a university student by the name of Mia Parker. She also doesn’t have any record … or won’t unless she’s convicted.”
Connie looked at the long streak of blood, skin, and hair on the sidewalk from where the bodies of the woman and the dog were dragged under the car. She gave a nod of her head where the trail ended at the emergency blanket. “You’re positive it was intentional?”
“Yup, I’m positive.”
“Then how would they have known when to drive down the street at the precise time to run over her?” mused Connie. “They were two blocks away when they passed the witness.”
“I don’t know,” replied Rankin. “Maybe they kept circling the block.”
“If they were professional enough to set all this up to make it look like an accident, they would be professional enough not to draw attention to themselves by driving round and round the block,” said Connie. “I want the plates of every vehicle on the street.”
“Already done,” replied Rankin.
“Have any left since you arrived?” asked Connie.
“No. I didn’t think I should let anyone leave until you gave the go-ahead, but so far, nobody has even tried to leave.”
“Good job.”
“So you believe me that it was intentional?” asked Rankin.
“Not yet,” replied Connie, “but I won’t rule it out, either. I’ll treat it as a homicide for now and see where the investigation takes us.”
Connie looked at Boyle. “Start canvassing the neighbourhood for other witnesses.”
Boyle let out a big sigh and frowned at Rankin to show his disgruntlement.
“I also want to check every apartment security camera within a four-block radius.” Connie looked at Rankin and said, “If you’re right, the only way they could have known when to strike would be to have a spotter. Maybe we can pick something up from a security —”
Connie quit talking when Rankin raised his hand for her to pause as he answered his portable police radio. A blue Honda Accord had been located minutes ago. It had been reported stolen yesterday, but was found abandoned in an alley after being set on fire.
Connie frowned as she recorded the licence plate from the car in her notebook. Too coincidental for it not to be the same car. Would a couple of drunks out joyriding in a stolen car think to torch it? Possible. She looked at the narrow distance that the car had travelled before driving over the woman and the dog. If Rankin is right, what’s the motive? Petty possession of drugs doesn’t seem serious enough …
Two hours later, Connie and Boyle reviewed the security-camera footage from two different apartment buildings at each end of the block. The apartment at the end of the block showed a white delivery van going past on the street moments before the blue Honda Accord roared into view on the sidewalk and bounced back out onto the street.
Connie zoomed in on the licence plate on the Honda from where it drove out of the apartment entrance. She wasn’t surprised that it matched the stolen car. The glare off the Honda’s windows made it difficult to see who was inside, only that the passenger was wearing a ball cap.
She reviewed the footage again. The delivery van had passed the first apartment building five hours earlier before passing the apartment at the end of the street. Like the Honda, it was not possible to see who was driving.
“Maybe the van lives in the area,” suggested Boyle.
“Maybe,” replied Connie.
Neither of the apartment cameras was able to see the licence plates of vehicles passing on the street, but one camera was able to zoom in and give Connie a name on the door of the van. It was for a Vietnamese restaurant in Vancouver called Hanoi House.
Boyle phoned the I-HIT office to check the name of the restaurant and sat with his pen poised over his notebook while Connie continued to review the footage in slow motion.
Connie saw Boyle make a notation in his notebook before hanging up. “I’ve got nothing further,” she said. “What do you have?”
Boyle shrugged. “Nothing, really. There’s a report on the Hanoi House, but it’s three years old. Back then it was simply listed as a known hangout for Asian drug dealers.”
“Was the report put in by Drug Section?” asked Connie.
“No. By the Intelligence Unit.”
Connie grimaced. “Do you know who wrote the report?”
“Yeah,” replied Boyle, glancing at his notebook. “It was a Corporal J.B. Taggart.”
“Fuck,” muttered Connie.
Boyle looked at her in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”
Connie sighed. “I know Jack from several other investigations. On a plus side, he always gets results and is considered one of the best undercover operatives the force has. So is his partner, Laura Secord.”
“So? What’s the downside?”
Connie bit her lower lip for a moment. “He’s not so good at following the rules. There is also another problem. Anytime he gets involved, I end up with more work than I started with.”
“Oh?” replied Boyle, unsure what Connie meant. “Well, it’s likely only a simple hit and run anyway.”
“And if it isn’t?” asked Connie. “What about Nancy Brighton? What if she was the intended victim? We can’t sit back and wait to see if they get her next time.”
“People don’t murder someone over a simple possession beef.”
“I agree it doesn’t make sense,” said Connie, “but we can’t chance it. It could be some other reason that we don’t even know about yet. Maybe they did kill the right person.”
“You’re talking like it is a murder.”
“We have to treat it like it is,” replied Connie, gruffly.
“So what do we do about Nancy Brighton? Supply round-the-clock protection for someone when all we might have is a simple case of hit and run?”
“We’re going to have to make sure she’s safe until we investigate further.”
“If it’s over the drugs, it could take a year to run it through court … or longer. It would be ridiculous to protect someone twenty-four-seven over a possession beef. Get someone to pull the charge and be done with it.”
“Pulling the charge isn’t a precedent we can set. It would open the door to have more witnesses whacked.” Connie sighed. “But you’re right, it would be a tough thing to try and justify putting her in the Witness Protection Program.”
“So what the hell do we do? We need answers fast. All we really have is the opinion of some traffic guy who probably wouldn’t know a homicide even if he were the victim. Where do we go from here?”
“We
