Page 5 of These Shattered Memories

I tap my pen against the file in front of me. It’s a new case, something connected to wire fraud in two major banks, but I was barely paying attention when Kane briefed our team on it this morning.

My eyes fall on him now, hunched over on his desk across from me, doing the daily crossword with his fountain pen, a deep frown etched into his forehead.

“Six letters, another word for approached,” he says, blinking up at me.

At only forty, he’s already a head detective in our department, but I’ve known him for years.

After the Vasilyev assignment, he took one look at me—probably saw the sadness and guilt I could never speak of—and pulled me under his wing.

I never told him why, never mentioned Rowan, and he never pushed.

But from that moment on, he always made sure there was a seat for me at his dinner table, alongside his wife, Tanya, and their two beautiful girls.

“Neared?” I try.

He writes it down and his lips spread into a wide grin. “Nice,” he says, “You should really try your hand at these. Good for the brain.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, absent-mindedly.

My mind won’t stop ticking. I still didn’t manage to get any decent sleep last night. Whenever I did begin to drift, I was plunged into dreams and memories I’d rather not remember. Memories of cold nights, seedy clubs, and almost rotten food.

Around us, our floor moves in its usual panicked flurry. The voices clamour on top of each other, mixed with buzzing phones and files slapping onto desks. The permanent scent of black coffee clings to the air and seeps into any porous surface.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that file if you keep staring.”

I snap my eyes to Kane again and he’s leaning back in his swivel chair, dark eyebrow arched.

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been off since we closed the Whitfield case last week.”

“It’s nothing,” I say too quickly, and he looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

I want to tell him the truth. I need to tell someone before I go insane trying to figure out if I’m making the right decision, or I’m ruining my life. Although, I think I already know the answer to that.

“Do you have a second?” I look past him, my eyes falling on Chief Anders walking down the hallway with two uniformed officers. “Outside?”

Kane frowns, but he stands without question, leading the way out of the open area of the office and to the elevators in silence.

We make our way to a balcony that looks out at Demont River a few yards away.

Today, the water is grey and stormy, moving at a breakneck pace as it rushes to the ocean that’s visible on the horizon.

The OCU is strategically positioned near the bridge that divides the city. The Scarlet Ravens to the south and The Snake in the north.

The clans are mostly symbolic now and operate underground, but before the peace agreement brokered by Elias Moreau and Zaina Vasilyev, Senna was pretty much lawless.

Now, their lawbreaking is more covert and as hard as the police try to stop them, there are too many factions between us, too many of us pursuing our own goals that align with the clans.

We can’t stop the clans because the people that are in charge don’t really want to.

A cold wind blows past us as Kane pulls out a box of cigarettes and pops one into his mouth. Tanya doesn’t like him smoking, and she always asks me to watch him, so I arch an eyebrow as he lights it up.

“I have a feeling I might need it,” he says, voice muffled. He holds out the red and white box. “You want one?”

I look at it, licking my lips. I haven’t had a cigarette since I was twenty and I’ve been craving one for days now, but I still shake my head.

“Better man than me. What’s up? You look like you haven’t had a wink of sleep in days.”

I turn away from him, looking at the river. “What if I told you I’m mixed up in something that could get really bad, really fast?”

Kane frowns. “Bad? Are you in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

“Look, if you need money, I can help. I know how these things go. I can—”

I shake my head, holding out my hand. “No, it’s nothing like that,” I say quickly. “It’s about Halle’s case.”

I watch his face fall. “Did the lawyer come back with anything?”

I shake my head. When Halle was arrested, Kane was the first person I called. We went to the station together, and he managed to speak to one of his contacts there to make sure they treated Halle well. I could barely speak that night.

“No, nothing. Nothing from the police, either.”

“Sometimes no news is good news. Halle is a fighter. She’ll get through this,” he says, voice gentle.

I try for a smile, looking at his thick brown hair that has begun to grey and close shaved beard. It’s clear that he’s been hardened by life, but he still has kind eyes. “I know. Thanks.”

He blows out a thick stream of smoke. “So, what’s this really about? Why do you look like you’re going to be sick?”

The sounds of a busy city float around us, car horns, doors closing and voices clamouring. I let out a deep breath, warm air escaping me. “Two weeks ago, I got an anonymous email saying any evidence against her will go away if I find out who is running a new drug on the streets.”

His eyes flash with something like confusion. “New drug?”

I nod. “Yeah. Goes by the name Haze.”

A deep frown settles on his face. “Why would they want you to look into it? What’s the catch?”

“Not sure. Just that I need to give them a name.”

Kane takes another quick drag of his cigarette. The smell makes my stomach turn on itself. “How do you know this isn’t some kind of set-up?”

I swallow. He’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“I don’t,” I say honestly. “But Halle is the only family I’ve got. They sent me all the evidence against her, which means they might have a way to make it disappear. I have to take the chance.”

“Shit…” he trails, then meets my eyes carefully. “I hate to say this, but what if—what if she did it?”

I’m shaking my head before he can finish the sentence. “She didn’t,” I insist.

You don’t know that for a fact, an annoying voice whispers at the back of my head. I push it away as he sighs, nodding. “Okay, okay. Understood,” he says calmly. “But why would they want to know who is behind Haze? Seems like just a passing drug to me.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.

Maybe they have big clientele, and a new player is cutting into their profit.

Maybe they want to make a big arrest? I don’t know.

It may be non-addictive, but I think it’s not as harmless as people are making it seem.

I think there have been at least five deaths connected to it. ”

He nods, processing through the information. “Okay, great, you’ve got somewhere to start. What else do you have?”

I purse my lips, that familiar prickle starting on my scalp again.

Wind blows through my black t-shirt, goosebumps sprouting on my skin, but I feel hot all of a sudden.

I look into Kane’s eyes, my heart racing.

He’s been watching out for me for years and I know I can trust him, but if this goes wrong and he knows the truth, he could go down too.

“Alex, you can tell me anything. I’ll always have your back, no matter what.”

My chest tightens, picturing his two little girls and Tanya. Guilt eats at me. I can’t put Kane at risk by getting him involved in this. I can’t tell him about Rowan, not until I have something concrete at least and I’m hoping tonight gives me that.

I smile, shaking my head. “Not much,” I tell him.

He nods slowly. “Okay, I can help you look into it, ask around in the streets. Someone must have heard something.”

My chest tightens. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be a hero, Alex. Two heads are better than one, right?” He gives me a conspiratorial grin.

Well, three heads if we include Rowan, but I keep my mouth shut. “Thanks, Kane. Really, I appreciate it.”

“Of course, I always have your back. You know that.” He slaps my back, and I nod, praying that I’m not making a huge mistake.

***

I haven’t come to Canning in a long time. I barely remember the last time I was here, maybe on some case a year ago which we closed quickly. Somehow, the neighbourhood across the river makes my skin itch and my nerves spike. It’s all too familiar, the streets, the people, the scents.

It’s not all bad either. There are nice places here and good people, but I never experienced that part of it.

All I remember is Jim and Irina’s dilapidated house, the black mould that spread from the bathroom and crept into our room like tendrils from a horror movie monster.

I remember the way Jim got too handsy when he drank too much.

I remember Irina’s cackle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

I remember running in the night, Halle’s hand in mine.

I swallow, pushing away those memories and focusing on the cool evening air blowing through my hair.

The entry to Spirito is down a dark alleyway that smells suspiciously of piss and cheap beer.

It’s Scarlet Raven territory and you can spot them in the streets, milling around parking lots and service stations marked by the raven tattoos on their necks, faces, and arms.

The Ravens are different from the Snakes. They like to make their allegiance clear, showing pride in their side of the city despite the growing poverty they continue to suffer from and exploit at the same time.