that bag meant for it to hook on the tree so we’d find it. They meant for it to be underwater.”

“Where was Christopher found, exactly?” Ashlyn asked.

Sims led them up the shore a short distance. From there they had a clear view to the spot where the bag had been located.

Tain reached down and picked up a heavy stick. He threw it at the tree and bounced it right off the spot where the bag had been recovered.

“Any identifying marks on the baseball bat?” he asked Sims, who shook his head.

“No name.”

“Okay, Sims. I want a detailed description of the bat on my desk when I get back to the station. You need to get the bat, the bag and the sweater to the lab right away. I also want a thorough description of the hoodie and anything that might indicate who was wearing it.” Tain put his hand up when Sims appeared about to interrupt. “What kind of bag was it?”

“A black knapsack. Nothing on it to say who it belonged to, but I’ll have a general description of it for you, along with the sweater and the bat. And as soon as we have information on the shoe prints I’ll update you immediately.”

“Good.” Tain turned and started to walk, Ashlyn following him without more than a quick glance at Sims.

“I thought you liked him,” she said after a moment. When he didn’t respond she said, “Out with it.”

He stopped. “Look, we have a job to do here. Maybe if he wasn’t so anxious to impress he would have found the trail through the woods himself.”

“There are a lot of other people to point fingers at. The officers who searched the section of the woods nearest the road may have missed Christopher Reimer entirely.” She paused. “You remember what they said when I ordered the search? We had no grounds to search the woods. We weren’t just looking for possible witnesses; we were looking for a murder weapon. It’s standard procedure to search the area, and since there are trails that go through the woods it’s a logical place to try to hide a weapon, and it’s also a possible avenue of escape.”

The PoMo police officers, Parker in particular, had given Ashlyn attitude about her orders. She was right, but that wasn’t even what nagged at Tain now.

Something Sims said, about why he sent men back out there, and something else about Christopher Reimer that wasn’t adding up.

Before Ashlyn could ask what he was thinking he said, “Do you have an address for that witness?”

She nodded. “I just hope he has something useful for us.”

Even this early in the afternoon traffic was already starting to build. In British Columbia’s Lower Mainland, at this time of day rush-hour traffic flowed west to east, from Vancouver through the Greater Vancouver Area. The Tri-Cities of Port Moody, Coquitlam and Port Coquitlam were not just home to thousands of people. They were a traffic corridor to Maple Ridge and Pitt Meadows, even Mission.

And like so many Canadian cities the GVA was hampered by its habitat. With the Burrard Inlet, along with the parks and mountains, to the north; the Fraser River to the south; and cities on every other side there was no real room for growth. Like Burnaby and New Westminster, the Tri-Cities were bursting at the seams and the only way to expand was up, which could explain why high-rise condominiums reached to the sky wherever developers could gain access to enough land to build on.

The traffic would get much worse over the next few hours, but it was already enough to test Craig’s patience. That, and being forced to bring Luke Geller with him.

As they crossed the bridge over the Coquitlam River Craig’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open and lifted it to his right ear as he shoulder-checked and switched lanes, preparing for a left turn.

“Craig Nolan.”

“Emma Fenton.”

It took him a moment to unclench his jaw. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“How can you be so sure? You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

The advance turning light flashed and Craig did a quick check to make sure the traffic from the other direction understood red meant stop before proceeding across the Lougheed Highway.

He lowered his voice. Luke could still hear him, but that wasn’t the point. It made him sound less angry than he felt. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I—”

He snapped the phone shut without listening to more.

From the corner of his eye Craig could see Luke glance at the phone in his hand and then his face, but Craig didn’t offer an explanation. He could feel the burn in his skin. Despite the fact that he was a younger officer he’d already dealt with his share of negative press and he had no desire for more.

Especially not when it involved his dad. And not when it could keep him from getting back on regular rotation.

Just before they reached Ulster Street he slowed down well below the speed limit and surveyed the area. He was approaching the south end of the road his parents lived on, and to his right was a wooded area with walking trails that led through Hyde Creek Nature Reserve.

Nothing seemed unusual or out of place. When he turned on to Ulster Street he continued slowly. Steve and Alison Daly’s home was on a residential road, with a number of houses lining both sides. The south end was filled with newer homes in more modern, similar styles while the north end contained some of the older homes in the area that could not be classified as cookie-cutter houses. Each was distinctive enough in shape, siding or features to be easily identified. There were a few cars parked on the road, but not as many as usual, which Craig attributed to the fact that many people still hadn’t returned from work.

When he reached the end of the street he turned on Apel Drive and drove a short distance. Luke frowned, looked about to speak, but in the end stayed silent. Craig turned the vehicle around.

Steve and Alison Daly lived in a home near the north end of Ulster Street. Craig’s dad had a good eye for property and had bought a handful of houses over the years. After strategic repairs he’d been able to sell some and make a decent profit.

This had been an untapped area for a long period of time, and the Dalys had moved when houses were still cheap by Lower Mainland standards. It meant they had an older home, one that was unique.

It meant it wasn’t likely an intruder got the wrong house if they were targeting Steve and Alison Daly.

Craig parked and got out of the vehicle.

Luke followed. “How do—”

“I have a key.”

It only took a second for Craig to locate the right one. Once the door was unlocked he nudged it open. “Alison? It’s Craig.”

No response. He stepped inside and reached for his gun.

The ground level included a two-car garage, a laundry room, furnace room, two bedrooms, a full bathroom and rec room with a kitchenette. Similar homes utilized the rec room, bathroom and bedrooms as a rental suite, since there was a private entrance off a patio from the backyard. Steve and Alison had never rented out that section of the ground floor.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms plus a den, two full bathrooms, a dining room, kitchen and living room. Alison had said she’d locked herself in the master bedroom.

In the hallway leading from the entry there were drops of blood on the tile.

“No sign of forced entry, though.”

Craig turned. Luke was standing in the doorjamb.

“There’s another entrance in the back. Watch yourself.” Craig pointed to the floor. The entry opened up to a staircase on the far left, against the outer wall, a hallway leading to the other rooms on the ground level, and to the right a wall bordered the garage, then the laundry room and furnace area. He moved to the wall that ran under the stairs, where a storage and coat closet were located. There wasn’t as much blood there, but he still moved cautiously, careful not to disturb anything.

When he’d spoken to Alison he’d had the impression someone had broken in while she was out, that she’d returned to discover her home had been invaded. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by his annoyance that she hadn’t reported the incident properly and hadn’t pressed her for more details.

Now it all made sense. Alison had locked herself in the bedroom because she was afraid the intruder was still in the house.

Craig slowly made his way along the wall, careful to watch where he stepped while listening for the sound of movement from someone other than himself and Luke. The house was still. He opened the closet door and checked it. Clear.

When he got to the end of the hallway he moved to the other side and gestured for Luke to follow. They took positions outside the laundry room door, guns drawn, and opened it. Empty. The furnace room was also empty. Craig paused at the next door. When Luke was in position Craig reached across for the handle, turned it slowly and nudged the door open.

It led to another hallway on the other side. To the right the hallway passed two bedrooms. On the left side there was a full bathroom, followed by a kitchenette. The other end of the hallway opened up to the rec room. There were still drops of blood on the floor, scattered and uneven, but small enough to avoid easily.

It was easy enough to scan the long, narrow bathroom. The length ran parallel to the hallway, but the door was open and the shower curtain had been pulled back all the way. There was no place to hide, and there was no blood on the floor, suggesting the room hadn’t been entered by the intruder.

The first bedroom was a guest room. Craig entered and Luke followed. From the mirror above the dresser Craig could see that most of the room was empty before he stepped inside. It took half a second to confirm that if someone was hiding there, they were under the bed or in the closet.

Luke looked at Craig, who nodded at the bed. There wasn’t any blood on the floor that he could see, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Craig waited while Luke drew closer and then pulled the bedspread back.

Nothing but the balls of dust that had built up during his stepmother’s absence.

Luke looked at Craig, who tipped his head in the direction of the closet, which was on the far side of the dresser.

They took positions. Again, empty.

The next bedroom was used as a storage room of sorts. There was a desk and chair along one wall, a sewing table along another, and Craig already knew the closet contained most items they had boxed up. The room didn’t have a large mirror, though, and that meant they took up positions outside the door and followed procedure.

Again, the room was clear, other than the visible blood drops marking the floor. The only thing left to check was the closet. The boxes were there, and what Craig suspected was more evidence of the intruder, although the closet door had been shut. One box had been pulled out and opened, the papers inside rifled through. It only took a quick cursory glance to know they were his dad’s, and Craig knew Steve Daly would never leave his files stored in that condition.

However, someone who didn’t know Steve Daly could be persuaded that the box had just been left there. It was inside a closed closet, and most people weren’t meticulous with their paperwork. Assuming the intruder had touched it, it looked like they’d been careful. He couldn’t see any evidence of blood.

Craig turned to Luke and quietly said, “Clear.” He saw Luke look past him, to the box on the floor of the closet. Their gaze met and Craig nodded at the doorway. “One more room.”

Luke glanced back at the box for half a second. Craig shut the closet door and although he hesitated, Luke followed without argument.

The rec room was a large area that opened up off the kitchenette and hallway. There wasn’t much furniture in the room, and what was there was pushed up against the walls, so there was no place to hide. It only took a heartbeat to be sure the room was clear.

And in that same split second they confirmed where the suspect had entered the house. The obvious choice would have been to break the glass patio doors, but instead a window along the far wall was smashed. The kind of window that was in such an odd place it served no practical purpose, because it looked out to the fence between the Daly property and their neighbor’s. It didn’t really let in light, but it had served as the point of entry for the intruder. Shards of glass covered the carpet.

There was more blood on the floor where the glass was scattered, and there was also a smear on the windowsill.

Craig quickly scanned the area beside the house that was visible from the window. A cement walkway, grass and then the trees that bordered the back of the property. No sign of a trespasser.

He looked at his partner. “We need to check upstairs.”