Malabarista

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1
chapter 18

“Dr. Weaver asked you to call.” Lori sipped her morning tea.

Lane pulled his cell out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was dead. “I need to put this on the charger,” he muttered. He walked to his office and plugged his phone in. He reached for the phone by the computer and dialed Fibre’s number.

“Hello?” Fibre was eating some kind of root vegetable. His voice was barely audible over the sound of chewing.

Lane held the phone away from his ear. “It’s Lane returning your call.”

“I tried to phone your office number, as requested.”

Lane heard the annoyance in Fibre’s voice and ignored it. “You have the results for Branimir?”

“Not yet.” Fibre swallowed.

“How long will it take?”

“It may take longer than a month to determine if Andelko Branimir is the father of Zarafeta Branimir. My initial estimate was incorrect.”

“That complicates things,” Lane said.

“Unavoidable.” Fibre hung up.

Lane got up, walked out of his office, and found Keely talking with Lori. “Morning.”

“What’s new?” Keely asked.

Lane waited by the fax machine. It began to whir. “We’ll have to wait for DNA results.”

“How long?”

“Up to a month,” Lane said.

“So what do we have to talk with Jelena about?” Keely asked.

“We’ll have to think of a new approach.”

“What about Stockwell? He still wants to talk about making a deal to keep his ass out of jail.” Keely read the fax over Lane’s shoulder.

“Stockwell will have to wait.”

“He could testify on your behalf. He could prove that Smoke abused his position to smear you.” Keely put her fists on her hips.

“It has to wait. The Branimir case is at a critical stage.”

“And there has been an organized attempt to ruin your career.” Keely stood between Lori’s desk and the wall, effectively blocking his escape.

What has got you so riled up? “And we have a fourteen-year-old in the middle of a situation that is extremely dangerous. Which one of these situations deserves priority?”

Keely leaned against the wall. “We deal with Jelena first.”

“Yes.”

“What about Arthur?” Lori asked. Her phone rang. She picked it up. “He’s right here.” Lori covered the mouthpiece. “It’s one of the guys keeping an eye on the Branimir home.”

Lane reached for the phone. “Lane here.” He listened. “And the daughter hasn’t returned?” Lane nodded and looked at Keely. “The mother is inside?” He nodded. “All right, call me on my cell if there’s a change. We’re on our way.” He hung up and looked at Lori. “Thanks.”

He turned to relay the message to Keely. “Jelena took Zacki out early this morning. Zacki carried a gym bag. About an hour later, Jelena returned without her daughter. There haven’t been any signs of movement from Jelena since.” It was Lane’s turn to put his fists on his hips.

Keely waved the fax. “We’re going to have a heart-to-heart with Jelena?”

Lane nodded. “I need to get my phone.”

In ten minutes they were exiting downtown in a nondescript Chevrolet. Lane looked out over the river as Keely drove west. Three inflatable rafts floated by. The people inside leaned back and chatted. One rafter reached into a cooler and passed around cans of beer.

“What do we say to her?” Keely asked.

“We tell her we have evidence that proves her husband was Borislav Goran, a war criminal. Then we show her the picture of the Tarantulas and comment on how much the woman looks like Zacki. We’ll see where the conversation goes from there.” Lane looked ahead as Keely took the ramp onto Crowchild Trail.

“What about the bomb-making ingredients?” Keely eased into traffic.

Lane looked down onto the river and at the city centre beyond. “I’d like to work that in with our talk about Zacki. The last time I mentioned Zacki, Jelena got angry. We’ll see if she gets angry, then I’ll slip in the question about the explosives.”

Ten minutes later, Lane’s phone rang. “Lane.”

Keely could hear the voice of the officer but not the message.

Lane flipped his phone closed. “Jelena just drove away from her home. The car is loaded down, and she’s wearing fatigues. One of the officers is staying behind to keep an eye on her condo. The other is following her.” Lane flipped his phone open and checked the battery. “How’s your phone?”

Keely pulled her phone out and handed it to Lane. He checked the battery. “Yours is good. Mine’s low.”

Three minutes later, Lane’s phone rang. He listened, looked at Keely, and pointed straight ahead. “Speed it up. She’s headed toward us from the opposite direction.”

Keely accelerated. “Lights and siren?”

“Not yet.” Lane closed his phone.

Keely stopped at a set of lights near the western edge of the city. Earthmovers were creating a mound of dirt in preparation for bridge construction.

“There.” Lane pointed at a white car turning south. The words JELENA'S ALTERATIONS were painted on the driver-side door. Lane saw Jelena’s face and was sure she had spotted them.

Keely turned the lights on, pulled out, and waited for traffic to stop. She turned left. The engine roared as she turned off the lights and raced to catch up.

“Leave the lights on,” Lane said. “She’s already spotted us.”

Lane listened to the radio as the officer in the other car called for assistance. He picked up the radio. “The suspect may be armed and is wanted for questioning in a roadside bombing. Approach with extreme caution. Alert the bomb unit.”

“Shit!” Keely said. They were stuck behind a pair of minivans driving side by side, ignoring the siren and the lights flashing in their mirrors. Ahead of them, Jelena drove across the bridge spanning the railway tracks and river, flanked by a stand of towering Douglas firs. When Jelena passed the concrete barrier on the other end of the bridge, her car skidded as she braked. She turned right off the pavement, bounced over the curb, and onto the grass.

Lane spoke into the radio. “The suspect has left the road on the southwest side of the Stoney Trail Bridge. We need to block access on the north and south ends of the bridge. Do you have confirmation that the bomb unit is on its way?”

Keely braked. The bruises on Lane’s chest muscles screamed as the seat belt tightened against his body. Keely inhaled sharply as the belt gripped her ribs. She left the pavement and aimed the Chev down into the ditch.

Lane saw Jelena’s car nose into the trees. Both front doors were open. “Stay back from her car!”

Keely stopped. Dust boiled up around the Chev. Lane saw Jelena at the edge of the Douglas firs. The trees stepped down to the river two hundred metres below. Jelena carried a duffel bag over her shoulder. She reached inside her fatigues as she stood behind the trunk of a tree.

Lane undid his seat belt. “Down!” he shouted, grabbing Keely by the shoulder, pulling her toward him. Her head banged against his shoulder. Lane caught a glimpse of Jelena’s hand coming out and around the trunk of the tree, holding a black object. He ducked behind the dashboard. He felt Keely brace herself and did the same.

The concussion from the explosion hit them a millisecond before the blast of heat.

Tricked by the proximity of the explosive concussion, the airbags deployed, shoving the detectives against their seat backs.

The airbags deflated. Debris rained down: smaller projectiles at first, then larger chunks of metal and plastic.

Lane peered over the dash. Nothing remained of Jelena’s car but four wheel rims and an engine. The rest was blackened bits of wreckage. A door lay between the wreck and the Chev. The roof was lodged near the top of one of the trees. Flames licked up a Douglas fir on the left.

Lane picked up the radio while Keely surveyed the damage. “We need fire, rescue, and the tactical team at the southern end of the Stoney Trail Bridge. A car bomb has been detonated. The suspect is being pursued on foot. She is headed west.”

Lane dropped the radio on the floor. He looked at Keely. Her eyes were wide. She touched her right hip to see if her Glock was still there. Lane checked for his weapon. Keely pushed her door open.

Lane looked toward the trees as he got out. Man, I’m glad I can hear the traffic noise, he thought, noting the sound of cars accelerating as they reached the first of the series of foothills rolling up to the feet of the Rocky Mountains. He glanced at Keely. “Your ears okay?”

She nodded and took a step forward.

“You stay here with the car,” Lane said.

Keely shook her head. “We both go. Just tell me where you need me.”

There’s no time to argue. “Let me get to the trees. You stay behind the Chev and provide cover. Once I’m there, I’ll wave you on and cover you.”

Lane drew his Glock, walked along the bottom of the ditch, then up the side and into the trees. He walked past the garage door opener Jelena had used to detonate the car bomb. He looked downhill and caught a glimpse of her traversing the hill, making her way deeper into the forest. He turned to Keely and crouched, pointing his weapon in Jelena’s direction to cover his partner’s progress.

When he felt her hand on his shoulder, he pulled out his cellphone. “Put yours on vibrate and my number on speed dial. One buzz means Jelena is in sight. Two means one of us is in communication with her.” Lane set his phone to vibrate. Keely flipped her phone open and manipulated the settings. Lane pointed to the left. “You take the high ground. I’ll go down toward the river. Watch where you put your feet in case she took the time to set booby traps. Remember, Mladen said she only kills from a distance.”

“And remember, she’s protecting Zacki,” Keely said. “That makes her especially unpredictable.”

“Point taken.” Lane moved down the slope at an angle intended to close the distance between him and Jelena. After fifty metres, he crossed a paved trail zigzagging its way down the slope. The sound of sirens and the scent of smoke sifted through the trees.

Lane looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Keely working her way from tree trunk to tree trunk about thirty metres above him.

Continuing to angle his way down, Lane holstered his weapon and used his hands to slow his descent until he could hear and see the river loping lazily east. He spotted a gravel trail and a set of stairs below. He reached the trail and eased under the railing. She’ll be expecting this. But she can’t watch Keely and me at the same time. And why blow up the car? It makes it almost impossible for her to get away. It’s like she wants us to hunt her down.

He kept his right index finger alongside the Glock’s trigger guard.

Jelena wants us to hunt her down and to protect Zacki.

Lane followed the trail. He looked down through a gap in the trees to the river. The water was turquoise. It turned into diamonds as the sun rose higher. He listened for sirens and traffic. Instead, he heard crows squawking, the river running, and his footsteps on the gravel.

He looked ahead and above. A fallen tree trunk was wedged in against three standing trees. It offered perfect cover. Lane kept his eyes on it as he worked his way along the trail.

The sound of a motorboat broke the silence. Lane looked down. The fire department’s riverboat left a white water wake as it sped upstream. There were three men in the boat. One looked back and up at Lane. Then the boat was gone.

Lane looked up the path. A preschooler ran toward him. Behind the boy came his smaller brother and his mother with an infant tucked against her breast. The father trailed them.

Lane holstered his Glock.

“Elias! Wait for us!” the mother said.

Elias was a blur of curly blond hair. He stopped, smiled at Lane, and ran past. The smaller boy ran after Elias.

“Sorry about that,” the mother said as she forced Lane to the outside edge of the path.

“Hello,” Lane said to the father. The man smiled back. “When you get to the end of the path, you’ll be met by police officers. Tell them what you saw. Now please get your family out of here.” Lane pulled his Glock out and regretted the terror that lit the father’s eyes.

He pushed past the detective. “Elias! Finn!” The man ran down the trail.

Lane scanned the trees and brush above and below him. On the downslope side of the trail, he spotted a one-metre retaining wall pressed up against a tree trunk.

He smelled a cigarette.

He looked above the trail and saw Jelena sitting cross-legged on the near side of a tree. She was smoking, a rifle cradled in her lap.

Lane held his arms away from his sides. She isn’t aiming the rifle at you so don’t initiate any action. The phone in his pocket vibrated once.

“Andelko was getting better, you know. At least he was much better before…” Jelena stubbed out the cigarette on the sole of her boot, pulled a pack of smokes out of her breast pocket, and lit another one.

“Before?” Lane asked.

“Before he saw the juggler.” Jelena inhaled deeply.

“Then he started to drink again?”

Jelena pointed at Lane with her cigarette. “We both wanted to leave the war behind. To start over. But war never leaves you. Andelko would drink to forget, but how could any of us forget what happened in the war?”

“I don’t know.”

“That night. That night after he saw the juggler. Andelko came home and started to drink again. Then he came after me. This time I fought back.” She looked past Lane to the river.

“You killed him?” She has the advantage here. She must have spotted me before I saw her. What is she waiting for? She should have kept moving west. She knows how to disappear. But she can’t without leaving her daughter as a suspect. Jelena has left us a trail to lead us away from Zacki.

“I killed him. I dumped the body in the water by the road. I thought no one would ever find him. But this summer was so hot.”

“And dry.”

“Yes.” Jelena smiled. “Very dry.”

Lane heard the honking of geese. He saw Jelena’s attention shift. He looked over his shoulder. A pair of geese travelled downstream. He saw their backs and their wings as they flew below him.

His phone began to vibrate. It stopped, then began again. It stopped and vibrated again.

It must be Keely. He reached into his pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Hey, uncle, it’s Christine. Uncle Arthur is acting funny. They’ve got him on some kind of painkillers.”

“Can I call you back?” Lane asked.

“You don’t have time to talk to me?” Christine asked. “What could be more important than Uncle Arthur?”

“I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back.” Lane pressed END. He looked back at Jelena.

She leaned her back against the tree trunk. “It’s beautiful here. Like home.”

“You joined the Tarantulas?” Keep her talking.

“You think it was a choice? It was a necessity.”

“How is that?” Lane glanced to his right, checking for cover in case Jelena aimed her rifle.

“It was war. I had no choice. If I wanted to survive, I had to join them.”

She sounds like she’s still trying to convince herself. “So you were at the village. You saw what the Tarantulas did?”

“Yes, I saw.”

“Does Zacki know?”

“My daughter knows nothing!” Jelena lifted her rifle by the barrel so that she could lean on it when she stood.

A flash of insight struck Lane. She wants me to shoot her! Then we have our killer and Zacki is free of it all!

Jelena extinguished her cigarette against the tree trunk. “The others are coming.”

“I don’t hear them.”

Jelena looked east. “I do.” She stepped away from the trunk of the tree.

The rest was a series of impressions.

Jelena lifted her rifle, pointed it at the sky, and pulled back the bolt.

Lane lifted his Glock.

Jelena pitched forward, off-balance.

She rolled down the hill.

Keely slid down the slope behind Jelena.

The rifle cartwheeled down the slope. Lane stepped to his left as it spun past him.

He looked to his right as Jelena rolled onto the path. Keely landed on top of the sniper.

He ran forward.

Jelena grabbed for Keely’s hair.

Keely had a canister in her hand. She sprayed Jelena in the face with pepper spray.

Jelena screamed.

Keely rolled Jelena onto her belly.

With her knee against her spine, Keely pulled one of Jelena’s arms behind her back.

Keely’s hair was filled with leaves and twigs. She tossed Lane the pepper spray. “Your handcuffs, please? I seem to have lost mine.”

He handed her his cuffs, then covered Jelena with his gun while Keely fastened her wrists.

They sat Jelena up on the path. Her tears washed away some of the pepper spray. “What did you do to me, you Muslim bitch?”

Lane said, “She messed up your plan.”

Jelena looked up at him. She tried to focus through her tears. “What are you talking about?”

“You were waiting for us to kill you.” Lane leaned over to pick up Jelena’s backpack. He looked down the slope where the rifle lay against the base of a tree.

Jelena shook her head. “I need a smoke. It would have been better for you to kill me.”

Lane looked at Keely. “I need your phone.”

She handed it to him, then brushed the debris from her hair. A trickle of blood leaked from the stitches along her forehead.

Lane dialed the phone. “Harper? It’s me. We’ve got the suspect. Saliba disarmed her. We’re coming out. Can you advise the tactical team?” He listened. “That’s right, I trust you. I don’t trust Smoke’s good ol’ boys.” Lane flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Keely.

He stepped off the trail, skidded down the slope, and returned a few minutes later with the rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.” Lane took Jelena by her elbow and helped her up.

Keely walked ahead.

They stopped halfway to light a cigarette for Jelena. She walked and smoked with the cigarette between her teeth. When they arrived at the end of the trail in the shade of the bridge, tactical officers stepped out from behind cover. Keely, Lane, and Jelena waited alongside the river.

Lane looked left. The river swirled around a bridge support. Traffic hummed over the bridge fifty metres above them. Lane spotted Staff Sergeant McTavish. Good, he thought. Lane looked at Keely and moved his head to the right. They walked toward McTavish.

The Staff Sergeant smiled at Lane’s approach. “In the middle of the action again, I see.”

Lane chuckled. “Have you met Detective Saliba?”

McTavish shook Keely’s hand. “Pleasure.”

Lane looked beyond to the paramedics parked by the bridge support. “Ms. Branimir needs medical attention. Pepper spray and a few abrasions.”

McTavish turned and waved. “We need the paramedics.” He turned back to Lane. “The deputy chief gave me specific instructions. You hand the suspect into my custody. After that, he expects you in his office as soon as possible. A blue and white is waiting for you at the end of the trail.” McTavish pointed to a trail winding its way through a stand of evergreens. He took Jelena by the arm and handed her over to a pair of black-clad officers. “Do either of you need medical attention?”

Keely looked at Lane and shook her head. McTavish pointed at her bloody scalp.

A member of the bomb squad reached for Jelena’s backpack. Lane handed it over to him, along with the rifle.

The detectives walked past the officers standing alone and in pairs. No words passed between them. Lane and Saliba looked ahead toward the clearing. As they left the stand of evergreens, Keely asked, “You really think she was trying to commit suicide?”

“Absolutely. She set off a bomb to attract our attention, then waited for us to catch up.”

“I still don’t see how…” Keely brushed a burr off her shoulder.

“She made a point of explaining how she killed her husband. But first, last night, she took her daughter somewhere safe. It’s all very calculated. A diversionary tactic to protect someone else.” Lane inhaled the scent of the evergreen trees as he and Keely walked from shade to sunlight and back into shade.

“So she was protecting Zacki.” Keely looked ahead and saw the blue and white parked next to a dumpster. The driver was leaning against the fender. The constable stood up straight as she recognized the detectives. She handed the keys to Lane, then opened the passenger door.

Ten minutes later, they were close to the Trans-Canada Highway when Keely asked, “How many bombs did Jelena make?”

Lane glanced at his partner in the rear-view mirror. “The one she used on us and the one at the bridge.”

“Could we be missing one? Remember, Zacki bought diesel fuel first and then went to the hobby shop.”

“Give me the radio,” Lane said. The constable handed him the mic. “Dispatch? This is Detective Lane. I need immediate and direct communication with Staff Sergeant McTavish.”

Lane waited a full thirty seconds.

“McTavish here.”

“It’s Lane. There is a high probability of another explosive device. Probably located at Jelena Goran’s home.” Lane gave McTavish the address.

“Understood,” McTavish said.

Lane turned left off Sixteenth Avenue. “Where are you going?” Keely asked.

“To visit Arthur.” Lane smiled.

“You sure the deputy chief won’t mind?”

“If he does, I’ll have a talk with his wife.”

Within five minutes they were exiting the elevator on the tenth floor of the Foothills Medical Centre.

They found Arthur sitting up and dozing. Matt was leaning against the wall. Christine was in a chair across from the bed. She glared at Lane.

Lane asked, “How’s he doing?”

Christine shook her head. “They gave him something to help him sleep. Something for the pain.” She looked at Keely. “You’re bleeding.”

“Some kind of painkiller,” Matt said.

“It’s nothing,” Keely said.

Arthur opened his eyes. “What’s for lunch?” He spotted Lane. “Did you bring me a sandwich?”

Lane looked at Keely. She shrugged.

Arthur swung his legs around to get out of bed.

“We had to stop him once already.” Matt leaned away from the wall.

“The lady serving lunch was pretty mad,” Christine said. “The guy next door has a better lunch,” Arthur said with a smile.

“Better stop him, Uncle Lane,” Christine said.

Matt blocked the door. “He’ll steal another lunch if you don’t.”

“If I promise to bring you a sandwich from the café, will you stay in bed?” Lane asked.

Arthur sat back down, leaned his head against his pillow, and began to snore.

“What I don’t understand is why she would want to blow up her house.” Harper sat in his office with Lane and Keely.

“Destroy the past, I think. She probably didn’t want her daughter to know about the Tarantulas. After the forensic team gets through with their search of the house, they’ll probably uncover more proof that Andelko Branimir was Borislav Goran.” Lane leaned against the arm of his chair. He looked at the pictures of Harper and his family on the wall.

“If she’s killed and her house blows up,” Keely said, “then all of our attention is focused on Jelena and away from her daughter. If you look at it that way, Jelena’s actions make more sense. She’s protecting the daughter. The logical conclusion, then, is that Zacki killed her father.”

Lane and Harper looked at one another.

“How come you’re meeting with us now?” Keely asked. “I mean, you told me you had to keep us at arm’s length.”

“Things changed this morning.” Harper looked directly at Lane. “Stockwell still thinks if he can make a deal, he won’t have to spend time in jail. The crown prosecutor says no deal.”

Keely laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Lane asked.

“Stockwell is such a stupid asshole. He still thinks he can get away with it.”

“Well, for a long time he did,” Lane said.

“You need to see this piece of evidence.” Harper leaned over and pulled a photocopy from his desk.

“What is it?” Keely asked.

“A show of good faith by Stockwell. His lawyer had it delivered this morning.” Harper handed it to her.

“What’s it say?” Lane asked.

Keely said, “It’s an email from Smoke asking Gregory and Stockwell to manufacture a charge against you to discredit you.” She pointed at Lane. “It says, ‘Manufacture anything short of a suspension. The objective is to force Detective Lane to resign.’”

“Remember how Smoke threatened you when we went after Dr. Jones?” Harper asked.

“Yes.” Lane took the paper from Keely and read. “It even gives Gregory and Stockwell suggestions on who to tell that I’m under investigation so that word will get around.”

“Chief Simpson told me to let you know that a formal letter absolving you of any and all charges is being drafted. The investigation of your conduct is concluded.” Harper locked his fingers behind his head. “If you want to take legal action against Smoke, Gregory, and Stockwell, the door is wide open.”

Lane shrugged. The damage is already done.

Keely’s phone rang. She looked apologetically at Lane and Harper as she opened it. “Yes? Hi, Lori.” Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.” She closed the phone. “Zacki Branimir is downstairs waiting to talk with us.”

“We have to go.” Lane stood up and shook Harper’s hand.

Harper’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Yes?” He listened then held up his hand, indicating the detectives should wait. “No one was injured?” He listened. “Good.” Harper hung up the phone. “You were right. There was an improvised explosive at Jelena’s house. A grenade in an empty tin can was tied to the front door. It was rigged to fall out when the door opened. Underneath the can was a bucket filled with homemade explosive. The bomb disposal team is singing your praises for warning them before anyone went into the house.”

When they walked into their offices five minutes later, Zacki was sipping a soft drink and sitting in the chair across from Lori.

Zacki stood up when she saw Lane. “What did you do with her? I can’t find my mom.”

Lane took her elbow. “Come on down to my office and we’ll talk. I’ve seen your mom. She’s safe.”

“She is?” Zacki followed him.

“Lane! You sonuvabitch!”

Lane turned. Former Staff Sergeant Gregory stood at his office door with a cardboard box in his arms. His flesh was red right up to the top of his skull.

Keely faced the staff sergeant. “You backstabbing bastard. I remember you hitting on me at the Scotch drinkers’ club. You asked me how much it would cost to put a smile on your face! Then you pointed at your crotch and asked me if I knew what a big treat you had waiting for me!”

Gregory turned white.

Lori stood up. “You said that to her? You’ve got a daughter in high school! As far as I’m concerned, you deserve to be suspended!” She pointed at the door.

The door hit Gregory in the backside when the box jammed up against the doorframe.

The door shut.

It was as if all of the tension had been sucked out of the room. Lori smiled at Keely. “Nice work.”

Lane looked at Lori and said, “Thank you for blowing the whistle on him and his buddy. One gutsy move on your part made a huge difference.”

“You weren’t supposed to know that!” Lori said. “I was told that it would be kept confidential. You detectives are so smug when you figure something out!”

“Thank you, Lori,” Keely said. “Otherwise that bastard Stockwell would have gotten away with blowing up my car.”

Lori looked sideways at the detectives. “Don’t start thinking you’re smarter than you are. Now get back to work.”

Lane motioned for Zacki to come into his office. He waited for Keely to step inside, then shut the door. Zacki sat in the chair between the detectives’ desks.

“Did you go home?” Lane asked.

“No. Mom told me not to go back when she left me at my friend’s place. My mom’s being all weird lately. Paranoid.” Zacki wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“She was arrested this morning,” Keely said.

Zacki looked at Keely and then Lane. “But she didn’t kill my dad!”

Lane said, “Your mother confessed to killing him because he was drunk and beating her.”

“Yes, he was drunk. Yes, he was beating her. He was punching her in the face. Then he started to choke her. I tried to pull him off, but he was too strong. So I hit him on the head with a frying pan. He fell on my mom. He wasn’t breathing. That night we tied him to some blocks of cement. We drove around until we found a place to dump the body. It was a pond or something. We were in mud up to our knees. My mom told everyone my father moved back home.” Zacki began to sob. “I killed him.”

“You look like you had a rough day, uncle.” Matt sat at the foot of Arthur’s bed. Christine sat next to him.

“Something like that.” Lane smiled at the two of them.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Christine looked sideways at Lane. Matt looked at Christine.

“Well?” Christine asked.

“Where?” Lane asked.

“Don’t even try! When I called this morning, you were in the middle of it all.” Christine shook her head.

“Yes, Keely and I were there.”

“How close were you to the explosion?” Matt asked.

“Not that close.” Lane braced himself for the second blast of the day.

“Was your vehicle damaged?” Matt asked.

“Slightly.”

“Shithead,” Christine said.

“Well?” Lori and Keely were waiting when Lane returned.

“Christine called me a shithead.” Lane looked to Lori’s right at Gregory’s empty office.

“She figured out what happened today?” Lori asked.

Lane nodded.

“Sounds like she had every right to call you a shithead,” Lori said.

Keely touched his shoulder. “When does Arthur get to go home?”