Chapter Twenty-five
Eric
His eyes burned but he refused to quit. The nagging pinch in his neck had turned into a full-blown headache, but his hours in front of the computer monitor were starting to pay off. Jane Doe’s tattoo hadn’t set off any missing persons flags in Canada, so Eric had run her through the United States databases. They’d come back negative as well. Then he had an idea. It was a long shot, but he was still waiting for the results. Since it hadn’t come back as an immediate “no”, he was starting to feel hopeful.
His computer inquiry returned a positive match as Adam returned from the break room.
“We got her! Kelly Mays. Twenty-eight. From Hamilton,” Eric said.
“She’s a long way from home,” Adam noted.
“Hamilton Police Service listed her as a person of interest four days before her body was found in Winnipeg. Her boyfriend, a perpetually unemployed motorcycle mechanic, was beat to shit and phoned for an ambulance. The two of them had a volatile history with lots of domestic calls on both sides. He told the officers on the scene that he thought she’d attacked him from behind. He didn’t report her missing, because he assumed she was running.”
“Is he a suspect?” Adam asked.
“Unfortunately not. He was still in the hospital when she was dumped. But get this. She’s from Winnipeg originally. Guess who her brother used to run with?”
He didn’t need an answer.
“That’s not a surprise but at least now it’s official. We have a name, a starting point, and people we can question to find out what the hell she was doing before she ended up in a field after somebody used her as a pin cushion,” Adam said. It was a hairsbreadth away from nothing, but it was an important hairsbreadth.
Adam called Dr. Wu to let him know of the potential identity; the coroner might be able to speed up making it official with a dental match. While his partner did that, Eric answered his phone. He didn’t recognize the number. The noise in the background made him think he’d been butt-dialed until he heard the voice. “Parker?”
Eric threw his pen at Adam’s head, but his partner was distracted with his own conversation. “Forrester?” he asked. How had the man gotten his number?
“I’m heading south on 75. We’re almost through St. Norbert,” the biker said.
“Why do I care?”
“I thought you might want to know somebody grabbed your old lady. Hasn’t 911 contacted you yet?”
The muted rumble of a motorcycle engine came across the line. “Some fuck-up beat the shit out of Bree and tossed her in his car when she was at the Frozen Cow. Beige Caddy, plate ends in seven-nine-six. I can’t read the rest. He scared the shit out of her friend,” Forrester said.
Eric was twenty minutes away, even if he used the siren. “Did you see this?”
“I caught the tail end. Hold on a sec,” the biker said. A symphony of horns sounded. “Shut up, motherfuckers. I saw him shoving somebody into his car. I didn’t realize who it was till Bree’s friend ran into my bike trying to chase after her, screaming. I took off about the same time as the cops arrived. Are you doing something about this?”
Eric grabbed Adam’s arm as he ran past into the corridor. “We’re on our way. Don’t hang up.”
“Gotta call a brother. Wilson will want in on this,” Forrester said. “I’ll let you know if we turn off the highway.”
“Forrester!”
But he was gone.
Adam was on his own phone with 911 as they pounded down the stairwell rather than wait for an elevator. “Yes, the ice-cream place at the bridge. Allison Grey. She was a witness. Talk to her. Find out what the hell happened and call me back. Be careful. She’s not well physically. She might need a doctor,” Adam shouted. “Yes, now!”
“Do you think it’s him?” Eric asked. There was only onehim. Their serial. Thanks to Leandra Northman, the local press had taken to calling him the Calendar Killer. Eric didn’t care what they called him, but he didn’t want the fucker to get free airtime and give other psychos ideas.
And he had Bree. This was what had kept Eric awake at night; dreams where the dead women’s faces morphed into Bree’s over and over. She was his perfect victim. She had the look he liked.
And what the hell was Forrester doing at the ice-cream place at the same time as Bree again? Every single body they had led back to the Ice Road Warriors. If the killer tied Bree to Forrester if he’d seen them together, Eric would never forgive him.
“Yes,” Adam said. “Drive faster.”
Rush hour was gearing up, and because they were heading out of downtown, the early commuters were headed in the same direction, filling up the lanes.
“It’s a fucking siren. Move!”
