Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 100 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

Chapter Forty-Two

Police and fire department crews were on the scene soon after a neighbour reported hearing an explosion and seeing the fire. The fire department soon realized there was nothing they could do to save the barn or the storage hangar behind it. They did discover a burned and unconscious figure lying in the barnyard. Despite third degree burns to half his body, he was still alive and an ambulance rushed him away.

A police officer saw a pickup truck drive into the yard and a man ran over to speak to him.

“I live over there,” he yelled, pointing off to a neighbouring farm.

“You the fellow who reported this?”

“Nope. The sirens woke me up. Then someone stole my flatbed truck and took off in it. I got dressed and came over to tell you. Happened ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

“Did you call it in?”

“No, I could see your flashing lights so I thought maybe you caught the guy.”

“I didn’t see it, but I’ll radio it in.” The officer paused and asked, “Had you left the keys in the ignition?”

“No, of course not. I leave them in the ashtray.”

“Brilliant.”

Laura answered her BlackBerry on the first ring.

“Hi, Princess. Calling to let you know I’m still above ground.”

Laura burst out crying, but Jack continued, “Some bad shit came down tonight. Cocktail went in with Balvinder, Fateh, Rashard, and Quang and tried to set us up.”

“Where are you?” she asked, as the release of tension brought more tears.

“At a gas station on the Number One highway near Clearbrook. I borrowed someone’s truck, but decided to ditch it. I need a ride. Sy, Mongo, and Munch are with me, but they are contacting their own people.”

After Jack gave Laura directions, he hung up and the four men walked a short distance from the gas station to a place they could stand in darkness and wait.

Jack saw the blood dripping from Mongo’s hand and said, “Your arm is going to need medical attention.”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it. That fuckin’ Rashard must have hit an artery. There’s a hospital in Abbotsford. I’ll get my guys to take me there.”

“When the cops locate that flatbed and find your blood in it, they might check the local hospitals. Not to mention, they’re liable to show up there with Quang. You should pick a hospital that’s farther away.”

Mongo nodded his head in agreement and said, “Good thinkin’. Thanks.”

“Let me take a look at it,” said Jack. “I may need to rip your shirt and use it to stop the bleeding.”

Mongo agreed.

Jack tended to his arm and as he worked on it, he said, “It might be in everyone’s best interests to find new places to sleep and lay low for awhile until we sort this out.”

“Lay low!” replied Mongo. “Fuck that! Somehow I’m gonna find Cocktail. He’s the one who set us up. Then I’m gonna take Rashard and —”

“Who is Cocktail?” asked Jack. “What’s his real name?”

Sy, Mongo and Munch each looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“Nobody knows who he really is,” said Sy. “He came to us through Satans Wrath.”

“Speaking of fucking Satans Wrath,” said Munch, looking at Sy and Mongo, “looks like we’re at war with them, too. Better tell our people to start spraying the shit out of those guys.”

“Guess so,” replied Mongo.

Jack swallowed. He knew that as things stood, the risk to every man, woman and child living in the lower mainland would equate to living in a war zone.

He also knew Damien and thought about how tonight’s ambush had been planned. Damien is too professional to get into an all out war with these bunch of losers if he can avoid it. Will attract too much heat … which is why I didn’t recognize the so-called prospects tonight. Damien made himself a buffer of deniability …

Jack thought over his next response. As much as I’d like the bikers to take a few bullets, I can’t risk the possibility of an innocent person getting hurt by mistake. No more thinking required …I have to do what is right …

“Did any of you guys recognize the bikers who searched us tonight when we met Cocktail?” asked Jack.

Sy, Mongo, and Munch shook their heads.

“Before you start shooting up the streets, it might be a good idea to find out if Satans Wrath knew about it,” suggested Jack. “Is it possible that Cocktail and these other guys set it up on their own, hoping to get a bigger slice of the action?”

“Possible,” conceded Munch.

“How the hell do we find out?” asked Sy.

“Simply wait,” replied Jack. “Satans Wrath will make their intentions known soon. They aren’t the types who are known for doing drive-bys or spraying restaurants with bullets.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sy.

“For the next couple of days I suggest you hide,” replied Jack. “Satans Wrath won’t let this sit. They’ll do something soon. You’ve all got enough people working for you that if the bikers are at war with you, some of them will get whacked. If Cocktail did act on his own, Satans Wrath will deal with him.”

“You sound like you know these guys pretty good,” said Munch, suspiciously.

“Satans Wrath? Hell, yes. They’re back east, as well. All over the globe. I know lots of gangs who have had encounters with them.”

“Maybe Jay is right,” said Sy. “Tonight is the first time that two bikers showed up where I didn’t know either one of ’em.”

“I would like to find Cocktail,” said Jack. “After tonight, I owe him one.”

“We all fuckin’ owe him one,” said Mongo.

“Something about Cocktail looked familiar,” said Jack. “I could have seen him at a party someplace or perhaps a restaraunt. I’m not sure, but maybe I could help find out who he is or where he lives.”

“That would be great,” said Sy. “We definitely gotta put that fuckin’ devil in the hole!”

“I get first dibs,” said Mongo, pointing to his arm. “Gonna blow his balls off first and let him crawl around before I gut-shoot him. After that, I’ll put one up his ass. Same for Rashard. You guys can do Balvinder and Fateh. Quang, too, if he ain’t already gook food.”

“Whatever,” replied Jack. “But for now, find a safe place to hide out and we’ll all text each other so the four of us are kept in the loop.”

The Major Crime Unit, housed in Surrey, was normally a thirty-minute drive from where Jack was calling from. Laura arrived in seventeen minutes and drove Jack to Connie’s office so he could give a complete account of what had happened. On the way back, Laura asked Jack for the details. He told her to wait so he wouldn’t have to repeat everything a few minutes later.

As soon as they arrived at the Major Crime Unit, Jack retrieved a couple of bandages from a first aid kit and went to the washroom to attend to the minor cuts on his fingers and wash the manure off his clothes and body. It was Laura’s next clue that something was amiss.

The blood on Jack’s fingers had already started to dry. She was surprised that he even thought of his fingers over the urgency of giving everyone the details of what had occurred. He is taking time to decide what to tell us … and what not to tell us …

Jack had glimpsed the licence plate of the van that drove them to Quang’s farm and Laura checked it while Jack was in the washroom. It turned out to be registered to Quang and she gave Jack the bad news when he returned.

Connie sat behind her desk while Jack, Laura, and Sammy pulled up chairs. Everyone listened quietly as Jack roughly outlined what had transpired. When he finished, he leaned forward and picked up a photo from Connie’s file.

Laura saw that it was a photo of Amanda Flowers, taken in the hospital emergency room shortly after she had been attacked. Jack studied the photograph intently, before gazing off into space as if trying to figure something out … or perhaps make a decision.

“Anything back on Quang’s injuries?” asked Laura, hoping to give her partner more time.

“A member from MCU is at the hospital,” said Connie. “The doctors think Quang will live, although they are worried about infection setting in. It will take years of surgery for him to recover fully. It will be a long, painful process and he’ll still end up with a face that looks like a can of smashed worms.”

“Too bad we couldn’t slap him into a jail cell, too,” said Sammy.

“Or the rest of them for attempted murder,” added Connie. She looked at Jack and said, “Do you want to reconsider? If you could testify it —”

“No,” replied Jack, sharply. “We can’t charge anyone without burning the informant.”

Connie nodded and said, “We still don’t know who Cocktail is. Isn’t there anything you heard or saw tonight to help?”

“I might have his prints,” said Jack, carefully taking the Rubik’s cube from his pocket and placing it on Connie’s desk. “Cocktail handled it tonight.”

“Good going,” replied Connie, reaching for her brief case to find a plastic exhibit bag, “but is there anything else? Even if we get prints, who is to say he has a criminal record?”

Jack stared at the picture of Amanda. Her bloodshot, glassy eyes stared back at him from under a mutilated forehead. His mind went back to when he had last seen her, shortly after being criticized in court for not telling a drug dealer that he was an undercover police officer.

She begged me to keep her out of court. I promised her that justice would be served … and that was before Ngoc Bích called to tell me the judge wouldn’t accept her testimony because she had been a prostitute. Does being raped and enslaved in a brothel make you a prostitute? Personally, I would take the word of most prostitutes over the word of a judge …

“Jack? Did you hear me?” asked Connie. “Is there anything else that would help?”

“I can’t think clearly,” said Jack. “I need time to clear my head. You may as well go home. It will take me another three or four hours to write my UC notes. When I’m finished that, I’d like to review your file again. Maybe something will trigger. If it does, I’ll call you. Otherwise I’m going to go home and sleep.”

“I have notes I need to make, as well,” said Laura.

Connie sighed and pushed her chair back and stood up. She looked at Jack and said, “I want you to know something. You and I have had our differences, but you scared the crap out of me tonight. I was really worried about you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

Connie gestured to her desk and said, “Be my guest. We can talk about it again tomorrow. Lock the door when you leave.”

“Sounds like you might have averted an all-out war in the streets,” said Sammy as he stood up to leave.

“Guess the next day or two will tell us that,” replied Jack. He looked at Connie and said, “I bet we find out who he is by Tuesday.”

Connie frowned and said, “That’s only two days away. What makes you think that?”

“Because he screwed up with three major gangs tonight. Between Sy, Mongo, and Munch, surely someone will find him.”

“Make that four gangs,” said Sammy. “You forgot about us. We’re the biggest gang.”

Connie nodded and said, “Cocktail better hope we find him first.”

“For sure,” replied Jack.

As soon as Connie was gone, Jack started flipping through the pages of her file.

“What are you looking for?” asked Laura.

“Clue to a murderer,” replied Jack.

“Think Cocktail’s real name is in there?”

“I can find out who Cocktail is. That’s not who I’m looking for.”

“You’re not looking for Cocktail?” asked Laura in surprise.

“Not at the moment. When we were ambushed tonight, Cocktail made a comment about us not being on his honour roll.”

“He’s a teacher!”

“With what happened to Amanda, I’m guessing he knows her. In the morning I’ll go to the school when classes have started and look through their yearbooks. Bet I find his picture.”

“Why didn’t you tell Connie? You’ve even got her looking for fingerprints. He likely won’t have a record if he’s a teacher.”

Jack looked toward the ceiling as he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He turned to Laura and said, “I want to talk with Amanda Flowers first. She was adamant about not testifying again.”

“We are talking about nailing Cocktail for the murder. That part doesn’t need to involve Amanda.”

“I don’t think Cocktail is our murderer.”

“You what? Not the murderer! He tried to kill you tonight!”

“I mean as far as the priest goes. Tonight, when Mongo got stabbed with the pitchfork, blood sprayed out. A little got on Cocktail and he freaked out. Started cleaning himself immediately. Gave Rashard hell and was worried about getting AIDS.”

Laura thought for a moment and said, “Whoever killed the priest wasn’t afraid of blood. They would have drenched themselves in it.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Cocktail did it. I think he only dragged the body inside to hide it from view while they cleaned out the lab.”

“If it wasn’t the lab rats, then who did it?” asked Laura. “It wasn’t a robbery. He still had on his gold crucifix.”

“Gabriel called me tonight before I met with Sy. You remember she said that Noah’s grades have fallen in the last couple of years … fighting in school?”

Laura nodded.

“Gabriel called to say he lit a neighbour’s fence on fire for no apparent reason. Said he has been throwing temper tantrums one minute and crying over nothing the next.”

“What are you getting at?”

Jack pointed to the file and said, “Read the background that Connie dug up on Father Brown. He was at Kuper Island from 1971 to 1974. You familiar with the history of that place?”

Laura’s face turned grim and she nodded. “Indian residential school where the children were taken from their families in a government project to try and force them into assimilation.”

“You know what happened to those children?”

“Lots of sexual abuse by the priests.… Oh, man. You’re thinking Noah was sexually abused by Father Brown?”

“It’s possible. His behaviour falls in line with post-traumatic stress disorder. Classic symptoms.”

“But he wouldn’t have killed Father Brown. The amount of force … the blood … it would have been discovered in the house.”

“Noah isn’t responsible, but the rage exhibited in the murder makes me think it was someone who knew him. Many people who attended the residential schools never recovered. Drug addiction, suicide … and alcoholism,” said Jack, carefully enunciating the last word.

“One of the winos,” said Laura.

Jack nodded and said, “Connie’s list of winos is in here someplace. I read it before. Some she found by hanging out at the liquor store and talking to people. Others she got from fingerprints off of empty bottles in the area.”

“Connie’s pretty astute at interviewing,” said Laura. “If she talked to the culprit I bet she would have her suspicions. She would have said something.”

“She didn’t find them all. Some were never – here it is,” said Jack, pointing to a list of names, most of which had been stroked off. Two names remained.

“One looks Ukrainian and one aboriginal,” noted Laura.

“She has an alphabetical index with notes on every name. Let’s see what she has done to find them,” said Jack, turning to the index. “Forget the Ukrainian. What does Connie say about the aboriginal … criminal record three pages long … mostly theft … drunk driving … a few assaults … most of these started years ago and are out of Prince George. Last few are local. Connie has contacted social service agencies … shelters … Prince George … this guy’s locale doesn’t fit.”

“So much for that theory,” said Laura.

Jack turned back to the list of names. He flipped the page over and saw one more name at the top of the next page. It was not stroked off. “Take a look,” said Jack, jabbing at the name with his finger. “John-Wayne Charlie.” Jack looked at Laura. He felt no elation at his discovery. If he had been asked to solve the murder of a pedophile he would have declined.

“Charlie is common to the Chemainus, Cowichan, Duncan area north of Victoria,” said Laura. “Next door to Kuper Island.”

“I know.”

Jack checked the index and found that John-Wayne Charlie’s criminal record consisted entirely of offences related to public intoxication. Many of the offences were committed in Duncan.

Jack read Connie’s notes to see what action she had taken to locate John-Wayne. “Connie called Duncan Detachment and a note says someone went to his brother’s place … a guy by the name of Gunnar Charlie. Gunnar said he hadn’t seen his brother in five years.”

“Any other clues as to where he hangs out?” asked Laura.

Jack checked the criminal record again and said, “The funny thing is, John-Wayne’s last conviction for public intoxication in Duncan was only two years ago.”

“His brother gave a flippant response to cover for him.”

“Exactly,” said Jack, grimly. “First thing in the morning I’ll call Gunnar. Let’s see if John-Wayne Charlie has returned home.”

Jack started flipping through the file again and said, “Connie has a photo of Father Brown before he was murdered. I’m going to take it.”

“What will you say to Gunnar when you phone him?”

“I’ll tell him I’m with the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs and say that there is money owed to his brother.”

“That might work.”

Jack had a deeper feeling of depression. One more lie a white man tells an Indian …

Chapter Forty-Three

Jack and Laura waited at Queen Elizabeth Secondary School until the bell announced the start of the first class. Minutes later, they introduced themselves to the secretary who rounded up several copies of school yearbooks from recent years.

It only took Jack a couple of minutes to find a picture of Cocktail taken when he was addressing an assembly. Cocktail was clean shaven in the picture, but Jack had no doubt it was the right man. He nudged Laura and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

“Betty, excuse me,” said Jack, with a smile at the secretary. “Could you tell me who this person is?”

Betty used her feet to propel the castors on her chair over to Jack and Laura. “That is Lyle Ryker,” she said. “He’s no longer with us.”

“His name is familiar,” replied Jack, flipping through his notebook. “I believe your principal, Morris Bloomquist, mentioned him before. Someone popular with the students I understand. Taught math.”

“Yes, he did. He’s the nicest man,” continued Betty. “He organized a humanitarian drive with the students for that big tsunami in Thailand. I was sorry to see him leave after last semester.”

“Where did he go?” asked Jack, not looking up from his notebook as he found the notes he had made earlier.

“He started a humanitarian relief agency that provides medical equipment to hospitals and research facilities in third-world countries.”

“Do you know the name of the company?” asked Jack.

“No, but it is in Vancouver someplace. Lyle is the dearest man. I can definitely assure you that he is not who you are looking for. As a matter of fact, he stopped in about a month ago and dropped off a box of chocolates for me.”

And looked through Amanda’s file …

Whiskey Jake and Lance walked up to Damien’s house as he opened the front door.

“This better be good,” said Damien. “You interrupted my breakfast.”

“There’s something you need to hear,” replied Lance.

Minutes later they strolled through the backyard. Damien’s face darkened when he received the news about what had happened overnight.

“A complete fiasco,” Lance muttered. “These guys aren’t competent enough to tie their own fucking shoelaces.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Damien. “You’re telling me that they were armed and had four guys tied up and still couldn’t kill them! They even let them burn the barn down!”

“And a shed behind,” added Whiskey Jake.

“Fucking Christ!” yelled Damien.

“And let them escape,” said Lance. “Which means they might be looking for revenge.”

“Want to join up with Balvinder, Fateh, Rashard, and Quang and wipe the fuckers out?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“Are you stupid, too?” roared Damien. “There’s no fuckin’ way we’re doin’ business with any of these dumb fucks! I must have been out of my mind to have considered it in the first place.”

“What are we gonna do?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“Grab either Sy, Mongo, or Munch. If you can’t find them, grab someone in their gangs who has some clout. Tell them we found out that Cocktail tried to backstab us. Take whoever that is to see the two dumb shits we sent to help Cocktail. Blow the two dumb shits away as a sign of good faith and give their driver’s licences to whoever you grabbed from The Brotherhood.”

“So they’ll have pictures to show we took care of the right guys,” said Lance.

“Exactly. Mention we’re still looking for Cocktail and let the guy go.”

“What do we do about Cocktail?” asked Lance.

“He’s too valuable to waste. We’ll have to move him. Maybe back east. Tell him to lay low until we set up someone in his company to act as a replacement. After that, we’ll start Cocktail off all over again someplace else.”

Jack called Amanda’s home in Victoria and her mother said that Amanda was doing volunteer work at a senior’s lodge, but would be home by suppertime. “Perfect,” said Jack.

He and Laura caught the eleven o’clock ferry departing from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island. They arrived in the Victoria PD office after lunch and Jack called Connie.

“You just waking up?” asked Connie.

“No, I couldn’t sleep. After talking with you last night, I remembered a comment Cocktail made when we were ambushed about how we weren’t on the honour roll. I figured maybe he is, or was, a teacher.”

“Get down to the school and check it out,” replied Connie. “I’m sure it’s the same school Amanda Flowers taught at.”

“Already did it. Came up with some snapshots in school yearbooks from previous years. Some are of teachers who don’t work there anymore. I’ve got a suspect, but he doesn’t have a beard and the school pictures are grainy.”

“Who’s your suspect?”

“I don’t want to say until I’m positive. If I did pick the wrong photo and sent you to scoop the wrong guy … I mean, in court, that would blow everything … I want to talk to Amanda Flowers first.”

“Where are you?”

“At the Victoria PD office, having coffee with a friend. Laura and I are going to interview Amanda. I think when we do, I’ll know for sure.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” asked Connie suspiciously.

“If I give you his name and you make the arrest, defence may demand that I appear in court. I can’t risk that because of our informant. It won’t be me that tips you.”

“Then who … Christ … Crime Stoppers? That’s not really kosher.”

“Neither is murdering someone or ordering a multiple rape and mutilation. Do you want to find out or not? I won’t jeopardize the informant.”

Connie sighed and said, “You know I want to find out.”

“Good. As soon as we know you will know. I want to talk to Amanda. Cocktail’s order to have the punks slash her face had to be personal. I think when we talk to her and ask her about her relationship with the suspect, it will come together.”

“I should be the one to interview her.”

“She trusts Laura and me. I know she will open up to us. She might not to you.”

“So it’s someone she dated? Maybe a married guy?”

Jack remained silent.

“All I want is for you to identify him, right? It will be me who makes the arrest.”

“Oh, for sure. As I said, we have to stay out of it to protect our informant.”

“Good, as long as we’re clear on that.”

“At that point, as far as I am concerned, Laura and I are finished. It will be up to you. Hope you have him in cuffs before we’re back.”

“Hope so,” said Connie, feeling relieved that Jack was going to let her handle it. “Well quit talking to me and go see her.”

“Unfortunately, we discovered she started a job at a senior’s lodge and won’t be home until suppertime. Her parents say she is still really distraught. I don’t want to bother her at work and cause a scene. We’re going to wait until she gets home. I want her as relaxed as possible. Her own home will help.”

“Yeah, okay,” sighed Connie. “Guess another three or four hours won’t hurt.”

“As long as we’re killing time,” suggested Jack, “I remember reading your file and there were three potential witnesses you never interviewed.”

“What? Those three winos?”

“Yes. As I recall, one of them was originally from the Duncan area. That’s less than an hour away. Want Laura and me to make a few inquiries? Maybe check with relatives and come up with an address or something?”

“I tried before but it wouldn’t hurt to ask again. That would be appreciated. Then I can stroke it off.”

Jack waited patiently as Connie gave him the details about John-Wayne Charlie and said, “We’ll see what we can find out.”

“You’ll let me know as soon as you talk to Amanda.”

“That’s a promise,” said Jack.

“One more thing about Amanda. An hour ago I got a call from the prosecutor handling the case on the three punks who attacked her. Defence is willing to plead to a three-year sentence for each of them to be served in juvenile detention. Ask her what she thinks.”

“Amanda doesn’t want to testify. I know she will go for it, but I’ll still ask.”

An hour later, Jack and Laura parked their car and approached a man who was working under the hood of a car in his driveway. He looked up as they approached and asked, “You from the department? The guy who called me this morning?”

“Yes,” said Jack.

“My brother is around back in a shed. He carves masks. They’re nice. You should buy one.”

“How long has he been doing that?” asked Laura.

“A few months, but he’s good. So how come he is getting some money? I’m his brother, Gunnar. How come I don’t get any?”

“Are you older or younger?” asked Jack.

“I’m two years younger. What’s that got to do with it?”

Jack opened his briefcase and passed Gunnar a picture of Father Brown.

“Evil eye!” said Gunnar. “So that is what this is about.”

“You know him?” asked Jack.

Gunnar nodded and quietly passed the picture back to Jack. “None of us will forget him. His name is Father Brown, but all us kids called him Evil Eye because of the mark on his forehead.” Gunnar looked at Jack and nodded in understanding and said, “So that is why my brother is getting money. It’s for what Evil Eye did to him on Kuper Island.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, but I lied. We are both RCMP officers. I know you tried to protect your brother by lying to one of our members a couple of months ago, so I lied, too.”

Gunnar stared blandly at Jack as he tried to contemplate the logic of the situation. When he spoke, his voice became a whisper. He pointed to the picture and said, “You finally arrested him. You want John-Wayne to testify … he won’t. He won’t talk about it to anyone. Not even me … and I was there.”

Jack and Laura exchanged a glance. Gunnar thought Father Brown was still alive.

“Please, say you can’t find him,” pleaded Gunnar. “My brother has lots of problems. He can’t sleep … he quit drinking four months ago. This will make him start again.”

“Tell me about Evil Eye,” replied Jack.

Gunnar leaned back against the front of the car. His eyes brimmed over and he wiped his face with his hand, leaving a black streak of grease down his cheek. He breathed heavily for a moment and his eyes drifted off into space. Finally he spoke.

“All us kids had to play basketball in a gym. We all had numbers on our shirts. I was about seven and stayed close to John-Wayne because he was my big brother. All you could hear was the sound of the ball bouncing and kids’ feet movin’. Every day Evil Eye would come out from the office above and stand on a balcony and watch us. He would call out a number and the kid with that number had to go up to his office. One day he called mine and John-Wayne traded shirts with me. I never did have to go up there, but we all knew what Evil Eye was doing.”

“We need to talk to your brother alone,” said Jack.

“He won’t talk about it. He’s too ashamed.”

“That’s too bad. I think he’s a hero,” replied Jack.

“He’s my hero.”

“Let us talk to him alone,” replied Jack. “Maybe we can work something out.”

“You know what was real bad?” said Gunnar as Jack and Laura turned to leave.

Jack and Laura shook their heads.

“After Evil Eye called a number, all the rest of us kids were real happy and laughed and played. That still bothers me.”

“Because you knew you were safe for another day,” said Jack.

Gunnar nodded.

Jack and Laura followed a path behind the house that was bordered by wildflowers. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Too beautiful, thought Jack, to be going to jail. He stopped and placed a hand on Laura’s shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We can’t do this,” he replied.

“You son of a bitch.”

Jack’s mouth gaped open. He could not remember the last time he ever heard Laura swear, let alone at him. “You’re angry with me because —”

“Damn right I’m angry with you. Angry that you would even have to ask me.”

They found John-Wayne alone in a shed. He was sitting on a wooden stool, carving a wooden mask that he held between his knees. He looked up when they came in and said, “You want to buy a mask … or are you from the government?”

“We’re with the RCMP,” said Jack. “We’re here because of this guy,” he added, holding out the picture of Father Brown for John-Wayne to take.

John-Wayne refused to take the picture in his hand. Instead, he slowly put the mask and the carving tools on the ground and stood up. His face showed no emotion. “I wondered when you would come for me,” he said, holding his wrists straight out in front of him so he could be handcuffed.

“We’re not handcuffing you,” said Jack. “Put your arms down.”

John-Wayne slowly lowered his arms and said, “I don’t care that I gotta go to jail. I’d smash his head again if I could.”

Jack remembered that Connie had some hold-back evidence. He looked at John-Wayne and asked, “What else did you do to him?”

“I killed him.”

“I know, but besides hitting him with a cement block, what else did you do?”

John-Wayne stood quietly for a moment and shook his head. “I used to drink. Hard to remember.”

“You did something besides hit him on the head,” said Jack. “Close your eyes. Try to remember. What sounds did you hear? Maybe a smell or the feel of something …”

John-Wayne closed his eyes briefly and said, “I stomped him after.”

“Stomped him?” asked Jack.

John-Wayne turned slightly so Laura couldn’t see and pointed to his crotch. “Down there,” he said. “I stomped him a bunch.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about what Father Brown did to you?” asked Laura.

John-Wayne shook his head.

“Or what you did to Father Brown?” asked Jack.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it with nobody.”