The Killer Trail (14 page)

At home, Chris looked around his empty apartment. He had never liked it because it felt sterile, devoid of life. He knew he hated it simply because he didn't share it with anyone, and it had reminded him of how lost and lonely he was. The apartment had represented the end of an important part of his life. Every time he walked through the door, he was confronted yet again by this reality.

But tonight, he saw something different. He saw potential—a new beginning. He smiled as he remembered Stephanie's comment about his newfound philosophical insight. Then he chuckled, basking in the glow of
almost
getting laid.

Whatever the source for his new outlook on life, Chris finally felt ready to move on. For the first time in a week, he slept through the night.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Wednesday, February 15, 9:04 a.m.
Chris arrived at his office re-energized and ready to take on the day. Going through his voicemail, he found a message from Sergeant Ryan asking to discuss the Owens case. Although he wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and Ray Owens, he felt obligated to return the call.

The sergeant sounded relieved to be hearing back from Chris and proceeded to update him on the James Carrier case. When he was done, Chris asked, “Have there been any developments in locating Elizabeth Carrier?”

“Unfortunately, no. That's why I was calling you. To see if Owens has mentioned anything about her.”

“Not that I'm aware of.” Chris paused before adding, “And even if he had, I wouldn't necessarily know because I'm not involved in his case.” He told him about his director's order to stay away from Ray Owens.

“That's too bad, Chris. I figured you'd have the best shot at getting information from Owens.”

Feeling a combination of guilt and frustration building up, Chris shot back, “He damn near killed me, Brandon. Besides, I'm not a police officer. We both know there are limits to what I can do.”

“I know that, Chris,” Brandon said. “You have your orders, and I have mine. Technically, I shouldn't even be talking with you right now. But let's face it, neither of us is particularly conventional in how we do our job.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You made a choice out there on that trail. You could have kept running. But you didn't. And I believe you're interested in helping find Elizabeth. It's also pretty obvious to me you want Owens brought to justice. We're alike in that way. I've read Owens' police file. We both know what he's about. He's killed before, and given the chance, he'll kill again. You said yourself that he's playing games with you guys.” He sighed. “Look, I've been around long enough to know that sometimes it's hard to find the justice in the justice system. The courts are backlogged, and as much as it pains me to say it, there's corruption in the system. But I think we both share a desire to prevent him from slipping through the cracks—again.”

“What can
I
do?”

“Off the record, Chris, we stand a better chance of bringing down Owens if you and I pool our resources and share information with each other.”

Chris felt familiar troubles washing over him. He desperately wanted to cut his ties with Ray. In fact, he wanted nothing further to do with the bastard. But Brandon was right—Chris knew he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't do everything within his power to help Elizabeth Carrier. “So we both think Ray is behind Elizabeth's disappearance?”

“I think he knows something about this case that he's not telling us.”

“I don't get why he would have taken her. And how.”

“At this point, there are a variety of possibilities. For all we know, he could have lured her to him after her father's murder at Woodland Park. So far, all we know about James Carrier is that he worked as a freelance journalist. His widow is too devastated to talk to us right now. We're respecting her wishes and giving her time to grieve. Carrier didn't have a criminal record and, according to his brother, no known enemies either. The reality is, Owens may be the only person who can lead us to Elizabeth. All I'm asking is to keep your ears open around him. It's our best chance—maybe Elizabeth's only chance. Let's talk again, soon.”

What the hell are you planning, Ray?
Chris slammed the phone down on its cradle.

Chris returned to his phone messages. Paul Butler's mother had a number of questions about her upcoming visit with her son. He called her back and addressed her concerns. He knew that patients at IFP (and, by extension, their families) often faced the double stigma of having a mental illness
and
a forensic label as a result of their contact with the legal system, and he valued his role in his team's efforts to break down those negative stereotypes.

With twenty minutes to go before rounds, Chris decided to hunt down some fresh coffee. Coffee was part of his daily routine—as were his never-ending promises to provide the supply
the next time
. The ritual also gave him a perfect opportunity to check in with his colleagues and catch up on the latest hospital gossip. Today's topic was Natalie's birthday lunch at P.J.'s. Chris had been invited to come along, but had politely declined, citing the mountain of work waiting for him on his desk, although the real reason was that he knew he would be asked about his ordeal at Woodland Park and he wasn't feeling up to discussing it yet.

At Alpha unit, Paul Butler approached Chris. He looked anxious. Chris figured he was simply worried about his mother's pending visit, so he was surprised when Paul placed a note in his hand and hurried off without saying a word. Opening the envelope, Chris read a single scribbled line:
You're not out of the woods yet, Ryder.

Ray Owens.
He was stunned. Why was Ray was using Paul as his messenger?

“Hey, Paul, wait up.” Paul stopped. Chris caught up to him. “What's with the note, Paul?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” He looked uncomfortable.

“You just gave me a note. Why?”

“I... I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?” Paul's face was flushed and he was talking nervously. Chris didn't want to escalate the situation, but he was becoming increasingly uneasy. He started over. “Paul, you handed me an envelope.” He produced the note and presented it to him. “Did Ray Owens ask you to give this to me?”

Paul appeared too scared to answer and instead left the room with his head hung low. Chris was furious that Ray was using Paul to do his dirty work. He raced into the nursing station, spotted Dr. Stevenson, and waved the note at her. “We've got a serious problem here!”

“What's this about?” She read the note.

“It's from Ray.”

“Did Ray give this to you?”

“No. But I'm pretty sure he gave it to Paul, who gave it to me.”

“Did Paul confirm that Ray gave the note to him?”

Chris shook his head. “No. Paul wouldn't say. But come on, who else would do this?”

“Chris, this doesn't mean anything. At worst, it looks like a senseless prank. Nothing more.” She handed the note back to him.

“Damnit. Don't you see what he's doing? He's using Paul to get to me. We've got to get Paul off this unit before Ray does something to him.”

Dr. Stevenson motioned to Chris to follow her into the medication room for privacy. Once inside, she gave him a stern look before stating bluntly, “Paul is going nowhere.” Then, in a softer tone, “Chris, you've got to pull yourself together. I know the last several days have been difficult for you. And I know it's hard for you seeing Ray Owens in here.”

“Jesus. It's more than that, Marilyn—”

“No, it's not. Listen to me, as your friend. I'm working on getting Ray out of here as fast as I can. In the meantime, reduce the amount of time you spend on this unit. Does—”

“Yes, yes. But what about the note?”

“What about it? Look, you have no evidence it's even from Ray to begin with. And even if it is, it's clear that his intent is to taunt you. And it's working. Look at yourself. Listen to yourself. You've become preoccupied with him. He's making a fool out of you, and you're not helping things.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“People are talking. Your last incident with Ray. Stephanie Rowe.”

“What about Stephanie?”

“Oh, for Pete's sake. You know nothing remains a secret in this place. It's become public knowledge that you two are seeing each other.” Marilyn took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I know you've been going through a difficult time with your separation from Deanna and with everything that's happened in the last little while. But dating at work? At this time? As your friend, I've got to say, it hardly shows good judgment on your part.”

Chris ignored the comment. “Marilyn, you don't understand. Ray is a master manipulator.”

“Oh, I absolutely agree with you in that regard. And it's
you
who is being manipulated. Now, enough about Ray Owens.”

From the intense way that she placed her hands on her hips and stared at him, he knew that it would be in his best interest to change the topic, but he was unable to let it go. “How is your assessment on Ray going?”

“Chris, did you bloody well hear
anything
I just said? I am
not
going to discuss this case with you. That's the end of it.” She stormed out of the medication room.

Am I the only one who sees what's going on?
Chris asked himself as he left the medication room.

By the time Chris said his goodbyes and left the nursing station, the patients were all in the dining area for coffee. He searched for Ray and found him staring back with a sneer on his face.

“Hey, Ryder, did you get my note?” he shouted from across the room.

The other patients immediately stopped what they were doing, sensing an imminent showdown. Alex, the head nurse, motioned to his staff inside the nursing station to come out as reinforcements to subdue the situation before it boiled over.

Chris felt his face burning, and every fibre of his body wanted to charge at Ray, to pound his fists into the man and wipe the smirk off his face. But there was a risk of other people getting injured in the fracas, so he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. With a forced calmness, he said, “I don't know what you're talking about. You must be confused.”

Ray frowned. “Oh, okay, Ryder. Maybe I'll give Paul another message for you. And,” he added with a snarl, “there'll be no confusion next time.”

Chris' composure abandoned him completely, and he charged towards Ray in a rage. Alex intercepted him while a burly health-care worker blocked Ray's path. “You leave him alone, you hear me!” Chris yelled at Ray, who was grinning widely in delight. Alex ordered Ray to his room; Ray complied, but not before aiming a twisted smile at Chris.

Alex ushered Chris back into the nursing station. “What the hell was all that about?”

Chris was still simmering with anger. “Goddamn, I hate him.”

“Look, you've got to get it together. You can't be pulling shit like this.”

Chris took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Alex. I guess I messed up there, didn't I?”

“Damn right. That was not cool.” Seeing the tension still on Chris' face, Alex added in a calmer voice, “You keep acting like this, they're going to end up banning you from this unit or even suspending you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said defeatedly. He made his way out of the nursing station and off the unit, pissed off that he had just lost another round to Ray.