The Killer Trail (27 page)

Chris reflected on what Stephanie and Deanna had both said to him at various times about his preoccupation with work. Could they be right? He was well aware of the risks of burnout in the field of social work. In recent months, he'd found himself increasingly considering a change of career. The problem was, he didn't know what else he wanted to do. He liked his work and over time he'd become good at what he did.

He tried to visualize various possibilities for his future, but his thoughts kept returning to Stephanie. He yearned to spend time with her, to introduce her to Ann Marie, to start a new chapter of his life with her. To his astonishment, he realized that his feelings for Stephanie had manifested themselves in an emotion he had thought he would never experience again— love. His pleasant reverie was jarred by the thought of Ray Owens. He had to finish his present business with Ray before contemplating any future.

After what seemed like an eternity, Chris reached the corrections building. It felt good to stretch his legs as he walked to the probation office. The receptionist paged Mason, who emerged clutching a thick file. He motioned with his head for Chris to follow him outside where they could talk in private.

“No one's going to know this information came from me, right, Chris?”

Chris reached for the file. “I promise. No one is going to know you and I even talked about Ray Owens. In fact, this conversation never happened.” He grinned as they shook hands and parted. He still felt guilty about what he had done.
The end justifies the means,
he told himself, but knew that was a lie.

Back in his truck, he looked through the information Mason had given him. He wasn't surprised to see that the file contained extensive notes on Ray's criminal activities. He ignored the pre-sentence reports from previous criminal convictions and the other court documents; he was interested in only one report. After sifting through the large file, he finally hit paydirt: the report from the Ministry of Child and Family Development. His heart racing, he read page after page in morbid fascination.

Among them was a social worker's report detailing the significant physical and emotional abuse perpetrated against Ray by his foster family, which culminated in his being removed from the home. Chris skimmed through another document, in which a child psychologist who had conducted a battery of tests with Ray concluded that while he was intellectually bright, his fantasies involved aggressive themes. He expressed concern that Ray appeared to be numb to abuse and without normal human emotions.

Chris perused reports outlining Ray's escalating juvenile delinquent history, including property damage at his school and acts of violence against a subsequent foster mother's boyfriend and his foster sister.
Jesus, this is before he even
hit sixteen!

He skipped over Ray's lengthy adult criminal record and related court files until he found a Social History report on Ray's developmental and family history. He hadn't finished reading the first page before his worst fears were realized. Disgusted, he threw the report against his passenger door.
Oh my God, it really is true: Ray is my half-brother.
Would this nightmare ever end? He wished he'd never heard the name Ray Owens. He wished Ray had never been born. He fantasized about a world without Ray.

His cell phone rang, bringing him back to reality. It was Stephanie. What was he going to say to her and how was he going to say it? But she deserved the truth, and taking a deep breath, he answered the phone.

“Where have you been, Chris? I've been trying to reach you forever.”

“I'm sorry. I should have called you earlier.”

“Oh my God, I couldn't believe when I heard the news. You could have been killed or—”

“I know, Stephanie, I know. Things have been pretty... crazy.”

“Are you okay? You sound distracted.”

He sighed. “It's a long story.”

“You were right all along about that girl, Elizabeth. You saved her life. That's amazing. Have you read today's paper?”

“No. Should I?”

“Elizabeth gave an interview to the
Sun.
She talked about her time in the cabin and she thanked you again and again. It's a pretty heartbreaking story.”

“She went through a lot. More than anyone should ever have to endure.” He knew he'd never be able to forget the look of horror on Elizabeth's face when he first saw her at the cabin.

Stephanie paused. “At least they've arrested the people responsible. And Ray has finally left IFP
.
You get your life back. It's over, Chris. We—”

Chris didn't know if he had the heart or the strength to tell her, but he knew he had to try. “It's not over, Stephanie.” He felt defeated as he continued. “This is just the beginning.”

“Wha... what do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and told Stephanie about his visit with his father and about his biological relationship with Ray.

Stephanie remained silent for several moments before she said quietly, “Where are you now?”

“I'm sitting in my truck in a probation office parking lot. Staring at a load of papers on Ray.”

“Why are you there? You're not working with Ray. He's left IFP, for Christ's sake. You have to leave well enough alone. For your own peace of mind.”

Chris braced for the unavoidable clash. “I have to do this. I have no choice. I'd love nothing more than to put an end to all of this and walk away. But Ray won't walk away. He's going to come after me—and everyone close to me. That includes Ann Marie.” He paused. “And you, Stephanie. You mean the world to me. I could never live with myself if anything ever happened to you. I have to be ready for him. I
will
be ready for him. And I'll beat that bastard at his own game.”

“But what will that make you? That's a slippery slope, Chris. Don't you see that you're obsessed with him?”

“I'm not obsessed, Stephanie. I know him. I
know
what he's trying to do. And I won't let him do it.”

“I... I don't know what to say, Chris. I want to be with you, I really do. But listening to you now... makes me realize this isn't possible.”

“It is possible. We can make it work. We
can
.”

“You're changing, Chris, and it scares me to think just how far you will go with this morbid preoccupation with Ray. He can't do anything now. When he goes to court, he's certain to be found guilty and he'll be going to prison for a long, long time.”

“Come on, Stephanie, prison means nothing to him, and neither does time. He'll wait for the right time to move and then he'll act. I
know
it.”

He could hear Stephanie weeping. The woman he loved was crying on the other end of the line, and there was nothing he could do to make it better.
Look at what I've done now.
He squeezed his cell phone in anger at himself.
I'm chasing away
the woman I love.

“Stephanie, I'm sorry. I—”

“I'm scared, Chris.”

“I'm scared too. I'm terrified of him taking you away from me. I don't want to lose you.”

“But Chris, your obsession with Ray
is
taking me away from you. Can't you
see
that?”

“I
can
see that, and I've been racking my brain trying to find a way out of this. And I will find a way, I promise you. I just need you to have faith in me. And I just need some time to come up with the answer.” He punched the steering wheel in frustration.

It was Stephanie who finally broke the silence. “My contract with IFP is up in a few weeks. I was offered an extension and was debating whether to accept the offer or return to Corrections Canada.” She began to cry. “You're the reason I took the contract at IFP in the first place. And I wanted to discuss this with you tonight, over dinner. I... I foolishly thought we could start a life together.” She paused for a moment. “Now I know that's not going to happen.”

“Stephanie, please let—”

“Chris, you're spiraling out of control, and there's nothing more I can do to help.” She took a deep breath. “I can't bear to stand by helplessly watching you. It would kill me. I... I'm returning to Corrections.”

“Stephanie, let's go to dinner tonight. I—”

“No. I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sorry.”

“Can I call you later?”

“I don't know. I... I need time to think. I have to go.” She hung up.

Alone in his truck in a parking lot full of empty vehicles, Chris felt lost in a world that had become alien to him—a world where his enemy was his brother, and the woman he loved had just walked out on him. He battled to regain perspective in his life, to make sense of what was happening to him.

He lost track of how long he'd been sitting in his truck, which now felt like a prison. The sky had turned from light to dark. People had returned to their cars and left the parking lot.
They
were all moving on with their lives while
he
had nothing to return to. Cell phone still in hand and facing an unknown future, Chris felt like the loneliest person in the world.

His thoughts involuntarily turned to Ray. He wondered what Ray was plotting, alone in his prison cell. And he wondered when their futures would next collide.
I will survive
this,
he thought as he drifted off to sleep
.

Chris awoke, startled to find himself in his truck. A glance at his watch revealed that it was close to midnight. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to his apartment. It had been raining steadily while he slept, and he encountered very little traffic on the highway.

Turning on his radio in an attempt to keep awake, he caught highlights of an earlier press conference where an RCMP spokesman provided an update on the investigation into the death of James Carrier and the abduction of his daughter. The newscast left Chris even more depressed as he reflected on the shambles that had become his life. He wondered how it was all going to end, but wasn't particularly optimistic. He was relieved to finally turn onto his street.

Chris yawned as he pulled into the driveway of his building and pressed the opener to the underground parking garage. A drink or two, then to bed, he decided, hoping that things might look better in the morning.

Suddenly his back window exploded, spraying shards of glass everywhere. He glanced in the rear-view mirror just in time to see a shooter taking aim from inside a parked car across the street. Chris ducked as a second bullet ripped through his truck, shattering what remained of the window and coming close enough to spray him with its fragments.
Shit, what do I
do now?
He was an open target as long as he remained in his truck. His first impulse was to drive into the parking garage for refuge. But in his panic, he had taken his foot off the brake, sending the truck rolling forward until it had smashed into the side of his building and stalled. The garage was a mere five feet away and the door had opened. He threw open the driver's side door and vaulted from a crouch into the garage.

Once inside, he raced to the main door leading from the garage to the apartment lobby. Too panic-stricken to wait for the elevator, he headed for the stairs. As the stairwell door closed behind him, he thought he heard shouting and more gunfire in the distance. He thundered up flights of stairs, stopping only when he had reached the top. With nowhere else to turn and completely exhausted, he collapsed to the ground and tried to catch his breath.

It was only then that he noticed that he was dripping blood onto the floor and was becoming increasingly weak. He heard strange voices drawing near, but his vision was blurring and he felt woozy. He tried to call out.

And then he felt nothing as his world faded to black.

FORTY-FIVE

Thursday, February 23, 7:59 a.m.
Chris slowly regained consciousness to find himself lying in a hospital bed. Sergeant Ryan was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed reading a paper—seeing him gave Chris a distinct feeling of déjà vu. When he saw that Chris was awake, the sergeant smiled.