Angie stared up into those eyes, incredulous. Yet not. Terrified, yet thinking maybe . . . just maybe this was everything she wanted. A chance—a second chance to make things work in her life.
Wind gusted suddenly through the ancient cedars like the breath of giant sleeping dragons being roused. Goose bumps rippled over her skin. She opened her mouth to speak, but he touched his finger to her lips.
“Don’t. Don’t say a word right now. I just want you to think about it.”
EPILOGUE
TWO WEEKS LATER
As the seaplane came in to land on the waters of Victoria’s Inner Harbour, Angie could see Holgersen with Jack-O standing at the dock below. She placed her hand on Maddocks’s thigh in the seat beside hers. “Look, down there,” she said as she pointed. “Cavalry is here.”
Maddocks leaned over her to peer out the window and laughed. “Motley crew is more like it. The deviants.”
The pilot banked the plane, came around with the wind, and touched skids to water with a hard bump. They taxied toward the terminal over the choppy surface. It felt good to finally be home after all the debriefings and interrogations and legal meetings with various attorneys. She and Maddocks had been holed up in a Vancouver hotel for the duration, and Angie was more than ready for home. There would be additional questions down the road, followed by legal proceedings, witness statements, and more, but for now Angie and Maddocks were free to go.
They disembarked from the seaplane, gathered their bags, and walked down the dock to where Holgersen shifted from foot to foot, holding Jack-O’s leash. It was sunny, the sea breeze fresh. Gulls squawked above them.
Holgersen raised his hand in a salute.
Angie returned his greeting with a wave. “Didn’t think I’d ever be happy to see that oddball,” she said as Maddocks escorted her along the dock, his hand placed gently at the small of her back.
Holgersen had phoned to let Angie know what Harvey Leo had done—how the veteran detective claimed to have come upon her private meeting with Pietrikowski and Tranquada, and how he’d relayed the information to Grablowski. Angie doubted Leo had just happened to be in the observation room. It was more likely that he’d seen her entering the interview room with the Mountie and IDRU woman, and he’d followed her out of malignant curiosity. She’d bet her ass that he’d turned on the audio feed to listen in. But she’d decided to let it be for now—to let Grablowski write his damn book. But she wouldn’t cooperate with him, and she’d refused to take any reporters’ calls. Her past was done now. They could make of it what they would. She was going to look only forward from this point on.
“Yo! Boss,” Holgersen called as they neared. He dropped Jack-O’s lead.
Maddocks set his bag down, crouched low, and whistled, holding his arms open wide. “Heya, boy, come here!”
The animal hobbled wildly over to Maddocks on his three legs, mouth open as he panted in excitement. Maddocks scooped him up, ruffed his little head. The pooch squiggled in his arms with glee. It made Angie’s heart crunch. She looked away briefly to hide her emotion. It was so close to the surface still. She’d allowed herself to begin to feel, and what was being released from her heart knew no bounds yet. It was as though she’d opened a dam that had been building since she was a child.
Yes, I think I do love this big, tough, and gentle cop. Love him with all my heart.
He glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Wind is making my nose run.”
He cocked a brow, set Jack-O back down, picked up his bag, and took her hand.
Holgersen came up and bear hugged Maddocks, slapping him hard on the back. Then he turned to hug Angie, but he stopped short of touching her, looking awkward instead.
“Hey,” she said, setting down her own bag. She stepped forward and gave the weirdo a hug. It was a first for Angie, but damn, it did feel good once she’d done it. She stepped back, and Holgersen sniffed and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Good to see yous, Pallorino.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“Vee-hickle is this way.” He scooped up Jack-O as he spoke. “Thought I’d give you guys a ride.”
They walked with Holgersen to where he’d parked.
“So all them new girls that came off that ship is going to be okay?” he said.
“As okay as they can ever be,” Maddocks said. “They’ll go home, be returned to their families. If Kaganov goes for a plea, Takumi’s bunch could use his testimony to nail the Montreal club and the one down in Vegas, plus the one in New York. From there international law enforcement can start working on the Prague bunch. Going to be a long process, but it’s gathering its own steam now.”
As they walked along the harbor front, a yellow sea taxi chugged by. Colors in the harbor seemed crisp, bright, the air clear. Gulls swirled and squawked above as a young boy dangled a fishing line over the edge of the wall. The Empress Hotel across from the waterfront gleamed like a welcoming grand old lady. Angie felt as if a veil had come off winter—and her world. It was as though she was seeing—properly seeing—things for the first time in full focus. In all kinds of complex beauty. Yes, there was sadness in her soul. But also hope. This, she thought, is what it feels to be properly human, whole.
She’d found out who she was—where she’d come from.
To do it, she’d had to go all the way back to the beginning, look into the eyes of a monster, and rather than kill him, she’d managed to conquer her rage demon. She’d gotten rid of the ghosts that had resided down in the basement of her subconscious.
“So I hear them bones they’s been finding down there under Kaganov’s old fish pens has gone to be tested for DNA. Several bodies so far, I hear.” He shot a glance at Angie. “Including a little one.”
She nodded. “All found in an undersea area north of the pens, actually. They’d been washed gradually by a cold current into a deep gulley filled with sediment. It’s going to be a complex and protracted operation to properly search the seabed down there and then to try to identify all the remains.”
“Those salmon that Kaganov used to farm in that area—they were sent to market all those years ago after they’d been eating human flesh?”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
“I s’pose it’s like that pig farmer, Pickton, eh? Him feeding human meat to his swine before selling them for bacon. People eating that bacon not knowing it was made of bits of missing women.” Holgersen stopped beside his vehicle, beeped the lock. “That was one massive forensics operation out at the pig farm, too. And all them Hells Angels ties to him as well. Guess it’ll be some times before they turn over any of the remains from the fish pen, eh?”
“Yeah,” Angie said. “And then families can finally lay loved ones to rest.”