Fall of night, p.7
Fall of Night, page 7
“Not a ranch-hand. Leastways not here,” he said.
Jordan frowned. “But you are from around here?”
“Uh-huh. My parents have a place near Leavitt, but I’m working for my great-uncle right now. He’s got a place near Twin Butte.”
Sadie scooted her chair forward. “And who would your great-uncle be?”
The young man waited for several seconds before answering. “Levi Thompson.” He lifted his chin. “The name’s Bryce, Bryce Calhoun.”
Chapter five
The sun was setting behind the mountains when Jordan and Sadie drove away from the Durnerin ranch.
“Bryce Calhoun is a goddamned liar!” Sadie snarled.
“Didn’t make much of an impression, did he?” Jordan said.
She revved the engine, spraying gravel as she headed toward the highway.
“He might as well have just said ‘fuck you both.’ Would’ve saved us a lot of time.”
“And how would that have gone over, huh, Sadie?”
“The guy’s an asshole. Seriously, Jordan, I think it’s in the genes.”
“Might be. But do you think he’s involved in the murder?”
“I don’t know, or… I don’t know yet. Not enough pieces on the board.” Sadie’s frown deepened. “He’s Shawna’s alibi and she’s his, the two of them running errands in Cardston on Saturday night, then out on the Thompson ranch on Sunday. Trouble is, neither one of them trusts us because we took down Colt, so I don’t know how much either of those alibis are worth. I think Shawna Durnerin’s telling the truth but…”
Up ahead, the turn off for Waterton appeared and Sadie slowed.
“But what?” Jordan asked.
“But we’ve got to keep both of them on the list of suspects. They’re good riders, for one. He’s working at the Thompson ranch. She runs the Durnerin place. Either one could’ve made it to that lake if they’d wanted to.”
“And each would have had someone to help, too.”
Sadie glanced over. “You think Shawna would help Bryce if he asked her to move a body?”
“Uh-huh. And vice versa… though I don’t think it was a woman who killed Gabrielle Rice.” Jordan drummed his fingers on the passenger-side door. “Bryce has access to the lake from Levi’s place. He’s familiar with all the trails, and we know he can handle horses.” His fingers paused. “Yeah. We need to confirm the alibi if we want either of them off the list.”
Sadie nodded. “If Bryce and Shawna Durnerin really were out in Cardston the night Gabrielle Rice was killed, someone else must’ve seen them, right?”
“You’d think so.”
The police cruiser reached the top of Knight’s Hill, the lights of the hamlet twinkling in the distance. “Then until we get someone to vouch, we keep both of them on the list.”
***
Lou stared at the document in her hands and grinned. Here it was, the proof she’d been looking for. The solid future that had always felt so elusive.
Rich’s arm slid over her shoulder. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. It… it just doesn’t feel real yet.”
“We’re going to have to fix that.”
Lou blushed and put the document back into the envelope.
The clerk at the Registry handed Rich a receipt. “Here you go,” she said. “You have three months from today to be married. Whether you decide to do it at City Hall, or in a church, you’ll need to bring that registration along with you.” The woman smiled. “And if you wait more than three months, well, you get to come see me again and get a new registration.”
“Don’t think so,” Rich said. “Three months gives us lots of time.” He squeezed Lou’s shoulder. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”
“Not a chance.” Lou grinned. She’d been expecting to be panicked but felt totally calm. This is good, she thought. Really good. “You ready to go home?” she asked.
“Yeah. Let’s head out.”
Rich pushed open the door and the two of them walked out into the fall sunshine. Unlike Waterton, which had been blustery and cool when they’d driven away this morning, Lethbridge was caught up in the delirious heat of late autumn. If not for the cool wind that poked under Lou’s shirt, she would have assumed it to be late-August. The coulees were rippled lines of yellow velvet draped over the hollowed bowl of the riverbottom. With the sun setting, they glowed gold and lapis, the colours so brilliant it hurt the eyes.
Lou reached for the truck’s handle, then stopped. “You want to drive back?” A gusty west wind blasted her hair, sending a black cloud swirling around her face. “Test out your driving skills again?”
Rich laughed and joined her on the driver’s side. “You trust me after a month of New York subways and cab rides?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then I’d love to.” He cupped her face between his hands. The swirling strands retreated with the brush of his fingers and she found she could see again. “I missed driving when I was in New York.” Rich leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “But I missed you more.”
Lou closed her eyes as their lips met. “I missed you too.”
***
Jordan had another restless night, and when Thursday morning rolled around, he found himself dozing at his desk. Sadie offered to get coffee from Hunter’s. It was twice as strong and a hundred times better than the office’s coffee. Ten minutes later, she came back through the front door looking bright and happy. The bounce in her steps made Jordan feel exhausted.
Liz was at the filing cabinet and she grinned as Sadie arrived. “You’re looking chipper, Sadie. Something happen?”
“While I was grabbing coffee?” she laughed. “No. Just relieved to be back on mornings again.”
“Mornings, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
Liz smirked. “You sure there’s nothing else going on…?”
“Nope. Just feeling good today.”
“Nobody feels that good without a reason. Just saying. You sure it’s not about some good looking rancher you just happened to interview yester—”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Liz. Bryce Calhoun’s not even close to my type.”
“So you say.”
“I say it ’cause it’s the truth. I don’t trust him.”
“Mm-hmmm… sure.” Liz’s laughter rose.
Sadie headed into the back office and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Jordan.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
She sat down across from him, smiling at him over the top of her cup.
“Drink up. It’ll help.”
He grumbled a half-hearted reply and took a sip.
“I was thinking about the case last night,” she said.
Jordan fought the urge to groan. He could barely think, never mind pull apart the mind of a killer.
“Yeah?” he said. “What’s that?”
“The initial exam showed that Gabrielle Rice died of blunt force trauma to the skull, but the report showed it was the hemorrhage that actually killed her. And there’s more.”
Jordan frowned. “More?”
“Details that weren’t in the original report.”
“Like the broken neck?”
“Not that. Like what else was going on with Ms. Rice,” Sadie said. “The examiner in Lethbridge was concerned by her blood results and called in an expert from Calgary to analyze them.”
Jordan took another sip of coffee, relieved to feel the caffeine hit his bloodstream. “And?”
Sadie grabbed a pile of papers from the corner of her desk and flipped open the folder. “And that second report came in late last night.”
“What’s in it?”
Sadie slid the papers toward him, and Jordan scanned them. Details popped into focus. Blunt force trauma. Broken neck. Hemorrhage to the right temporal lobe. Loss of consciousness would have been instantaneous, death within minutes.
“But… we knew how she died already.”
“Keep going,” Sadie said.
Jordan glanced up. “What?”
“Look on the last page. Toxicology. That’s the good stuff.”
Jordan flipped through the pages—eight in total—while Sadie chattered. Her voice was animated, hands swooping through the air like birds.
“Something just wasn’t sitting right with me,” she said. “I knew there was something off, but I couldn’t put a finger on it…”
Jordan reached Toxicology and skimmed until he reached the bottom.
“Blood work shows evidence of drug use. Levels suggest a sudden stop to regular medication. Residual amounts of anti-psychotics—”
“Whoa!” Jordan said. “She was on anti-psychotics?”
“Uh-huh. Or she was at some point prior to her murder.”
“You think it’s related to her death?”
The question hung in the air, a hint of something, though Jordan didn’t know what. They had a body in the wrong country. A family trying to find her, and evidence of serious medication use. He set the folder down and stared at it. Things were starting to fall into place. He didn’t know how they’d come together, but there were details taking shape.
“Related? Yeah, definitely,” Sadie said. “I mean, who just walks away from their life?”
She reached for another folder and fingered it open. “Her parents have been searching everywhere for her for weeks. She disappeared a couple days after 9/11. Family told the investigating officers—” she scanned down the page, “—that she might have had a ‘mental breakdown’.”
Sadie handed Jordan the folder.
“So she disappears a week after the World Trade Center is destroyed,” she said, “and a month later her body is found here, one country and three thousand miles away.”
“Shit. So what do we do next?”
Sadie’s smile faded, and Jordan had the sudden feeling he’d let her down.
“What do you want to do next?” she asked. “This is your case as much as mine, Jordan.”
He nervously fingered the file. “Well, we already talked to the ranchers, so I… I guess we keep looking for clues as to why Gabrielle was here, and who knew that.”
“Bingo,” Sadie said. “We start a list. Once we have that, we just need to decide who to talk to first. I’ll see if—”
Jordan sat up. “I know who!”
“You do?”
“We take Rich Evans in for questioning.”
Sadie frowned. “But Rich Evans isn’t in town.”
“He is,” Jordan said, excitement growing. “I was talking with Mila down at Lou’s Garage last night when I was gassing up my truck. She said Rich came home late Tuesday night. Snuck in on Lou, scared her half to death.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “He did?”
“Uh-huh.”
Sadie grabbed her coat off the back of the chair, sliding her arms into it. “Time to go.”
“Go?”
“If Rich Evans is back in town, I want to know why.” She glanced back over her shoulder half a second before she stepped through the door. “And if he doesn’t know Gabrielle Rice was here, then we’re going to have to tell him.”
Jordan nodded and grabbed his coat. For the first time in two days he felt completely awake.
***
Rich was caught in a nightmare. His gaze skittered around the kitchen. The faded plaid dish towels hung on the oven door, the brightly-printed curtains above the sink. Sunshine bounced on the melamine counter. None of that felt real.
“Dead,” Rich repeated. “Gabby’s… dead?”
Lou slid her chair closer and reached out for his hand. Rich took a shuddering breath. What was happening? Ever since Sadie had knocked on the door—asking if she and Jordan could “ask Rich a couple questions”—his entire life had turned upside down. He and Lou were supposed to be planning a wedding. Not this!
“Yes,” Constable Black Plume said. “Ms. Rice has been missing for the last three weeks. Her body was found on Monday afternoon.”
Rich shook his head. “But I… I don’t understand,” he said. “Gabrielle lives in New York. She shouldn’t be here. She—”
“When did you last talk to Ms. Rice?” Sadie asked.
“I…” He frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“Try to remember,” Jordan said.
“Um… It was sometime after the World Trade Center was attacked.” Rich looked up. “Yeah. After that.”
“You talked to Gabrielle when you were in New York?” Lou said.
“I… yeah. I did.”
Lou’s brows pulled together. “But… but why?”
Rich winced. “It was chaos after the planes hit. Everyone was calling everyone. I called my parents first, let them know I was okay. Then Stu. A few other friends and then my phone rang and…” Rich flinched. “It was Gabby’s number, so I answered.”
Louise stared at him. She hadn’t let go of Rich’s hand, but her fingers felt wooden.
“She called you?” she said.
“Yes. She called and we spoke. Gabby seemed fine.”
Constable Wyatt cleared his throat. “While you were there,” he said, “did you just talk to Ms. Rice on the phone, or did you actually see her face to face?”
“Uh… both. It wasn’t just me,” Rich rushed to add. “Gabby and Stu and I all got together. The three of us had dinner. We were freaked out about what had happened with the World Trade Center.”
Constable Black Plume nodded as she made notes. “So you saw Ms. Rice in New York,” she said. “You and Ms. Rice and Mr. Callaghan met together for dinner.” She looked up. “At a restaurant?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Could that be confirmed with receipts?”
Rich frowned. “I… Yeah. I suppose so.”
Constable Black Plume made another note. “And do you remember the very last time you saw Ms. Rice?” she asked. “What day that was?”
Rich felt the room close in. “I… don’t remember,” he lied.
“Can you make a guess? Estimate?”
“Uh… no.”
“Mr. Evans,” Jordan said. “I’m sure you realize that for now, this discussion is all voluntary, but if you refuse to answer us, then we will be forced to bring you in for questioning.”
“Am I being accused of a crime?!”
“Not currently, no,” Sadie said. “Do you have reason not to answer?”
“Of course not,” Rich snapped. “I just don’t know what’s going on here. When I last saw Gabby, she was fine!”
“And when was that?” Constable Black Plume asked. “You still haven’t said.”
“I told you, I don’t remember.”
Jordan leaned in. “Well, let’s start with the basics: Do you remember if you talked to her here in Waterton, or in New York?”
“New York, of course.” Rich turned from one officer to the other in confusion. “You can’t seriously think I had anything to do with her death. Do you?”
“We’re just getting information,” Sadie said. “That’s all.”
Jordan pulled the written statement closer, scanning through the details.
“Mr. Evans, what day did you return to Canada?”
A look—as quick as the wind—moved from Jordan to Sadie, then back again, but it left Rich’s heart pounding.
“What day?” Rich repeated.
“Yes,” Sadie said. “You came back to Canada, but no one—including Lou—knew you were back. So tell me, what day did you actually arrive.” She paused. “Keep in mind that all of this, every detail, will be checked.”
Rich swallowed hard. He glanced at Lou, sitting at his side. Her hand hadn’t moved, but her expression was tight, eyes staring at the table.
“I, uh…” He coughed. “I came back to Canada a week ago.”
Jordan gasped, but Rich barely noticed. His focus was on Lou’s face, and the disappointment he saw there. Her expression shimmered.
“Why?” she whispered.
Rich gave her a half-sad smile. ‘I was trying to surprise you, sweetheart.”
“Where were you, Rich? What were you doing?”
“I was getting my business in order.”
Lou shook her head. “But what business?”
“I closed a few accounts when I was in New York, liquidated some assets. When I got to Canada, I transferred my cash funds and retirement savings over to a Canadian bank. For my 401Ks, I had to visit Calgary, and then later Lethbridge to switch them into RRSPs. I met with a couple different financial advisors at Nesbitt Burns, twice in Calgary, once in Lethbridge. All those meetings took time.” He turned back to the officers at the table. “I wasn’t anywhere near Waterton. I give you my word.”
Constable Black Plume gave him a long, hard look.
“Your word is one thing, Mr. Evans, but can you prove it?”
***
Thursday and Friday, Jordan and Sadie dove into the meat of their investigation. With Rich Evans’ phone and credit card records requested, they expanded out into the community. Though small, Waterton was the nearest town to where Gabrielle Rice’s body had been found. There was a good chance that she’d been there at some point. Everyone needed gas. Everyone needed to eat. And if she had been in town, then there was a good chance that she’d talked to someone while she was there.
“I think we should divide up the task,” Sadie announced.
“Divide it up how?” Jordan said.
“You and I both go out and chat with the locals.”
“Alone?”
“Exactly. I want to catch them unawares. The news hasn’t spread yet, but it’s going to... and fast.”
While working with Constable Flagstone, two years before, Sadie’d had the unpleasant experience of having the entire town stonewall them, refusing to answer any questions. She did not intend for that to happen again.
“I drew up a list of people who might have seen Gabrielle if she was in the area.” She handed Jordan a list and a photo. “A picture too, in case they didn’t catch her name.”
