Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (36 page)

The forest exploded. The pressure punched him solidly in the back, propelling him forward. He dropped Paula, lost his footing, collapsed on top of her. He felt heat on his back, a roaring in his ears. He wrapped his arms tightly around Paula’s head and buried his face into her hair. Spots of pain sprung up all across his back and the back of his legs. He kicked out, trying to throw the fire off.

He knew he was burning.

Chapter Sixty-six

GRIZZLY RESORT. OUTSIDE TRAFALGAR, BRITISH COLUMBIA. WEDNESDAY MORNING.

John Winters felt hands on him, slapping at his clothes. He rolled off Paula, flopped onto his back. Adam Tocek was crouched beside him, hands and face black. “You’re okay, Sarge. Some flaming debris. That’s all.” He sounded like he was talking from the bottom of the river. Then he jumped to his feet. “The truck. Norman.” He ran.

Winters shook his head. His ears rang. Paula laid where he’d dropped her, sobbing. Winters rubbed his back into the mud, and then he got to his feet, moving carefully, checking for pain. In front of him, in the direction of the highway, the forest was on fire. Pieces of metal that had once made up a car were burning lumps haphazardly tossed round the clearing and into the line of trees. Tocek skirted the flaming wreck that had been the beige Corolla. Arms over his head, he kept to the center of the road where there was nothing to burn.

Winters turned. People lay on the ground or stood in shock. Some were crying, some were simply staring. There appeared to be no damage to the buildings or equipment. For a moment Winters wondered why everyone, police, construction workers, protesters, started to dance. Comprehension came slowly: they were stomping on fiery debris littering the yard. The job made considerably easier by the rain-soaked ground. A woman was bleeding profusely from a gash in her head. The old guy with the long beard pulled a tissue out of his pocket and gently, uselessly, began dabbing at it. One of the Mounties was sitting on the ground, his face white, his teeth clenched, his right leg at a bad angle.

It had been, as these things go, a small bomb.

But enough to kill or maim anyone standing within a few yards of the car.

Winters helped the weeping Paula to her feet. He ran his eyes down her. Her front was caked in mud, but she appeared unharmed. He guided her to a group of women. They gathered her into their arms.

Robyn Winfield was sitting on the ground, tied to a bulldozer by a length of chain wrapped around her waist. She was screaming, pulling at the chain as if trying to break it. With a pop, Winters’ hearing came back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled.

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t know anything about that. I’d never…” She jerked at the chain, “Get this Goddamned thing off me.”

“Don’t you have a key?”

“No, I don’t have a key, you fool. It needs to be cut away.”

“I have people to see to first. You can wait. Constable, stay with Ms. Winfield. Not that she’s going anywhere, but some folks might have an argument with her.”

Dawn Solway nodded.

“McNally. That criminal bastard. He set me up. He brought me the car. Said he’d be following with a bunch of friends.” Robyn put all her rage into the chain. It didn’t give. Winters noticed with some satisfaction that her hands were beginning to bleed. “I demand you take me to the police station. Immediately.”

“You demand? You are in no position to demand anything.”

He turned at the sound of a bark. Adam Tocek trotted down the road, Norman leading the way. The dog was unharmed, and very interested in the chaos all around him.

In the distance, sirens approached.

Chapter Sixty-seven

BANFF SPRINGS HOTEL. BANFF, ALBERTA. WEDNESDAY MORNING.

Paul Keller’s face was a picture of shock. “Of all things. I’m leaving now. I’ll come to the office soon as I arrive. Keep me posted.”

He put away his phone.

“What?” Lucky and Smith said in unison.

Keller glanced around. They were in the lobby, preparing to check out. Karen paced by the door, waiting for her rental car to arrive. Her hair hung around her face in lank strands, and the remains of tears streaked through her hastily applied makeup like a dried-up river bed.

Keller walked to a quiet alcove. Smith and her mother followed.

“A car bomb.”

“In Trafalgar!”

“No one killed. No injuries other than a couple of scratches, minor burns from debris. One broken leg.”

“Oh, my God,” Lucky said.

“People could have been killed,” Keller said, “including John and Adam, if it wasn’t for you, Molly.”

“Me? I wasn’t even there.”

Keller glanced toward the door. Karen continued to pace. “That beige Corolla? It had the bomb.”

Smith stared at him. Speechless. When she found her voice, she said, “I thought it was delivering hard drugs. I had no idea.”

“Where did it go off?” Lucky asked.

“At the Grizzly Resort. During the demonstration.”

“I cannot believe environmentalists would do anything…”

“That’s all I know, Lucky. John has arrested one of the demonstration organizers on suspicion, and he’s taking her in now. The other, conveniently, seems to have disappeared.”

“The car that was used for the bomb. It belonged to Global Car Rental. Burgess’ company.” Smith’s knees felt weak. A car bomb. If she hadn’t suspected it was being used to smuggle drugs… She didn’t finish the thought.

“Molly, help your mother get her things in the car, will you? I need to make a couple of calls. Blechta’s working on a warrant for Global Car Rental and Kramp’s Auto Repair now, based on what Tracey had to tell him. Matt gave a pretty good description of the man he saw leaving the apartment immediately following Caseman’s death, and once he’s picked up, we’re hoping he’ll squeal on his boss. This business this morning will strengthen Blechta’s hand.”

“Speak of the devil.” Lucky nodded toward the doors.

Ed Blechta came in, followed by Matt and Tracey, holding hands and looking exceedingly happy. Matt stopped and gave his mother a long hard hug.

“They let him go,” Keller said. Judging by the overwhelming relief in his voice, Smith understood how worried he’d been. He’d taken Matt to the station last night, and then been told to leave.

The arrivals joined the group in the alcove. Keller nodded to Blechta and the two men moved further away.

“Thank you, Molly,” Matt said. He held out his hand. She took it.

“I mean it. I did a lot of thinking last night, courtesy of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and their fine facilities. Nothing like a night in the cells to make a man think about his life. I’ve been a fuck-up for too long.” He turned to Lucky. “I cannot apologize enough for the way we met, Mrs. Smith.”

Lucky wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “You don’t have to. Just look after that girl of yours.”

“That I will do.” He beamed at Tracey. Her smile lit up her whole face.

“How’s my mom handling it?” Matt asked Lucky.

“Not well. She’s in shock. Disbelief. Anger. Not sure who she’s angry at. Jonathan for betraying her… and you. Herself for believing in him. Moonlight for exposing him. Paul most of all, for moving on without her. She’s been calling Jonathan all morning. He’s not answering.”

Smith snorted. “Huddled with his PR people and lawyers, I’d suspect. Making travel arrangements, probably. I hear the weather’s nice in Brazil this time of year.” Guys like Burgess, nothing ever touched them. The company’s affairs would be so convoluted no wrongdoing could be traced back to him. The only hope of nailing him was finding Barry’s killer and getting him to outright say Burgess had ordered the hit. That might well never happen. Burgess would make sure the guy knew that his family, if he had one, would be taken care of—one way or the other—while he was in prison. Burgess had dumped Karen Keller fast enough. Smith wondered if he’d taken up with Karen precisely because she was the ex-wife of the chief constable of Trafalgar. Might have hoped for some inside knowledge or influence there. Although, she had to admit, it seemed like one hell of a lot of trouble to go to just to get his hands on a piece of resort property.

“Matt,” Karen called across the lobby. “My car’s here. I’m leaving.” She hadn’t said a word to Paul or Lucky since last night. And when Lucky attempted to say good morning, Karen had turned her back. She had a lot to deal with, a lot of pain ahead of her.

Matt and Tracey joined her. Matt took her suitcase and they went outside.

Blechta and Paul reappeared.

“We picked up Tom Dunning last night,” Blechta said. “From what Chief Keller and Tracey have told me we have enough to charge Dunning with something major. Conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism would be a nice start. Should be enough to scare him into spilling all the dirt. Dunning’s description, by the way, of the guy who dropped off that Corolla, is pretty much a dead match to the man Matt saw at his apartment. We’ve issued a Canada-wide warrant for him. As for who picked it up and drove it to Trafalgar, the driver’s license used was a fake one, but thanks to your Sergeant Winters, we’re looking for a known eco-terrorist name of Steve McNally.”

“Let’s go home, Paul,” Lucky said. “I’ve had enough vacation.”

He put his arm around her, and they walked together to the front desk.

Smith moved to follow.

“One minute, Ms. Smith, if you please.”

“Yes?”

To her considerable surprise, Ed Blechta thrust out his hand. “You did good work here, Constable. You’ve got good instincts and you’re like a rabid dog with a bone. If you’re ever looking for another job,” he cleared his throat, “I’d be happy to give you a recommendation.”

“Thanks. But as for a new job, I think I’m pretty good right where I am.”

Chapter Sixty-eight

TRAFALGAR CITY POLICE STATION. TRAFALGAR, BRITISH COLUMBIA. WEDNESDAY MORNING.

John Winters put Robyn Winfield into interview room one. His hands had shaken all the way back into town, and his heart refused to stop pounding. Whether from the aftershock of the bombing or in pure rage, he didn’t know.

Fire trucks had arrived and, with the help of the rain and the wet condition of the forest, put the fire out before it had a chance to spread. The few injured were loaded into ambulances. Ray Gavin had been called to begin the initial forensics examination of the now-demolished Corolla. Darren Fernhaugh ordered his secretary and his men to stop gawking and get back to work. The protesters left, but not before letting Robyn Winfield know what they thought of being used to stage a violent protest. Before leaving, Paula, covered in mud from head to toe, kissed Winters on the cheek. “You saved my life.”

Around a knot in his throat, he told her to say hi to Beowulf.

Robyn had sat on the wet ground, fuming so hard Winters was surprised her clothes weren’t drying. Finally, once everything was back to some semblance of normal, Winters asked Fernhaugh for a bolt-cutter.

The chain broke. Adam Tocek took one arm, Dawn Solway the other, and Robyn was lifted to her feet.

Winters formally arrested her and snapped on handcuffs. Tocek and Solway marched her off the property, while construction workers cheered and catcalled, and police and firefighters watched. She was loaded into the back of Solway’s cruiser, and Winters followed them to town in his van.

He took Ray Lopez into the interview with him. Lopez removed the cuffs and Winters handed Robyn a glass of water.

She drank deeply and then said. “I’m going to get something out of my shirt, okay?”

“Go ahead.”

She reached, not into a pocket, but into her bra. She brought out a piece of paper, and handed it to him. Her eyes glittered and the edges of her mouth turned up.

He read the paper. “What the hell?”

“Make the call, Sarge. They’ll tell you. And make it fast, I’ve places to go.”

He stormed into the hallway, a confused Lopez following.

“RCMP.”

“What?”

“She’s an undercover cop.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I really, really wish I was. Make the call, will you? I’ve no doubt they’ll confirm what she says. In the meantime, I want to know what the hell kind of game she’s playing.”

When Winters returned, Robyn was leaning back in her chair. Her eyes were closed. She opened them very slowly. If she were a cat, she would have licked her paws.

He did not sit down. “People were almost killed out there today.”

“That,” she said, “had nothing to do with me. If you forget, I was standing right there. I would have been the first one to go up.”

“I saw you running away, seconds before the explosion.”