Chapter 27 Dominique
Dominique
The call came at three o’clock on Boxing Day afternoon.
Kobe, Cosette, and I had picked up émeric at ten to go tobogganing.
Despite their age difference, the kids wore themselves out going up and down the slope, running and squealing and playing nonstop.
Shortly after lunch, when exhaustion had set in, we located the nearest Tim Hortons and bought them hot chocolate and chili to feed their growling bellies. Rosy-cheeked, they ate gluttonously.
As we drove the quiet streets to drop émeric off, Kobe’s phone rang.
A sinking feeling in my gut told me our holiday celebration had come to an end.
We had taken my vehicle to the snow hills—needing Cosette’s booster seat—and as I pulled into the parking lot at the townhouse where émeric lived, Kobe dug his phone from the inside pocket of his parka.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
“Is that your work?” émeric asked from the backseat.
“Yeah. Give me a minute, and I’ll take you in to see your mom.”
Kobe answered quietly, worry stamped across his forehead as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. Twice, he pressed his fingers into his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. No need. I know where I’m going,” he mumbled before hanging up.
Kobe blew out his cheeks and tipped his head against the headrest.
I arched a brow, and he hit me with an expression I knew all too well—resignation at its finest. The day and the fun were over.
“Is someone dead?” émeric asked, poking his head between the seats, all too astute for a nine-year-old.
“Grab your stuff,” Kobe said, ignoring the question. “I see your mom at the door waiting. Let’s go.”
émeric grumbled but got out of the car, following Kobe to the townhouse. The pair bumped fists and shared a brief hug before émeric went inside. Kobe had a quick word with Delphine.
Upon returning to the vehicle, he glanced in the backseat. Cosette had fallen asleep, so he lowered his voice. “We’ve got another one. I have to take off once we get back to the house.”
“Another one? Same as before?”
“That’s what I’m told. The call came in an hour ago. Sarge couldn’t get a hold of Rue, so I need to get to the scene pronto.”
Without thinking, I took my phone out and connected a call to the on-call pathologist.
“What are you doing?” Kobe asked.
“Switch places with me and drive while I try to find a babysitter.”
“Dom, it’s Boxing Day. A holiday.”
“Yes, and all my high school girls are probably at home and bored out of their minds. This is as much my case as it is yours, Kobe. I’m going with you.”
He didn’t argue, and we swapped places. As Kobe drove, I found a girl to watch Cosette and informed the on-call pathologist that I was taking this particular case.
Kobe looked as uncomfortable as I felt. His pinched expression and the sudden loss of his good humor spoke volumes. What was he thinking? When the boyishly charming Kobe vanished and Cop Kobe returned, he was hard to read.
“I wanted it to be over,” he said after I’d transferred a sleeping Cosette from the car to her bed and shut the door.
We stood in the upstairs hallway, Kobe leaning against the wall.
His sullenness cleaved me in half. He bit into his lower lip, shaking his head.
“I wanted this fucking person’s agenda to have been completed. I didn’t want more dead bodies.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I groped for something positive. “You shared that you had a severe lack of evidence. Perhaps this will change things.” I studied him meticulously, curious how he’d respond. Did he want to solve the case, or was he content to let it be?
“Maybe.” The idea didn’t seem to please him, and I wondered again if he’d decided that he didn’t want to find this killer.
He met my gaze and offered a wan smile. “I’ve got to run home and change, then see if I can locate my partner. I’ll meet you at the scene.”
“I won’t be long.”
I watched from the front window as he drove off, the bright winter sun gleaming off the roof of the car as he vanished around a corner. The forecasted storm was meant to last all day. The meteorologist had predicted double the accumulation, but they’d gotten it wrong.
I stared at the unnaturally blue sky as a twist of turmoil knotted my insides.
Without these killings, without the constant worry that my boyfriend might or might not have a darker side, I was happy.
For the first time in years, the past didn’t consume me.
Fragile hope lingered just beyond the tips of my fingers, and I sometimes believed I could reach out and grab it.
The babysitter arrived before I could fret too much over Kobe and the decisions he faced.
The phone call about the new victim had seemed to disappoint him, and I couldn’t decide if it was because of the loss of our time together or the discovery that his unsub’s mission was not complete and he would be forced to continue to investigate.
Had Kobe been satisfied with the lack of evidence in the cases because it meant that they might not find the person responsible? Had he concluded that the victims deserved their fate?
I felt sick, knowing what I was walking into, wondering again and again who the man I took to my bed truly was at his core.
It felt easy when we were together, sharing a drink on the sofa, listening to music, or watching a movie.
I trusted Kobe implicitly with Cosette, not flinching when leaving them together on Christmas morning.
But in his absence, in the face of another death, my doubts returned.
LeBreton Flats beside the Ottawa River was a sprawling green in the summertime, hosting several music and food festivals. In the winter, during the holiday, it was a desolate plane of cold snow and frigid wind that blew in off the water.
I parked behind a police cruiser next to the Canadian War Museum and collected my gear from the trunk. The area had been cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape, guarded by a few uniformed constables, who looked as though they wanted to be anywhere else.
Unlike at the university, there were no lookie-loos or media presence.
Be it the weather, the Boxing Day holiday, or the fact that LeBreton Flats was out of the way, I didn’t know.
Regardless of the reason, I was glad we didn’t have to fight off curious onlookers with their cellphones and immediate internet access.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I braced for impact before crossing the street, knowing the scene would be bad even before I signed in and ducked under the tape.
Crossing the field toward the focal point of the investigation, I noted countless footprints in the freshly fallen snow, zigging and zagging in every direction.
I clenched my jaw, steeling my resolve.
Had the CSIs been careful, or had they trampled over important details?
The snow was heavy with moisture, thanks to the afternoon winter sun. The impertinent wind couldn’t seem to blow the evidence away, no matter how strongly it lashed out.
Bundled in my brown leather coat, a thick wool hat, and boots, I still couldn’t get warm and shivered with enough force that my teeth chattered.
I waved down a photographer—one of many—who rushed over, a camera slung around her neck.
She wore thick gloves, a hat with earflaps, and a faux-army-style parka with the hood pulled up.
The fur lining circled her face, but the vicious wind still managed to whip her bangs across her forehead and into her eyes, making her squint.
Danica Brooklyn was someone I’d worked with several times since moving to Ottawa. She was young—midtwenties—but efficient and didn’t require a lot of instruction.
“Merry Christmas, Dr. Chevalier. I didn’t think you’d be working over the holiday.”
“I wasn’t, but this is one of mine… the serial,” I amended. “I worked on the other three bodies, so it seemed fitting I should carry on. Detective Haven should be arriving soon, and—”
“He’s already here.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the central area where the dead body waited. “I told him to hang back, but he took one look at the scene and ignored me. Sorry.”
I frowned and motioned for Danica to follow as I trudged carefully through the snow.
Danica jogged alongside, speaking through the thick wrap of her scarf. “I got as many pictures as I could of the ground and traffic patterns the second I got here. I figured by the time everyone showed up, it wouldn’t take long for evidence of that nature to be wiped away.”
“Thank you.” As an afterthought, I muttered, “It’s a good thing the storm decided to stop, or we might not have gotten any prints at all.”
“True. It was supposed to snow all day, so I would say we’re lucky.”
“Indeed.”
Surveying the scene as I approached, I picked out several glaring differences from the previous three kills. Primarily, the body had been poorly staged, missing the usual precision of placement. The whole thing was a mess, and my goddamn boyfriend was neck deep in the middle of it.
Hackles rising, I ground my teeth and approached.
The body, a male in his early twenties, had been propped in a sitting position against a tree. No bench this time. Kobe squatted in front of him.
A fizzle of irritation surfaced when he reached for the frozen white rose that had fallen from its holder and lay in mangled pieces on the ground.
“Don’t touch that,” I snapped with more venom than I intended.
Kobe jumped, withdrawing his hand as he spun to face me. Excitement flared in his honey-colored eyes, and his face broke into a smile as he got to his feet. “Holy crap, Dom. This scene is a mess. Everything about it shows poor execution and a rushed kill. Look at it.”
His hungry gaze swept over the snowy terrain, eating up every detail.
Mine didn’t.
“You aren’t supposed to have access to the scene until I’ve given you the green light. Get away from the body.”