Page 78 of The Burnt
“Freddy. Put the gun down,” Declan ordered, but Freddy didn’t waver.
“You think you know so much, kid,” Tom sneered. “You don’t know the half of it. After I saw the article about Freddy Whitcher’s supposed death, I put two and two together. I tracked down your father and staked out his house for close to a year after you disappeared, but you never came home. I had a hunch that Milo might have said something to his little boyfriend, but you were like a ghost in the wind. And then last week when that note showed up, I knew I must have missed something.”
Tom clenched his fists and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked like he was about to explode.
“So, last week I went back to the house, I went inside and I asked your father if he’d seen his son. He started to cry, saying his son was dead, but I didn’t buy it, not for a second. I figured he must have known where you were, and I thought I could beat the information out of him. And as I beat him, I told him the truth—that the boy in the fire was your boyfriend. I shouted at him that it was Milo, not Freddy who died in that fire.It was Milo!’”
The words echoed in Declan’s head. Archie’s last words—“Tell Hunt, it was Milo.”
Tom’s face was crimson and he was panting.
Freddy laughed. “You know, there was a time when I could have learned to love my father, but we didn’t exactly part on good terms. And it might surprise you to find out that I saw you that day, the day you visited my dad last week. I was there parked on the street. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure before, but now I know it was you. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”
Declan saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Simon had pulled a gun out of his pocket. He aimed it at Freddy. Declan lunged forward and knocked Freddy to the ground as the gun went off. Everything went into slow motion. With Freddy on the floor, there was nothing to stop the bullet from passing directly from Simon’s gun into Tom’s chest. At almost the same time, Charlie leapt toward the couch, knocking the gun from Simon’s hand.
Declan quickly rose, reached into his bag then retrieved the pair of handcuffs he had taken with him to Jasper. He grabbed a hold of Simon and got his arms behind his back, securing them with the cuffs. Then he ran to Tom, who was bleeding profusely. His eyes were closed, and he had lost consciousness. The bullet had done its work, and it was clear he wasn’t going to make it.
Declan yelled to Freddy, “Give me your fucking gun!”
Freddy did as he was told, then calmly asked, “What do we do now?”
Declan pulled out his phone. “We call the police.”
* * * *
The Paddock was a hive of activity. The forensics team removed Tom’s lifeless body. Simon had been taken into custody by the RCMP. The police had just finished taking statements from Declan, Charlie and Freddy, when a familiar face entered the living room. Gary Sawchuck walked over to Declan, punched him gently on the shoulder and said, “Everywhere you go, you stir up trouble, don’t you?”
Declan shrugged. “I guess I lead a charmed life.”
“You may not even realise it, but you and your sidekick over there have helped us track down quite a bit of illegal activity.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you realise the full extent of it, though,” Sawchuck said.
Declan tilted his head, “All right. Enlighten me.”
“Well, for starters, I know you said that Tom confessed to Archie Whitcher’s murder, but we can’t prove he did it without more evidence. Fortunately there was a gun in his room with fingerprints all over it. And if we get a match on the bullet in Archie’s body, that will ensure that Archie’s death is accounted for.”
Declan nodded. “I’m sure he did it. And I’m sure he killed Milo Griffin, too.”
“Well, that one’s a little harder to prove ten years on, but one thing is for sure—with the evidence you found, we know that Freddy Whitcheriswho he says he is. Even if the picture and his testimony weren’t enough, DNA will confirm Freddy is Archie Whitcher’s son. And there’s one other death we think we might be able to attribute to Tom Semple.”
Declan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”
“Freddy told you he got in touch with Harlen Feist with proof that Simon had arranged to have his son killed. It turns out Mr Feist was dying in hospital, but took a sudden, suspicious downturn. On the afternoon of his death, he was visited by aman matching Tom Semple’s description. The nurses recalled a guy in a camelhair coat with a fedora, a scarf around his face, and sunglasses. Funny thing, we found all of those items in Tom’s room.”
“So, what’ll happen to Simon Griffin?”
Sawchuck smiled. “Another piece of good luck. Freddy made more than one copy of the USB key with the recording of Simon’s illegal dealings. Would you believe one arrived on my desk today? Freddy said that when he saw my name attached to the investigation of the death of his father in Calgary, he decided I was the one he should send the information to. A full circle moment. But that’s not all. We did a survey of the house here, and you’re not going to believe what we found in Simon’s office.”
“Another dead body?”
“Not directly, but there are human remains.”
“What the hell?”
Gary continued, “There’s a vault in Simon’s office that not only has the antiquity mentioned in the conversation on the USB key, but a whole bunch of other items, including bones and mummified remains. Altogether, they’re worth millions. And what’s more, it would appear that none of them are legal for a private collector to have. Between ordering the hit on Harlen Feist’s son, the shooting of Tom Semple and a range of charges connected to illegal possession of stolen goods, Simon Griffin is going away for a long time. So when we get back to Calgary, I owe you a drink.”
