David and Melissa Randall stared vacantly at the grey conference-room wall.
Lane looked for signs of grief. Both looked exhausted. Their bodies sagged in their chairs. Rapid weight loss was sketched on their faces. And there was rage underneath it.
Melissa Randall stood about five foot six and looked at Lane as if challenging him. She tucked her greying black hair behind her ears. David Randall, her brother, was closer to six feet tall. When he took off his black winter coat, Lane could see his scalp beneath thinning black hair. Both looked to be in their late thirties.
“I’m Detective Lane.” He gestured with his right hand. “This is Detective Li.”
“What do you want?” Melissa eyed them warily. David tried to smile. Melissa hooked her thumb in David’s direction. “We’ve done some research online. My parents weren’t the first.”
David nodded. “The newspaper says our parents are the fifth victims. Some homeless guy named Byron Thomas was convicted for a similar crime. After what happened to Mom and Dad, do you think maybe Thomas is innocent?”
Lane inhaled. He saw Nigel open his mouth. Oh no! Nigel, tread lightly.
Nigel tapped his file. “Actually there may be more than five crimes attributable to the same killers. I’ve been tracking a series of murders with similar characteristics.”
Melissa looked at her brother. David said, “This isn’t what we expected.”
“What did you expect?”
Melissa pointed at the detectives. “That you would be covering your asses.”
Nigel said, “We’d like to put the killers’ asses in a cell.”
David put his arm around Melissa’s shoulders. “What can we do to help?”
Lane asked, “Do you have any thoughts about who might want to harm your parents?”
Melissa shook her head. “Besides Mom’s crazy sister, I have no idea.”
Lane lifted his eyebrows.
David said, “Our mom has a sister named Peggy who was always trying to get Dad into the sack, because her husband was sterile. Then her husband died, and she got even crazier. Dad told some people at a party he was tired of Peggy trying to get into his pants. The story got back to her, and she denied it. Then she made a number of threats. We’ve learned to ignore her.”
Lane looked at Nigel, who had painted an impassive expression on his face. His eyes, however, were lit with mischief.
“Peggy’s last name?” Lane asked.
“Carr.” Melissa used her finger to indicate she wanted Lane’s pen. He handed it over with some paper. Melissa pulled out a smart phone, scrolled through some numbers, wrote one down, then slid paper and pen back to Lane’s side of the table.
“Have your parents had any recent gatherings at their house?” Nigel asked.
David and Melissa looked at each other. David turned to Nigel. “They had their annual get-together. It was an after-New Year’s party. January eleventh, I think it was.”
“Is there any way we could get a guest list?” Nigel asked.
What angle is Nigel working on? Lane wondered.
“Why do you need a guest list?” Melissa asked.
You are definitely experiencing the anger stage of the grieving process.
Nigel looked at Lane.
So you step in the shit and want me to clean your shoes? Lane turned his palms face up. “Because this is the early stage of the investigation, we have to look at a variety of avenues.” Nigel, next time let me know your angle before the interview.
“Sounds like bullshit to me.” Melissa glared at Lane.
Nigel tapped the table with his forefinger. “In earlier killings the couples were murdered within a month of having a social gathering in their homes. The killers took valuable items and cash. We’re trying to establish whether or not your parents may have been victims of serial killers.”
Shit!
Melissa looked at Lane. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Hand over the paper and pen, and we’ll put our heads together.”
Five minutes later, David and Melissa had a list of close to forty names, some with phone numbers, a few with business titles. David pushed the list across the table to Lane. “What else do you need?”
Lane slid the list to Nigel, who said, “I want to do some cross checking.” He stood up and left the room.
Lane stared at the open door, then turned to the brother and sister.
Melissa looked at her watch. “We’ve got a meeting with a funeral director in an hour.”
Lane asked, “When will the funeral be?”
“Saturday.” David looked at his sister. Melissa nodded.
“I’d like to attend if you don’t mind.” Lane studied their reactions.
David shrugged. Melissa said, “Knock yourself out. The service is at two.”
Lane took a breath. “What are the best numbers for us to get in touch with you?”
Melissa stood up, walked around the table, picked up Lane’s pen, and wrote down two numbers. She put her name next to one and David’s next to another. Lane caught the scent of strawberry from her shampoo. He watched as Melissa walked out the conference door followed by her brother.
Lane looked at the sheet of paper, pulled out his cell phone, and entered the numbers. Then he walked to his office, closed the door, and sat at his desk.
Nigel’s fingers were dancing over the keyboard.
Lane asked, “Why the question about the guest list?”
The tone of Lane’s voice made Nigel’s head snap back. Then his wide eyes focused on his partner. “I’ve been looking over Netsky’s files, and I’ve had e-mails from officers investigating two of the other murders. In both cases the victims had major social events at their homes less than a month before the murders. It was one thought I had.”
“Let me in on your plans the next time,” Lane said, then added, “please.”
Nigel blushed. “I thought…”
“We’re a team?”
Nigel nodded.
“Then we both need to be on the same page.” Lane looked at his computer. “What do you plan to do with the guest list?”
Nigel had his hands hovering over the keyboard. “Cross-reference it with the passenger lists of flights from Toronto, New York, and Cancun a week before and a week after the murders.”
Lane nodded. “Good work.” He turned to his computer to map out the various bits of the investigation using a program called Inspirations. He added crime-scene photos where necessary.
An hour later Nigel pushed his chair back. “Want a mochaccino?”
Lane nodded. “Please.” He reached into his shirt pocket for a bill.
“I got it.” Nigel walked out the door.
Five minutes later, Lori walked into Lane’s office, closing the door behind her. “What did you do to Nigel?”
Lane looked at her as she stood across from him, her fists on the hips of her black dress. “Just get your nails done?”
Lori lifted her right hand, looking at her red nails and smiling. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What did he say to you?”
Lori cocked her head to the right. “Not a damned thing! It was the expression on his face that gave him away.”
“I asked him to keep me better informed before we do our next interview. Sometimes he forgets we’re a team.” Lane felt his face redden.
“Do you know the kid has been picking up the slack for you because you’re busy with the new baby?” Lori put her fists on Lane’s desk. Her posture revealed her ample cleavage.
“I didn’t know.” Lane leaned forward. You want to fight? Let’s fight!
“Do you know Netsky’s been whining about you taking on this investigation? It’s obvious he thinks he fucked up on his end, and he’s trying to make the shit stick to you. Nigel has been running interference for you and countering Netsky’s bullshit with facts.” Lori stood up, crossing her arms under her breasts.
“I didn’t know that.” Lane sat back in his chair and exhaled. But it’s to be expected.
“Now you know.” Lori looked over her shoulder. “When do I get to see some pictures of this new baby?”
Lane picked up his cell phone, found the photos, and handed the phone to Lori.
“He looks like you, apart from the fact that he has more hair.”
Lane laughed. “I don’t know who he looks like, but he sure does have lots of hair.”
The meaty side of a fist pounded Lane’s office door. It startled Lori, who launched the cell phone into the air. She managed to catch it with her fingertips before it hit the floor.
Lane opened the door. Harper stood there, red faced. “What the hell is your sister up to?”
Lane felt Lori’s eyes on him. “My sister and her – what do you call Milton if he has multiple wives? Spouse? Anyway, we took care of it and now Christine, the baby, and Dan are all safe. Alison, Milton, and some guy named Pratt are in jail.”
“Someone tried to take Indiana?” Lori looked from Lane to Harper, who moved deeper into the office.
“Someone tried to take your baby?” Nigel stood in the open doorway with a cardboard tray of coffee and tea.
“My sister -” Lane started to explain all over again.
“- must be absofuckinlutely out of her mind.” Nigel moved past Harper, handing a coffee to Lane, a tea to Lori, and another cup to Harper.
Harper took the cup from Nigel. “Where’s yours?”
“He gave it to you,” Lori said.
Harper went to hand the coffee back.
Nigel put his hands in the air. “It’s all good.” He turned to Lane. “How come you didn’t tell us about the baby?”
“The baby is fine. We stopped them from getting close to Indiana.” Lane took a sip of mochaccino, noting the people in the room were eying him with expressions ranging from disbelief to cut the bullshit.
“ ‘We’?” Harper asked.
Lane took the cup away from his mouth. “Dan’s mother was there.”
“Lola?” Lori asked.
Lane nodded.
“The two of you stopped them?” Harper took a sip of coffee. Evidently liking what he tasted, he looked at the cup and took another sip.
“Actually a security guard stepped in and took down Pratt. A couple of nurses took care of Alison. And Lola, Dan, and I were between the crazies and the baby.” Lane looked at the faces of his colleagues.
“So you didn’t bother to mention this to any of us because…?” Lori asked.
How do I answer that one? Lane took another sip of coffee instead.
“Good thing you didn’t try to talk your way out of that one.” Harper pointed his coffee at Lane.
“I’ve got some names here.” Nigel pointed at his computer screen.
Lane looked at Nigel, and for an instant they connected. Lane thought, You’re changing the subject to get me out of this mess.
“I’ll print out the list. There are four people on both the party list and the airline passenger lists. We’ve got some work to do.” Nigel pressed a button, heading out the door to retrieve the list from Lori’s printer.
Lori pointed a manicured finger at Lane, smiling. “Do you need to be reminded we are a team in this office?”
I had that coming.
It took Lane fifteen minutes to find Indiana’s hospital room. It was hidden within the red, yellow, and blue Lego architecture of the Children’s Hospital. He knocked on the door. Dan opened it while holding a finger to his lips. He pointed at Indiana asleep in the crib, and Christine asleep on a bed near the window. Dan stepped into the hallway, carefully closing the door.
“How are they doing?” Lane smelled sweat and unwashed clothes.
“Christine is afraid her mom or somebody else from Paradise will show up to steal Indiana.” Dan looked down the hall as a woman approached with flowers, then stepped into a nearby room. A security guard poked his head out from around a wall next to the nursing station. Dan nodded and waved.
“Why don’t you take a break? Get something to eat. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things while you’re gone.” Lane took his winter jacket off.
Dan looked at the door, frowning.
“Go on. I’ll be here. Take a break.”
Dan smiled, turned, and walked down the hall. Lane saw the exhaustion curving across his shoulders and down his spine.
Lane opened the door, closed it, and hung his coat on the chair. The breathing of the baby pulled him closer to the crib. He leaned against the top rail, watching the rise and fall of Indy’s chest. He listened for each inhale and exhale. He listened for the door. Time passed. He heard Christine sit up. Lane turned toward his niece and saw her smile. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Lane nodded, unable to speak.
“Uncle Arthur was up earlier with Matt.”
He nodded again.
“And Lola just left. She helped protect us yesterday, didn’t she?” Christine got up, stuffing her feet into a pair of pink slippers. She wore a red T-shirt and black pajama bottoms.
“She did.” Lane wanted to touch Indy’s cheek but was afraid of waking him.
“It’s good to have family standing up for you, isn’t it?”
Lane nodded. “It is.”
She put her arm around his shoulder, leaning her head against his neck.