Cut to the Bone (24 page)

A prolonged, gagging cough and the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

No time to wait.

“Police. Open the door.” Guns drawn, the officers tried the door, found it unlocked, and rushed inside.

Hollis, not yet tied up, dove for the door the moment the police entered the room. They grabbed her and pushed her behind them and out the door. She moved no farther than the hall.

O'Toole stood with his knife at Darlene's throat.

The police stopped.

“One more step and she dies. Why don't you shoot me? I'll kill her as I go,” O'Toole said in a mocking voice.

The squad's negotiator introduced himself and said, “Time to let her go. It's all over.”

O'Toole grinned at them. “I don't think so.”

Hollis, standing in the hall, saw a movement at the window behind O'Toole. An officer appeared, squatted, and rested his gun on the bottom frame of the partially open window.

The negotiator, still talking, shifted to one side.

Hollis realized he'd removed himself from the line of fire.

“Let her go,” the negotiator said.

“Not now. Not ever. In fact, I'll enjoy watching all your faces when I kill her,” O'Toole said and deepened the cut in Darlene's neck.

The officer at the window fired.

Chaos.

O'Toole, his arm pumping blood, dropped the knife. Officers subdued and cuffed him, untied Darlene, and called for an ambulance.

“I took too many drugs,” Darlene murmured and passed out.

A second officer turned to Hollis. “You okay?”

Hollis nodded. Her arms and legs felt like jelly. She leaned against the wall and tried to control her trembling.

Rhona appeared. “You sure you're okay?” she said.

Hollis held out her arms without saying anything.

Rhona saw the bloody lines. “What the hell?” she said.

“X's and O's. His sadistic idea of a joke,” Hollis said and burst into tears. She choked and repeated, “A joke, some joke.”

Rhona handed her a tissue and patted her back. Hollis, tears dribbling down her cheeks, her lips trembling, looked up at her.

“It's okay. Don't talk. Try taking deep breaths,” Rhona said.

Hollis pulled in a lungful of air and released it slowly. Two repeats and she felt more in control. “I had something to tell you,” she said to Rhona, who'd been watching her with concern.

“Go ahead.”

“Did you know he wanted to kill Darlene because she'd refused to have sex? He called her miss high and mighty who wouldn't have sex with him.”

“That fits. Ms. Nesrallah told us that Sabrina rebuffed a man in the building.”

Hollis checked her watch. “I'm going to be late getting the girls.”

Rhona picked up Hollis's arm. “This needs to be treated.”

“No. It's stopped bleeding. Leave it. I have to get the girls,” Hollis said.

“I think you should be treated,” Rhona said.

“No. I'll do something about them at home, but they're really not deep. I'll be fine.”

“Okay if you're sure. We'll get you there,” Rhona said and commandeered an officer with instructions to drive Hollis.

Hollis phoned the school before she jumped into the police car. Speeding north on Jarvis Street, she turned on her cell phone and picked up a message.

“I heard on the news that the police are asking anyone who has seen Cartwright to turn him in. If he's on the lam, I figure it's safe for me to come back to the apartment, because he won't go there. See you soon. Thank you for taking care of Crystal.”

Good news doubled. O'Toole captured. Mary Montour returning. All they needed now was Cartwright's arrest. Willem needed to be in on the good news. He was in class but she sent him a message and asked him to come to the apartment as soon as he could.

At the school, before she rushed inside, she made sure the cuts O'Toole had made were covered by her clothing.

Jay and Crystal waited patiently.

“Where are the dogs?” Jay asked.

“I didn't have time to go home and get them. I have great news for you.”

The girls waited expectantly.

“Crystal's aunt is on her way to Toronto. Sabrina's murderer is in jail.” She didn't say that she'd been in a terrifying situation and felt like she might never stop the internal quaking.

“I'm glad she's okay, glad she's coming home,” Crystal said, but her voice didn't sound happy.

“I'm going to miss sharing my room with you,” Jay said.

Crystal muttered, “Me too,” as she stomped along with a frown etching her brow.

In the apartment lobby, Mary, who was perched on one of the three couches, jumped to her feet, raced toward them, and wrapped her arms around Crystal. “I'm so glad to see you, to know you're okay.”

Crystal pulled away and hugged herself. “Why did you leave me behind?” she said accusingly.

“I had to move fast. Veronica's ex-boyfriend, Barney Cartwright, was hunting her. She planned to run away first thing on Tuesday. The night before she gave me an envelope and asked me to send it to the police if anything happened to her. I urged her to go right to the police, not to wait, but she was nervous. She said Cartwright could arrange to have her killed anywhere, anytime, and she planned to change her identity so he couldn't find her. Tuesday morning just before I left for work, Bridget phoned from the restaurant to warn me that a man who sounded like it was Cartwright had been looking for me. I guess he figured that Veronica would tell me her plans and intended to kill me too. Cartwright was,
is
, dangerous. I got out as fast as I could.”

Hollis considered Mary's words. Had Mary even tried to warn Veronica, or had she simply jumped in her car and left?

Perhaps the question had been etched on her face.

“Veronica wasn't there when I left. She hadn't told me she was going anywhere, and I didn't want to wait. For all I knew Cartwright might already have got her. I couldn't risk staying. I had you to think about you,” she said to Crystal.

“That would be a first,” Crystal mumbled.

Mary bent down until her gaze locked with Crystal's. “I
never
wanted to involve you in what I do, but maybe now is the time to tell you.”

Crystal said nothing but didn't pull away.

“I try to rescue our women who are on drugs. I do it because of my sister, your mother. Drugs destroyed her.” She grabbed Crystal's hands. “If I can save
one
woman from your mother's fate, from dying from an overdose of bad drugs, I'll feel that maybe your mother didn't die in vain.”

Crystal's expression didn't change, but some of the tension seemed to leave her body. “Why didn't you tell me? Maybe I could have helped?”

Mary sighed. “Maybe I should have, but you'd had such a rough time, I wanted you to have a normal childhood and not worry about things.”

“I thought you didn't like me, that you only took me because Grandma was so sick.”

Mary shook her head and sighed again. “Telling the whole truth is always the best way. I knew that. I'm sorry. I was trying to do the right thing for you. I love you just like I loved your mother, and I only want the best for you.”

Crystal sobbed and threw herself into Mary's arms. Over her head Mary gave Hollis a rueful smile. “Sometimes you do the wrong things for the right reasons,” she said and rocked Crystal back and forth.

“Where are the papers that Veronica gave to you?” Hollis asked.

“Safe,” Mary said.

“You need to tell the police your story and turn them over, and you should do it sooner rather than later. You never know. There could be something in there that would help them track Cartwright.” Hollis reached in her pocket. “Let me call Detective Simpson.”

Mary nodded.

Hollis punched in the number. “Hollis Grant here. Mary Montour is with me at the apartment building and she has information about Barney Cartwright that you need to see immediately.” She snapped the phone off. “She's coming right away. I'd stay with you but I have to walk the dogs. Stay here. Lock the door until the police arrive. Later, have dinner with us,” Hollis said as she moved to collect the leashes.

Two good outcomes but too soon to lower her guard. Cartwright was out there. She wouldn't walk to the nearby park where the dogs could run free, because not many people used it at this time of day. Instead they'd trot north on Yonge Street past Mount Pleasant cemetery, where plenty of people would be around. No point having something bad happen at this stage.

After an uneventful walk she found Jay and Crystal watching TV with the volume turned down. Mary was napping on the sofa. Hollis examined the fridge to see what she could rustle up for dinner. When her cell phone rang, she expected to hear Norman or Willem asking what was happening.

“Ms. Grant, it's Calum Brownelly.”

His voice sounded funny.

“What can I do for you?”

“I have to see you. It's important.”

“Where are you?”

“At the liquor store south of you on Yonge Street. It's important. Jay will be okay for a few minutes.”

He didn't sound as if he believed a word he was saying, but he was Jay's father. She wouldn't tell the child whom she was meeting or she'd want to go with her.

“Why don't you come here?”

A pause. “It would be better to talk to you without Jay hearing.”

What on earth could he have to say? “This better be important. My neighbour is here and she'll hold the fort while I'm gone.”

She'd park, talk to him, and then pick up a prepared supper at Best Foods plus a bottle of wine to celebrate Mary's return and her reconciliation with Crystal.

“I'm buying something for supper. Mary's here if you need anything. I'll be right back,” she said to the girls and made for the garage.

The van door was unlocked but she often forgot to lock it, feeling perfectly safe in the parking garage. She jumped behind the wheel, bent to slide the key in the ignition, and felt something hard poke her neck.

“Don't move,” a voice instructed.

Back at the station, Rhona, still on a high after Tim O'Toole's arrest, walked into homicide, where detectives came and went, phones rang, and a multitude of conversations distracted anyone used to working in silence. Ian sat at his desk writing busily. He looked up when other detectives greeted Rhona.

“Great job. You got O'Toole,” he said.

Rhona briefed him.

“Well done. Too bad somebody didn't twig before the women died.” Ian indicated the forms in front of him. “I'm recording the details. Do we know why he killed women?”

“Hollis said he called Darlene Ross ‘the bitch who thought she was too high and mighty to have sex with him.' And Fatima said Sabrina refused a man who lived in the building. I'm assuming it was O'Toole.”

“We'll try to lead him to tell us where to find the other body.”

“And there may be others. He is a serial killer.”

“He is, but maybe he stopped at two. If there were others he would have kept souvenirs.”

“You have to wonder what it is in the background of men like him that sets them on this course.” Rhona lifted the pile of paper from her in basket. “Thank god we stopped him. One down, one to go.”

“True. Any word on Cartwright?”

“Hollis saw him in the Eaton Centre when she met her foster daughter's father during the lunch hour. I wonder what he was doing there?”

“Probably meeting a Black Hawks contact,” Ian said.

“Not only have we alerted the public to watch for him, we've also had watches at the airport, bus terminal, the train station, and the taxi companies. Since we've impounded his car, if he's going to make a run for it, he has to choose some other way.”

“The bikers look after their own.”

“I don't know the undercover agent's identity, but we have a snout deep in the gang. He'll tell us where Cartwright is. It's only a matter of time. Why do you suppose he killed her? Tough way to get rid of a girlfriend. Maybe he was like O'Toole and couldn't take rejection. Testosterone again.”

Ian huffed. “Not necessarily. You can't always blame men's crimes on that. Way too big of a generalization. He pulled his report closer. “Now we have to make sure we've covered all our bases.”

“Not much worry in these two.”

“Better documented cases than these have gone south because we haven't done our job.”

Rhona's phone buzzed. She listened for a moment. “We're on our way.”

“Where?” Ian asked.

“Back to the apartment building. Mary Montour has arrived and has papers to give us that relate to Barney Cartwright. Hollis says it's urgent.”

Ian drove and Rhona thought about Mary Montour, who'd taken on the task of saving Aboriginal women from the street, from their demons, from the long-term generational effects of the residential schools. What a challenge.

Why hadn't Rhona done something like that?

At least they'd saved Darlene Ross. The Women of the Spirit couldn't fault them on their perseverance and dedication. She knew she'd never again deny her heritage. Sometime soon she'd commit herself to mentoring in the Toronto Aboriginal community, and she'd do it with pride. The report had shaken her and she didn't intend to slip back into complacency and denial.

Her phone rang. She clicked it on and listened.

“Get the registration info. Put out an APB.”

“What's happening?” Ian asked intent on edging past a double parked truck.

“Cartwright has kidnapped Hollis.”

“How do you know?”

“Cartwright forced Calum Brownelly, her foster child's father, to call Hollis and arrange a meeting.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because Cartwright threatened to hurt the child.”

“We have to stop him.”

Could they get to Cartwright in time?