Her husband’s parents are in a nursing home and her own parents died several years ago.”
“Neighbours? Someone?”
“I asked. She said she didn’t live in the sort of neighbourhood that was conducive to making friends. Sounds like she didn’t have the time or the money to go out. She was either waitressing in a coffee shop or looking after her children while her husband went to school.”
“There has to be somebody!”
“Apparently not. I’ll watch her. She won’t be going anywhere as long as her son is in OR.”
“And if he doesn’t make it?”
The counsellor bit her bottom lip and didn’t reply.
Jack reached for his wallet and said, “If that happens, please call me. I’ll help.” He gave her his business card and included all his numbers.
Jack was just leaving the hospital when he met Connie Crane coming in.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Jack looked at her and said, “That sounds familiar. Think you’ve asked me that before.”
“I did on another investigation, and you didn’t mind your own business then, either.”
“I just wanted to see her. See what she looked like.” “Did you?”
Jack nodded.
“No tattoos,” said Connie. “No weathered face. If her makeup wasn’t smeared all over she would look like what I think she is.”
“How’s that?”
“Innocent!”
Jack sighed. “That’s my read too.”
“So I’m just having a hard time believing your crap that it’s all a coincidence. I want names. Who do you suspect?”
“That’s just it, I don’t suspect anyone.”
“You take down a bunch of Satans Wrath labs today and think it’s all a coincidence?”
“They know me. They also know Natasha and they know we don’t have any children. It’s not them. I have a good source. If it turns out to be some low-level punks working the bottom end of the labs, I’ll find out.”
“These guys were professional. Cold and calculating. They shot him in the heart first. Didn’t care that he was holding his baby. That’s when his wife and daughter showed up. Then they stepped forward and shot him in the back of the head. After that, they just turned and walked away. These were no punks. These bastards have killed before.”
“It still could be a coincidence. Completely unrelated to me.”
“Could be, but I want you to think about it. Tomorrow morning I want a list of possibilities. After that, keep your head low and butt out this time!”
“If this isn’t personal, that is exactly what I intend to do.”
“And if it is?”
Jack turned on his heel and walked away.
chapter three
It was nine o’clock in the morning when Staff Sergeant Luigi “Louie” Grazia strode across the carpeted floor in Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s office and then stopped in front of his desk, waiting for him to look up.
For management purposes, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was broken down into four regions Canada-wide: Atlantic, Central, North West, and Pacific. Assistant Commissioner Isaac was the criminal operations officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific Region.
Louie knew that Isaac deserved the respect that went with his position. He was a shrewd and tireless worker. He could quote policy and legal matters to the point that Louie wondered if it was true that he had a photographic memory. Isaac was also unbending when it came to policy — something that made Louie uncomfortable. His section tended to have many grey areas when it came to what was right or wrong. Well, actually some things are clearly wrong...
Eventually Isaac glanced up and said, “How long have you been in charge of Intelligence, Louie?”
There were three leather upholstered chairs facing Isaac’s desk, but he did not gesture for Louie to sit so he remained standing. “Coming up ten years, sir,” replied Louie casually, trying to get a read on Isaac’s disposition. As usual, Isaac’s face revealed nothing.
“Still plan on retiring this coming summer?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have my thirty-five years in this July.”
Isaac nodded before continuing. “What can you tell me about this Taggart matter? Is the Jack Taggart who works for you the target of someone who wants to kill him?”
“Not that I know of, sir. I-HIT is investigating. I spoke with Jack and he thinks it might all be a coincidence.”
“I want I-HIT, you, and Taggart in my office in one hour for a meeting.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll arrange it.”
Damien, at fifty-three years of age, had done well for someone who had started out with nothing. His home, protected from view by a stone wall, was situated on an estate in one of the most prestigious areas of Vancouver. From the street, one could see only the roof, which was peppered with satellite dishes and antennas. Closed-circuit television cameras mounted in strategic locations outside led to a fortified panic room inside the mansion. A large cast iron gate, electronically controlled, blocked the entrance to the driveway. Damien did not become national president of Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club by being careless ... or weak.
Damien sat at his kitchen table and read the newspaper. It was a quiet time of the day that he enjoyed. His wife, Vicki, who was thirty-five, had borne him three children. Buck was thirteen, and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were eleven and eight years old. Damien enjoyed bantering with his children at the breakfast table, but now that they were heading out the door to school, he also enjoyed sitting quietly and catching up on the news.
Vicki had already skimmed the paper today and she watched with interest as her husband flipped to the local news.
Damien let out a snort when he read about the speed labs being connected with Satans Wrath and how the arrests and seizures would have a big impact on the crystal meth supply in the city. Good excuse to raise the price.
Vicki gestured to the article and asked, “Is it a problem?”
Damien shook his head. “They’re always trying to pin crap on us. Actually it’s funny. They think it’s a big deal ... shows how small their cerebral cavities are. I might have to do the usual PR routine to the media. No big deal.”
“The paper said that two members were taken down. Silent Sam and Petro.”
“Silent Sam doesn’t even have his full patch yet. No worries. Leisure Suit Larry will have them out today.”
