[Detective Allan Stanton 03.0] Sorrowful Road

by Alex MacLean

Denis said, “Maybe he has them with him.”

  Heidi shrugged. “He must.”

  Allan looked over at Audra and raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Okay,” Denis said. “Let’s move on.”

  “His office is just down the hall,” Heidi said, leading the way.

  As she walked out of the bedroom, Audra felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Allan leaning in close to her ear.

  “Do you think Stark saw the media appeal we made to the public?”

  “Possible,” Audra whispered. “He could be following the news coverage of his crimes.”

  Allan nodded. “We better check the trash. He might’ve ditched those items after he read the clothing description we released.”

  Audra scratched her jaw. “He’s married with two little daughters, and he’s off killing in his spare time?”

  “I know. How do you manage to live a double life without one bleeding into the other?”

  “Are you having doubts it’s him?”

  Allan’s face tightened. “Not yet.”

  43

  Oakville, November 1

  6:12 p.m.

  I hear a phone ringing somewhere in the haze between waking and sleeping.

  Slowly, I crack my eyes open and find the hotel room around me in shadow. I turn my head on the pillow, glancing at the bedside clock. The illuminated dial reads 6:12. The time surprises me. I remember lying down around two in the afternoon. I must’ve been more exhausted than I realized.

  I sit up, rubbing at the dry crust that seems to have formed over my eyes. My head still throbs. It feels as if someone is tightening screws into every part of my brain. I swear I’ll never have another drink of vodka for as long as I live.

  A voice-mail alert beeps on my cell phone. I drag myself out of bed and cross the floor to a work desk located at the far wall.

  It was Heidi who called. I listen to her voice mail.

  “Jacob,” she says, “I found the divorce papers in your shredder this morning. Please come home so we can talk about this.”

  Grinding my teeth, I delete the message. I feel like throwing the phone against the wall.

  Sure, Heidi. Sure. What’s there to talk about? You were pretty damn adamant about divorcing me last night. I gave you a second reason, remember?

  Taking a seat at the desk, I scrub a hand over my face. I feel a fire igniting inside me, flushing heat through my body.

  I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to see Heidi. Ever, if that’s possible. And the girls? My heart bleeds when I think about them.

  I don’t know what came over me last night. It all seems surreal, a bad dream. My daughters are the most precious things in my life. How could I think of doing something so terrible to them?

  Even now, as I write this, my hand shakes. The guilt twists my guts into a big knot, makes me want to inflict pain on myself.

  Anger is dangerous and unpredictable. It can blind you. Make you lose self-control. Throw in half a liter of vodka, and you end up in a volatile frame of mind.

  I blame Heidi. She just couldn’t let it go. She convinced herself that I really was having an affair, despite no evidence to support it. Then she serves me with divorce papers and threatens to take my daughters away.

  The bitch. The belligerent bitch.

  As I lay beside Jade with that knife in my hand, I realized how far Heidi could push me, right to the edge of madness. I wanted to hurt her, not my daughters.

  I gently stroked Jade’s hair. Her breathing was deep and even. I could feel her heart beating against my ribs. In that moment, I couldn’t imagine loving another person as much as her.

  I’m not sure how long I held her or how long I cried—silently, so she couldn’t hear me. When I eased myself off the bed, Jade stirred then quickly drifted off again.

  In the semidarkness, I watched her sleeping face. I looked over at Jaleesa. She was asleep on her belly with her arms tucked under the pillow and face turned to the side.

  Staggering out to the kitchen, I put the knife back in the wooden block. I took the near-empty bottle of vodka from my office and returned it to the cupboard. Then I went into the garage, closing the door quietly behind me. I had just made it to the side of my car when the sobs began wracking my body. I’d never had emotion hit me like that before, the sheer force of it knocking me to my knees.

  I wept until I couldn’t weep anymore. Then I crawled onto the backseat of my car and either passed out or fell asleep.

  I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache. My mouth was so dry, my teeth were stuck to my lips. I checked my watch: 5:20 a.m. Heidi and the girls wouldn’t be up until 6:30.

  The house was still dark, quiet. I wandered into the kitchen and switched on the light. We store the aspirin in the cupboard over the refrigerator. Finding the bottle, I popped two pills into my mouth and chased them down with a glass of water.

  I keep an overnight bag in my car. It contains a change of clothes, a pair of shoes, and of course my journals. I put on those clothes after I cleaned myself up in the bathroom.

  Before anyone got up, I left. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to get out of the house.

  The time was 5:55 a.m.

  I stopped at Russell Williams for breakfast and three cups of coffee. I managed to finish everything, even though I felt nauseous. I wasn’t in any shape for a long-distance drive, so I decided to grab a room until I felt better and had a chance to clear my head.

  My cell phone rings again. The bedside clock says 7:01 p.m.

  I pick up my phone, checking the display. It’s Heidi again. I let it ring. I’m still in no mood to speak to her.

  Moments later, the voice-mail alert beeps.

  “The girls are asking about you,” she says. “Where are you?”

  I shake my head. I’m with my mistress, Heidi. Remember?

  I don’t understand why she wants me to go home so badly. She ignored me for nearly two weeks. The most words she said to me during that time came last night when she gave me that application for divorce. I wonder if she really does want to talk or if she has a new set of papers for me to sign.

  I shut my eyes and tilt my head from side to side, thinking this over.

  To go home, or not to go home—that is the question.

  44

  Burlington, November 1

  6:33 p.m.

  When Allan followed Audra into Jacob Stark’s office, Detective Montoya was taking pictures of a Dell desktop.

  Arms folded, Denis watched her from the other side of the desk. Heidi Stark leaned against a bookcase on the left wall, eyeballing her cell phone every few seconds. She looked frightened, wary.

  “Does your husband own any other computers?” Denis asked. “A laptop, maybe?”

  “Just that one,” Heidi said.

  “He does all of his business affairs on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he own any firearms?”

  “I won’t allow them in the house,” Heidi said. “Not with the girls.”

  Montoya set the camera on her field kit. “Be right back,” she said. “I need to get some boxes out of the van.”

  After she left, Allan asked Heidi, “Does your husband keep the boarding passes from his flights?”

  “He keeps everything. In case Revenue Canada ever audits him.”

  “Where would they be?”

  She pointed to a closet door on the opposite wall. “In there.”

  Audra asked, “How about airline receipts? He must keep those as well?”

  “Oh, yes,” Heidi said. “He claims all traveling expenses. Flights. Hotels. Meals.”

  Allan heard the light patter of feet behind him. Turning, he saw Jade standing in the doorway. Her eyes were huge.

  “Mommy,” she said. “Why are the police here?”

  Heidi hurried across the office to her and began ushering her away.

  “They’re just looking around, honey,” she said. “Let’s go back to your room, ok
ay?”

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he working?”

  “Maybe. I’m sure he’ll call you.”

  Moments later, she came back. “Sorry about that.”

  Detective Montoya walked in behind her, carrying a few cardboard boxes. She set them on the floor and started disconnecting the cables from the back of the desktop.

  Allan watched her pack up the monitor, printer, and desktop in the boxes. She put the mouse and keyboard in paper evidence bags. Then she documented and labeled everything.

  Mouth agape, Heidi asked, “Do you need to take it all?”

  “All of it,” Montoya said. “Does your husband have any software manuals for the computer?”

  “If he does, they’ll be in the closet.”

  “How ’bout external hard drives?”

  Heidi shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen any.”

  Denis said, “Detective, there’s some other stuff in the closet to take. Receipts, boarding passes, etcetera.”

  As Montoya opened the door, Allan saw storage boxes of various sizes all piled neatly on top of one another. Metal bookplates were adhered to the front of each one, describing what the boxes contained.

  “Is your husband a neat freak?” Audra asked.

  Heidi flinched her head back. “Huh?”

  Audra repeated the question. “I noticed how organized the other closet was,” she added. “Now this one. Or is that you doing it?”

  “No, no. That’s Jacob. Everything has to be right.”

  Allan frowned. “Has to be right?”

  “That’s how he puts it,” Heidi said. “He doesn’t like his things to be out of place.”

  “This makes my job easier,” Montoya said. “All the boxes are labeled.”

  She picked out the ones she considered to have evidential value and set them aside. Poking through books on the top shelf, she brought down a thin booklet.

  “Found the computer manual,” she said.

  She placed it in an evidence bag, labeled it, and then stuck it in the box beside the desktop. Allan, Audra, and Denis helped her carry the items out to the van.

  Twilight was descending on the city, deadening the colors and deepening the shadows. The air carried a chill.

  “I hate this time of year,” Denis said, “You know snow is just around the corner.”

  Montoya closed the doors of the vans, and they all began walking back to the house.

  Reaching the driveway, Audra said, “So what do you guys think?”

  Denis grimaced. “Don’t know. Not what I was expecting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The wife and daughters. I guess I was picturing a different man.”

  Allan said, “What, some loner living in his parents’ basement?”

  “Maybe, Detective,” Denis said. “Maybe I was.”

  They stopped a few feet outside the front door.

  In a hushed tone, Denis asked, “Do you think the wife’s hiding anything?”

  Allan cleared his throat. “I don’t. Her shock and surprise seemed genuine.”

  “But if she tips him off, he might run.”

  “Only the guilty run,” Audra said. “Besides, how’re we supposed to stop her?”

  “Can’t,” Allan said. “We can only hope she doesn’t.”

  Denis scratched a temple. “I wonder why she gave him divorce papers?”

  Allan pursed his lips. “Something happened. If he’s not abusive, then what? Fidelity issues?”

  “Maybe they just fell out of love,” Audra said. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  When they went back inside, they found Heidi in the hallway, cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “Still no answer,” she said, hanging up.

  Allan checked his watch: 7:02.

  Audra asked Heidi, “Did you leave another message?”

  “No.”

  Allan took out his pen and notebook. “Give me his cell number, please.”

  Heidi told him.

  “Your husband drives an oh-nine Camry?” Allan flipped back a page in his notebook. “Plate BFSJ six-nine-zero?”

  Heidi glanced skyward for a second. “Um...I’m not sure about the plate number. I can’t even remember what mine is. But he does own a Camry.”

  Denis asked, “Where does your husband keep his hiking gear?”

  Heidi led them through the kitchen and into the garage. Allan noted the gray Corolla sitting there.

  “Your car?”

  Heidi nodded.

  The back wall of the garage was covered floor to ceiling in slotted wall panels. Lawn tools hung on the right side of the wall. Hiking gear hung on the left: backpacks, trekking poles, different styles of hats, and five shell jackets in various colors.

  Allan’s gaze stopped on two little backpacks and two sets of short trekking poles.

  “Do the girls hike with your husband?”

  Heidi raised her eyebrows. “Huh?”

  Allan gestured to the children’s hiking gear.

  “Oh. Jacob bought those for the girls to use when we vacationed at the Allegheny National Forest last summer. He took them on some of the trails with him.”

  Audra said, “Sounds like he’s good to them.”

  Heidi winced. Allan watched her eyes become wet.

  “He is,” she said brokenly.

  Montoya set her field kit on the floor. “We taking everything?”

  Denis pointed to the trekking poles. “All of those, for starters. Leave the children’s.”

  As Montoya began taking photos, Allan knelt by four pairs of hiking boots, all positioned against the wall with the toes facing out. The brands varied: Wolverine, North Face, KEEN, and Lowa.

  “Not there?” Denis asked.

  Allan looked up at him. “No Merrells.”

  “Shit.”

  “Are we taking those boots?” Montoya asked.

  “Photograph the brands,” Denis told her. “Photograph the soles.”

  Allan heard Audra call over to him. He saw her standing in front of a shelf against the left wall. She tossed her head in a gesture for him to join her.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  She moved out of the way, and Allan noticed the small spool of white rope on the shelf.

  “Check out the weave pattern,” Audra said.

  Allan felt his breath stall halfway up his throat. “I see it.” He rolled the end of the rope between his fingers. “Nylon.”

  Audra said, “Label says it’s a fifty-foot roll.”

  “Was,” Allan said. “Maybe half of that is left.”

  He watched Heidi on the other side of the garage. She stood next to the Corolla, fingering the neck of her tunic.

  “Mrs. Stark,” he called to her. “Can you come here, please?”

  He showed her the spool of rope.

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “What do you use it for?”

  “We don’t use it much for anything. The girls and I made knotted headbands out of it one time.”

  Audra asked, “Does your husband use it?”

  “I’ve never seen him, actually.”

  “How long have you had it?”

  Heidi blew out a breath. “A few years, I’m guessing. I don’t spend a lot of time out here. One day I saw it there and got the idea to make the headbands.”

  Allan glanced at Montoya. She had the trekking poles wrapped in brown paper and was photographing the hiking boots.

  “Detective,” Allan said. “We’ll take this rope as well.”

  Montoya gave him a curt nod. “Be right there.”

  “What are you taking that for?” Heidi asked.

  “Potential evidence,” Audra said.

  “For what? Why can’t you tell me something instead of giving me this runaround?”

  Allan said, “Everything is preliminary, Mrs. Stark. We really need to find your husband.”

  Heidi spread her ha
nds. “I called. Twice.”

  “Does he frequent any particular places?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What does he do when he’s not on the road?”

  “Hangs out in his office doing work. Or he goes off for a jog or hike.”

  They all moved out of the way to allow Detective Montoya to take pictures of the rope.

  Allan continued questioning Heidi. “Do you think he could be staying with a friend or acquaintance?”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Um...no.”

  “Why not?”

  “He really doesn’t have any friends.”

  Allan paused. “He has no buddies from before you were married?”

  “I’ve never met any of them,” Heidi said.

  “Are you friends with other couples?”

  “A few.”

  “Think he could be staying with any of them?”

  Heidi’s gaze suddenly drifted off and fixed on something that wasn’t in the garage. Allan could see something at work behind her dark eyes.

  “Mrs. Stark,” he said.

  She blinked. “Sorry.”

  “Can you call them for us?”

  “He won’t be with any of them,” she said. “Outside of our get-togethers and dinner dates, he doesn’t bother with them.”

  Montoya took the spool of rope off the shelf.

  “Want me to carry that for you?” Denis asked her.

  “No, no. I got it,” Montoya said. “You could be a sweetheart and carry those poles out for me.”

  Allan watched them leave the garage.

  Audra asked Heidi, “Do you have any idea at all where he could be?”

  “With his girlfriend.”

  Allan and Audra looked at each other.

  “Do you know her name?” Allan asked.

  Heidi took a deep breath, let it out. “Kate.”

  Audra asked, “Kate what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How’d you find out about her?”

  “He called me that one night when we were talking.” Heidi fixed Audra with a sour stare. “Tell me something—if your husband came home after being away for three days and called you by another woman’s name, what would you think?”

  Audra frowned. “No doubt I’d be suspicious. A little pissed off.”

  Heidi gave her a wry smile. “No, you’d be extremely pissed off. Jacob’s gone off to these different cities all the time, and I have no idea what he’s doing in his spare time. Sure, he calls us before the girls go to bed, but what’s he doing afterward?