Cold Case Tracker, page 11
“Blake had no idea,” he said. “She’s a really wonderful officer. You can trust her.”
Amy looked at him skeptically.
He searched her face and prayed that God would give him the right words to say. But Amy closed her eyes for a long moment as if trying to block him out.
“Thank you for heating the macaroni,” she said. Her voice was so eerily calm, he almost wished she’d yell at him. “We need to get out of here and get to South River for my doctor’s appointment. I assume Blake can bring me back here and fill me in on what you guys find out at Pine Crest?”
Jackson took a step forward. “Amy, you know you can’t stay here anymore,” he said. “Not after everything that’s happened. I know the plan earlier was that Blake would bring you back here. But now, after the boat attack, it’s pretty clear that it’s not safe.”
And the K-9 Unit didn’t have the authority to grant round-the-clock protection to her indefinitely.
She opened her eyes.
“Maybe it’s not safe here,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t come back here at all. But that’s my problem to figure out, not yours.”
He felt like thousands of words were floating unspoken in the air between them. Jackson wanted to apologize again and keep apologizing for as long as it took to get her to smile again. When he’d seen her through the bookstore window the day before, his heart had begun pounding just like it had back when he’d been a teenager. But what had started out as a crush had grown since then. He’d realized just how courageous, thoughtful and caring she was. He liked Amy—so much more than he’d ever liked anyone before. He wanted to tell her that he was nothing like Paul, the man who’d lied to her, hurt her, betrayed her and left her. He wanted to explain how embarrassed he was for his past and that she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met.
But instead, all he said was, “You’re right, we need to get you to the doctor. I’ll quickly pack up my stuff, take Hudson for a jog and meet you at my truck.”
“Sounds good.”
“Look, I know I made a lot of mistakes,” he said, “and you have no reason to trust me. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe. And so will Hudson.”
“I know.” Amy nodded. “I honestly believe your heart is in the right place. For the record, I’ve never thought you were a bad guy, Ajay. Just one who sometimes made really lousy decisions, and who now apparently can’t forgive himself for them.”
Jackson felt a sudden lump form in the back of his throat. He gathered up his stuff, signaled Hudson to his side, then went for a walk through the woods around the perimeter, being careful to never let the cottage out of his sight. When they got back, he found Amy waiting by the truck with an overnight bag in hand. They exchanged a few stilted words of small talk as each checked if the other was ready to go, then the three of them got in his vehicle and he began to drive.
It would take fifty-three minutes to get to the clinic, according to Jackson’s GPS. That would give them plenty of time to talk and straighten out what needed to be said. Maybe he could even find a way to warn her that he had heard something about Gemma, and that while he wasn’t authorized to give her all the details yet, it wasn’t good news. Something inside him ached to ensure she got the news from somebody who genuinely cared about her and Gemma.
Instead, the two of them sat in silence as the time on his GPS counted down like a slow and painful detonator to the moment that he would say goodbye to her, knowing he’d probably never see her again. He turned the radio on but didn’t pay much attention to whatever was coming through the speakers. When that didn’t help he prayed, feeling like he was the last person in the world to have the right to talk to God about anything, but not knowing what else to do.
When there was less than half an hour left on the GPS, he glanced over at Amy and realized she’d fallen asleep with her head against the window and her sweatshirt curled into the crook of her neck like a pillow. She didn’t stir again until he pulled into the parking lot of the South River clinic. Blake was already there waiting for him.
She walked over and reached Amy’s door, before Jackson could leap out of the vehicle, run around and open it for Amy. Blake had long, black hair pulled back into a French braid, the kind of distinct look that some called “stunning” and a confidence that put people at ease. Amy stirred slowly, as if waking from a dream far nicer than the reality they were in.
“Amy Scout?” Blake said. “I’m Constable Blake Murphy. Please, call me Blake.”
Amy smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
He watched as Blake helped Amy out of the car.
“Hi, Blake.” He leaned forward. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem,” Blake replied. “Caleb will meet you at Pine Crest. He called ahead and they’re expecting you. He says to tell you to stop and change into your uniform on the way. He thinks it’ll help open doors.”
“He’s probably right.”
She slid her arm around Amy and walked her to the door.
“Goodbye, Amy!” he called. “Take care.”
But the words seemed so inadequate for what he was feeling, and when Amy didn’t look back he realized that she probably hadn’t even heard him.
Lord, please take care of her. Find someone to be her protector in the way I could never be.
* * *
Twenty-two minutes later, Jackson pulled up in front of the Pine Crest Retirement Home, having stopped at a gas station on the way to get both himself and Hudson dressed up in their navy blue RCMP K-9 Unit uniforms. Pine Crest was a large and sprawling brown building, with wings that branched out in multiple directions like an angular spider. It would’ve been completely unassuming, if not for the abundance of gardens that surrounded it, from well-tended flower beds to rosebushes and even vegetable allotments.
Caleb had parked his vehicle down at one end of the parking lot and stood beside it. His short blond hair and bright blue eyes gave the overall impression that he was more likely to be an actor portraying a rookie on some small-town television show than an actual cop. At least until people learned he ran on coffee and sarcasm.
“Good to see you,” Caleb said, as Jackson stepped out of the car. “I’ve been here less than half an hour and I’ve already managed to start a commotion. I think every single resident in this place has spied on me through the window in the past half hour. They’ll be relieved I’m finally stepping inside.”
Jackson snorted, thankful that someone was giving him a feeble excuse to smile. He opened the back door of his truck, let Hudson out and then clipped his leash to the dog’s official RCMP harness.
Caleb smiled at Hudson and ran his hand over the back of the dog’s head.
“Well, look at you!” Caleb said to the German shepherd. “Just wait until they get a glimpse of you and they’ll forget all about me and your grumpy human partner.”
“Do I look grumpy?” Jackson asked.
“You look deflated,” Caleb said. “I’m guessing you told Amy the truth?”
“No, she figured it out on her own.”
Caleb blew out a breath. “You did say she was smart. Does she hate you now?”
“I think she hates us both, dude.”
“Us?” Caleb’s hand rose to his chest theatrically. “What did I do?”
“You covered for me,” Jackson said. “Did Finnick tell you the news about my sister?”
Caleb’s smile dropped in an instant as he clocked Jackson’s face. Jackson had never been any good at hiding what he was feeling.
“No,” Caleb said. “Did they find her?”
“Maybe,” Jackson said. “External indicators of a Jane Doe match the known fact pattern, but DNA tests have not yet been run conclusively.”
“Oh man, I am so sorry.” Sorrow filled Caleb’s face. “A close buddy of mine was murdered a couple of years ago, and they still haven’t arrested the woman I know is responsible for it, for lack of evidence. It’s rough.”
“Thanks,” Jackson said. “I can’t really talk about it because I’m not authorized to brief anyone yet.”
“Brief anyone on what?” Caleb ran his fingers across his lips to mime zippering them shut. Then he gave Jackson a quick hug.
“Come on.” Caleb slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go impress a bunch of senior citizens with our crime-fighting skills.”
Jackson looped Hudson’s leash around his wrist and the three of them walked to the front door. The door swung open automatically and they stepped into an open concept lobby. A large living room lay to their right, with every available chair filled with a silver-haired senior pretending not to watch them walk in.
A woman in a crisp tan blazer appeared and greeted them with a handshake.
“Nice to meet you, officers,” she said. “I’m Marjorie Wilson, general manager of Pine Crest Retirement Home. How can I help you today?”
“Thank you for your time,” Caleb said. “I’m Constable Caleb Perry. This is my colleague Sergeant Jackson Locke and his partner, Hudson.”
“It’s about time you guys showed up!” a male voice called from somewhere within the audience watching from the lounge.
“Walter—” Marjorie directed her voice to a large, mustached man in a baseball cap who was sitting in a green armchair “—the officers are here to help, and we need to help them do their job.”
Walter harrumphed and crossed his arms. “Over a decade too late.”
“It’s been twelve years since Angela, Mitsy and Gordon died!” another woman added.
“That’s Captain Gordon Donnelly!” Walter corrected. “He served in the Canadian Air Force!”
Various other seniors leaped into the conversation, their voices blending into a chorus.
“In the Second World War!”
“Mitsy Therwell had six grandchildren and Angela Jeffries knitted everyone scarves!”
“It was crochet, not knitting!”
Marjorie turned toward them and raised a hand. “Everyone, I’m sure the officers appreciate that you have strong feelings about what happened to our friends and will be happy to talk to everyone in turn.”
“Tell them it was Kenny!” Walter shouted. “Everybody knows it was him!”
“Kenny?” Caleb asked.
“Kenny Stanton was a maintenance man at the time,” Jackson said, “and a lot of people suspect he had something to do with what happened.”
“But you cleared him!” Walter added. “Because he was sweet, charming and had a smile like he couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“You liked him too!” a woman yelled at Walter.
Walter ignored her and turned back to Caleb and Jackson. “Did you know the police took DNA samples and never tested them?” the man asked.
“No,” Jackson said. “I didn’t know that.”
He glanced at Caleb. His friend’s eyebrows rose.
“Is that true?” Caleb asked him in a low voice. “Did police bungle the case?”
“I don’t know,” Jackson admitted. “But I’m sure Finnick won’t be happy to hear it.”
“You know what it’s like to have your friends die and no one cares?” Walter went on. “I wrote dozens of letters to every politician and newspaper in the country, for years, and nobody tried to help. Until that girl Gemma saw our social media posts about it and started messaging us. And now she’s probably dead too.”
Pain twinged in Jackson’s heart.
Caleb turned from Walter and the chorus of senior citizen onlookers back to Marjorie. “Did Gemma ever come here?”
“No,” Marjorie said. “She just conducted some phone interviews and exchanged emails with some of our residents. She was planning on coming here to show us some pictures the day she disappeared.”
“What kind of pictures?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Kenny probably killed Gemma too!” Walter called.
A chorus of voices agreed with him.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Marjorie said. “As you can understand, there’s a strong feeling here that police haven’t investigated the deaths of Mitsy, Angela and Gordon as they should have.”
He thought of the wall of victims’ faces in Gemma’s hidden office. Did every one of them have family and friends who felt the police had failed them too?
For the next two hours, Caleb and Jackson interviewed every resident and staff member who was willing to talk to them about the investigation. Thankfully, it all went faster and more smoothly than expected. Once they got past the initial and understandable frustration that many of the residents felt, it turned out that a lot of them were keen fans of mystery novels and crime shows. They were absolutely delighted to help in any way they could, especially if it meant getting a chance to pat Hudson and tell him what a good and handsome boy he was.
But the sad truth was that Jackson and Caleb left without much more information than they’d arrived with, except for the tip that police had taken DNA samples that might not have been tested. Nobody knew what Gemma had been heading to show them the day she disappeared, what had happened to her or why she’d been looking so intently into the case.
“Well, I’ve never felt so motivated to solve a case while simultaneously feeling completely and helplessly unequipped to do so,” Caleb said, as he and Jackson got back to their vehicles.
“Agreed.” Jackson unclipped Hudson’s leash and opened the back door for him. Then he pulled out his phone and called Blake.
“Hey, we’re just leaving Pine Crest now,” he told her when she answered. “How are things with Amy?”
“Not good,” Blake said. She blew out a hard breath. “I’m taking Amy to the South River Motel to hopefully book her into a room. The doctor told her she can’t leave town until they run more tests. Looks like there might be something wrong with the baby.”
* * *
Amy looked out the passenger-side window as Blake pulled her RCMP cruiser up in front of the South River Motel. A sign in the front window said there were no vacancies, but she was under strict instructions from her doctor to rest and the next closest hotel was over an hour’s drive away.
“Don’t worry,” Blake said. “I’ll go inside, talk to them and explain the situation. I’m sure we’ll find something. Do you want to come inside with me or do you want to wait in the car?”
Amy glanced up at the blue sky. The doctor’s words swirled around her mind.
The test results are concerning. Rest up and try to relax. We’ll run tests again tomorrow and then see where we’re at.
“I’d like to sit outside, actually,” Amy said. “If there’s somewhere we can do that.”
Blake paused for a moment. She had a serious face, framed by wisps of black hair that had escaped from her braid, and gray eyes with dark rings around the irises. She was beautiful in an unconventional way.
“Okay,” Blake said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The constable got out of the car and headed into the motel office. A quick moment later and Blake was back to let Amy know there was a large, secluded lawn out behind the motel, where Amy could stretch out and rest under the watchful eye of the security camera.
Blake pulled a soft, gray blanket from her trunk, Amy grabbed her bag and together they walked around to the back of the building, where they found a lush patch of green grass surrounded on three sides by dense forest.
“You going to be okay out here?” Blake asked.
“Absolutely,” Amy said. “I need some time to think. Thankfully, I brought my sketch pad.”
Blake spread the blanket on the grass and then offered her arm for support as Amy sat.
“Thank you.” Amy stretched her legs out in front of her. “I’m sorry, I hate that I’m in this situation and I feel like I’m inconveniencing everyone.”
“Don’t worry,” Blake said. “I’ve got a baby at home myself. He’s turning one in the fall.”
Yeah, but judging by the thin gold band on her finger, she wasn’t facing it alone.
“My baby’s father is a con artist who’s run out on us,” Amy said.
“I know,” Blake said. Then she chuckled kindly and a different, warmer smile crossed her face. “And let me guess, you’re beating yourself up about it?”
“Yeah,” Amy admitted.
Blake laughed again and then crouched down beside her.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Blake asked. “My husband, Dustin, is currently AWOL from the Canadian military and there’s a warrant for his arrest for desertion.”
“You’re kidding?” A sudden burst of sympathy flooded Amy’s core. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Thanks,” Blake said. She held up her phone and Amy looked down to see a picture of a clean-cut man with a big smile wearing a Canadian Army uniform. “I had no clue that Dustin had a drinking problem until after we were married. We got caught in this endless cycle of him apologizing and promising to never do it again, then I’d forgive him and it would happen again. Eventually, he joined the military, got deployed and told me it would be a fresh start.” She sighed. “But he wandered off base, got drunk in a local bar and disappeared. So now I’m living with my mother, raising my kid alone and wondering if I’m ever going to see that sorry man again.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said again, finding the words so inadequate for what she was feeling. Her heart twisted for Blake.
“Me too.” Blake stood. “Just focus on that feeling of compassion in your chest right now, and practice directing that kind of love to yourself. We’re all wounded by this world in different ways. So be kind to yourself and everybody else. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Blake turned and walked back around to the front of the motel. Amy sat in the sun and sketched. She hadn’t been able to get the fleeting glimpses she’d seen of the intruder out of her mind. Maybe if she focused, she could find him on the page. Her fingers moved quickly. She hadn’t been able to see the silent intruder’s full face before he’d set off the flash bang back on the lake. But she’d been able to see his jawline and mouth. The day before, she’d seen his eyes through the holes in his mask and she could make a reasonable guess about the shape of his face. Maybe if she put it all together, someone would recognize him and know who he was.
