Saguenay Suburbs
12:55 AM
Carilas Laberge, Chief Inspector of the Saguenay Police Department, savored a bite of his homemade dinner. He relished the mingling flavors of the tender sweet potato stuffed with a medley of sautéed vegetables, black beans, and shredded chicken, all topped with a layer of gooey, melted cheese.
Cooking was one of Carilas's cherished pastimes, second only to solving Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective board game puzzles without website clues. There was something soothing about cooking, and it was something he made time to indulge in outside his demanding detective work.
Tonight’s meal preparation was a testament to his culinary skills, and Carilas couldn't help but bask in the satisfaction of a job well done. The flavors danced on his palate, a harmonious melody of sweet and savory notes that made him feel like he was back home. He felt contentment settle over him like a warm blanket.
He’d initially worried that after four months of non-stop emergency calls, he’d have lost his touch. But when the oven door opened, enveloping him in the sweet aroma of the caramelized potato, his anxieties melted away. The first bite confirmed it: the soft, slightly stringy potato mixed with his favorite trimmings was perfect.
Just as he was about to spear a succulent piece of cheese-coated chicken with his fork, his work phone began to buzz against the sleek granite countertop of his kitchen island.
Carilas arched a brow and shifted his gaze toward the digital timer atop his oven. ‘At this hour...?’ He set his fork down on the plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and pushed back from the wooden dining table. Making his way to the kitchen through his well-furnished living room, he bent to open the cabinet beneath the sink and tossed the napkin into the trash. Then he rounded the countertop and reached for the vibrating phone.
"Laberge," he answered gruffly, swiping the call button and placing the phone to his ear. As he listened, his expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, and finally, to concern.
He hung up immediately and slid the phone into his pocket. Leaning his lower back against the countertop, he ran a hand through his short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, his eyes absently watching the electric fireplace’s flickering flames.
A full minute ticked by before Carilas's calm features hardened into the determined look of a lifelong cop. With a sharp rap of his knuckles on the countertop, he strode purposefully toward the garage. Snatching his winter coat off the hook beside the door, he deftly retrieved his car keys from a pocket before slinging the coat over his shoulder and slipping his arm through a sleeve.
He hastened through the door to the garage, letting it slam shut behind him. The subdued noise of a car engine starting blended with the mechanical hum of the garage door opening. Tires squeaked across the garage floor.
A half-eaten dinner remained on the dining table, growing cold.
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The Centre Hospitalier de Chêne Rouge was cocooned in a halo of flickering blue and red police cruiser lights, their feeble glow valiantly battling against the relentless onslaught of the blinding snowstorm that engulfed the city. The colorful collage of lights shimmered, its kaleidoscope of simple hues muted and distorted beneath the relentless downpour of swirling snowflakes and bitter wind. It was an oddly beautiful and surreal scene that would doubtfully ever be seen again.
Clusters of constables in heavy regulation parkas huddled in small groups along the icy walking paths snaking to and from the hospital, their watchful eyes scanning the entrances and exits for any signs of trouble or change. Some of the men and women conversed in hushed tones, their breath misting in the frigid air as they strode between their parked vehicles, while others barked commands into their shoulder radios over the howling wind, and the rest stood on the roads leading to the hospital, animatedly coordinating roadblocks and detours for early-morning commuters.
Under the overhang of the ambulance drive-in section at the hospital's main entrance, a cluster of police cruisers was parked, their bodies angled to form a barricade that prevented any vehicles from escaping the above-ground employee parking lot. The vehicles sat motionless and empty, their sirens silent and lights inert.
A group of four police officers had gathered in a tight huddle beyond the parked cruisers, their semi-circle framing a striking policewoman whose tall, lean frame was accentuated by the sharp features of her face and the piercing blue eyes that shone from within the depths of her parka hood. Though most of her face was obscured from view, her presence was commanding, and despite the fierce wind and snow that howled around them, she firmly stood with her shoulders squared.
The officers huddled around her like moths drawn to a flame, fidgeting in place as they waited.
"Is everyone present?" The policewoman's voice cut through the blizzard, her sharp gaze sweeping over the assembled officers before she launched into the debrief. "Excellent," she continued, her voice steady despite the howling wind. "We received an anonymous tip at 12:45 regarding a drug-related homicide in the medical center's parking lot," she gestured with a quick jerk of her thumb over her shoulder, "and we've traced the call to a landline outside Parc de la Rivière-du-Moulin. We've dispatched a cruiser to investigate, but I have my doubts about what they'll find - which is precisely why we're here." She clapped her gloved hands together in an effort to warm them, the sound muffled by the thick layers of fabric.
Alexandre Normandeau, a burly officer with a thick, dark-brown grizzled beard and close-cropped hair, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his skepticism clear in the way he hooked his thumbs beneath the chest rig of his ballistic vest. "In this weather, L-tee?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
The lieutenant tipped her head slightly, her eyes locking onto Alexandre's. "Yes, Normandeau," she replied calmly, her voice firm. "In this weather."
The other officers let out a few half-hearted chuckles, their eyes darting between Normandeau and the lieutenant.
The lieutenant turned her gaze back to the group, allowing a simple, enigmatic smile to curve her lips. "I understand your concerns," she said, her voice soft but commanding. "And I agree, it's questionable as all hell. But thankfully, our live call taker noticed something was off about the caller. The line was dropped following the tip-off, so we couldn't ask for any follow-ups."
The other officers exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions mirroring their uncertainty.
The lieutenant acknowledged the skepticism in the air. "I'm aware of how this sounds," she said, her voice steady. "But we wouldn't have dragged nearly the entire precinct out here for no reason." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Approximately two minutes after the anonymous call was dropped, we received over four noise complaints from verified addresses one street south of the hospital." The lieutenant held the gaze of each officer in turn.
Arielle Banville, a short and athletic woman with dirty-blonde hair tightly tucked into the hood of her parka, spoke up. "Gunshots?" she asked, her voice laced with both curiosity and concern.
The lieutenant nodded grimly. "Suspected gunfire...and screaming," she added, her words punctuated by the howl of the wind.
Alexandre grunted and leaned to one side, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into a nearby snow mound. "Then what are we waiting for?" He rolled his large shoulders with impatience.
Evan Jolicoeur, an unremarkable-looking man with a wheat-blonde side-swept crew cut and a slightly dirtier-blonde anchor beard, wrinkled his nose. "Gross, man!" His high-pitched voice grated on the ears.
Arielle scrunched her face in disgust and slugged Alexandre in the bicep with all her might. But the big man didn’t flinch, his face impassive, eyes fixed ahead as if nothing had happened.
The lieutenant's gaze turned steely, causing the officers to straighten up and look straight ahead. "Officer Normandeau." Her tone was cold enough to freeze flames.
Alexandre snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am, sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again, ma’am.” He'd forgotten himself, having gone for his tobacco chew out of habit to keep warm in the biting wind.
The lieutenant's intense stare didn’t soften. "This is a potentially active crime scene. We haven't even started collecting evidence. If you violate regulations again, I will have your badge. Is that clear?"
Alexandre nodded grimly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice stripped of any humor or sarcasm.
The lieutenant maintained unflinching eye contact until Alexandre looked away. Satisfied, she curtly nodded. “As I said: we’re approaching this deliberately and with more caution and backup than normal, given the information. Or lack thereof.”
"Makes sense," Arielle agreed with a nod.
"Do we have a first responder?" Evan asked, shifting the conversation.
"Yes, a Miguel Hernandez," the lieutenant confirmed.
"Is he new?" Evan sounded surprised.
“New guy,” the lieutenant affirmed, “has a good head on his shoulders too, unlike some,” she directed a look at Alexandre, who managed to look chagrined. “He even waited in his cruiser and took decent notes of the area at his arrival,” she added with her brand of bland praise.
“We thinking some kind of CDS powerplay?” Evan asked, shifting in place.
The final officer in the semicircle, Arthur Mayer, a tall and lanky man with a neat, conservative side part in his dark brown hair, let out a derisive snort. "The Sinaloa's, this far North?"
The other officers paid no mind to Arthur's comment, but the lieutenant calmly spoke up. "Nothing’s off the table for now, especially since Chicago." She leveled a ‘step-down’ look onto Arthur.
Arthur’s lips twisted like he’d eaten something bitter, but he remained tactfully silent.
“What’s the game plan then, L-tee?” Evan asked.
The lieutenant faced the group, her stance firm despite the swirling snow. “The name of the game, lady and gentlemen, is caution and observation. We’ve nearly got a secure perimeter with uniforms observing the building and small teams sweeping the exterior. We should receive the all-clear once they've swept the parking lot for our suspected drug meet." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Once we get the signal, we're going to divide into teams of two and spread out to search the area. Keep your radios on at all times and stay in contact with your partner. No heroics, and don't engage any suspects unless you have no other choice. We don't know what we're dealing with here."
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The officers nodded in agreement and began to pair up. Evan joined Arielle, and Alexandre paired with Arthur.
The lieutenant observed their movements and gave a nod. "Good. Now, this shouldn’t need to be said for us to do our jobs properly, but here goes,” she stated, her expression momentarily conflicted, a brief crack appearing on her stony face. “The Chief Inspector is keeping a close eye on this one.”
The group was taken aback by the news, their eyes widening in surprise.
“Fuck...” Evan breathed, “But how? It’s only been-”
The lieutenant cut him off sharply. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the Chief Inspector's methods or sources, Officer Jolicoeur. Just know that this is a high-profile case, and it's crucial that we do our jobs right.” The assembled officers, however, had served with the lieutenant long enough to detect the underlying graveness in her tone. “So, in case any of you were feeling particularly sorry for yourselves about having been dragged out that warm, comfy precinct…?” the lieutenant’s question tapered off as she calmly examined the officers.
Arielle squared her shoulders and replied firmly, "Hell no—I mean, absolutely not, ma'am. We're here and ready to serve."
The rest of the group nodded or murmured in agreement.
The lieutenant's lips twitched into a slight, lopsided smile that failed to reach her eyes. "Good. Let's-" Suddenly, the radio on her shoulder crackled to life with a garbled voice, interrupting her. She glanced at it from the corner of her eye, then turned to address her group before answering. "Off you go and get ready. Something tells me this is the real deal." She then turned around and pressed the radio’s receiver as the officers behind her dispersed to their vehicles. "Aubry, here. Give me a sitrep," she said into the radio.
Alexandre heaved himself into the driver's seat of his police cruiser, causing the car's suspension to sag noticeably. He left the door open and kept one leg planted on the ground as he grabbed a conventional pump shotgun from beside the passenger seat and placed it across his lap. His gaze drifted absently through the windshield at the swirling snow outside.
Arielle and Evan were preparing to head back to their vehicles when they heard Arthur's voice drifting over in the distance. "What the hell?..." The disbelief in his tone was unmistakable.
Arielle glanced back at Arthur, and Evan noticed her hesitation. He stopped next to her and turned to see what had captured Arthur’s attention. A slight frown appeared on Evan's face when he saw nothing out of the ordinary, and he was about to suggest they continue when Arielle gave him a pointed look and gestured toward Arthur with her head. Evan caught Arielle's signal and begrudgingly followed her gaze. He saw Arthur standing behind the police cruiser barricade, staring down the path leading to the blockade of the main access road to the hospital, confusion etched on his face.
Evan’s brow furrowed, silently questioning Arielle's intent. He didn't relish the idea of engaging with Arthur; the man was generally abrasive, even on a good day.
Arielle rolled her eyes and silently scoffed, her expression clearly saying: "men," before she walked towards Arthur without looking back. Evan sighed to himself, but followed, his steps slow and deliberate until he came to stand beside Arthur.
“Something happen?” Arielle asked, narrowing her eyes in the direction where Arthur seemed to be looking.
Arthur started, as though not expecting any company, before his expression returned to its default setting of "stand-offish asshole." With furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line, he pointedly ignored Arielle and went back to watching the road.
Evan was about to speak up, but Arielle’s stern stare quickly shut him down. He reluctantly followed her lead and turned his gaze towards the road.
"Is there something over there?" Arielle's tone was casually inquisitive, her expression neutral.
Arthur's thoughtful frown deepened as he muttered, "No... but... thought I saw someone..."
Evan couldn’t help but think, ‘At this distance and in this weather? Give me a break.’
"Oh?" Arielle’s tone conveyed genuine curiosity.
“Mm. Looked like... Sergeant Huard…” Arthur mumbled, half to himself and half to his coworkers. He extended a hand and pointed to a small cluster of police cruiser lights flashing in the distance.
Evan and Arielle exchanged a glance behind his back, both thinking the same thing: 'The sergeant's here too?'
Arthur brushed off the powdery snow that had settled on his shoulders and the front creases of his vest before shaking his head. "Whatever, it was probably nothing. I'm going back," he said, turning away from Evan and Arielle without looking at them and trudging towards his car and its much-needed heater.
Evan and Arielle watched him go before exchanging a look. “What do you think?” Evan asked.
“I don’t know. It’s weird,” Arielle replied, her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe we should go check it out?”
Evan squinted across the parking lot, trying to see anything against the wind and snow. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, let's not. Besides, the L-Tee wants us nearby in case we need to deploy fast."
Arielle nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. Let's head back."
"Let's," Evan said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to go first with a mock-courtly bow.
Arielle rolled her eyes but stepped forward, leading the way back to their vehicle. Evan joined her, a slight smile curling his mouth. They walked in silence, the crunch of their boots on the snow and ice drowned out by the howling wind.
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1:10 AM
“Elena!” A distant shout barely rose above the howling wind.
Lieutenant Aubry's eyes narrowed slightly as she heard the voice and name again, closer this time. She composed herself and suppressed the annoyance rising within her at the casual use of her name on a crime scene, thinking she might have to remind the officer of the importance of maintaining a professional tone; Forensics had finally located their smoking gun, literally.
Upon arriving at one of the hospital's outdoor parking lots, the team discovered scattered patches of dried blood, actual human bones, and an exceptionally damaged sidearm. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any suspects in sight or evidence of their presence in the immediate area, leaving the team with the daunting task of relying on human remains, blood tests, and possible fingerprint matches to piece together what'd happened. Despite the challenge, there seemed to be some pretty damning evidence if DNA matches were made, and the team was determined to solve the case, especially since the tip-off had proven to be genuine and suggested a significant crime had occurred not long ago.
Aubry's gaze turned in the direction of the voice, her expression shifting to one of genuine surprise mixed with confusion. "Sergeant?"
“Elena—glad I caught you,” Sergeant Huard shouted over the wind, jogging up the path and heading straight between the cruiser blockade.
Aubry raised a hand to signal him to stop before he got too close to the crime scene. "Sergeant, you know the protocol. What are you doing here?" she called out, her tone firm but not unkind.
A uniform watching over the blockade heard her and stepped into the sergeant’s path, only to quickly move aside as Huard held up his badge and rushed past.
Alexandre, Arthur, Evan, and Arielle exchanged wide-eyed glances and stood straighter as the sergeant strode through.
Aubry sighed, turning back and dismissing the uniform she'd been coordinating the perimeter expansion with.
The man offered a nod and a perfunctory 'ma'am' before striding away while speaking something into his shoulder radio.
Sergeant Huard came to a stop with a cocky grin and offered the sloppy salute he was infamous for across multiple precincts. "So, what'd I miss?" he asked, huffing a bit as he caught his breath.
Aubry cocked an eyebrow, her expression maintaining its stoic demeanor. "What did you miss?" she slowly repeated, as though tasting the words to see if they were allowed to be in the same sentence together.
Sergeant Huard pretended not to notice. "Yes, ma'am,” he replied without pause, “reporting for duty."
"Uh-huh,” Aubry looked at him through narrowed eyes, “if I'm not mistaken, Sergeant, I was under the impression you're currently working across the river?"
Huard shrugged good-naturedly. "What, Chicoutimi? They can live without me for a few hours. I've got Triston covering till the afternoon."
Aubry's expression darkened. "Morency,” she spoke flatly, “you gave Morency jurisdiction over sixty thousand people?"
The once-distant sounds of an ambulance had steadily grown louder throughout their conversation until, finally, the heavy vehicle rolled up the snowy road and parked behind the police cruiser blockade.
Now, however, it was Huard's turn to be surprised. "You know Triston? Damn—guess that's why you're the Lieutenant."
"Hmph,” Aubry snorted, “you shouldn't have done that, Sergeant. He's incompetent compared to you."
Sergeant Huard placed a gloved hand over his heart. "I will endeavor to take that as a compliment, Lieutenant."
Aubry wearily sighed with defeat, the urge to rub her temples nearly overcoming her sense of social propriety. "Fine. But why—"
"The Chief Inspector asked for my input on this one, sorry,” Huard interrupted, followed by a sheepish apology. He’d been on the receiving end of his superiors foisting another squad lead onto him during an investigation. It played hell with logistics and the chain of command regarding evidence. But orders were orders.
Aubry’s eye twitched before settling back to its professional guise, though her demeanor immediately shifted after being presented with the new information. So… the Chief Inspector hadn’t bothered to inform her before slopping another team into the plan. Go figure. "All right,” she relented with a nod, “hang back with me; we’re about to get the all-clear for my team—"
"I need to go in," Huard interjected once more.
"Why—" she quickly cut herself off. 'He has the CI's clearance. I'm surprised he hasn't just taken control of the investigation. Just step back and make sure everything goes as planned. It's just one more trained pair of eyes on the scene,’ she thought, focusing on the silver lining.
"Fine," she assented without pushing the topic, tipping her chin at her insertion team standing beside the blockade. "Go ahead and let them know you're on point. The paramedics are here too, so we only need a few more minutes."
"You got it, Lieutenant. See you on the other side," Huard gave a roguish wink before walking over to the group of four officers who were standing at near-perfect attention.
"All right, lady and gents," Aubry listened to the sergeant’s performance with a pang of amusement. "Who's ready to blow this popsicle stand?!" he jovially shouted, clapping together his gloves.
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1:25 AM
"Go, go, go, move it, people—clear the way!" a paramedic in a dark blue uniform commanded as he jogged ahead of two other paramedics pushing an occupied gurney packed with bloody gauze and IV leads.
A path quickly cleared through the police cruisers and curious uniforms as the gurney was expertly maneuvered past, rattling and jostling over the uneven snow until it reached the back of the ambulance.
The rest of the incursion team slowly exited the hospital, their pale, worn expressions telling the story.
Evan slipped off his helmet and ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. Alexandre had a distant look in his eyes. Arthur stared grimly at the ground between his feet. Arielle was unusually silent, standing closer to Evan than usual.
Lieutenant Aubry strode past the display with a stony expression, her eyes scanning for the sergeant. Just as she was about to call out, he appeared at the entrance. "Sergeant Huard—" she started, but he ignored her, practically sprinting past.
The two paramedics who’d led the gurney were helping load it into the back of the ambulance. Once done, the lead paramedic who'd led the way earlier slammed the two back doors shut and pounded them once before moving around the side to get to the driver's side, only for a police officer to block his path.
"Sir! I need you to move out of the way imme—"
"Where's this going?" Sergeant Huard practically shouted in the paramedic’s face to be heard over the wind.
"Hôpital St-Amarias, please move aside!" The paramedic urged.
"No! You'll take him to the Saguenay Precinct on Talbot road— use the emergency medical department access entrance to the north, behind the building!"
"What—"
"That's an order from the Chief Inspector himself!" Huard shouted, cutting the paramedic off and flashing his badge. "Unless you want you and your family out on your asses in the snow on Christmas Eve, you better fucking listen, you understand?"
The paramedic's expression morphed from heated to frigid scorn as he put the pieces together. Prepared to argue for taking the victim to a trauma care facility, he reluctantly discarded the idea, unwilling to risk his future over a single patient. His tone dripped with contempt. "Fine. Get out of the way!"
The ambulance driver’s door opened and slammed shut. The engine flared to life, its siren blaring as it pulled out of the front road and turned onto the exit, driving off into the howling wind and swirling snow.
Sergeant Huard watched the ambulance’s taillights disappear into the storm.
“Care to explain?" Aubry asked, stepping up beside the sergeant, her expression cold, her gaze fixed on the spot where the ambulance had vanished.
"Another time, maybe,” Huard replied without a trace of levity. “You'll have my report shortly." He turned and walked down the path to his cruiser.
Aubry silently watched him leave, her parka whipping in the powerful wind.
On his way to the cruiser, Sergeant Huard offered cordial nods and occasional greetings to a uniform or two but didn’t stop to engage in conversation. Finally, reaching his vehicle, he opened the driver's side door, slipped inside, and scraped snow from the soles of his boots before closing it behind him. He didn't turn on the windshield scrubbers, preferring to remain unseen. Instead, he opened his glove box, fished out an old flip phone, snapped it open, speed-dialed the only recorded contact number, and held it up to his ear.
Someone answered on the second ring.
"Jerome Guérard—Sergeant Philippe Huard of the Chicoutimi Police Department, Québec. Nightwatch—Sector Two," Jerome spoke into the receiver, resting an elbow on the handle rest. He listened to the rhythmic snowfall pattering over the roof of his car and watched the swirling eddies of white beyond the ice-crusted window.
"Confirmed," a professional woman’s voice replied over the call. "What do you have, Nightwatch?"