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The evidence bags were tamper-resistant.
The seal would show “VOID” if someone peeled it apart and the plastic itself
wasn’t easy to get through. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small
pocket knife. I unfolded the blade and dug into the bag, cutting a hole large
enough for my hand.

I pulled the envelope out, only thinking
afterward that I should have been wearing gloves. It was too late for that. My
finger slipped under the sealed flap and tore along the seam, opening the
envelope. There were several pages inside, neatly folded.

It was a warrant to enter a premises along
with a search and seizure warrant. I scanned through the document. It was for
an address in London, and it was to search for evidence of trafficking in
controlled substances, namely cocaine.

Carter had somehow stumbled on a drug ring,
run by cops. I read through the appendices attached to the warrant, the areas
written by Carter that detailed his reasonable grounds to believe that the
evidence would be found within. Everything was in order. Why wasn’t the warrant
endorsed? The evidence was solid, any judge would have signed it over.

Any judge that wasn’t on their payroll.

Carter had written the judge’s name in at
the bottom of the warrant in red pen, then circled it repeatedly. Beside that
was the word “DENIED.”

Justice Peter Templeton.

THE NEXT MORNING BROUGHT WITH it a hectic
day filled with sadness followed by extensive pain and suffering. Carter’s
funeral was first, then I had to clean the house to prepare for the arrival of
the Chens. Our neighbour had been kind enough to watch Link and Kasia while I
attended the funeral. It was being held in London, not far from my area.

The parking lot was completely full when I
arrived, half an hour early. By the time I found a spot to park, in the lot of
a restaurant down the street, and walked back to the funeral home I was late.
It was standing room only inside the chapel, mourners packed beyond capacity
standing in the aisles and around the pews which had been reserved for family
and close friends. Laura would be at the front, Noah in her arms, both dressed
in black. A number of officers were in their dress uniforms, standing out
amongst the sea of black suits and dresses, hats in hand. I had opted for my
suit, in any other circumstance dress uniforms would likely have given comfort
to the grieving widow. But there was no way Laura was in the mood for anything
police related.

The casket was open at the front of the
chapel. I could see the right side of his face, and even though it was a
distance away, I could see that it was perfect. His youthfulness was brought
back, the cause of his death invisible. And there he lay, forever, staring with
closed eyes up at a god who’d let him die for his beliefs. Fairness didn’t
exist in life, there was no reward for virtue. And those responsible for
Carter’s death, those who lived off of vices, reaped their rewards in cash and white
powder.

My blood was boiling, frustration and anger
rose to the breaking point and I wanted nothing more than to strike out at the
nearest thing—person, object, it didn’t matter. I had to leave. With the size
of the crowd in attendance I wouldn’t have had a chance to speak to Laura other
than to offer condolences I’d already given in droves.

I stepped out into the cold autumn air and
closed my eyes, taking a series of deep breaths. It was working, calmness
flowed in with each breath and the anger flowed out. At least I’d learned
something from the mandatory counseling sessions I’d been stuck with after
shooting Saunders.

My eyes were still closed when a voice
startled me.

“Munroe, any room in there?”

I opened my eyes to see Moore, the property
Sergeant, standing in front of me in a suit and tie.

“Not much, you won’t make it past the
door.”

“Right, I guess a lot of people wanted to
say goodbye.”

“Yeah, it’s too much for me.”

“You’re off today?”

“Yeah, they let you sneak out?”

He laughed. “It’s one of the nice things
about being the highest ranking in the room, I can get away with a lot. Not
that they’d question this.”

I nodded. They’d brought in constables from
outlying areas to cover for anyone who was working the street and wanted to
attend the funeral.

“You didn’t bring that evidence back
yesterday.”

“Shit,” I said. “I never even got a chance
to look at it. Got called out to the street right after I picked it up. I’ll
deal with it and bring it back next shift.”

“You’d better,” Moore said, feigning a
smile. He opened the door to the chapel and I was alone again.

* * *

I went home and relieved our neighbour who
looked happy to see Link and Kasia leave. With three kids of her own, all under
five, she didn’t need any extras.

“Thanks, Sarah,” I said.

“Anytime.” Pleasant, although a ‘but
hopefully not for a while’ was clear. “You weren’t gone long.”

“No, it was really crowded. I didn’t know
him well, I figured I’d leave room for those who did.”

She nodded, then a child crying from
another room drew her away.

Once we got home Link and Kasia were
sequestered to the basement with a movie and some snacks and out came the
vacuum, mop, cloths, duster, Windex, Febreze and everything else I could need.
I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and gone to the Yellow Pages under
“Cleaning Services”. But I was, as always, cheap, and hated paying someone to
do something I could do myself.

Three hours later I was drenched in sweat
but marvelling at a sparkling house. The spare bedsheets were tumbling at
high-speed in the dryer and the mushrooms and onions were chopped and ready to
go. A Caesar salad sat in the fridge awaiting dressing, potatoes were washed
and ready to be baked, beers were chilling in the fridge. All that was left was
for Kat to bring home the steaks.

She wouldn’t be home for an hour and a half
and the Chens were likely just reaching Toronto, still a couple of hours to go.
I joined the kids who were long done their movie, popcorn and juices and put
another movie in for them. I didn’t hear anything until Kat yelled down the
stairs for me to wake up, and the kids laughed in the background.

And after all the times I’d told them not
to tattle.

I’d barely had time to rub the sleep from
my eyes before Aidan and Anya were ringing the doorbell and banging away. Link
was first to the door, throwing it open hard enough to leave a dent in the
metal when it hit the doorstop.

Four young voices filled the room and once
Chen and Julie came to the door the noise was bordering on unbearable. The kids
were banished to the basement, Julie and Kat sat in the living room catching up
and Chen and I were tasked with unpacking the vehicles. He and I brought
everything down past the screaming children and into the spare bedroom. Chen
and Julie would sleep in there, the kids on the sofa bed. I was sure Link and
Kasia would crash on the floor or anywhere else they could find a spot.

It would be far from a peaceful getaway for
Chen and Julie, stuck in the basement bedroom with four children in the next
room pretending to sleep. And Kat and I, we’d be enjoying the sleep of the just
two floors above, far removed from the noise and boundless energy.

Few seconds had passed from the time the
vehicles were unloaded and locked up to the time Chen and I each had a beer in
our hands, sitting with our wives and enjoying some well-earned relaxation. The
pause and slight clearing of the throat were enough to tell me what Chen was
about to bring up.

“Not here, Chen.”

“Wha—”

“No Algonquin. I’ll explain.”

Chen had been wanting some more answers and
I’d promised him that the time would come. When I’d left him in Algonquin Park,
with my father’s watch I had stolen from the crime scene, we both believed my
father had killed Jeffries. But when I went to speak to the Commissioner of the
force, everything changed.

I saw him. William Jeffries. The man who
had abducted me while I was camping with my father. The man who had beaten me
into unconsciousness and broken my arm. The man who would have raped and
murdered me had my father not found me in the darkness. The man I’d plunged a
knife into. And the man my father had buried. Only eight years old, and I was
already a killer.

I saw him, his face on the Commissioner’s,
and the memories came flooding back.

I’d called Chen after, told him the truth
so that he wouldn’t have to find out from the report, but we hadn’t had a
chance to talk it out yet.

“Best done over beers,” I’d told him when
he pressed for more. Chen was a true friend, he didn’t pry, he just wanted to
help. And if I told him what had happened, maybe then there would be something
he could do.

Of course, life happens. He and I had found
no time to get together, no chance for me to give him that opportunity to help
that he so desperately wanted. And now I was shutting him down again, all
because I was paranoid.

Normal conversation returned after a brief
and awkward silence, and for a while the subject was forgotten. Stories of the
children, of work, of vacations planned and taken, of future plans and pipe
dreams filled the void in the middle of the room.

“After dinner,” I said to Chen as we got up
from our respective couches to prepare the meal. The women sat and kept
gossiping as Chen and I cooked.

The shiny silver wrapped around the
potatoes gave way as I drove a fork into them multiple times and placed them
into the oven. Chen was to sauté the mushrooms and onions and take care of the
salad while I took the meat outside to grill it to perfection.

I rubbed a Montreal Steak Spice marinade
into the meat and slapped it onto the heated grill over flames that leapt and
danced as juices dripped from the steaks. Somewhere in our DNA there must be a
gene that makes every human stand transfixed in front of a flame. There’s
nothing as mesmerizing as different shades of red, orange and yellow rolling in
front of you, twisting and turning in the breeze, a warm glow cast upon your
flesh.

And that was how I stood, staring into the
fire, when Chen’s voice made me jump.

“How long, Link?”

I looked at the meat I’d forgotten all
about and was happy to see it was coming along nicely and was nearly done. I
reached for the tongs and flipped the steaks only to see that I must have
already flipped them. Such was the power of fire.

“I think the house might be bugged, Chen,”
I said, quietly and into the wind that rolled over the deck.

“What? Why? Because of Jeffries?”

“No. You heard about the officer that
killed himself?”

“Yeah, bad news travels fast and far.”

I took a deep breath, let the air out of my
lungs slowly like a balloon pierced through tape, and spoke.

“He was murdered. And I’m certain it was by
another cop.”

Chen reacted the way any normal person and
any good cop would—with complete and utter shock and disgust.

“How do you know?”

“The scene wasn’t right. He was in his
cruiser. Duty bag facing the wrong way, windows and doors shut and locked but
no smell of gunpowder. And when I racked the slide to empty the gun, I got a
shell instead of a live round.”

“Something blocked it?”

“Must have, maybe the way the killer had to
hold the gun. I covered it all up Chen, I’m the only one who knows. How the
hell do I know who I can trust? I can’t tell anyone until I solve it.”

Chen just looked at me, waiting for the
rest.

“There was a conversation recorded on his,
Carter’s, cellphone, just before he was killed. He and the suspect were talking
about police corruption, shipments that came in once a week, and the suspect
told Carter he had no idea how far it went. It’s why he was killed. He found
out about something he shouldn’t have.”

“And he wasn’t willing to forget about it.”

“Not at all. Good cop, someone with the
integrity to do the job right.”

“Sounds familiar,” Chen said, a sly look
cast right at me. At least he didn’t see me blush—my dark skin was a gift.

“He’d tried to get a warrant—search and
seizure for drugs and guns—for an abandoned warehouse in south London. The
warrant was flawless, but it was declined.”

“Shit, the judge too?”

“Looks that way. I’m fucked, Chen. I’m
getting paranoid, and I’m scared. If they find out I’m on to them, I’ll be on
the chopping block.”

“What can I do?”

I wasn’t surprised. “Nothing.”

“Fuck you, Link,” Chen said, a brief
chuckle the only thing that made me realize he was kidding. Somewhat. “I’m here
on course, nobody would expect a homicide guy from Upper Ottawa to be working
them. Use me. Nobody here has a clue who I am, unlike my famous friend.”

I hated to admit it, but he had a point.
The Saunders case had put my name and picture on the news, in the papers and
all over the internet. Maybe I was too high-profile for this case now. Even if
I’d never met the cop before, he’d probably recognize me.

“Alright. I’ll let you know if there’s
anything you can do.”

Chen nodded then pointed at the steaks.
“Perfect,” he said. And he was right. I took the steaks of the grill, shut off
the propane and waited for the fire to burn out—one last gasp before being lost
to oblivion. With the burners turned off and the barbecue closed we headed into
the house, a pair of hunter-gatherers returning triumphant.

Kat and Julie had the table set, the salad
and potatoes out and fresh beers at our seats, vodka cranberries at theirs and
apple juice at the rest. We let the kids control the dinner conversation,
keeping them silent would have been a near impossible task and it kept the
awkward space between Chen and I to a minimum. I knew he had more to say and
there was more for me to tell him, just not there and not then. Of course,
there was still Algonquin to explain as well.

The dinner was well received by all and
finished faster than I had expected. Even my children, who ate at a snail’s
pace, turned into wolves, digging into the food with a voracious appetite. It
was a nice change, and a subtle source of pride for me in a meal well-prepared.