“That’s bullshit,” snapped Holgersen. “Whole fucking thing was recorded. He signed a—”
“Crown can appeal,” retorted Fitz. “But right now, that evidence is off the table.”
“Fucking hell,” muttered Holgersen, looking at Angie.
“Sergeant, a word outside.” Fitz spun and made for the door. As it swung shut behind him, Maddocks turned to face Angie.
“Get the vehicle ready. We’re going to pick him up. Now. He’ll be at church.”
Her gaze spiked to the door. “Fitz?”
“Now!” He turned to Holgersen. “You take Dundurn, get a bead on Raddison. Don’t touch. Just follow him. Anything unusual, I want to know stat. And you, Hazleton,” he said to another detective. “Call Vedder. I want sex crimes fully on board with all its services on standby. Tell him we need an emergency response team. And I want that SWAT team on board theAmanda Rosetonight.” He grabbed his coat off the back of a chair and stormed after Fitz.
Maddocks found Fitz waiting simmering outside the incident room door.
“I’m bringing him in,” he told Fitz before the man could speak.
“Sergeant, I ordered you to inform me before—”
Maddocks flung his arm toward the door. “We could be sitting on an international sex ring there, a club selling underage women on a yacht registered in the Caymans with possible organized crime links via a local dentist whom the RCMP’s commercial and organized crimes units has been investigating for years. And somewhere within that milieu, Hocking and Drummond crossed the path of a sick, lust-based serial killer. If we let this Norton-Wells slip out of our hands now—if he sends alarm bells out—theAmanda Rosecould be in international waters by tonight, and that’s a whole other ball game. That yacht could be taking the killer with it. And if there are any other young women on that boat, their lives could be in jeopardy—there could be an attempt to cover the crimes in international waters.”
“We have no grounds to bring in—”
“Yes, we do. We have photographic and witness evidence that puts Norton-Wells on theAmanda Rosewith Faith Hocking’s pimp, who in turn associates with Jon Jacques Junior, who in turn was involved with Drummond. And we have his admission that Norton-Wells knows and cares for Drummond. And there’s the Lexus. That photographic evidence could get us a DNA warrant now, thanks to Winston—we just start over with new samples.”
“Sergeant,” Fitz demanded in his high, scratchy voice, “I in—”
“I caution you before speaking, sir,” Maddocks said, lowering his voice. “We have photographic evidence of Mayor Killion and ADAG Joyce Norton-Wells engaging in an extramarital affair.” He paused, holding those beady little black hawk eyes. “Perception is often everything in politics, sir. Given the rumors that Mayor Killion is maneuvering to replace Chief Gunnar with his own man, and soon, and that there will be further internal MVPD firings and hirings—it would look most unfortunate if you were seen as the one who sabotaged this case, a case that implicates Killion himself. And the ADAG’s son. Possibly in exchange for a promotion.” He waited a beat. The man vibrated, glowering at Maddocks. And Maddocks figured his job with the MVPD was probably toast, but he was not letting that yacht sail away. Not on his life.
“The story is already scheduled to run,” he said quietly, giving them an avenue out. “Complete with photos. On Christmas Eve. I’d like this case wrapped before that. Under your helm.”
THE BAPTIST
It’s Sunday morning when he drives along the coast road. He needs the vehicle today. Today is the day he plans to take Lara, and he is tight with anticipation. He worked out with weights before dawn, then ran eight miles—all in preparation. He shaved his genitals last night. Lara is at church now. He’s edgy, needing to do something until dark, so he takes the road past the Uplands Marina. Just to see if theAmanda Roseis still berthed there. He’s come by often since Faith. He likes to watch the shining palace on the water at night and to wonder who is down in the cabins and with whom. And he imagines he’s watching them again—Gracie, Lara, Faith ... Eva ... the others with the barcodes on the backs of their necks ... He slows suddenly at the sight of a police cruiser.
It’s parked to the side of the road. Two cops sitting in it. He swallows, keeps his eyes on the road, his hands at two and eleven on the wheel, indicates and quickly turns left, heading away from the water.
He pulls off the road and parks under a tree. His pulse is racing. His palms are damp. No. No need to worry. It’s all good, all fine. But, because he’s curious, because his senses are alert like a hunter in the wild today, he gets out of the vehicle and walks down a side alley toward the ocean road again. He pops out onto a knoll with long brown grasses under Garry oaks. He can see the marina. TheAmanda Roseis there. In all her glory, her flags flapping gently in the winter breeze. He stills, just watching, scenting the air. The sight calms him. He thinks of all that glorious wood inside there. The women waiting with their pussies for the men to come ...That’s when he sees them—two men. One older, with white hair and a square head. The other is skinny and a little taller. They’re sitting on a bench on the path above the marina. He watches them a while. One of them raises a small set of bird binoculars to his face. He’s studying theAmanda Rosedown in the bay.
His stomach goes tight. He swallows and steps back into the tangle of oak branches and shadows, and he watches them for a long, long while. They look wrong. Suits. Cops—they’re cops.
He turns on his heel and makes hurriedly for his vehicle, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Stupid boy, Johnny boy, of course they’re cops, Tommy, you silly Johnny ... trying to catch Tommy ... you better clear out, Johnny, closing in on Tommy ...
By the time he reaches his vehicle, he knows what he must do. His plan has changed. He must move fast. Not Lara tonight. The other one tonight ... end game tonight.
It’s okay, Johnny. Just moving it ahead, Tommy ... the only final sin is stupidity, boy ...
CHAPTER 68
Angie chose to stand. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned her shoulder against the wall of the small interview room behind where Jayden Norton-Wells and his legal counsel were seated at a table bolted to the floor. Her design was to unsettle them.
The interior of the room was sterile—walls padded with off-white sound-absorbing tiles, a door to Angie’s left, and a two-way mirror. From behind the mirror Fitz, Vedder, a Crown prosecutor, and Holgersen observed.
Maddocks sat at the table in front of Norton-Wells and his legal counsel. Angie and Maddocks had nabbed Norton-Wells coming out of his Sunday church service. He’d been docile, had not resisted arrest in any way, merely said he wanted his lawyer.
Now that his counsel had arrived—a top criminal attorney, funded by his father—they were proceeding with questioning.
