Deadline by Craig McLay Read Free Book Online

it for himself, even if it was just his stupid car.
    There was no doubt about what had happened to Shalene Nakogee now. Her left hand was sitting in a box on his desk and the rest of her was, presumably, scattered in the woods in front of the building.
    Colin had an excellent memory for details. Not eidetic by any stretch—he didn’t remember everything—but he seemed to have a knack for remembering the small things that turned out to be important later. It was a useful skill to have when he was sitting down to write a story and his notebook was missing something he needed.
    Shortly after he had met Shalene, he had noticed the tattoo and commented on it. She told him that she had gotten it when she found out that she got into the broadcasting program. It was supposed to be a phoenix rising from the ashes, but the tattoo guy didn’t really know what a phoenix was supposed to look like and had drawn an eagle instead. The star was indicative of the fact that she planned to be one someday by hosting her own drive-time show in the morning or afternoon in someplace big, like Toronto or Vancouver. The tattoo was there to remind her that things could only get better.
    Colin pulled out his phone and dialled a familiar number. When the voice on the other end answered, he did a remarkable job of keeping the emotion out of his voice.
    “She’s dead, you stupid bastard,” Colin said. “Now get your fat ass down here and try to explain to me why this isn’t your fault.”

-13-
    C olin emerged into the lobby of police headquarters six hours later trying to get the ink stains out from under his nails.
    They had taken his fingerprints for elimination purposes when they dusted the package. He had never been fingerprinted before. It wasn’t a horribly unpleasant experience, but it was an unsettling one. They had told him that his print card would be destroyed when the investigation was concluded, but he had his doubts about that. Colin was not predisposed to have an overwhelmingly positive and trusting perspective on law enforcement.
    After being printed, he’d been forced to sit and wait for three hours in one of the windowless interrogation rooms until he could explain his story to the lead investigator. Fortunately, it wasn’t Betts. The lead detective on the case was a short, blonde woman named Giordino, and Colin got the distinct impression that she was none too pleased with being stuck with Detective George Betts for a partner.
    In fact, they had only gotten 15 minutes into the interview before Giordino calmly but firmly asked Betts to leave because he kept interjecting and cutting off Colin’s responses. Colin’s radar had perked up at that point. Maybe he wasn’t the only person who thought Betts was a useless sack of shit.
    Colin patiently explained the story of Shalene Nakogee at least six times before Giordino was satisfied, taking notes as she went. When he was done, she told him that an armed response unit had hit Devane’s apartment, but there was no one there. Devane’s face was going out on the news and every police department in the province was now looking for him. She told Colin to let them know immediately if he had any contact with Devane or remembered something that might be useful. Colin promised that he would. He got the impression that she didn’t entirely believe him when he told her that he’d opened the package without any knowledge of what might be inside and figured there was no point pissing her off if she was mulling an obstruction charge.
    Colin walked over to the desk sergeant to sign out. He’d been brought here in the back of a patrol car (another first). His own car was still parked back at his apartment. He needed to get back to school.
    “Who do I talk to about getting a ride back to the college?” he asked as he signed his name.
    The desk sergeant was a massive bald guy who looked like he inhaled steroids with the very air he breathed. His neck alone was thicker than his head. His