Brad scratched behind Lobo’s ears. He made a low rumbling sound, then rewarded Brad with another slobbery kiss.
“How was dinner?”
Brad made a face.
Annie laughed. “I had salmon and rice.”
Brad gave her the finger. “Milk … sha … ke.”
Annie grinned. “Tomorrow. Smuggling Lobo in was enough for one day.”
There was a knock at the door. Briscoe strode in and glanced at Brad.
“You look like shit.”
“Briscoe,” Annie said.
Briscoe shrugged. “He does.” He grabbed a chair and picked up the TV remote.
“Really?” Annie asked.
“Not like we will have a conversation with him.” He clicked through the channels, found the one he wanted and sat back. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a beer. “You can’t have one. Doctor’s orders.”
Brad’s eyes were wide, and he flipped the bird.
Briscoe took a gulp of the beer. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
The theme music for the evening news came on. Briscoe increased the volume.
“CFCN Evening News with Sadie Andrus.”
The screen switched from the station logo to Sadie.
“Good evening, and welcome to the evening news. I’m Sadie Andrus. Today, Calgary Police held a news conference and provided further details on the kidnapping of the mayor’s nephew, Michael Trant, and his rescue by Detective Brad Coulter. We’ll take you to a portion of the news conference with Deputy Chief Archer.”
The screen changed to Archer at a podium with the Calgary Police flag in the background.
“Two days ago, Detective Bradley Coulter was taken hostage by a killer. While being held, Coulter was severely assaulted, including the repeated use of a cattle prod. Despite injuries from the shocks, a broken nose and jaw, Coulter freed himself from the rope that held him to a chair. In the ensuing fight, Coulter recovered a gun the suspect had dropped. As the suspect fired on Coulter, he shot back, striking the suspect three times. The suspect died at the scene. The heroic efforts of Coulter saved the life of Michael Trant. The suspect was also responsible for the string of murders over the past few weeks. Coulter is recovering in the hospital.”
Archer paused and shuffled his notes.
“The suspect died on scene,” Archer continued. “We regret to say that the suspect was Calgary Police Sergeant, Caterina Toscana. Detectives are still working to piece together the events that led Sergeant Toscana to commit the murders.”
The screen changed to a video of the Foothills Hospital and a stretcher being rushed down the hall through a sea of blue. A framed picture in the corner showed Sadie.
“The video shows a severely injured Detective Coulter as he was rushed to the trauma room,” Sadie said. “Deputy Chief Archer may be understating the lengths Detective Coulter went to rescue Michael Trant. He nearly gave his life in the rescue. If it hadn’t been for the timely intervention of paramedics, Coulter would have died.”
The screen switched back to a full image of Andrus. “Police are unwilling to discuss their previous manhunt for Coulter, although it is clear he had nothing to do with the string of murders. Considering Coulter’s role in concluding these murders, perhaps he is owed an apology by the Deputy Chief. We certainly need a detailed account of the events.”
The screen returned to Andrus.
“With the biting cold and snow, streets were a mess with the city seemingly unaware there’d be snow again this winter. Efforts to clear the roads started too late and were insufficient. City police reported over one hundred and fifty accidents during rush hour this morning. So far tonight, there have been over one hundred during the afternoon rush hour.”
Briscoe decreased the volume.
“Brad deserves an apology,” Briscoe mimicked with a high, squeaky voice. “For doing his fucking job. I need another beer.”
Just after seven, Sturgeon stepped into the room and glared at Briscoe. “What the heck. I got frisked before I came in and played twenty questions on why I was here, and you’re drinking beer. Even when I showed my gold badge, the constable wasn’t impressed.”
Briscoe grinned and waved his beer. “That’s because your gold badge doesn’t carry as much weight as mine. Besides, he works for me.”
“Why the security? Hero boy isn’t in any danger.”
“Just from the nurses.”
Lobo popped up his head.
Sturgeon nodded. “I get it now.” He set a large container on the night table.
Brad cocked his head.
“Extra-large chocolate milkshake from Peters’ Drive-In.”
Brad’s eyes widened.
“Yup. Who’s your real best friend? Not only did my team disprove the ballistics, I’m the first one to bring you authentic food. You need to let it thaw so you don’t pop out your jaw sucking on the thick milkshake.”
Brad reached for the container. Annie pulled it away. “Weren’t you listening? Jeez.”
Briscoe stood. “I gotta get home to Elaine and the kids. Too many days since I’ve seen them, and I’m out of beer. Not that the boys care if their pops is there or not.” Briscoe winked. “Take care, rookie.”
“Wait for me,” Annie said.
“Wha … ’bout … ’obo?” Brad asked.
“He gets to do a sleepover,” Briscoe said.
“The nurses will have a fit,” Sturgeon said.
Briscoe nodded toward the door. “I’ve got guys posted outside all night. When Lobo needs a walk, they’ll take him out. You owe me.”
Briscoe and Annie left.
Brad stared at Sturgeon. “Ball … ist … ics.”
“Ah, yes.” Sturgeon grinned. “You want to know about my team’s brilliance. You already knew the other evidence was circumstantial and weak. Nothing you’d ever be convicted with. But the ballistics was another matter. With the ballistics match, all the other evidence supported you as a killer.”
“Not … my … gun.”
Sturgeon cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, and no. It was your gun frame, just not your barrel.”
“Re …” Brad swallowed with difficulty. “Replaced.”
“Yup. I remember that.” Sturgeon set a photo of two gun barrels on the table in front of Brad. He pointed at the top barrel.
