“Right you are, Dwayne. You’ll need to unhook my wings so I can put my coat on. There are two little clips …”

He backed away. “I’m not touching you. The Chief would kill me if he finds out. As it is, he’s giving me an oral quiz in two weeks on Prohibited Weapons. I’m going to have to study the Criminal Code, Section 84, Firearms and Other Weapons. All because of you.”

I managed not to laugh. “Well, it’s only one section, right? It’s not like you have to memorize the Firearms Act.” Redfern knew all along Dwayne was wrong. Redfern was even more wrong when he tried to blame me. He’d pay for that. “One’s got nothing to do with the other. Unhook me so we can get out of here.”

His radio squawked and Dwayne turned away like I was a terrorist with a wiretap on his shoulder radio. “Yeah, Chief? Yes, I have her. We’re leaving momentarily. She wants me to unclip her wings, but I didn’t touch her. Roger that.”

I couldn’t hear Redfern’s words, but the intent came through loud and clear. I’d been at the end of that tone a time or two myself.

“Okay, Chief. Roger.”

Dwayne came at me with steely determination in his eyes. “Hold still. The Chief says it’s okay for me to do this.”

I turned my back to him and rolled my eyes. “Well, as long as it’s okay with the Chief.” While his cold fingers fumbled at my bare back, I glanced at the ceiling. The disco ball turned slowly, catching the light with each spin.

“Here.” Dwayne thrust the wings into my hands. “Now get your coat and let’s go. Make sure you tell the Chief I didn’t take any liberties with your body.”

“Roger that.” I tossed the wings on the table near the coffee urn. “There’s a ladder lying against the wall under the table, Dwayne. Get it out. We have to take the disco ball with us.”

He looked up. “No way. What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s evidence. There could be some pictures in there that might explain what happened to Faith Davidson. I don’t want to leave it here in case the murderer gets his hands on it.”

“You’re loony, Bliss.” But he crawled under the table and dragged the ladder out. He set it up, then stood looking at me. “You do know the ball won’t fit in the back of the 4 X 4?”

“Okay, we’ll remove the contents and leave the rest. Give me your penknife. I need to cut the cable.” Wait. That sounded wrong, even to me. There was some electricity going to the motor that turned the ball, or it wouldn’t revolve, right?

Dwayne and I stared at each other. I looked at my watch. Ten minutes left until the lights went out. I didn’t want to take the chance of cutting a live electrical cord in the dark. I knew as much about electricity as I did about spring-loaded nail guns.

I climbed the first few rungs. “Let’s have that blade, Dwayne. I’ll slice through the ball without cutting the cord.”

“I can’t let you have my knife. It’s against regulations to let a civilian touch police-issued equipment.”

That suited me fine. “Then you go up, Dwayne. Don’t try to save the ball. Just hack through it and rip it apart. Anything inside will fall out onto the floor.”

I saw by the expression on his face that he wasn’t going to do it.

“Did I mention that the lights are on a timer and will cut out at seven o’ clock? That’s six minutes from now.”

Dwayne unsnapped his coat and threw it to me. Holding the blade in front of him and spouting profanity unbefitting an officer of the law, he ran up the ladder. He stabbed the disco ball once, then again and again. Each time he had to withdraw the blade from the revolving sphere before he overbalanced.

“Slice, slice!” I yelled. “Stab and slice.” Damn it. If I had my bayonet, that ball would be split and gutted by now. I dropped his coat on top of my wings.

Three minutes to go. He climbed another rung and wrapped his arms around the ball. The motor grinded in protest. “Ouch, ouch, this thing is made of glass! I’m getting shredded.”

What a drama queen. “It’s plastic, Dwayne. Put your knife away and pull the edges apart.”

“These twinkle lights are burning my neck.” He dropped his knife, just missing my head.

“I doubt it. They’re LED. The spotlights might get a little warm, though. About sixty seconds left, Dwayne.”

The motor squealed as the disco ball disgorged its fifteen-year-old secret. A dozen squares of heavy paper dropped to the floor. I ran around picking them up. There wasn’t time to take a close look, but other than a few smudges of colour, the surfaces seemed to be mainly white. Since my chest was mostly bare cleavage, I had no handy spot for storage. I lifted my skirt and thrust the Polaroids down the front of my tights.

The disco ball began to turn again, its tattered and torn facets still sparkling and glinting under the spotlights. No time to mourn. I called up to Dwayne, “You can come down now. The lights will go off any second. I’ll grab my coat and we can …”

“Shhh. Somebody’s out there.” He descended two rungs at a time. “A snowmobile stopped on River Road and I saw the driver head into the trees outside.”

His hand went to his gun. “It may be someone wanting to get out of the storm, but get into the hall, fast …”

A helmet-clad form suddenly appeared at the glass, raised the face shield, and peered in at us. Just as the lights went out, I saw the figure take a step back and raise one arm. There was a deafening explosion as glass shattered and flew inward.

Beside me, Dwayne cried out and slumped to his knees.

CHAPTER

forty-eight

“Dwayne! Are you okay? Get up!”

“Can’t breathe — got hit in the vest. Open … door to the hallway. Need … to find cover.”

I did as he asked, and helped drag him out of the atrium. Faint alien light shone from the plant rooms, turning the corridor a sickly green. Dwayne crawled toward the closest doorway — the women’s washroom. The sound of smashing glass from the atrium sent my heart rate into triple digits.

“No! We’ll be trapped.” The washrooms had solid walls.

I flung open the door to Plant Room F. We were assaulted by warm, humid air that smelled of earth and vegetation. The ventilation system whirred and the lighting tracks hummed, helping to mask our movements. I hoped. Chest-high, broad-leafed plants filled the space, and there were narrow paths between them for the workers to walk along. Tables lined the room, with more plants standing against them.

The intruder had a gun. I had … what? A bottle of herbicide spray? I needed to find a weapon, but I saw nothing else other than flower pots, bags of earth, and a few hand trowels.

“Get under this table closest to the door,” Dwayne gasped. “The door opens against it. It’s my best chance of taking the guy down.”

Was he nuts? I pushed aside some plants and helped Dwayne crawl under the table. I followed him, then pulled the pots back into place. There wasn’t much light under the table, but I tried to get a closer look at Dwayne.

He wasn’t bleeding, but he held his right arm at an awkward angle. “The bullet is stuck in your vest, Dwayne.”

He looked down and groaned. “The impact may have broken some ribs. Radio…. My coat is in the atrium.” He managed to pull his gun out but couldn’t lift his arm.

Where the hell was my cell? My costume had no pockets … it was in my tote in the washroom. Shit! “Dwayne. Do you have your cell on you?”

He felt around with his left hand and pulled it out. I snatched it from him. “What’s your security code? Type it in!” I whispered. I tapped the texting app. “What’s Redfern under?”

“I don’t text him. Let me have it. I’ll phone him.”

Thank God, Redfern answered right away. “Chief, there’s an intruder at the greenhouse. I’ve been shot. We’re in the plant room nearest the women’s washroom. Under a table.”