“Pretty tough to believe that about your own family,” said Laura, softly.

“I know. I felt like I was in shock when I found out. Bonnie moved out of the house early as well. I thought it was because of the psychological abuse and the physical beatings. But the signs were there ... and I missed them.”

Laura saw the recrimination and guilt on Jack’s face as he spoke.

“In any other family,” he continued, “I would have suspected it immediately, but with my own, the idea was incomprehensible. Bonnie lived alone in a trailer near Rocky Mountain House and took in all the stray animals that crossed her path. Classic symptoms, yet I missed it.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” said Laura. “It is normal not to believe—not to want to believe, something like that even exists. Let alone with your own family.”

Jack brushed her comment aside and continued, “Bonnie died of alcoholism a couple of years ago ... another classic symptom. I wanted so much to put him in jail, but none of the victims I found were willing to testify. The real sad thing is, all his victims lived with such a deep shame that they couldn’t find the courage to come forward. As a result, dozens upon dozens of other children were molested.”

“Where was your mother through all this?” asked Laura.

“That is something else I’m ashamed of. When Bonnie first told me, I naively imagined that my mother didn’t know. Of course she knew. All this couldn’t take place in a home without her knowing. Later I discovered that when they babysat children, my father would make his selection and my mother would take the other children for a walk so they wouldn’t see what was happening.”

“What kind of mother could allow that to happen?” said Laura, shaking her head.

“When I first found out and confronted my father, he was afraid he would be arrested. I actually made him write letters of apology. My mother threatened to make life hell on my sisters if I took any action. She reminded me that Bonnie was an emotional wreck and basically implied that if I did anything, her suicide would be on my hands.”

“God ... that’s awful.”

“Tell me about it. Now my father is in really poor health. A good lawyer could delay the proceedings until he dies. Hopefully I can celebrate that day soon. When the bastard first realized I couldn’t put him in jail, he would mock me on the phone. He loved to make people angry. I guess it made him feel powerful.”

“You said you had a brother?”

“He died several years ago. He left home when he was fourteen. Later, he educated himself, got married, had children and a good life. The odd thing is, despite having received the most severe beatings from my father, my brother still went through life trying to gain his respect and admiration.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’ve heard of psychological testing where they would temporarily take away a baby monkey’s mother and replace it with a fake one, wrapped in barbed wire. Despite the pain, the baby monkey would still cling to it. My brother was like that. When he turned forty, he died of cardiac arrhythmia. He had continued to befriend and socialize with my father right up to his death, unaware, of course, that my father had an eye on his children as well.”

“Where’s your father now?” asked Laura.

“Lives in Red Deer. My mother is in a nursing home there. She has Alzheimer’s. Maybe nature’s way of letting her forget what kind of a mother she was.”

“People keeping secrets all those years.”

“Yeah. Think how many lives were ruined because nobody had the courage to come forward.”

Laura reflected upon what she had just been told and looked at Jack and softly said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me with such a personal thing. For sharing your secret with me.”

“These things should not be kept secret. That is exactly what the perverts want. Everyone should know. It’s the only way to stop them.”

“I agree, but still, thanks for telling me. Helps me understand you better.”

“We’re operators. We’d better understand each other,” said Jack, seriously.

Laura nodded in agreement and said, “I know. Good friends,” she said, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Now stand up.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jack slowly got to his feet. Laura wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry to unload that on you.”

“It’s like you said. It’s not the victims who should be ashamed. Now, two things,” said Laura, as she let go.

“What’s that?”

“Number one, pour each of us another rum. Number two, let’s figure out how to nail these Russians. I’m with you, whatever it takes.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. “As soon as we’re back in Canada, I’m going to notify Interpol. We’ve got a couple of phone tolls from the Russians to Sweden. Shouldn’t take them long to put a stop to things on that end.”

Laura was silent as Jack poured each of them another drink and said, “What about Quaile? You know he won’t let us work on them when we return.”

“Maybe he will when we get the proof we need. As Donato said, Cuba is only the meeting spot. Nobody needs to know. We can work with Commercial Crime during the day like Quaile wants, then go after the Russians at night. Like you suggested, we’ll work with VPD, too.”

“I’m with you,” said Laura. “Let’s get these guys ... whatever it takes.”

“Thanks,” said Jack, quietly.

chapter fourteen

It was Tuesday morning at eight o’clock when Jack and Laura presented themselves in Quaile’s office.

“You two have a nice vacation?” Quaile asked.

“It was okay,” replied Jack.

“So, it is apparent that you wasted your time, along with the office budget, by following the Russians to Costa Rica.”

Jack and Laura glanced at each other, and Jack said, “We heard from a reliable source since our return that they’re both involved in human smuggling. Abducting young girls or women to be used as prostitutes. I’ve already notified the authorities in Sweden, where we heard they are obtaining two young girls.”

“Really? Prostitution, you say? A week ago you said it was cocaine,” replied Quaile.

“I may have been wrong about ...”

“Or they might be doing that, too,” said Laura.

“Human smuggling, prostitution, whatever; that’s for Drug Section, Immigration, or City Vice. Not our concern. Now that you’re back, are you ready to go to work on what you should be working on?”

Laura was about to protest, but caught the slight movement of Jack’s head, indicating his disapproval.

“Well?” asked Quaile.

“Ready to go to work,” said Laura, sullenly.

Jack noticed that Quaile’s eyes remained fixed on him longer than was normal. He knows something ... Cuba?

“And you, Jack? Ready to apply yourself now?”

“You bet.”

“Good. Commercial Crime is having a general debriefing at one o’clock this afternoon. It will be a good time for you to catch up on what is going on.”

Later that morning, Jack was at his desk reading when Quaile came in and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Just updating myself on legislation and case law concerning fraudulent transactions relating to contracts and trade.”

“Good,” said Quaile, before leaning over and whispering, “Perhaps you should also brush up on the Motor Vehicle Act.”

“That would make more sense than studying French,” replied Jack.

Laura saw the angry look on Quaile’s face as he stomped out of their office. “What was that all about?”

Jack sighed and said, “I think he was just telling me that I’m being transferred to Highway Patrol. We may not have much time. We need someone inside one of the massage parlours to help us connect the Russians with the prostitution.”