The Wrong Trail Knife

by Jane Fletcher

jane.fletcher@virgin.net

Disclaimers: Please see chapter one

Chapter fifteen — The evidence

The lock-up was small, barely three metres square, divided into two unequal sections by a heavy iron grill with a padlocked gate. In the larger section were a pair of narrow bunks and a piss-pot. In the smaller part was a barred window and the door out. There was not enough floor space between the beds for two women to pace up and down simultaneously. By mid-morning jokes about timetables were wearing thin and the temperature was rising.

"Wait until afternoon, then it really warms up in here." Zoe said cheerily.

Katryn sat cross-legged on her bunk, resting her back against the wall. She tried to smile, but her mood was despondent. The other woman seemed not to notice. Having spent two days alone in the lock-up Zoe was overjoyed to have company and rambled on without any need of encouragement. The stream of chatter was also wearing thin with Katryn.

"I hope I get out soon."

Katryn nodded. Such an banal sentiment did not need a reply.

Zoe stopped talking long enough to study Katryn’s expression. "You know, I don’t blame you for stabbing Ellis…" She paused. "That’s if you did."

Again Katryn did not speak, she had given up protesting her innocence.

After a few seconds of silence Zoe went on. "I’m so glad I didn’t end up in Ellis’s patrol when I joined the squadron. Takeda’s a proper sergeant... she sticks up for her patrol. I mean, she was mad at me the other night, but she was still ready to listen to my side. And when I told her... you know that bitch was coming for me with a broken bottle in her hand? I used my knife in self defence — something her friends forgot to mention when they called the militia. Takeda came to see me yesterday. She’s spent hours tracking down independent witnesses, and has got all their sworn statements. There’s no way Ellis would have put herself out like that for a member of her patrol."

"Certainly not for me." Katryn agreed.

"Takeda has passed all the evidence on to Bergstrom. The lieutenant won’t stick her neck out and risk upsetting the mayor by releasing me, but once Dolokov gets back I’ll be in the clear."

Katryn tilted her head up. A large flying beetle bounced its way in circles across the ceiling, hitting the stone surface with audible cracks.

"I know I owe a lot to Takeda." Zoe carried on talking, but her tone dropped, holding a sober intensity. "Without her there’s no way I’d have escaped a flogging."

Katryn’s jaw tensed. Who was there to help her escape a hanging?

A surge of noise erupted outside in the parade ground; shouting and movement. "If that’s more for in here they’ll have to sleep on the floor." Zoe’s buoyant effervescence returned.

Katryn tried to ignore Zoe’s voice, instead concentrating on the sounds outside. There were a lot of horses, and then the unmistakable tones of Captain Dolokov, calling the order to disperse. The rest of the squadron had returned. Zoe leapt to her feet in excitement. "Wha-hay! Freedom here I come!"

Katryn’s shoulders drooped. Her own future did not look so good, but at least the waiting part would soon be over. In a sudden surge of fellow-feeling her eyes returned to the pointless, painful flight of the beetle.

**********

Zoe had been right about the heat in the afternoon. Sweat trickled down Katryn’s neck and stuck her uniform to her body. She was alone in the lock-up. Zoe had been escorted away hours before and had not returned. Presumably Takeda’s evidence had won her freedom. Katryn tried to find humour in the ironic thought that now she had the room to pace it was too hot for any unnecessary activity.

The sound of several sets of footsteps stopped outside the door and then the key turned in the lock. Katryn sat up straighter as Corporal Kiani of D patrol stepped into the cell. With a second key the corporal removed the padlock from the grill and beckoned Katryn out.

"Turn around."

Katryn obeyed and felt her hands tied securely behind her back. Outside the lock-up, in the early-evening sunlight, another three rangers were waiting, their faces impassive. They lined up as escort, two ahead and two behind, for the short walk to the captain’s office. Several knots of rangers were gathered around the dusty edge of the parade ground. Without looking, Katryn knew all heads were turned in her direction, watching her march, step by step, to her judgement.

The captain’s office lead off the main administration room. The escort stopped at the door, allowing Katryn to enter alone. It was not a large room, the desk took up a third of the floor space. On one wall hung a detailed map; opposite it a window overlooked the parade ground. Three women were awaiting Katryn’s arrival. Dolokov and Bergstrom were there, as expected. The other stood in a corner, dressed in the black uniform of the militia, a lieutenant’s badge on her shoulder. This woman looked to be past forty, with an intelligent expression and brisk, no-nonsense manner. Katryn remembered seeing her about town.

Dolokov stood behind the desk, treating Katryn to a long, sour glare. Eventually she spoke. "On the basis of the information received I've decided to turn this case over to the militia. Lieutenant Sanchez will be in command of the interview."

Katryn’s initial surprise faded quickly. Rangers had to trust each other with their lives. To murder a fellow ranger was the worst crime imaginable, yet many would think Ellis had deserved it. No matter what the verdict and sentence, some members of the squadron would be deeply unhappy. Dolokov had done her calculations and decided to let the militia be the focus of any resentment. A safe decision, particularly if she felt there was no doubt about the outcome of the investigation.

Lieutenant Sanchez took a few steps forward until she stood in directly front of Katryn, claiming her attention. "Before we go any further, would you like to confess?"

"No ma’am, I didn’t kill Sergeant Ellis." Katryn replied quickly.

"Then who do you think did?"

Katryn hesitated, it was not quite the question she had expected. "I don’t know, ma’am." But there are enough candidates, she added mentally.

"You disliked Sergeant Ellis."

"No ma’am, I hated her." There was no point denying it. Sanchez looked a little taken aback at the honesty. Katryn spoke again. "But I wasn’t the only one." Out of the corner of her eye Katryn saw Bergstrom shift uncomfortably.

"You’re the only one we’re interested in at the moment." Sanchez recovered her momentum. "Do you deny threatening to kill Sergeant Ellis on the morning she died?"

"I didn’t mean it seriously."

"You were joking?"

"It was more as a figure of speech."

"You were angry at her?"

Again Katryn hesitated, but it was useless to lie. "Yes ma’am, very."

Sanchez drew a slow breath. "So you had motive and opportunity, and it was your knife found in her back. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?"

"Somebody else must have taken my knife from my locker."

"But nobody else could have taken it into the store-room."

"It wouldn't…"

Sanchez cut her off. "You see, we are fortunate in that two of your fellow rangers were on sentry duty outside the lock-up. From that position they could see everyone who crossed the parade ground. The rear door of the stores was locked and the key was found in Sergeant Ellis’s pocket. It would be impossible to break in without leaving a sign. Therefore we can be sure the killer came and went via the main door, leaving it open behind her when she left. The two sentries saw Sergeant Ellis walk across the parade ground towards the stables and stores. Nobody else went in that direction until your comrades from B patrol returned in a group, shortly before the body was discovered."

Silence hung in the room. Katryn shook her head in confusion. "There has to be…" Her voice died.

Sanchez continued softly. "Furthermore we can place where everyone else was. Most of the squadron being with Captain Dolokov on the way back to Roadsend. Of the rest, the two sentries outside the lock-up and the two at the main gates can vouch for each other. And I think we can also dismiss the ranger in the lock-up from the list of suspects. The six rangers from your patrol were in a tavern and swear nobody disappeared for part of the evening. Furthermore none of them was carrying a knife, they'd been searched on leaving the barracks. Lieutenant Bergstrom and Quartermaster Adebeyo were together in the officer’s quarters — in this very room I believe." Sanchez paused and glanced at Bergstrom for a nod of confirmation. "Sergeant Takeda spent part of the evening here with them, discussing some information she'd gathered, and than returned to her room. The sentries confirm seeing her cross the parade ground in the direction of D patrol’s bunk-house, and also that she did not return; with or without your knife. The two members of Adebeyo’s staff were on the other side of town, being entertained by a visiting trader. The sentries on the main gates attest that no-one else entered or left the barracks all evening." Sanchez stared into Katryn’s eyes. "I repeat, are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?"

"No ma’am, I didn’t kill her." Katryn could hear the edge of despair in her own voice.

"Then can you explain how someone entered B patrol’s bunk-house, took your knife, crossed the parade ground, killed Sergeant Ellis and then left the stores without being seen? Or can you say how someone was in two places at the same time?"

"No ma’am, I can’t."

Sanchez’s tone was remorseless. "There’s only one way Sergeant Ellis could have been killed. You had left your belt in your locker, but taken your knife with you to the stores, maybe in all innocence, thinking you might need it for your work. After everyone else had gone Sergeant Ellis came to talk to you in the stables. She said something to make you get angry again, and this time you had your knife to hand and no witnesses. You followed her into the stores and murdered her."

"No ma’am." Katryn fought to keep her breathing steady.

"I think you did."

"Would I then have left my knife behind and gone back to polishing the saddles?"

"I’ve known murderers do stranger things."

Katryn hung her head, trying desperately to gather her thoughts, to see the hole in the case being brought against her. "I didn’t kill her." she reaffirmed, but now there was no hiding her panic.

Sanchez moved away to the desk, and returned with a trail-knife in her hands. She held it up in front of Katryn. "Can you deny that this is your knife?"

Katryn stared at it — the murder weapon. And then, suddenly, her eyes registered what they were seeing. "Yes ma’am, I can."

"Pardon?"

"It’s not my knife." Confidence had returned to Katryn’s voice.

"What do you mean?" Sanchez sounded slightly rattled.

What I say. Despite her sudden feeling of euphoria Katryn managed to restrain the retort. She swallowed before picking the words to explain. "I’ve only been a ranger for six months. All my kit was issued new at Fort Krowe. This is the wrong knife. It’s much older than mine. You can see the wear on the handle, and the blade is bowed from sharpening — it would take years to reach that state." She met Sanchez’s eyes. "This is not my knife."

There was not a sound in the room for the space of several heartbeats. Eventually the unexpected turn brought Dolokov in. "So you took someone else’s knife with you to the stables."

Sanchez interrupted "Maybe we should first find out whose knife this is?"

"How?" Dolokov snapped back.

Sanchez pursed her lips. "Well, from what Private Nagata says, there should be a veteran ranger with a knife in pristine condition."

"I’ll check." Dolokov moved towards the door.

Sanchez beat her to it. "I’ll check — but you can come as well, if you want."

Their place in the room was taken by two of the escort waiting outside. Nobody spoke. Bergstrom stood, staring through the window at the parade ground. Katryn tried to get her pulse under control while her mind raced over what she had been told. Somewhere, something was wrong, but she couldn’t pull a coherent explanation together. Fortunately it was clear that Sanchez was as sharp as she looked, and not about to rubber-stamp the expected conclusion.

A fair slice of Katryn's thoughts were directed towards Dolokov. She wondered if the captain was beginning to regret giving the case over to the militia. Katryn’s brow furrowed. It seemed as if Dolokov was wanting her to be guilty, but it probably wasn’t malicious. The captain would see her as one of the more expendable members of the squadron, certainly in comparison to other enemies of Ellis. Most of all, a clear-cut case was what Dolokov would want. The squadron would lose a ranger, but there would be no suspicion attached to anyone else. No-one would be left looking over her shoulder at her comrades.

There was an agonising wait before Dolokov and Sanchez came back into the room. Once the two junior rangers had left Sanchez again held out a knife. This time the finger-guard was unscratched, the cutting edge straight and the wooden handle was not polished dark and smooth from years of use. "Is this one yours?"

Katryn nodded. "That looks much more like it, ma’am."

Sanchez compared it with the first knife. "I’ll concede that the two cannot be confused."

"Where was it found?" Bergstrom voiced the question Katryn had been dying to ask.

Sanchez pulled a wry smile. "It would seem that Sergeant Ellis was stabbed with her own knife. Private Nagata’s one was found hanging in its place in her room."

There was a lengthy silence, but at last Dolokov faced Katryn and snapped out impatiently, "It makes no difference, you're still the only person with opportunity. You admitted you hated Sergeant Ellis. You hated her enough to want to stab her with her own knife as the final insult. So you switched your knife with hers before going to the stables."

"No, ma’am. And if I'd planned the murder in advance I wouldn’t be so stupid as to do it when there were no other suspects."

"You admit there are no other suspects." Dolokov pounced on her words, but Sanchez stepped in before Katryn could reply.

"Private Nagata couldn’t have switched knives before going to the stables."

"Why not?" Dolokov said tersely.

"I’ve already checked with the sentries to make sure nobody had carried a knife off site. As part of their evidence they told me about an incident with Sergeant Ellis. After B patrol had gone to the tavern Ellis wanted to speak with one of them. She was challenged at the gates as she was still wearing her knife. The sentries told her to remove it… apparently it got a bit heated."

I can imagine, Katryn thought.

Sanchez continued. "She wasn’t permitted to leave the barracks until she'd put her knife back in her room. I have confirmation she made a brief appearance at the White Swan and then returned to the barracks. I think, if the knives had already been switched, Ellis would have spotted the difference just as quickly as Private Nagata did just now."

"She must have taken the knife after Ellis put it in her room."

Sanchez shook her head. "We have the evidence of the sentries that she didn’t cross the parade ground after B patrol had left the barracks."

"Obviously the sentries weren’t as alert as they claimed... probably in chatting with the prisoner." Dolokov said doggedly.

Sanchez was equally implacable. "I’ll agree they must’ve missed seeing someone; but I don’t see how we can positively identify Nagata as the person they didn’t see."

"She had the best opportunity. She’s still our top suspect." Dolokov persisted.

"I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"Because I can’t see why she'd implicate herself by swapping her knife" Sanchez spoke calmly. "My guess is that Sergeant Ellis took her own knife into the stores. Somebody got in, took the knife and stabbed her. This woman had heard about the threat Private Nagata had made earlier in the day and decided to frame her. So the murderer took Ellis’s belt, slipped across the parade ground without being seen, and put Nagata’s knife in the sheath before hanging it in the sergeant’s room."

"That sounds pretty implausible." Dolokov said.

"Maybe, but I think it's the best option."

"How…" Dolokov’s voice faded as the difficulties in finding a sensible sequence of events finally overcame her determination to blame Katryn.

Sanchez put both knives down on the desk and crossed her arms assertively. "I want to go back to my office and read though the statements already collected, and I'll need to interview everyone again, starting first thing tomorrow. For the meantime I'd say we have no more of a case against Private Nagata than anyone else, and I can see no justification in keeping her imprisoned, although how you run the barracks is your concern."

Dolokov mustered her composure quickly. There were a few last comments, but nothing of any significance, and Sanchez left. After she had gone the ranger captain continued to study Katryn for a while longer, but then personally untied the binding on her wrists.

"You are released for the evening, but consider yourself confined to barracks. And don’t repeat anything of what has been said here."

"Yes ma’am."

Dolokov opened the door. The four rangers who had escorted Katryn from the lock-up were waiting in the outer office. They scrambled to attention.

"On the advice of the militia lieutenant I’m releasing Private Nagata without charge. You are all dismissed." Dolokov’s voice was so utterly neutral as to sound forced, and her expression was one of displeasure.

Katryn followed the others out of the building. At the foot of the steps they formed a small huddle which Katryn was obliged to squeeze past. The sound of muttering followed her as she set off across the parade ground. Dolokov had released her but, by the manner in which it had been done and with the absence of any information, there were few who would think it meant she was innocent.

**********

Katryn lay on her upper bunk, staring blindly at the ceiling. She was alone in the room. The others had headed off after dinner. They hadn’t said where and Katryn hadn’t been invited. No-one had spoken to her directly since she had left Dolokov’s office, although she had overheard plenty of hissed comments. The words, ‘militia sticking together,’ formed part of most, while the ‘facts’ being passed around bore no resemblance to the truth. It was unfair, and there was nothing Katryn could do about it. Dolokov’s order to say nothing meant she couldn’t even challenge the rumours.

The ceiling blurred as tears stung in Katryn’s eyes. She had just started to think she might be able to be happy in the rangers; that it would be possible to form friendships while her skill with a bow earned her respect. Then Ellis had to get herself murdered. Katryn could almost believe the sergeant had done it out of spite — or even committed suicide. It would fit with all the facts. Ellis could easily have swapped knives before walking over to the stables. All Katryn had to do was work out how Ellis managed to stab herself in the back.

The door to the bunk-house opened and the rest of the patrol filed in. They spoke among themselves, but no-one even looked in Katryn’s direction. It was time to sleep. Hopefully on the next day Sanchez would return and the real murderer would be found. It would help a bit, but Katryn knew doubts would always attach to her name. She was a new girl and not popular, despite the affair with Tina and the mountain cats. Some would want her to be the guilty one, and when another, better liked, member of the squadron was arrested would still continue to blame her. Worst of all would be if the murderer was never caught.

Katryn rolled over and climbed down from her bunk. She needed to visit the latrines before sleeping. As she walked through the bunk-house the conversation quietened, but no-one acknowledged her. She might have been invisible. The volume of voices rose again after the door had swung shut.

There was no lantern in the latrine block but brilliant bands of moonbeams fell through the windows. Katryn left the stall and went to the water trough. She still had not taken the wash she wanted. Now it was too late and there would be no hot water. Katryn pulled on the hand-pump and bent to stick her head under the spout. The cold gushing broke over the nape of her neck and flowed around her face. It felt good after the heat of the day. Her mind settled, more positive. After six months of Ellis surely she could put up with a little hostility? All she had to do was keep going for a few more days and things would start to resolve themselves.

There were footsteps on the tiles behind her as others entered the block. Katryn did not bother to look around to see who. Unexpectedly one person stopped beside her. Katryn was about to stand when a blow crashed down across her shoulders. Katryn pitched forward, striking her nose on the side of the trough. One knee hit the floor, but before she could fall hands grabbed her arms, yanking her up and around. A fist thumped into her stomach twice and then backhanded her across the face.

She was surrounded. An arm from behind went around her throat, cutting off the air in her windpipe as another succession of punches thudded into her. She tried to protect herself from the onslaught, but both her arms were held in locks so savage they were almost twisted from their sockets. Another strike landed hard. From the flaring increase in pain she was certain at least one of her ribs had cracked and she could do nothing to shield the injury from the following blows. Each punch turned her body to mash. Each jolt erupted as fire in her tortured shoulders.

The attack became less concentrated on her torso as more of those surrounding joined in. For the first time since the initial assault a fist smashed into her face. A foot connected hard with her knee. From the sickening crack, as much as the pain, Katryn knew it was broken or dislocated. She wanted to curl up and hide. She wanted it all to stop — she didn’t care how, death would do. She was fighting for air, drowning in a red haze of agony.

At last the fury of the pounding subsided. The arm around her throat slackened. As her head sagged forward she saw the front of her uniform was splattered with blood, maybe from a nosebleed, maybe from a more serious injury — everywhere hurt too much to be able to tell. Her body insisted on trying to breathe despite the torture in her ribs. The lock on her arms was released and Katryn dropped to her knees. White hot agony exploded in the broken joint. With what air she had sucked into her lungs Katryn screamed. She pitched forward. The hard tiles of the floor slammed into her, and then softened and flowed around her like a cocoon. The darkness became complete.

**********

Katryn awoke with the face of a healer hanging over her. Memories switched and impacted. There had been a jilted lover, an argument, footsteps behind her on the cobbles. For a moment Katryn thought she was back in Woodside, with Allison and home just a short walk away. Then she saw the figure of Captain Dolokov in the background.

"How do you feel?" The healer asked.

"Numb." In fact Katryn could not feel anything. She glanced down to check that she was all there. Her uniform had been removed and her body was largely wrapped in bandages. A large bowl stood nearby, the water in it glinted pink in the lamp-light.

The healer nodded. "I’m afraid you won’t be so comfy when the numbness wears off, but I’ll do what I can so you get a good night’s sleep. You’re in a bit of a state, but don’t worry, there’s nothing that won’t mend, given a month or so." The healer turned to Dolokov. "You can ask her a few questions now, I’ll be back in a minute."

Dolokov stood aside to let the healer past. Katryn looked around. She was in the lock-up again. "I’ve taken you into protective custody." Dolokov answered the unvoiced question. She moved forwards into the spot the healer had vacated. "Did you recognise the women who attacked you?" Dolokov’s tone was combative, daring her to answer.

Of course, Katryn thought, she doesn’t really want to know, doesn’t want to inflame things in the squadron. Katryn's eyes closed. She could sympathise. She also didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to admit she knew the faces of the women she'd lived and worked with for half a year — and you never informed on comrades, even when they beat you senseless. "It was dark in the latrine. I was attacked so suddenly." Katryn avoided the question.

Dolokov nodded sharply, looking relieved. She spoke quickly, as if fearing to give Katryn the chance to change her mind. "With hindsight I see it was a mistake to remove the sentries from the gate. There's been trouble with local women recently. A gang must have slipped into the barracks looking for revenge on the first ranger they found."

Katryn fixed her eyes on the ceiling and said nothing.

Dolokov moved away. "The same thing might have happened with Sergeant Ellis. Lieutenant Sanchez will continue with her investigation, but I fear the culprit won't be found." She looked back to where Katryn lay, her gaze hard and cynical. "Your start in the 12th Squadron has not gone well... it's not entirely your fault. I think it might be wise if I arrange for you to transfer to another squadron... give you a chance to make a fresh start in the rangers."

The door of the lock-up opened and the healer entered. "Have you finished?" She asked Dolokov. "The patient needs to sleep."

"Yes, I think I’m finished." Dolokov gave a tight smile and left.

No, it’s me who’s finished. Katryn thought. Dolokov was hoping the murderer would never be found, or maybe she had convinced herself that Katryn really was the one. Certainly once Katryn had been removed from the squadron no-one in the 12th would ever doubt her guilt.

And as for her life in a new squadron? It might go alright at first, but stories would spread around the division, passed from squadron to squadron. Soon rumours of the ranger who'd murdered her sergeant would catch up with her. Ironically the 12th was probably the safest place to be. Katryn knew she was still alive because nobody liked Ellis enough to kill for her. But with people who had never met Ellis the there wouldn't even be misplaced sympathy for the provocation. Instead there would tales of the coward’s blow, the knife in the back. No squadron would want her, and there would be other latrine blocks, other beatings, and one day there would be a beating she wouldn’t wake up from.

The healer placed a hand on Katryn’s head, gently exerting the skill to send her to sleep. As Katryn drifted away she half wished that she wouldn't wake up this time.

END OF PART TWO

continued in part three, chapter 16

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