He went into the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp washcloth. “Come on, now, Bliss. Everything’s fine. You have a few little injuries, nothing a couple of stitches won’t cure. We have Andrea Bains in custody. She’s being processed right now.”

I wiped my cheeks and was horrified at the mess on the cloth. I had forgotten the face paint. God, I hope no one took pictures. “She told me she killed Sophie because Sophie was going to come forward and tell you that Mike killed Faith. She said it was ‘accidental’. Then she shot Kelly Quantz because he tried to blackmail Mike.”

“That’s about what we figured. Did she happen to mention why she was after you?”

“I threatened Mike’s political career or something equally lame. Do you know about the Polaroids in the glitter ball?” I wiped the makeup off my eyes.

“Uh, no.” Redfern disappeared again and returned with another damp cloth. He scrubbed at my chin. “Sorry to wipe off the lizard tongue. It was kind of hot.”

I told him what Chico had done on grad night and just remembered today. “Andrea heard Chico tell me during the fundraiser this afternoon. That’s the main reason she came back. Finding me there was just a bonus, she said. And Dwayne wasn’t important.” I stopped and we listened to the loud groaning from the other side of the room.

I’d like to say I have a flair for the dramatic, but the truth is, I just remembered the Polaroids because they were scratching my sensitive parts. I reached into my tights and withdrew them, one at a time, enjoying the expression on Redfern’s face. “How many is that? Ten? I thought there were more.” I fished around and, sure enough, two more had slid down, almost to my knees.

“I didn’t have a chance to look at them. Do they show anything helpful?”

He looked at each one in turn, before passing them back to me. “Maybe a photography expert could raise some images, but I doubt anything will show up clearly, even if we get the funds for it. Unless one of them showed Mike Bains actually shoving Faith Davidson into the bathroom sink, they wouldn’t help in court anyway.”

“I was married to a murderer for eight years. Thank God he traded down for an older model. I may be scarred for life, though.”

Redfern actually smiled. “I doubt it. But you will have two new physical scars to add to the one you got last summer saving my life.” He ran his fingers along the still-sensitive area on my forearm.

“You saved mine tonight, Redfern. Guess that makes us even.”

He took my hand. “I’m sorry I left you here so long by yourself. I wanted to call on Mr. Bains and tell him the news about his wife’s arrest for two murders and two attempted murders. He’s admitting nothing, and I doubt his wife will confess he was aware of her actions. Their residence is being searched right now in case there are more prohibited weapons. If so, we have him on that anyway.”

“But she told me he was responsible for Faith’s death! Can’t you arrest him for that?”

“I need some evidence, something more than hearsay and speculation. I’ll speak to the Crown Attorney in the morning. We’ll decide how to proceed. In any case, I’m quite sure his political career is over.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Agreed. But the truth is, we cops bag ’em, we don’t convict ’em. All I can do is present the Crown with as much evidence as possible. The rest is up to the prosecutor.”

I remembered something else Andrea had said, something that had barely registered at the time. “Faith was pregnant. With Mike’s child. That’s why he killed her. I don’t believe it was an accident.”

Redfern didn’t look surprised at this news bulletin. What else did he know that I didn’t? “We’ll never know for sure, but would Sophie lie for Mike all these years if she watched him cold-bloodedly murder her classmate?”

I threw myself back onto my pillow. “You’re right. We’ll never know the facts, will we? Never.”

“I have one question for you.” His navy eyes were serious.

“Yes?” Shit, what now?

“Have we reverted to using each other’s last names? I only ask because I don’t want to get into trouble again.”

I thought about that. “What do we care what other people think? We’re comfortable using last names, right? It’s natural for us. It doesn’t mean we’re putting up emotional barriers. When I say ‘Neil’, I’m thinking ‘Redfern’ anyway.”

“Okay by me. You’ll always be my Cornwall.”

I reached up and ran my hands through his spikes. They looked sharp, but were anything but. Our lips touched and heat surged through my chilled and battered body. I really think somebody should write a research paper on the effects of adrenaline on sexual arousal. I’d sign up for that study.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and when we looked up, a figure stood on our side of the curtain. It was Dr. Fingers, and he looked official. Gloved, gowned, and — no way was he touching me. I pulled the skimpy hospital blanket over my chest.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Bliss. I was in the OR with an emergency C-section. Just a few stitches in that arm, and I’ll have a look at your leg. Then you can get out of here.”

“Hi Ed,” Redfern said. “Have you heard? We found our killer. Killers, I should say, but only one of them may be convicted.”

“I was talking to Thea in the waiting room. She told me. Glad you were on hand to save your young lady, here.” His eyes twinkled icily at me through his sparkly clean glasses. I restrained myself from reaching up and placing a thumbprint on each lens.

Instead, I squeezed Redfern’s arm. “Get me a real doctor!”

He and the quack exchanged amused glances. That really ticked me off.

I grabbed Redfern’s tie and yanked his face down until it was inches from my own. “He’s a fucking gynecologist!”

CHAPTER

fifty-one

The bones of Faith and her child were laid to rest in a private glade that could only be reached by taking a well-trodden path through a dense hardwood forest. Early May sunshine streamed through the budding trees, and carpets of tiny violets spread between the graves.

There was no church service, and I was the only outsider invited to the interment. At least fifty people, including dozens of children, surrounded the open grave. One by one, a relative stepped forward and read a poem, or shared a story of Faith’s childhood. Lester opened a tattered bible and recited Psalm 23, the old version. A modest tombstone rested against a nearby birch tree, ready to set into a cement base once the soil on the grave had settled. Faith’s name and dates of birth and death were etched into the stone. And underneath: “Forever 17.” In tiny letters near the bottom, the words “and babe” were inscribed.

I pulled my sunglasses from my head and covered my eyes with them. If I had been a better friend to Faith, maybe she would have shared her secret with me, and this day would not end with her in the ground. I know I wouldn’t have married the man who impregnated her, then killed her and left her body to rot in an abandoned building. Choices, right?

The heartfelt eulogies ended. Before leaving the family to say their final goodbyes, I reached down and set a bouquet of yellow roses on the coffin. Yellow had been Faith’s favourite colour. I looked the meaning up online, and the gift of yellow roses meant friendship and caring. Goodbye, Faith. I hope you landed in a safe and happy place.

I took my time on the path, enjoying the bird sounds and smells of early spring. Hey, I didn’t hate all nature, just the parts that bite, sting, or growl. Trees were very cool, water was great, even rocks had a certain beauty as long as you didn’t turn one over. And I loved flowers, even the kinds that grew in a greenhouse.