Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

locked into eternal repeat. Her terror at realizing that she was all that stood between groups of potentially violent demonstrators. Harris aiming a Molotov cocktail at Dave Evans and Jane Reynolds. And on top of the fear still churning in her stomach there was a layer of fury. Her own mother could have warned them. Yet chose not to. Out of nowhere she thought of Christa. Guilt joined the toxic brew of emotions.
    She’d watched sunbeams caress the white wooden slats on her bedroom window, and wondered, not for the first time, if she were cut out to be a cop. She didn’t ever want to be so frightened again. If she quit the department now, she could go back to Victoria. Get a job for the fall while waiting for the winter term to start. She couldn’t stay in Trafalgar, not having failed at being a police officer. They’d whisper behind her back, say she was too weak, too
female
, to cut it.
    The phone rang and she grabbed it before the first ring died away.
    “We’ve a break in the Montgomery case. You want to be in on the interview?”
    “You bet I do.”
    “Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”
    “Count on it.”
    She flew into the shower. No time to braid her hair, so she fastened it with a butterfly clip. She put on jeans and a T-shirt and was running downstairs when she heard Sylvester barking at a car coming up the driveway.
    “What’s up?” she said, climbing into the SUV.
    A grin touched the edges of Winters’ mouth. She thought his eyes might be sparkling—but that had to be a reflection of the rising sun.
    “Bassing is in custody in Vancouver, and we have Montgomery’s watch.”
    “Great.”
    “I’m taking the watch to Mrs. Montgomery for a positive identification, and at ten I’m interviewing Harris. I thought you might want to be in on both those events.”
    Her dark night of the soul passed. “Should I go back and put on my uniform?”
    “You’re fine.” He navigated the turning circle. The morning sun played with the green leaves of the trees. A hawk watched them from the top of a dying pine. Andy was always saying that tree had to come down, but he never quite got around to doing anything about it.
    Ellie Montgomery identified the watch as belonging to her late husband. She told them that the coroner had released the body, and the funeral would be on Friday. If Sergeant Winters could attend it would be an
enormous
comfort to her. Smith hid a smile as he mumbled something about condolences and literally tripped over an untied shoelace in his rush to get out the door.
    Winters sat directly across from Harris in the interview room. His lawyer, Mr. Parker, new in town, and apparently newly out of law school as well, took the chair beside Harris. The lawyer wore a grey pinstriped suit with crisp white shirt and blue silk tie shot through with threads the same shade of grey as his suit. By the time this interview, in this small un-air-conditioned room, was over, the shirt wouldn’t be so crisp. Smith leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to look like she belonged here.
    “I was exercising my rights as a citizen to express my opinion in full view of the public and media,” Harris said, once Winters had gone through the standard notifications and switched on the tape recorder, “when the lady…the officer here present, attacked me with no provocation whatsoever. I couldn’t understand her actions at the time, but later I realized that she mistook me for someone throwing a gasoline bomb. Could have been real nasty. Fortunately the bomb did no damage, and on reflection I’ve decided not to sue her for using unnecessary force.”
    Smith almost swallowed her tongue. Winters had warned her that she was only to listen, not to react in any way. To say nothing.
    “Your client,” Winters said to Parker, “is under the impression that I want to talk to him about the events of last night.”
    “You don’t?” Parker looked up from the yellow legal pad on which he was making notes.
    “Someone else will be around later to talk about the demonstration.” Winters took the plastic evidence bag containing Reginald Montgomery’s watch out of his briefcase and threw it onto the table. “Where’d you get this, Brian?”
    Harris shrugged. “It’s a watch. Never seen it before.”
    “It was found in your truck.”
    “It isn’t mine.”
    “Can you explain what it was doing in your truck?”
    “You planted it.”
    “Sergeant, what’s the significance of this