The Killer Trail (5 page)
Chris braced himself for Deanna's visit. He knew she'd be concerned about him and figured he'd get some sympathy from her. It was hearing her tell him “I told you so” that he feared would do him in. Seeing the toll his work was taking on him and on their relationship, Deanna had been insisting for the last couple of years that he change his job. But never could he have imagined living through the events of the past twenty-four hours. What had taken place still felt surreal. But the implications for his family if Ray was targeting them were all too real.
The door to his room opened slowly, and Deanna cautiously poked her head inside, unsure what she was going to see on the other side. Her normally lustrous chestnut hair was unkempt and her face drawn. Her reddened eyes finally made contact with Chris, and for an instant, it looked as if she didn't know what to say. She just kept staring. The silence quickly ended with her gasping, “Oh my God. What did he do to you?”
“I'm sorry, Dee.” Chris tried to maintain his composure, to downplay the gravity of the situation. But his emotions abandoned him, and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I never meant for this to happen. I swear to God, I won't let him touch you or Ann.”
“When they told me what happened, I thought for sure we'd lost you,” Deanna cried.
“It's going to be okay, Dee. I promise.” Suddenly he panicked. “Where's Ann?”
“She's waiting outside. I wanted to see you first for myself. I had no idea what kind of shape you were going to be in.” Deanna wiped her eyes.
“Does she know what happened?”
“I had to say something. It was kind of obvious something was wrong.” She swiped the crumpled tissue across her face.
“I'm sorry. I know that's all I seem to say these days and I'm sick of it. It's going to change, Dee. I know I can't go on this way.”
“
We
can't go on this way. We just can't.”
“I know.” He looked away from Deanna, too weary to fight.
Deanna took a deep breath and stared at Chris' hospital bed. “Well, I suppose you'll be staying with us for awhile.”
“I can make other arrangements, Dee. Iâ”
“Oh, be quiet. You're coming home with us. Don't even think about staying anywhere else.”
“You sure?”
“It's the first thing Ann Marie asked when I told her what happened. She wants you home. I've told her this doesn't mean we're getting back together. It's just until you're back on your feet.”
Chris felt a lump in his throat. He was never one for public displays of emotion and could count on one hand the number of times he'd allowed himself to cry in the presence of another person. Yet now he was an emotional wreck.
“That means a lot to me, Dee.” He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, which quickly reminded him of his wounds. “I'd love to see Ann now.”
Wednesday, February 8, 6:36 p.m.
The bus stopped two blocks away from her parent's home, and Elizabeth Carrier hurried off. Her mother would not say over the phone what was wrong or why Elizabeth had to rush home from her night class at the University of British Columbia. But her mother had never before called during class, and Elizabeth could tell from her choked words that she'd been crying. Something was wrongâterribly wrong.
Is it Dad?
She realized she hadn't talked with her father in a few days, but that was not unusual.
Please, don't let it be Dad.
Dry-mouthed with fear, she quickened her pace and tried to avoid guessing what calamity had befallen her family.
It was dark, and the falling snow had turned to slush, emptying the streets of cars and people. All but one, Elizabeth noted. But as the driver exited his idling truck and started walking quickly towards her, her heart rate accelerated with panic.
Do I know him? Why is he approaching me?
She had no time to react, no time to scream, as she was struck in the head with a Maglite and knocked unconscious.
In one swift motion, Elizabeth's assailant grabbed her body before it hit the ground, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her to his truck. He hoisted her into the cab of the truck and drove off into the night.
Thursday, February 9, 9:09 a.m.
The killing ground was littered with corpses on blood-red snow while riotous crows picked over human remains.
Chris was jarred awake by the disturbing images. His sheets were soaked with sweat, and it took a minute for him to remember where he was. When he got his bearings and realized he was no longer on the trail or in imminent danger, his anxiety gave way to relief. He was grateful that Deanna had taken another day off work to help him recover from his injuries, to say nothing of the infinite pleasure he felt each time Ann Marie raced into his room to check on him.
His ordeal had given him a new appreciation for life. He knew more than ever that his daughter was the most important part of his life and he would do everything in his power to keep Ann Marie and Deanna safe.
They were planning to go out for breakfast at Wilbur's
,
which in happier times had been a Ryder family tradition
.
While Ray continued to occupy a large part of his mind, Chris was looking forward to the family excursion. His thoughts of scrambled eggs and sausages waiting for him at the diner were interrupted by the ringing phone.
“Chris, it's Sergeant Ryan for you.” Deanna brought him the phone from the kitchen.
“Hi, Sargeâuh, Brandon. What's new?”
“I hope I'm not calling too early this morning. I wanted to tell you before you hear it anywhere else.”
“Tell me what? Is everything okay?” Chris felt his muscles tense.
“Depends. We arrested Ray Owens early this morning.”
“Really?” Just hearing Ray's name made Chris lose his appetite for breakfast. “How did you find him?”
“Well, that's the thing. He walked straight into the detachment and gave himself up.”
“Why the hell would he do that?”
“I was surprised myself. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. We've got him.”
His queasiness increased, and Chris started to feel the room spinning out of control. In a last-ditch effort to prevent a fall, he propped himself against the wall.
What's Ray doing?
He's got to have a plan.
He was relieved to know that Ray was no longer loose on the street, but he knew in his gut that Ray would never surrender his freedom and turn himself over to the authorities unless it was part of a larger plan. But what could the plan be?
Deanna, who had left to make final preparations for their outing, returned to the room. She could tell from Chris' body language that their lives were about to change yet again. “What's wrong, Chris?”
“It's okay, Dee. Everything's okay. I'll just be a minute.” But he didn't have the energy to keep up the act. He knew that their happy days were once again coming to a close.
“Chris, you still there?” Sergeant Ryan asked.
“I'm here. I'm sure Ray's got an angle. I just don't know what it is yet.”
“Well, that's for you guys to find out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, he's been talking about hearing voices. And he waived his right to a lawyer. Crown counsel has ordered a psychiatric assessment at IFP. That's where you work, isn't it?”
There it was, the angle Chris figured Ray was going after. “You said he's hearing voices?” Chris was sure it was an act, but forewarned was forearmed.
“He's saying there's a voiceâMr. Dobbinâtelling him to do things, including the killings on the trail.”
Goddamnit, he's playing games with me.
Mr. Dobbin was not a voice in Ray's head; he was the landlord he had killed. Ray was orchestrating an admission to the hospital where Chris worked and was using Mr. Dobbin to rub Chris' nose in it.
Sergeant Ryan brought Chris back to the moment. “We haven't been able to locate the cell phone. We'll probably need you to go in there to give us a hand to find it. It's just too vast a space. Are you up for that?”
“I guess I'll have to be.” It was the last place he wanted to revisit after everything he'd been through.
“There's something else, Chris. There's a young woman named Elizabeth Carrier. She's the eighteen-year-old daughter of the victim in Woodland Park, James Carrier. Her family has lost contact with her. She's not officially considered missing yet, as it's been less than twenty-four hours, but given what happened to her father, we're not taking any chances. We're holding a press conference later today to appeal to the public to come forward with any information about Elizabeth.”
“You think Ray is connected with her disappearance?”
“From the way he's been acting, I think he's guilty as sin, but we need evidence. Listen, I shouldn't be telling you all of this, but I know what you went through and I don't think it's over yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“We've questioned Owens, but he's been pretty cagey with us. He's given us absolutely nothing. He keeps talking about you. Chris, you'd better be careful around him.”
When am I ever going to be free from this bastard? “
I think he's playing games.”
“You might be right. He could be having fun at our expense. Chris, if he really does have something to do with Elizabeth Carrier, you may be the best chance we have in discovering what that something is. He seems to feel some bizarre connection to you. We need to use that to our advantage.”
Chris had hoped that Ray's arrest would mean the end of their association with each other. But he now knew that their involvement was far from over and that their fates were inextricably bound together. He felt a heavy burden settle on his shoulders. “I'll do my best.”
Thursday, February 9, 9:09 a.m.
Ray lay stretched out on a filthy, stinking mattress in a police cell looking at the shit-smeared ceiling above him and admiring the job he'd done. He figured it would help make a convincing argument for a psychiatric evaluation at the shithole IFP. In fact, he was counting on it.
He was feeling uncharacteristically edgy. Chris Ryder had that effect on him. Until Ryder had entered his life, no one had ever been able to get a rise out of Ray, a fact that he'd held as a point of pride. Ryder got to him, and it pissed him off royally.
He knew he could have continued his run from the police. He had no problem with that. But it was Ryder who was responsible for putting him on the run.
That
was a problem in Ray's mind.
There's no way I'm running from Ryder.
He'd make Ryder pay for what he'd done to him. He had big plans for Chris Ryder.
He's going to wish he'd killed me when he
had the chance.
Thursday, February 9, 10:39 a.m.
After his phone call from Sergeant Ryan, Chris accompanied Deanna and Ann Marie to breakfast, but all he could stomach was three cups of black coffee. He replayed the conversation he'd had with the sergeant, as Ann Marie chattered on joyously about her current favourite movie,
Princess Ariana.
Deanna attempted to talk with him about plans for the week ahead, including Ann Marie's swimming and dance lessons, but he kept zoning out. When they returned home and their daughter was happily playing in her room, Deanna confronted Chris in the living room. “This can't go on.”
“What do you mean? Didn't we have a good time today?”
“Oh, come off it, Chris. You bloody well know what I'm talking about. After your phone call from the police, your thoughts were a million miles from us. It's not fair to Ann Marie or to me.”
“I'm trying, Dee. I really am.”
Deanna shook her head. “I'm sure you are, but I feel like we're right back to square one. Your work takes priority over everything else in your life, including our daughter and me. You won't let me help you. You're still shutting me out.”
“I don't talk about work with you because it's better if I try to keep it away, separate from us. And in case you didn't notice, this is about more than
just
work. A guy tried to kill me!”
“I
do
know how serious this is, Chris, but you're avoiding the issue. We've been through this before. Remember what the therapist said: âYou compartmentalize
.'
That's the problem. It doesn't work. You end up blocking us out. I can't take it any more.” Her voice became throaty as she fought off tears.
“So, what are you saying, Dee? You want me to leave?” His face was getting hot with frustration. He hated to see Deanna cry, and hated being the cause of her sorrow. “I'm sorry.” He looked away from her.
“I know, Chris. Maybe a small part of both of us thought this time would be different. But it isn't, and it's for the best that we separated.” They both remained silent for a moment.