by D. B. Carew
“What do you mean?”
“I saved your life. Now you gotta save my brother’s.” He gave Chris a serious look. “Promise you’ll do everything you can for him.”
Even in his state of shock, Chris was amazed at how protective Michael was of his brother. He realized he envied their relationship. “I’ll do what I can. I promise.”
“Tell him Mikey says he’ll be going home soon.” He looked around the empty parking lot and back at Chris. “You got a phone?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Do me a favour. Give me an hour before calling this in. It’ll give me a chance to ... Oh, forget it, do what you gotta do. Just look after my brother.” He approached the SUV, jumped in, started the engine with a roar, and sped off.
Chris watched the vehicle disappear from sight. When it was gone, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
He looked down at Calvin’s body, but this time, he couldn’t avoid puking. Now his body was trembling violently from both his ordeal and the rain that had soaked through his clothes.
He reached into his pocket for his cellphone, hesitated for a moment to catch his breath and decide what he was going to say, then dialled 911. He told the operator what had happened and where he was. When the operator ended the call, Chris placed another. Brandon picked up, and Chris filled him in on the details.
“Damn! Are you all right, Chris?”
“Better than Calvin,” Chris replied, his voice quavering.
He soon saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles coming into view through the fog. “The police are on their way. I should go.” He decided against calling Stephanie, realizing he’d be in a better position to talk once his shock had lessened.
A convoy of vehicles converged on the scene. The parking lot lit up, the spotlights from police vehicles and ambulances crisscrossing and illuminating the night sky. The lot was being cordoned off with POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape. Chris was bundled onto a gurney and hoisted into an ambulance where paramedics took his vitals and assessed his injuries. A police officer stood by waiting to ask questions about the events leading to the shooting. Chris told him what happened, including Calvin’s confession to killing Alberto Bianchi, and Marvin’s innocence. A black tarp was prepared for Calvin’s body.
It didn’t take long for a media van to arrive. A reporter angled her way past the police line trying to get to Chris while her partner shot images of the scene. Chris was reminded somewhat unpleasantly of the last time he’d been inundated by the media at this park, right after he’d rescued Elizabeth Carrier. Unfortunately, Sergeant Ryan wasn’t here tonight to shield him from the questions.
“Can you tell us about the body?”
“Did you shoot him?”
“Will you please give the man some breathing room? Can’t you see he’s been through enough?” Phillip Bernum smiled widely for the reporter while pretending to be outraged. The media crew parted for him. “Good evening, Mr. Ryder. Bit of a press orgy, wouldn’t you say?” Bernum laughed, unfazed by the spectacle.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” the lawyer said through a saccharine smile. “It’s a rather interesting story, actually. I happened to be in the area when I heard on my scanner that there was a police incident unfolding at Woodland Park. I thought I’d see if there was anything I could do to help. Quite the coincidence that I’d end up meeting you here, wouldn’t you say?”
Coincidence, my ass, Chris thought.
“I see that you’re confused, Mr. Ryder. My apologies. I admit it’s a bit awkward, our meeting here this evening, given that I’m representing Mr. Owens. By the way, I heard about your recent visit with my client. Tsk, tsk, sir.” He waved his index finger. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to make a big deal about your indiscretion. I understand how stress can make people act in desperate and irrational ways.”
He extended his hand, and again Chris ignored it. “Very well.” Bernum’s smile faded in mock disappointment.
Then he smiled again. “I hope the remainder of your evening is less eventful” were his parting words as he walked back toward the media crew.
Chris was confused by Bernum’s presence. Was it simple coincidence or something more? He was so done in by all that had transpired in the past few hours that he didn’t have the energy to give it further thought. He just wanted to sleep.
A paramedic said they were taking Chris to the Health Sciences Centre to be assessed. The door closed, and the vehicle’s emergency lights flashed and its siren wailed as it headed off to the hospital.
Chris wasn’t keen to be going to the hospital, but the ambulance attendant’s small talk provided a good distraction. It must have been an uncharacteristically slow night because he didn’t have long to wait before he was whisked through the triage centre and assessed by a physician, who barraged him with questions.
Chris did his best to remain alert, but eventually exhaustion overcame him and he fell into a deep sleep.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Chris awoke completely disoriented. Where am I? Oh yes, a hospital bed.
He reached for the call bell beside him, grimacing as pain shot up and down his neck, but he ignored his discomfort because he needed to call Stephanie. He figured she’d be worried because she hadn’t heard from him. He pushed the button and a nurse was quick to arrive, offering assistance.
“I need to call someone, let her know where I am.”
The nurse smiled. “She’s in the waiting room. I’ll let her in.”
Chris let out a sigh of relief. He was looking forward to finally seeing a familiar face. The door opened, and Deanna walked in.
Her expression told Chris that she had seen the perplexed look on his face. “They called me. They still have me listed as your next of kin.” She smiled as she walked closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit by a truck.” He hadn’t intended the pun, and it brought a smile to both their faces. He looked at the clock on the wall: seven forty-five. “Is it morning or evening?”
“Morning. You were brought in late last night.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A couple hours.” She suppressed a yawn.
“I’m sorry, Dee. You didn’t need to do this.”
“I was worried about you.” Before he had a chance to ask the question, she said, “Ann Marie is home. My mother is looking after her.”
“She doesn’t know?”
Deanna shook her head. “She was already in bed. We both were when the hospital called. I didn’t want to wake her, but I wanted to see you.”
“Thanks.”
“What happened?” she asked in a worried voice. “The hospital said you were in a car accident. But the news I heard on the radio on the way in here said you were at Woodland Park. And a body was found there. Is that true?”
He sighed and touched his head. There was bandage gauze on his forehead. “It’s a long story.”
“Does it have anything to do with Ray Owens?”
“Good question.” He shrugged, wincing as he gingerly moved his shoulder. “The incident had to do with one of my patients. I’m sure Ray is involved somehow.” He tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, but the movement hurt his neck.
“Is there anything I can get you? Do you want the nurse?”
“Nah, that’s all right. I’ll ask for some ibuprofen in a while. I should probably call Stephanie, though.”
“Sorry, I didn’t have her number or I’d have called her.”
“I appreciate you being here, Dee. I really do.”
A physician entered the room and told Chris he was lucky to walk away with only moderate symptoms of a soft tissue injury to his neck and shoulder. Chris should expect soreness, swelling, and bruising; treatment options included rest, ice, compression, and elevation. The physician then told him he was ready for discharge, and Chris was advised to check back with his family doctor in a few days, sooner if the sym
ptoms became unmanageable at home.
Deanna offered Chris a ride back to his apartment.
Despite his throbbing neck, the ride home with Deanna was pleasant. The day was promising to be warm and sunny. They talked mostly about their daughter, and Chris agreed with Deanna’s suggestion that they reschedule his visit with Ann Marie to a day when he was feeling better.
Finally, they pulled up in front of Chris’ apartment building. Chris thanked Deanna again for all that she had done and was about to open the door to step out.
“Ann Marie keeps talking about the aquarium. She wants the three of us to go back.” Deanna paused and smiled before continuing. “I’d like that, too.”
“That, uh ... would be nice,” Chris responded, albeit awkwardly. There it was again, this feeling he had that Deanna wanted to give their relationship another try. Was he right? Or was he reading too much into this?
He had to know, so he blurted out, “What about Walter?”
“I’ve stopped seeing him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Dee.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. We ended things okay. He’s a nice guy. It’s just ... he’s not you.”
“So what are you saying? You want to give us another shot now? I would have loved that nine months ago, Dee. Believe me, there’s nothing in this world I wanted more. But you closed that door firmly. I had no choice but to move on. And as hard as it was, I did. I have moved on, at least I’m trying ... with Stephanie.”
Deanna said nothing but tears were forming in her eyes.
“I feel like a jerk, Dee. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I’ll always love you. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“So I guess that’s a no on the aquarium,” Deanna said, wiping her eyes. “I should get going. Got to pick up Ann Marie.”
“I’ll always be there for you, and for Ann Marie,” Chris said, stepping out of the car. “You know I will.”
“I do.”
Chris watched as she drove off, and then entered his building, agonizing over an ever-increasing headache.
Chris checked his phone and saw he had missed calls from Stephanie. He scrolled through the Tribune and wasn’t surprised to find the headline Another Body Found at Woodland Park glaring back at him. Below the headline was a photograph of emergency vehicles in the park’s parking lot, cordoned off with police tape. Chris stood there and read the full article, which said the victim’s identity was being withheld pending notification of next of kin.
It was when the story mentioned him by name that his pulse rate accelerated and he could feel the familiar tightness in his chest.
Chris Ryder was rushed by ambulance to the Health Sciences Centre with undisclosed injuries. Authorities declined to comment on any connection between Ryder and the body found at the park. Ryder was credited three months ago with rescuing Elizabeth Carrier at Woodland Park, along with discovering the body of Carrier’s father, James. Ray Owens was charged with the murder of James Carrier and remains in custody at this time.
He hoped to connect with Stephanie before she found out what happened from the news rather than from him. He called her number.
He was too late. Stephanie had heard the news on the radio when she woke up and was understandably rattled by the time Chris reached her.
“I left you a message last night before I went to bed. I figured you were asleep. Then I wake up this morning and —”
“I’m sorry, Stephanie. I just got home.”
“Are you all right?” she asked frantically. “What happened?”
Chris spent the next twenty minutes attempting to reassure Stephanie that he was in fact all right. He skimmed through the events of the previous evening to avoid Stephanie worrying even more about him, and because he wasn’t sure how much he should divulge when the police were still investigating.
Despite both his aching body and Stephanie telling him to stay home to rest, Chris decided to go in to work. He knew he was being far too curious for his own good, but he badly needed to find out what would happen with the murder charge against Marvin, now that he himself had helped uncover the identity of the real killer. He gobbled down two ibuprofens and headed for the shower.
THIRTY-NINE
Ray swaggered into the interview room where his visitor was waiting. “Let’s get this over with, Bernum. What do you want?”
“Yes, I imagine your social calendar is crammed with constructive tasks and activities,” Bernum shot back. He gestured at the stack of newspaper clippings Ray had set down in front of him. “Looks like you’ve come armed today.”
“There’s not one story on me that doesn’t mention Ryder on the same page.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve had the good fortune of meeting Mr. Ryder. A very determined soul, I must say. He has an uncanny will for survival. They say he’s a hero.”
“What the fuck makes him a hero?”
“Well, consider the facts. You’re charged with killing James Carrier while Mr. Ryder rescued Carrier’s daughter. People tend to respond more favourably to rescuers than to killers. They’re funny that way,” Bernum said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I would think you’ve got bigger problems than competing with Mr. Ryder for media coverage, wouldn’t you?”
“Whose side are you on here?” Ray snapped.
“You know the answer to that, Mr. Owens. Now let’s get down to business, shall we? I have some rather unfortunate news for you, with regards to your NCR defence.”
“What? Criminally nuts? What’s wrong with that?”
“The legal term is not criminally responsible on account of a mental disorder.”
“That’s the one.”
“As your counsel, I’d strongly encourage you to consider alternative options.”
“Why can’t I claim temporary insanity?”
“I don’t see that as a viable option, Mr. Owens. Dr. Stevenson already assessed you, and her recommendation didn’t support a finding of not criminally responsible.”
“So get another psychiatrist!”
“Believe me, I’ve exhausted doctor shopping. The fact of the matter is Dr. Stevenson is well regarded in the psychiatric community and from what I’ve been told her assessment of you was comprehensive. As a result, I haven’t been able to find anyone willing to conduct another one.” Bernum paused before continuing. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to face the fact there’s a high probability you’ll be found responsible for your actions.”
Ray leaned forward in his chair, shortening the distance between him and the lawyer. “Responsible for my actions? That’s the best you can come up with? What a joke,” he snickered, shaking his head.
“I’m afraid the bad news doesn’t end there, Mr. Owens.”
“What the hell are you talking about now?”
“Well, for starters, the Crown has considerable evidence against you in the Carrier murder, not the least of which is the fact they have Mr. Ryder as a witness whose evidence will be that you confessed to him in killing Carrier. And then there’s the matter of your charge of attempted murder against Mr. Ryder himself.”
“So what? That’s what you’re for.”
“So, I think the time has come for you to accept the reality of a considerable period of incarceration.”
“What happened to that bullshit line you fed me about having a client interested in taking Ryder out and getting me off the charges?”
“I don’t recall being quite that explicit, but nonetheless, Mr. Ryder is no longer a primary interest for my client.”
“Why not? He found Carrier’s body, and my cellphone. Who knows what else he knows?” Ray said incredulously.
“As a matter of fact, I know exactly what Mr. Ryder knows and what he doesn’t know. As your counsel, I’ve had access to the Court documents including the statement Mr. Ryder provided to the police, which frankly contains nothing of an incriminating nature involving my client’s interests.”
“So you let him off the hook, just like that?” Ray s
aid with disgust.
“I’ve also viewed the transcripts from your phone,” he said, ignoring Ray’s comment. “Again, there’s nothing incriminating about my client.”
“I could have told you that!”
“And I, of course, would have believed everything coming out of your mouth,” Bernum said with a sarcastic smile. “On the other hand, the phone represents a rather bigger problem for you, my friend.”
Ray remained silent, as if processing the news. After a long pause he responded. “I know what’s going on here. You wanted to be my lawyer to find out how much I knew about the hit on Carrier, and how much dirt those pigs had on me. And now that your so-called client thinks I’m no threat to them, you all throw me under the bus. You’re a real slick fucker, aren’t you?”
“That’s a colourful way of putting it, but generally speaking, your assessment is accurate, Mr. Owens.”
“If you think I’m gonna let you use me, and not get something in return, you’re even stupider than you look.”
“There’s no need for that tone, my friend. I’m still prepared to work on your defence. I can stall and drag the trial out as long as possible. For a fee, of course.” He looked at a red-faced Ray. “I can see you’re upset now, but when you’re feeling better, call my secretary. She’ll discuss the payment details with you.” Bernum stood up and made his way out of the room.
“You think you’re done with me. But I’m sure as hell not done with you!” Ray shouted in anger and desperation.
FORTY
Chris’ Ranger had been towed away as evidence in the police investigation, but from the amount of damage it had sustained, he figured it was a write-off anyway. He would have to take a taxi to work for the time being.
His ride pulled into the IFP parking lot, and Chris began walking toward the building’s entrance. Lucy Chen approached him, recorder in hand. “Mr. Ryder, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”