The Killer Trail (10 page)

“That's a good question. Why do you feel so compelled to return to work so soon? Is your identity wrapped entirely around your work? Is that healthy? Those are questions for you to think about, Chris.” Stephanie put her pen down. “This is a time for you to restore a healthy balance to your life. Making the most of your time off work can be very healthy for you... and your family. To—”

“What's my family have to do with this?”

“That's another question I think you should ask yourself.”

“Goddamnit, stop answering every question with a question. Look, I have to go back to work. I really do.”

“Why? Tell me why that's so important to you?”

He paused.
Why
was
it so important?
“Each day... that I'm not there... I feel like he's winning. That Ray's winning. I need to go back... to show him that he hasn't won.” He caught himself off guard with this revelation.

“Chris, why are you so preoccupied with Ray Owens, besides the obvious fact that he tried to kill you?”

He hesitated. “You're going to think this is messed up, and it probably is.”

“Go on.” Stephanie leaned forward.

“I feel like I know him. Like I've run into earlier versions of him all my life.” He paused. “When I was a kid, there was this bully Wayne. My aunt called him ‘Wayne the Pain.' He'd march into the neighbourhood looking for trouble. For some reason he always singled me out.”

Chris hadn't thought of Wayne in years, but just uttering his name brought him back to those painful days of his youth.
“Gimme your Doritos, Ryder.” “Gimme a spin on your new
bike. Oops, didn't see the curb. Guess it's not new anymore.”
“Gonna run home crying to your mommy? Oops, I forgot,
you don't have a mommy.”
Chris' bubbling anger brought him back to the present.

“It wasn't just that he beat the shit out of me when I didn't do what he said. Or that he made a fool out of me in front of my friends.” He took in a breath. “What really hurt was how he made me feel about myself. I started to hate myself.” He could feel his emotions slipping out of control and stopped momentarily, avoiding eye contact with Stephanie, before continuing. “After a while, I began to hate the feeling of hating myself. I didn't want to feel that way anymore. I'd rather have my nose bloodied than to cower and feel that way. My Aunt Mary knew something was wrong. She took me to see someone. She also bought me weights and signed me up at a gym where I started running and started getting stronger. I swore that I'd never
ever
back down to Wayne again. And I didn't.”

Chris looked at Stephanie, who remained speechless. “I despise people like Ray, the way he treats other people, the fact that he thinks the rules don't apply to him. But as much as I despise him, I know him. Just like he gets inside my head, I think I can get inside his.” He fell silent.

Stephanie spoke softly. “Thank you, Chris, for sharing that part of your life with me.”

“So now you know why I have to go back to work and show Ray that he hasn't won.”

“I do understand where you are coming from, Chris. But explain to me how this is
healthy
and why I should be persuaded to go against my better judgment a second time in supporting your return to work?”

“I think he's playing a game. I think he planned on coming back to IFP for a reason—to play with me.”

“If that is indeed what he is doing, the stakes are too high to be playing his game.”

“I know that. Believe me, I really do. But...you've heard about the missing woman—Elizabeth Carrier?”

“Yes?” Stephanie gave Chris a puzzled look.

“She's the daughter of one of Ray's victims from Woodland Park
.
The police believe Ray may be connected to her disappearance.”

Stephanie looked confused. “Okay, but what does this have to do with you?”

“I think he's a sick, twisted psychopath. I think he wants to use me in some sort of game involving Elizabeth Carrier.”

“Even if that were true, look at the risks involved. How would that be fair to you?”

“It's got nothing to do with fair. Whether I like it or not, I have to play along with him... if it could help
her
.”

Stephanie paused, reflecting on what she had heard. When she spoke again, it was in a low voice, as if she knew it would elicit an angry response from Chris. “You need to know... that Ray Owens... is not Stan Edwards.”

“Jesus, Stephanie. Where the hell is that coming from?”

“I think you know what I'm saying. I know about Stan Edwards.”

“Dammit, Stephanie! You're bringing up stuff that I told you a long time ago. Stuff from the past, from
our
past. All that shit belongs back there. You have no right to bring that up now.”

“No, it needs to be said, Chris. Because I think the man who murdered your mother when you were a boy still haunts you. But Ray Owens, as bad as he is, is not Stan Edwards. And saving Elizabeth Carrier will not bring Fiona back.”

Chris threw his hands in the air. “You're absolutely... I can't believe what I'm hearing! Do you actually believe what you're saying?” He could feel his blood running hot. He looked away from Stephanie, desperately trying to regain composure. “I feel so... betrayed. I told you about my mother because I trusted you. I told you serious, personal stuff back then—stuff that didn't come easy for me. And now you're using it against me. That's just—”

“Sorry, Chris. That wasn't my intention. I want to help you. I'm worried you're on a very dangerous path. I see patterns between how you struggled over what happened to your mother and what you are going through now. If you don't deal with the parallels you have created between Stan and Ray, it will continue to haunt you. You could get yourself killed. Ray Owens is a monster.”

“Wow. Is that your deep psychological diagnosis for him? He's a
monster?
Is that the best you can come up with?”

“Chris—”

“You're really something else, you know?” He shook his head.

“Listen to me,” Stephanie said passionately. “You left yesterday, upset with what I had to say. But look what happened when you went back to work. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Chris had heard enough from Stephanie. He stood up, shoved his chair back against the wall, and stormed to the door, ready to leave. “What the hell does it matter to you what happens to me?”

“Because I care about you. I... I have feelings for you.”

“You... what?”

“The truth is... well, I still have feelings for you.” She fiddled with her pen as she began to blush. “I thought I had buried them, but seeing you again made me realize they're still there.” She took a deep breath. “So you see, I know a thing or two about living with the past too. I know I need to be honest with myself and with you about my feelings. And I could tell from our meeting yesterday that you still have feelings for me. I—”

“Jesus, I...” Chris felt a confusing mixture of emotions and wasn't sure what had affected him more—Stephanie's comment about his mother, or her confession about having feelings for him.

“I'm sorry, Chris. The last thing I want to do is hurt you— like before.”

“Some things are better left in the past. That's what I've told myself all these years. When there's nothing you can do about it.”

“But sooner or later, Chris, the past catches up with you. You have to deal with it, one way or another.”

“Not today. I have to go, Stephanie. I've got to pick my daughter up.” He walked out the door, utterly bewildered.

Driving to Deanna's house to meet Ann Marie, Chris replayed his conversation with Stephanie. His life was unraveling, and he wasn't sure how to put it back together. He thought about canceling his outing with Ann Marie, but realized she needed stability and predictability in her life. And he needed the stability that his daughter provided as well. He'd called ahead to ask Deanna to hold off on Ann Marie's supper, as he hoped they could go out for a meal together. Pulling up in front of the house, Chris could see his daughter looking out the window. She raced past the front door and jumped into her father's arms, and he enveloped her with a big hug.

“Hey, sweetie. Do you feel like Wilbur's tonight?”

“But Daddy, we go there for breakfast.”

“Who says we can't have breakfast for supper?” He tickled her side.

“You're silly,” Ann Marie laughed.

Deanna walked down the stairs, wearing a dress Chris couldn't remember seeing before. “Wow, someone's going out tonight!” He resisted the urge to pry for more information.

Ignoring his comment, Deanna simply stated, “I shouldn't be any later than ten. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Chris felt awkward and knew better than to press any further.

Deanna leaned down to give Ann Marie a kiss on her forehead. “Don't forget to brush your teeth before bed, okay? I'll check on you when I get home.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Ann Marie replied, oblivious to the awkwardness between her parents.

Deanna glanced at Chris. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” He turned to Ann Marie and whispered, “Are you ready to have a good night, just you and me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said with a big smile.

“All right then. Wilbur's, here we come.”

On the drive to the restaurant, Ann Marie filled her father in on the details of her day.

Wilbur's was the epitome of a greasy spoon, but was a local favourite for its hearty breakfasts and friendly staff. Ann Marie cheerfully ordered waffles with strawberries while her father went with his usual scrambled eggs and toast. Ann Marie was busy mushing her strawberries in whipped cream when Chris felt compelled to tell his daughter, “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Daddy.” She kept her eyes on her waffle.

“And you know I will always love you?”

Ann Marie looked at her father and gave him a funny look. “Daddy, you're silly.”

Chris marveled at her sapphire blue eyes and silky brown hair. “I know I'm silly. But I want you to know that I love you. Mommy and Daddy both love you very, very much.”

“I know.” Ann Marie picked up a strawberry with her fingers and playfully dipped it into an extra thick layer of whipped cream. Chris silently watched her, finally satisfied that the drama between her mother and him was not having an obvious adverse affect on her.

After eating, he offered Ann Marie the choice of bowling or a movie at home. She deliberated for a few seconds before deciding on a movie. When they got home, she ran to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. She returned with her
Princess Ariana
DVD and an accompanying princess doll that Chris assumed was Ariana. Ann Marie took great effort to pose her doll in a precise sitting arrangement as she cuddled up to her father.

As Ann Marie blissfully talked along with the movie's dialogue and gave her father a commentary on every scene in the movie, Chris watched her with a mixture of amazement and melancholy. She was the picture of innocence and joy, and he wanted to capture this moment and frame it forever in his memory. He wanted Ann Marie to retain these beautiful characteristics of wonderment and happiness even as he hoped to shield her from a world of cruelty and sorrow. He feared this fleeting moment of tranquility would soon give way to an uncertain future, but he was more determined than ever to protect his daughter from the Ray Owenses of the world.

TWENTY

Sunday, February 12, 3:33 p.m.
Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy
Kingdom come...

Elizabeth Carrier lost count of how many times she had said the Lord's Prayer. She hadn't been particularly religious up to this point in her young life. But now that she was clearly in her moment of need, she reached out to a higher power.

Sensing that her captors had temporarily left her alone in the cabin, she exerted every ounce of strength she had left in an attempt to wiggle her hands free from the rope that bound her to a hard wooden chair. She felt the skin on her wrists being rubbed raw against the coarse rope, and she realized her wrists were now bleeding. She cried out in pain and in desperation for someone to save her, but fearing that her time on this earth was coming to an end.
Our Father who art in
Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come...

TWENTY-ONE

Monday, February 13, 8:03 a.m.
Ray lay on his bed. He was glad to be out of the seclusion room, but seeing the helpless look on Ryder's face had made it worth it. Now he was mulling over the mind games he would play with that bitch-shrink Stevenson—he'd been eagerly waiting for this chance ever since his admission to the hospital.
Beat
the mindfuckers at their own game.
He knew the manipulation routine better than anyone and relished the thrill of schooling the fools. They were so pathetically easy to take in. His scam was to feign symptoms of mental illness during his admission at IFP and trick everyone into believing he was out of his mind when he committed his crimes. In court, he would represent himself, at which time he would launch a defence strategy arguing that he was now cured from his symptoms of mental illness. He would then seek an absolute discharge from all criminal charges. He had rejected the services of a legal aid lawyer.
What the fuck do they know?
Ray intended his day in court to make a mockery of the mental health and justice system, and the very thought aroused him.