Queen's Park

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“I’m uneasy when 140 kilos up and disappears,” Lane said and glanced at the line in the downtown coffee shop. It stretched to the door. He took a grateful sip from his cappuccino.

Lisa said, “Just started digging on this one. Where are you, anyway?”

“Having a coffee,” Lane said and knew she’d be sitting at her desk. Her RCMP uniform would be ironed just right. Her blonde hair would be cut short with every hair in place. She would be sitting at attention. Ever since he’d known Lisa, she’d carried herself like a soldier. “The Swatsky case makes me feel like we’re always playing catch up. Something could be happening right now. If we’re lucky, we’ll find out about it in a month.”

“That’s one reason why we keep in touch. Gives us a chance to catch up. What’s your next step?” Lisa said.

“Think I’ll see the grandmother. She was in the house when it happened,” Lane said.

“What about the boy?” Lisa said.

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