Chapter 22
Sergeant Blackstone Takes Action
Constable Dan burst into Sergeant Blackstone’s office without even knocking.
“Sorry, sir, but this is urgent. I know you’ll agree.” He turned to Ned, who sat uneasily in his chair. Tim sensed that bad news was coming their way. He leaned forward, listening.
“We found her, Ned. We have your daughter.”
For a moment, neither man spoke. Then Ned and Tim let out long sighs of relief.
Ned rose from his chair. His face reflected joy, but there were tears in his eyes, too.
“Is she wounded? What did they do to her? Where is she? I want to see her—now!”
Tim took his arm. Ned was breathing hard, his face flushed with emotion.
Dan continued. “She’ll be fine. What I know is that we found her in the woods, unconscious beneath the roots of a huge tree. She’s at the hospital now.”
“You mean she escaped? But do you know anything more?”
Dan looked intently at Ned and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t know any more. I wish I did. But I can take you to the hospital right now, if you’d like.”
Ned was already reaching for his coat.
Tim turned to Sergeant Blackstone, who had risen from his chair.
“Would it be all right if we continued our conversation tomorrow?” Tim asked.
“Go, of course!” Blackstone replied warmly. “In fact, I’ll join you there shortly. Anything we can do for you, we’re at your disposal.”
Ned turned toward the door, anxious to leave. For the first time since Caroline’s disappearance, he allowed himself to believe that he might actually bring his daughter home.
Sergeant Blackstone led the three men to the door, promising to follow them to the hospital and offering Ned a few words of reassurance.
“She’s in a safe place, Ned. I can assure you we have excellent doctors here!”
He patted Ned on the back and watched as the three men got into Constable Dan’s cruiser and drove out of the parking lot.
He closed the door and turned to Margaret Smythe, his long-time assistant and office manager.
“Send Constable Harold immediately to the hospital to guard Caroline Mercer’s room. Also, arrange a rotating security detail. Six-hour shifts. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it!”
Sergeant Blackstone nodded at her efficiency, a faint smile on his lips. He started to turn but stopped.
“Oh, and let me know when the provincial medical examiner arrives.”
“He’s already here, Sergeant. He arrived about five minutes ago.”
She picked up the telephone to arrange the hospital detail.
Sergeant Blackstone returned to her desk. “One more thing. We need to find Mister.”
Margaret looked thoughtful. “What should we do with him, sir?”
“He might not be safe in his cabin. Hmm, let’s bring him here. See that he gets a hot meal and some warm clothes.”
He found Dr. Alex Hilliard bending over Ronnie Burke’s body, muttering to himself.
“Look at this, Sergeant Blackstone,” he said without looking up. “See this redness and the welts around his mouth?”
“I do.Was he gagged in some way, Doc?”
“Uh, huh.” He looked up. “I think with duct tape, most likely to silence him. But there’s no tape here, so I can’t be sure. I can say definitively, however, that the marks are not the result of the Narcan that was administered.”
Sergeant Blackstone knelt close to the body as the M.E. pointed to Ronnie’s wrists. “These bruises to his wrists indicate that he was restrained in some way. Even the injection site is unusual.”
“How so?” Blackstone queried. His hackles were up. Everything was pointing to murder. His thoughts were spinning as he struggled to understand how!
“It looks as though he wasn’t injected with a syringe— more like he was stabbed with it!”
He turned Ronnie over. “Hmm,” he murmured.
“What now?” Blackstone’s voice crept up noticeably.
“His back has a scrape. That and the way the blanket is hanging suggest that he was pulled from the bunk.”
Blackstone was agitated. “I see,” he said.
“And did you notice the scuff marks on the floor? No doubt from his shoes. This poor soul struggled hard against his attacker!”
“Murder? Right under my nose, while he was in my charge! Sergeant rose abruptly, angrily.
“I’d say so, but I’ll know more after I get him on my table, Sergeant.”
The Sergeant’s footsteps echoed down the hall.
Blackstone stopped at Margaret’s desk. Her back was to him, but she sounded distinctly disturbed as she spoke into the telephone.
“That’s all I know for now,” he heard her say.
She swiveled toward him as she ended the call. Her face was flushed.
A look of concern crossed Blackstone’s face. “Everything okay, Margaret?”
She lowered her eyes to a sheet of paper on her desk. Ignoring his question, she handed it to him.
“Here’s the roster I made for the hospital detail. I also sent Constable McDowell to pick up Mister, and they’re on their way back now. It wasn’t easy, you know. Mister is very stubborn. He refused to come at first.”
Blackstone smiled. “That certainly comes as no surprise.”
His expression grew serious again. “Margaret, are you having trouble with young Petey again?”
Blackstone had known Petey since he was a youngster. The boy had always been a handful, and Margaret had certainly had her share of worries over him. More than once, Blackstone had offered to intervene, but Margaret had stubbornly refused.
He studied her for a moment. She looked tired, more so than usual. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and he wondered whether she had been sleeping at all.
“You know you can always come to me, Margaret. You've been looking after this place for years. It's about time someone looked after you.”
“Thanks, Sergeant, that’s very kind of you.”She paused, considering, “that boy is always up to something. Nothing I can’t handle, Sir. Thanks, as always, for your concern, though.”
She gave him a weak smile, then quickly changed the subject. “You realize we’re running short of men now.”
“I’m aware. That’s why—”
Just then, Dr. Hilliard appeared.
“We’ve gathered as much forensic evidence as we can from the scene. Charlotte has photographed everything. I’ll let you know what I find after the autopsy. You’ll be the first to know what killed him!”
He nodded politely at Margaret, then exchanged a hearty handshake with Blackstone.
Outside, an unmarked white van pulled into the detachment parking lot. The driver emerged and opened the rear doors to receive Ronnie Burke’s body, now secured in a body bag.
Blackstone watched from the doorway. Ronnie Burke’s death was no ordinary occurrence, and he intended to find out exactly what had happened.
He had dealt with death before, of course. Accidents, drownings, even the occasional murder. But this was different. Ronnie Burke had been in his custody, behind locked doors, supposedly safe from the men who might have wanted him silenced.
Blackstone watched the attendant close the van doors. Somewhere along the way, his own security had failed. That was something he could neither understand nor forgive.
He wondered how many people had known Ronnie was being held at the detachment. And how many of them had wanted him dead.
Dr. Hilliard was now on his way to examine the body of Willy Burgos, the young man found murdered near the dock, not far from where Caroline had been rescued.
Two murders in two days in a small Nova Scotia town. “Coincidence? I think not,” Blackstone murmured to himself. Two dead men within hours of each other. One found near the dock where Caroline had escaped, the other murdered in a locked cell under police protection.
What did they have in common? Ronnie had been involved in Caroline's kidnapping. Willy Burgos had apparently helped her escape. Both men were dead.
Blackstone rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Someone was cleaning up loose ends, and he had an uneasy feeling that the killing wasn't finished.
“Did you say something, sir?” Margaret asked as he closed the door.
“Just talking to myself again.” He laughed. “It’s getting to be a bad habit in my doddering years!”
“Doddering? You? No way, sir!”
He was about to enter his office when he stopped and returned to her desk.
“Margaret, we need to get to the bottom of how Ronnie Burke was murdered in our custody. It makes no sense at all. We change the security code every day. Who got in? And how?”
He brought his fist down hard on her desk. Margaret flinched.
“Here’s what I need—the custody log from Ronnie’s arrest, all surveillance recordings, and an exact timeline of everything that happened between his arrival and his death. I want to know who entered that detention area and when.”
His voice rose. “Can you get that information to me? And I mean yesterday!”
Blackstone was rarely angry, and Margaret looked startled by his outburst.
“Can you do that for me, Margaret?”
Her voice wavered. “Yes, sir!”
“Oh, and get me Major Will Canton’s number at the Halifax Major Crimes Division. We need experienced investigators.”
He lingered a moment, his anger giving way to concern.
“I just don’t have enough men trained for this. There’s more going on here than murder, Margaret. Something much bigger.”
He turned a worried gaze upon her.
“But, sir,” she protested, “we’ve never called in Major Crimes before.” Her voice sounded strained. “Surely, we can handle this in-house.”
Blackstone stopped and looked at her. He had expected Margaret to support his decision, as she had supported nearly every decision he had made over the years.
“We have a dead prisoner, Margaret. A man murdered in a locked cell. And another body down by the docks. Tell me how we're supposed to handle all that with the handful of officers we've got left.”
“I only meant—” She hesitated.
“What did you mean?”
“Nothing, sir. I suppose you're right.”
Blackstone watched her return to her paperwork. Something about the exchange troubled him, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
He had known Margaret Smythe for nearly twenty years. He trusted her implicitly. He always had.
He entered his office and rubbed his temples. A headache was brewing.
Dear Reader,
It’s good to be back from Switzerland, as much as I wish we could have stayed even longer!
We had a wonderful trip. Once again, my power wheelchair served me beautifully, even on the steepest hills, cogwheel railways, and gondolas! Wunderbar!
Now I’m back home, and it feels good to be writing and painting once again!
Enjoy THE COTTAGE, chapter 22. You may want to refresh your memory by giving chapter 21 a look!
www.elainestories.com
I’m listening! I’d like to hear your thoughts on Chapter 22 AND on the seven Swiss travel pieces! Lots of photos!
etlainie92@gmail.com