The Killer Trail (18 page)

Rain was spitting down and there was a chill in the air, but Chris didn't care. His exhilaration increased with every stride, and he reveled in the sensation of his heart pounding and adrenaline pumping. He felt as if he could run forever. He ran with reckless abandon, dodging cars in busy intersections, oblivious to the frustrated drivers and their honking horns. He worried about nothing and cared about even less. He was invincible!

Nearing his apartment building, Chris felt a magical combination of exhaustion and renewal. This run would rate a strong eight. Now he was ready to take on the world.

Chris put his key in the lock to his apartment entrance only to find that the door was unlocked. He carefully opened it to discover dirty footprints on the hardwood floor. He froze. Someone had been in his apartment. Were they still there? His paralysis broke, and he weighed his options: make a hasty retreat and call 911, or confront the intruder. He chose the latter out of a feeling of personal vulnerability combined with an intense rage that someone had violated his home. And not just anyone.
Ray Owens.
Tiptoeing with his back pressed against the wall, he braced himself for a prowler as he carefully inspected his suite. But he was alone. The contents of his drawers and cupboards were strewn about, but he didn't notice anything missing.

He didn't know how Ray had managed it, but he knew that somehow the bastard had orchestrated the break-in. Chris knew the wise thing to do would be to report it to the police— Sergeant Ryan came to mind—but he hung up the phone at the last instant. No, this was a personal battle between himself and Ray. Besides, he knew what the intruder was after—the cell phone. He had delayed the inevitable long enough. Chris knew he would have to retrieve the phone.

In his truck on his way to pick up Ann Marie, Chris deliberately shut out the memory of his ransacked apartment and focused his thoughts on his daughter. Friday was not a scheduled day for his visits, so he had been happy when Deanna had extended the offer to him, though he suspected she had plans of her own that evening. Nearing Deanna's house, he noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway.
Oh my God, he's
here.
Memories of the break-in and Ray's threats almost overwhelmed him. But the front door opened, and Ann Marie ran out and down the walkway and jumped into his arms.

Deanna's demeanour was more tentative as she meandered from the living room into the hallway. “Chris... uh, there's somebody I'd like you to meet.” Before Chris had a chance to prepare himself, a man he'd never seen before turned the corner and approached him.

“Hi, Chris, I'm Walter.” The stranger extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, nice to meet you too.” Chris reluctantly shook his hand. He didn't know what else to say. He knew Deanna was dating, but he was uneasy standing inside his former home with the new man of the house greeting him as if
he
were the stranger.

They all stood in awkward silence. Finally Ann Marie brought everyone back to reality. “Daddy, where are we going? Can we go to Wilbur's?”

“Ah, sure, sweetie. Are you ready to go?”

“Mommy, can I go now?”

“Yes, you can.” Deanna smiled. “What time will you be back, Chris?”

“I'd say about eight-thirty, Dee. Is that okay?”

“That's fine.” Deanna leaned down and kissed her daughter's cheek. “Be a good girl for your father, okay?”

Deanna and Chris locked eyes for an instant, as if both had something they wanted to say but were at a loss for words. Then the moment passed.

“All right, we're out of here. See you later.” As Chris closed the door behind him, he wondered whether he should have been more welcoming toward Walter. He paused on the front walkway, contemplating going back to say something friendly to him, before prodding himself onward to his truck.
Forget about it. That was awkward enough.

At Wilbur's, Ann Marie ordered her standard waffles with strawberries and Chris his scrambled eggs with toast. He listened as Ann Marie talked excitedly about an upcoming birthday party at a Build-A-Bear workshop. Still, he couldn't shake his uneasiness about his experience back at the house. He wondered what Ann Marie thought about Walter and about her mother dating another man. He also wondered how to broach the topic with his young daughter before realizing Deanna had most likely already had that talk with her. In the end, he decided to keep the conversation natural.

“Sweetie, I just want you to know that even though Mommy and Daddy might become friends with other people, we both still love you very much. You know that, right?”

“I know, Daddy.” Unfazed, she corralled the remainder of her syrup. Evidently, this was not as confusing for her as it was for Chris. Still, he thought, it would have been nice if Deanna had let him know in advance that her boyfriend was going to be there. But then again, he reminded himself, he had not yet mentioned Stephanie to Deanna—or to Ann Marie, for that matter. That could wait for another day.

“You know I will always be your daddy, right, Ann?” He realized he was saying this as much for his own benefit as for his daughter's.

“I know. Oh, guess what, Daddy? Mommy said we're going to a movie on Sunday. Walter's coming too. I get to have popcorn and root beer.” She squealed with excitement.

“Wow. That's great, sweetie.”
Yeah, real great.
His thoughts reverted to his own childhood. His mother had been taken from him when he was a young child, leaving him precious few memories of her. As for his father, his enduring impression was one of emotional distance. Chris had always promised himself that if he ever had children of his own, he would be the best father ever. They would never,
ever
doubt his love for them. Living apart from Ann Marie had never factored into Chris' plan of fatherhood, and the notion that she could have a stepfather was something he hadn't even thought about until tonight. The thought depressed him.

Ann Marie chattered about her friends at school and her favourite television shows. On the ride home, she asked to play her CD and joyfully sang along to “Wheels on the Bus,” knowing the lyrics word for word. It struck Chris how quickly his daughter was growing up, which did little to lift his already low mood.

By the time they arrived back “home,” Walter had left and Deanna greeted them at the door. Ann Marie filled her mother in on what she had done during her evening, then ran to her room to reacquaint herself with her dolls. Deanna and Chris sat in the kitchen and briefly discussed their daughter's schedule for the week ahead until Chris excused himself and got up to leave.

He had taken two steps out the door when he heard Ann Marie calling for him. He turned around just in time as she ran towards him and threw her arms around him saying, “I love you, Daddy.” Four simple words—but they were the most important words in the world to him. Tears streamed from his eyes.

Chris was still flying from Ann Marie's declaration of love as he made his way to Andrea's Café on Seventh Street. Stephanie had suggested meeting at the popular café, and he couldn't help but wonder whether the public setting was a deliberate move on her part in response to their last rendezvous.

No matter, he was looking forward to seeing her wherever she liked and was willing to take things as slowly as required. Entering the buzzing establishment, he spotted Stephanie, her back to him, leaning against the coffee bar. He smiled at the realization that Stephanie stood out effortlessly in any crowd. She wore a black skirt with a slit running up the back, revealing just enough thigh to make Chris ignore every other person in the room. He immediately wished they could go back to her condo and finish what they'd started a few nights earlier. Instead, he settled for a gentle hug. “You come here often?” he said with a smile.

Stephanie laughed and gave him a hug in response. “Let's grab a table.” She was sipping a latte, and Chris ordered a black coffee. The conversation started out light and friendly. Eventually, he couldn't resist telling Stephanie about the break-in at his apartment, as well as replaying the phone conversation he'd had with Ray Owens.

“He had some nerve, calling me from Alpha unit just to gloat about what he did to Paul.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Chris, how about we—”

“And sending someone to trash my place! What a bastard.”

“Can we just—”

“I almost wish it
was
Ray and that I caught him in my apartment. I would've loved to smack the smirk off his face. He—”

“Come on, Chris, enough already!” Stephanie slammed her drink down firmly on the table.

Taken by surprise, he replied, “What's wrong?”

“I want to hear about your day, but I really don't want to talk about Ray Owens.”

“Sorry. I wasn't thinking. What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything but work, and absolutely
nothing
about Ray. Can we try that?” Chris paused. “You can't, can you?”

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“You're obsessed with Ray Owens. You can't even have a normal conversation without involving him in some way.” Stephanie's voice got louder, and her body shook with frustration. “And by the way, I think it's absolutely ridiculous that you didn't call the police about the break-in. That's
their
job, not yours. What's it going to take before you realize you have to let this go, Chris?”

Chris felt his face growing hot. He knew he had to change the topic before the evening deteriorated any further. “Okay. Again, what would you like to talk about?” He attempted a smile that he knew probably looked contrived.

He could tell he'd caught Stephanie off guard, but she quickly regained her composure. “Us.”

“Okay, then, let's talk,” he said matter-of-factly.

“It's not that simple.” Stephanie took a sip of her now-cold latte. “I need to know what you want from this relationship. I need to know where it's headed.”

“Jesus, Stephanie, a few days ago you said you wanted to take things slow. And now you want to know where we're headed? That doesn't make sense to me.” Stephanie scowled and Chris tried desperately to backtrack. “Uh, what I mean is I... I don't know where this is headed. I'm trying to take it day to day, like you asked. Day to day is fine with me.”

Stephanie shook her head in frustration. “That's not what I mean.” She paused. “We all have different needs from a relationship. And I think it's only fair to tell you where I'm coming from.”

“Okay, I'm listening.”
How the hell did we get to this
point?

“I'm not looking for a casual relationship, Chris. I'm turning forty in a few months. I want something with more stability. Something with a future.” She paused. “It's funny how we're influenced by our parents. Mine have made no secret of their disappointment that their only child is single and childless. Believe me, they're no role models—they've been separated for years. But it makes me realize I'm reaching a point in my life where I want to settle down.” She looked at Chris. “I had hopes that you'd play an important part in my life.” She paused, and took a deep breath. “I'm just not sure we're looking for the same thing.”