The Killer Trail (12 page)

“I appreciate what you're doing, I do. But...” She paused, struggling with what to say next. “The truth is, I knew about your separation. When I heard about the opening at IFP for contract work, I took it—with you in mind. I wanted to see you. I shouldn't have assigned myself to your case. That was a mistake. I think it's best that I refer you to someone at EAP, who can follow through with you. I think that—”

“Come on, Stephanie. We've been through that. Is it really necessary?”

“I think it is. It's clear to me that you're going through a very difficult time and someone at EAP will be able to help you.”

“That wasn't what I meant...” Now it was Chris who struggled for the right words. “I thought we were getting somewhere. I mean, I was getting somewhere from our meetings. Can't we just continue?”

More silence from Stephanie. “Are we going to pretend I didn't say what I said last time? I can't. My personal feelings are clouding my professional judgment. I can't do that.”

Chris felt deflated. This was not going the way he had hoped. And yet he knew Stephanie was right. He couldn't ask her to continue with something that she thought was in breach of her professional practice standards. “Whatever you think is best. I'll obviously go along with it.”

Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Chris, for being so understanding. I believe it's for the best.”

I've heard that before.
Chris thought back to what Deanna had said to him six months earlier when they had separated. “What will you say... you know... about the reason for the recommendation to EAP?”

“I've thought about that. And I haven't found a good explanation—except the truth.”

“So you're going to tell them you want to sleep with me?” Chris joked.

Stephanie blushed. “Well, I wasn't exactly going to put it that way.”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of what you're saying.”

“It'll be okay. The fact is, you were originally referred to me as part of critical-incident debriefing, which was designed for support, not treatment. It'll be my recommendation that an appointment with EAP is warranted, and it's likely your manager will strongly encourage you to attend an initial meeting.”

Chris debated how he should ask his next question. Finally, he just blurted it out: “Are you going to be saying anything about my mother?”

“Would that bother you if I did?”

“It's just that it... complicates things. Makes larger issues out of things than they need to be.”

“How so?” Before he had a chance to respond, Stephanie added, “First of all, the content of our meetings remains confidential. And I wasn't planning on mentioning your mother, but I'm curious why you asked.”

“Because my manager doesn't need to know about my past—that's none of his business. But... but I'm not a fool, Stephanie, and I know you're not either. I shared stuff about my mother before and... well, when I try to look at things from your perspective, I can see why you might see a connection. Between her and Stan Edwards and Ray Owens and me.”

“Chris, I don't think it's a coincidence that your mother and you both chose helping professions—nursing and social work. You are empathetic with your patients, and from what I hear, you are very compassionate towards their families. I believe the difficult experiences you had growing up with your own family makes you attuned to the struggles you observe with your patients' families.” She paused. “I know your mother died when you were young.”

“She didn't die, Stephanie. She was killed. There's a difference.”

“I'm sorry, Chris, I didn't mean—”

“No, it's me who's sorry. The truth is, that night when I was on the trail... when Ray...” Chris breathed deeply. “When he held the rifle on me, I actually thought about my mother. I thought, this is how she must have felt when Stan Edwards took her hostage in that hospital. For some messed-up reason, I thought about her.” He bowed his head and massaged his temple, looking away from Stephanie. “Jesus. What am I doing, talking about this?”

“Go on, Chris. Don't stop.”

“Then I thought of how he had killed her. And more than anything, I didn't want to give Ray the satisfaction of killing me. I didn't want to let him win. You were right. Ray did remind me of Stan. But...” He stared off into the distance, not knowing what to say next.

“Chris, I won't be mentioning your mother. But that doesn't change my concern about your preoccupation with Ray Owens. It's not healthy, and—”

“I know. I know it's risky for me to play his game. Believe me, I would love to walk away from this and never hear his name again. But, like I said before, I really don't have a choice.”

Stephanie remained silent. Chris felt the need to change the topic—quickly. “So where do we go from here?”

“Well, I'll send my recommendation to your manager. I should have it done by tomorrow.”

“That's not what I meant. What about...
us
?”

Stephanie fidgeted in her chair. “What do you mean?”

Now it was Chris' turn to blush. “From the moment I saw you, I haven't been able to get you off my mind.”

Stephanie was silent for a minute. “I don't want to complicate things any more than they already are, Chris.”

“My marriage is over. Believe me, it's over and has been for longer than I care to admit.” He sighed. “It's for the better. Deanna's dating.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is. But I feel like... well, maybe you and I have a chance here.” He paused, took a deep breath. “So how about it? Will you take a chance on me?” Chris laughed nervously as he thought of the song with the same title. “If it will help, I'll even sing that Abba song for you. What do you say?”

Stephanie smiled despite herself, but then said in a serious tone, “I don't know, Chris. I just don't know. I think we need to go slow and see where things lead.”

“What about supper? Tonight. I can pick you up.”

“I'd like to, but I'd feel a whole lot better if we waited, at least until we are no longer officially working together.”

“What, you can't be seen in public with your clients?” He had meant it as a joke, but once the words were spoken, he realized his comment was touched with sarcasm. “Sorry about that. That didn't come out the way I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

“You'll give me a call then, or let me call you?”

“Yes. I'd like to. It would be nice to get together.”

“All right then. I'll wait.” He extended his hand to her. What he really wanted to do was to place his arms around her but knew he couldn't. The way he was thinking about her, he was unlikely to stop at a friendly hug. So they shook hands. Chris detected a slight blush in Stephanie's cheeks.

Chris decided to check in on his colleagues in the social work department. Lately he'd been a stranger to their normally tight-knit group. Working in a dynamic setting with constantly shifting demands and challenges meant they had to trust and rely upon one another. He had always been proud to be a part of this team. He found Gerald on the phone in his office and waited until his friend had hung up before announcing his arrival.

“Hey, Chris, good to see you, man.”

“Good to see you too.”

“Take a seat. How are you doing? The last time—”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about the other night. I got a bit out of hand.”

“That's not what I meant. I know... Look, we all know it's a brutal time right now for you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I plan to be back to work soon. I hope you haven't had to cover too much for me. You know, in addition to the Owens case.”

Gerald shook his head. “Man, that Owens is something else.” He proceeded to fill Chris in on Dr. Stevenson's interview with Ray as well as his own brief interactions with the man. “The guy's a psychopath. The staff on Alpha can't wait to get rid of him. He's stirring the shit pretty bad there, instigating fights between patients and trying to get them fighting against staff. You name it and you'll find Owens in the thick of it.”

Chris shook his head. “Yeah, he's bad news.” He needed to change the topic. “So how's everybody else in the department doing?”

“Good. I mean, it's busy. It's always busy; what else is new? We're hanging in there. We'll be glad to see you back, that is, when you're feeling up to it.”

“Yeah, hopefully soon. I've been seeing Stephanie... uh, professionally, that is.” He felt his cheeks burning as he remembered how he'd drunkenly talked to Gerald about Stephanie a few days earlier.

Gerald brushed off his colleague's awkwardness. “You know, Chris, the more I think about it, I can really see you guys together.” And then with an attempt to elicit a smile from Chris, he added, “You make such a cute couple.”

Chris' face turned red. “We'll have to see about that. Well, I guess I'll let you get back to work.”

He headed to his own office, aware that he needed his manager's clearance before returning to work and was taking a risk in disobeying David's directive, something he would never do under normal circumstances.
But these are not
normal circumstances
,
and I have to do what I think is right.

He spent the next few hours returning phone calls to his patients' families. For many patients, as in the case of Paul Butler, this was the first time their loved one was in trouble with the law. For many patients, it was also the first contact with mental health services, let alone the Institute of Forensic Psychiatry, so family members were full of questions, filled with sadness, shock, guilt, and confusion. Chris found working with patients' families to be challenging but also among the most rewarding aspects of his job.

He had first spoken with Paul's mother Susan a few weeks earlier after Paul's admission to IFP. Her world had been turned upside down by her twenty-two-year-old son's erratic behaviour, which had culminated in criminal charges. Susan had tearfully told Chris that her son had been complaining for several weeks that he was receiving disturbing messages from his television and computer. In an effort to prevent evil spirits from entering the family home, Paul had closed all the blinds in the house and blocked the heating vents.

Susan had explained how she'd tried to seek help for her son, who had become too scared and suspicious to even venture outside the house. He had misunderstood her efforts to help him and was becoming increasingly paranoid. In the midst of an intense argument, Paul had thrown his computer out his window and rampaged through the home, threatening his mother. Susan had wept as she described how the police came and advised her to have charges laid against her son, as a way to ensure he received the help he needed. As a result, Paul had been ordered to IFP for a psychiatric assessment.

In a subsequent phone call, Susan had revealed that her son had first been diagnosed with schizophrenia about two years earlier. Until recently, he had been taking his medications and never been violent or in trouble with the law.

Chris' telephone call with Paul's mother today lasted over an hour. He could tell that she was guilt-ridden about calling the police, and she expressed anxiety about whether her son's mental health would improve. He answered her questions on Alpha unit and the court process.

He also updated her on Paul's progress at IFP. At the end of their conversation, Susan told Chris she hoped to visit her son the following week. Although she lived several hours away, she wanted to make the visit as his birthday was approaching. Chris took down the details and said he would make special arrangements with the staff on Alpha unit to permit flexibility when she arrived.

Although he was exhausted by the time he left his office at the end of the day, Chris welcomed the opportunity to focus on his patients instead of thinking only about Ray Owens and the fate of Elizabeth Carrier.

TWENTY-THREE

Tuesday, February 14, 2:07 a.m.
Elizabeth's captor was bored from being cooped up in the cabin and decided to pass the time by having fun with her. “Hey Princess, wake up, it's Valentine's Day.” He laughed at the sight of the girl being jarred from her sleep as he uncovered her blindfold. “You got a special someone in your life? Yeah, I bet you do. I'll bet you're a real fuckin' tease.” He sized her up for the umpteenth time, fantasizing about the hot slender body wrapped underneath her clothes. His eyes locked on hers and she quickly looked away. “What's your problem? I'm not good enough for you? You wouldn't fuck me if I was the last guy in the world?” He laughed heartily. “Believe me babe, I just may be the last guy you ever see in this world.”

He saw the look of terror on her face. “Hey, just saying. Don't blame me, I'm just doing my job, that's all. If you want someone to blame, blame your fuckin' father. None of us would be here if it weren't for him. But he was taken care of, too.”