Arthur's ears turned red. “Hurry up.” He threw the comment over his shoulder and plowed forward into the music. They turned a corner.
“
YMCA
!”
They stepped into a gymnasium or meeting hall, it was hard to tell which.
Lights flashed along the stage. A group of teens danced in a line along the edge. They made a
Y
with their arms and bodies.
The kids on the floor shouted, “
M! C! A
!”
The arms raised in the crowd, and the arms raised
along the stage, made human approximations of the letters.
Lane felt the pounding of bass against his ribcage.
“Where is he?” Arthur looked over the crowd.
The music died down as the song ended. The kids looked at one another.
“Can you believe this?” Lane scanned the crowd looking for Matt.
“What? Believe what?” Arthur looked behind Lane.
“The music, I mean doesn't anyone here know that The Village People are ⦔
“
IN THE NAVY
!” The volume of the next song sent a shock wave running through the crowd.
Lane smiled.
“He's not here!” Arthur's eyes got even wider.
“Let's check outside!”
“What?” Arthur cupped his left hand over the back of his ear.
Lane took him by the arm and went out a back door. The door shut behind them. Lane and Arthur stood stunned by the silence and the rainbow of colours in the sky. Their Jeep was parked thirty metres away.
In front of the Jeep, Matt and Christine sat on the grass on either side of the dog. Matt's shoulders sagged. Christine put her arm around him. Roz licked his face.
Lane caught Arthur by the arm. “Give them a minute.”
Arthur looked at Lane. “I don't get it. All they do is fight.”
After a minute they walked toward Matt, Roz, and Christine who were climbing into the Jeep.
Arthur got into the driver's seat. Lane walked around to the other side.
Arthur started the engine as Lane climbed in.
“Uncle Lane, Matt's got something to say to you,” Christine said.
Lane locked his seat belt, winced at the sore muscles of his chest and backside, and turned to face Matt.
Arthur reversed.
“How come you never asked me about the marionettes?” Matt asked.
Where did this come from?
Lane saw the tears in Matt's eyes. “Marionettes?”
Arthur stopped, shifted into drive, and headed out of the parking lot.
Matt nodded. “Harper asked Glenn if he knew anything about marionettes, because it has something to do with the case you're working on.”
Lane heard the accusation in Matt's voice.
Lane said, “Yes it does.”
“I know all about marionettes. We're studying about them in drama. Didn't you know that?” Matt turned to Christine for support.
Lane's mind raced.
How did I get into the middle of this mess? It's one car wreck after another
. “What do you know?”
“During the Second World War the Czechs used marionettes to satirize Hitler, among other things.” Matt looked directly at his uncle. “The artist would let the marionette say things that were against the government and controversial while making the audience laugh.”
Lane's mind bounced back and forth between what he'd just learned and the feeling that he was under attack. “I didn't know.”
“Or didn't care,” Matt said.
“What?”
What did I do?
Lane thought.
“You've been so busy with the case and so busy with Christine, you've hardly talked with me. It hurts.” Matt turned to look out the window.
Lane thought,
I'm always one or two steps behind these two, just like I'm one or two steps behind this case
.
“I'm exhausted!” Alex put the back of his marionette hand to his forehead and acted as if he were about to faint.
“Drama queen.” Aidan leaned against the wall, unimpressed.
“Drag king.” Alex sighed. “How many times do we have to go over this?”
Aidan looked thoughtful. “Until we leave no doubt in their minds that we're real, that this is real, and what happened to you was real. That's when we'll be ready.”
“Of course we're real. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm a ghost!”
“That's what the audience needs to understand. As long as we're here, on this stage, we have to be real in their minds. Then they'll understand.” Aidan leaned away from the wall.
“Understand what?”
“If you don't know, how the hell will they?” Aidan's voice was so jammed full of emotion that Alex stumbled back as if struck by the force of it.
“Quit playing the drama queen and get on with your story!” Aidan put her fists on her hips. “You say all of this,” in one graceful sweep, her hand travelled from left to right, “will help me deal with what happened. So, put your considerable dramatic talent to good use and prove it!”
TUESDAY, JULY 9
Kuldeep put coffee and sandwiches in front of Lane and Harper. Lane looked out the window and thought,
It looks and smells like rain
. The sky was a dark purple-grey.
“So, what have we got? I mean do we start from square one, close the case or pick up somewhere in the middle?” Harper lifted his sandwich and took a bite.
“Once we get Fibre's autopsy report, then we'll have a better idea. I still think we've got another shooter. There's no way I made that shot.” Lane took a sip of coffee and felt the warmth travelling into his belly. He took another drink.
Harper spoke from behind his hand. “You're forgetting the ricochet that hit you. If it could happen once to you at Eva's, it could happen again to Blake.”
“That's not it. A nine millimetre bullet would make a bigger entrance wound and there would probably be an exit wound in Blake's skull. In all probability, the bullet that hit Blake was of a smaller calibre.”
Harper smiled. “You're starting to sound all analytical like me.”
Lane laughed. “You still going to the rodeo?”
“I've been told by Erinn and Glenn that I have to be there. What's it like? I mean, I've never been.” Harper looked out the window. The first wind-driven rain was sliding down the glass.
“It's ⦠I don't know. You have to be there. It's outrageous, fun, irreverent, real.” Lane lifted his hands away from the coffee cup and shrugged.
“Kind of like Arthur?”
“Kind of.” Lane thought about Arthur, how he'd been coping alone with two teens, and whether or not their relationship would survive the experience.
And how will I make things right with Matt?
“When does Fibre think the initial findings of the medical examiner will be ready?”
“Today.”
Lane said, “And I have to see my doctor today.”
Three hours later, Lane visited Dr. Keeler's office. Lane's doctor was an invaluable source for almost all things medical. In the past, his keen mind had revealed pivotal information to Lane. Harper waited a block away in a coffee shop on Fourth Avenue.
Dr. Keeler's nurse, Mavis, fussed over Lane as soon as she spotted him in the waiting room. She picked up his chart, looked over top of the manila folder and glared. “Lane. You're next.”
Lane felt as inconsequential as he always did when he stood next to her. She towered over him, wore nothing but white, outweighed him by fifty pounds, and could clean up the floor with him if the notion ever took hold of her. “Good to see you again, Mavis.” He followed her down the hallway lined with examination
rooms. She opened the last door on the right and let him in first, then she stood in the doorway.
“You didn't follow his advice to take some time off work, did you?” Mavis could sound like the voice of doom. Today was getting pretty close to Armageddon.
“We're in the middle of a homicide investigation.” Lane thought,
It sounds like I'm whining
.
Mavis put her hands on her hips and glared. “Just be glad
I'm
not taking those stitches out! You need to take better care of yourself! Was that you who was shot at yesterday?”
Lane went to answer and decided against it.
“So it was you!” Mavis pointed her finger at him.
“Yes.” Lane looked at the carpet. It was industrial blue grey.
“What happens to Arthur and Matt if you don't come home? They've both been through enough this last year!”
“Don't forget Christine,” Lane said without thinking.
Oh no! Now Mavis will really let me have it!
he thought.
“Christine? Who's she?” Mavis' eyes targeted Lane.
“My niece. She just arrived.”
“How did you end up with two kids?” Mavis' tone softened.
“She just arrived on our doorstep like Matt did.” Lane looked at Mavis' green eyes, knew he had touched her soft spot, and realized he was not above taking advantage.
“You took her in, just like that?” She crossed her arms.
“Christine had no place else to go. They excommunicated her.”
“Who's they?” Mavis' voice rose again.
“The guys running Paradise.” Lane sat down in the chair and began unlacing his shoes.
“You mean that polygamist community south of here?” Mavis looked sideways at him.
“That's the one.” Lane took his socks off.
“Sounds like your niece was lucky to get thrown out.”
Lane looked up at Mavis. “I hope so.”
“And now you've got two kids who need you at home. So, take better care of yourself!” Mavis slammed the door behind her.
And I thought talking about Christine was calming her down
. Lane stripped down to his underwear and stood next to the examination table.
Dr. Keeler walked in. After closing the door, he looked at the chart and then at Lane. “How are you?” Keeler held out his hand.
Lane shook it. “Better.”
“What was Mavis upset about?” Keeler studied Lane's reactions.
He's getting grey
, Lane thought. A
nd he's put on a bit of weight
. “She was just looking out for me.”
“You mean you're back at work?” Keeler crossed his arms across the chart held against his chest.
“That's right.” Lane waited for the second eruption.
“This is related to the deaths of the four guys who lived west of town?” Keeler put the chart down next to the sink and sat in the chair.
“Actually it may have been five.” Lane reached around with his right hand and scratched his left shoulder.
“Really? Would you get on your belly, and I'll take a look at how your wound is healing.”
Lane eased onto his stomach. The cold from the black vinyl beneath the paper sheet gave him goose bumps. “On the first and second anniversaries of a seventeen-year-old's death, two young men disappeared.”
Keeler eased Lane's underwear down. “No infection. the bruising is vivid. There's a rainbow of yellows, purples, and greens here. So, you think the first death, that of the seventeen-year-old, is related to the disappearances?”
“It's a distinct possibility.” Lane gritted his teeth as Keeler used his fingers to prod a tender spot next to the wound.
“I've been following the case and I was wondering.” Keeler moved to the sink and washed his hands. “There might be two killers.”
Lane looked at Keeler. “How do you come to that conclusion?”
“One's very discreet and patient. The victims disappear on a specific date and are yet to be found. The other is especially violent. A body is found very quickly, if not immediately. The murders don't appear to follow the same pattern.”
Lane thought,
It's possible
.
“Mavis will be right in.” Keeler made for the door.
“Why Mavis?” Lane raised up on his elbows.
“Next time, do as we tell you. Take some time off.” Keeler shut the door.
A minute later, Mavis opened the door. She carried a tray covered with a cloth. She pulled two surgical gloves from a package. “I'm back.”
Harper was waiting with a cup of coffee when Lane returned to the waiting room.
In the elevator, Harper said, “You look a little worse for wear.”
“Actually, it wasn't all bad.” His phone rang. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his cell. “Lane.”
The voice was toneless, “Dr. Colin Weaver here.”
Lane looked at Harper and mouthed, “Fibre.” Lane kept his tone even. “Do you have some information to share?”
“Yes.” Weaver's tone seldom varied from monotone.
Lane waited. The silence stretched out like summer honey. “Well?”
“There were several significant findings.” Weaver took a long breath.
“Could I have them in order, please?” Lane rolled his eyes. Harper smiled.
“Most significant to least?” Fibre asked.
“Certainly.”
Fibre continued without taking a breath. “Mr. Blake Rogers died from a single gunshot wound. The bullet entered the left ear canal. Death was instantaneous. The bullet was .22 calibre. It has still to be inspected by a ballistics expert but initial findings, and I'm quite confident here, are that the bullet matches the one taken from the scene where you were wounded.” Fibre took a breath. “Also, the bullets from the rifle in Mr. Blake
Rogers' possession fired bullets of the same calibre found several days ago at his house. Again the match has to be verified by ballistics, and again I'm confident they are, in fact, identical.” Fibre took another breath. “The indentation in the dog's skull matches the bat found with the body. The indentation found in Skip Lombardi's skull was also similar. Blood and tissue was found on the bat. We are now attempting to find
DNA
matches for these samples. Results will be made available to you as soon as they become available to us.”