by Alex MacLean
“I believe he was with her last week when he disappeared for those three days.”
Allan asked, “After he called you Kate, did he try to explain himself?”
“He blamed it on fatigue. Said he could barely think straight from all the work he’d been doing.”
Audra said, “You said he called you Kate after being away for three days. I’m assuming he’d been off on one of his business trips?”
“Yes.”
“Where was he?”
“Halifax.”
All at once, Allan felt a dark realization pass through him like an electric current, burning away any trace of doubt he had. From the corner of his eye, he saw Audra turn her face to him then back to Heidi.
Audra asked, “He returned home on Monday, the eighteenth of October, right?”
Heidi placed a palm against her cheek. “Wow, how’d you know that?”
“Was that the date?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me something, Mrs. Stark,” Allan said. “Did your husband come home after that trip with any scratches to his hands or forearms?”
She stared at him with a dazed look in her eyes. Slowly, she removed the hand from her cheek and pressed it to her stomach, bending forward a little from the waist.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God.”
Audra reached out and touched her wrist. “Hey, you okay?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Do you need a glass of water or something?”
Heidi shook her head. She took several deep breaths before lifting her eyes to Allan.
“Was her name Kate?” she asked.
Allan frowned. “Pardon?”
“The person you think Jacob murdered.”
“What makes you think that?”
“These specific questions of yours.” She straightened up. “The hoodie and sweatpants you were looking for. If he came home from Halifax with scratches.”
Allan said, “He did, didn’t he?”
Heidi closed her eyes, opened them again. “He came home with a Band-Aid on his face.” She touched her left cheek. “Right there.”
“Did he explain it?”
“He told me he cut himself shaving. Got into a rush and wasn’t paying attention. Stupid me, I believed him.”
“You’d have no reason to doubt him,” Audra said.
Allan watched as Heidi opened her mouth as if to say something, then she shut it again.
“Did you see the cut?” he asked.
“He kept it covered until it was almost healed.”
“Has your husband ever come home with any strange cuts or scratches before?”
In a weakened voice, she said, “He came home last summer with a gash by his eye.”
Allan raised his chin. “The summer just past or last year?”
“Last year.”
“Do you remember where he’d come back from?”
Closing her eyes, she dug two fingers into her temple. “Um...was it Huntsville?” She frowned. “Wherever Moose Delaney’s is.”
Allan wrote it down in his notebook. “Did he say how he got the gash?”
“Told me he broke up a scuffle between some guy and his girlfriend.”
“Do you remember what month this happened?”
“No. Sorry, I can’t seem to think straight right now.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Stark,” Audra said. “We can only imagine how overwhelming you must find this.”
“That’s not the word for it,” Heidi said.
Denis and Montoya came back into the garage.
“We got things almost wrapped up here?”
“Almost,” Allan said. “Just need to check the garbage.”
Denis raised his eyebrows. “For the missing clothing we couldn’t find?”
“Right.”
“See, Detective. I’m on the ball.”
Allan gave him a smirk. “Good thing.”
Heidi directed them to two clear garbage bags in the corner of the garage.
“These the only ones you have?” Montoya asked her.
“Yes.”
Denis asked, “When’s your pickup day for garbage?”
“Every second Monday.”
“So it obviously went last Monday?”
“Yes.”
Montoya never found the blue hoodie or sweatpants in either bag.
As they were preparing to leave, Denis gave his card to Heidi. “If you think of anything, please call me. We’re going to keep an officer in the area.”
“Says here you’re from Huntsville.”
“I am,” Denis said.
Heidi looked at Allan and Audra. “Are you guys with the Halton Police?”
“Halifax,” Audra said.
Heidi’s mouth fell open for a second. “Both of you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m confused.”
Denis chuckled. “We all are, Mrs. Stark.”
As he was walking out with the others, Allan felt a tug on the sleeve of his sport coat. He stopped and turned around. It was Heidi.
“Yes?” he said.
She gave him a pained stare. “Tell me her last name.”
Allan shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Please,” she said.
What the hell did it matter, he wondered. First access to the Internet, and she was going to find out anyway.
Allan let out a heavy sigh. “Saint-Pierre,” he said. “Her name was Kate Saint-Pierre.”
45
Burlington, November 1
8:13 p.m.
“So,” Denis said. “How’d he explain the cut to his wife?”
Allan folded his arms. “Said he did it while shaving.”
“Kate Saint-Pierre scratched him,” Audra said from the backseat. “We figured that’s why he cut off her fingertips. Tell him about Moose Delaney’s, Al.”
Denis frowned. “Moose Delaney’s?”
“You’ve heard of it?” Allan asked.
“Heard of it?” Denis gave a light chuckle. “It’s my favorite watering hole in Huntsville.”
Allan said, “Mrs. Stark told me her husband came home from a trip during the summer of oh-nine with a gash by his eye. He said he got it breaking up a fight at Moose Delaney’s.”
Denis’s face darkened. “Bullshit. Li Chen did it. We already established Stark was in the area during the murder.”
Allan nodded. “I agree.”
Audra propped her forearms on the back of their seats and leaned her face between the two headrests.
“There’s no doubt this guy is behind the murders in Halifax,” she said. “It’s looking more likely he was involved in the Chen murder as well.”
“Don’t forget Ted Taylor,” Denis said. “By his wife’s own admission, Jacob Stark owned a pair of Merrell hiking boots at the time of the murder.”
Allan said, “We better inform the department in that jurisdiction of our findings.”
“I’ll contact the OPP in Kenora first thing in the morning.”
“I wonder how many others there are,” Audra said.
Allan looked at her. “What?”
“Victims,” she said. “We have to consider Stark as a person of interest in those other cases we picked out.”
Denis said, “Did you hear Mrs. Stark? Apparently, her husband has been doing that job for over ten years.”
“I know,” Audra said. “We only went back four years in those unsolved cases.”
Denis cracked his window an inch. “Could there be more victims no one even knows—”
“Jesus,” Allan cut in. “Do you think he’s been at this for over a decade?”
“It’s a possibility.”
Allan felt a crawling sensation over his skin. “I know. And I don’t even want to think about that right now.”
They were still on Shadeland Avenue. Denis had parked the cruiser down the street a short distance away from the Stark house, still close enough to keep an eye on the place. Another crew sat
in a cruiser at the opposite end of the street, watching for Jacob Stark’s Camry in case he decided to return home.
Denis’s cell phone rang, and both Denis and Allan flinched at the sudden sound of it.
“Hello,” he answered.
Allan watched him listening to someone on the other end.
“Uh-huh,” Denis said. “Okay, that’s good. Thanks for informing me.”
He hung up and placed his phone on the console.
“That was Sergeant Gannon with the Halton Police,” he said. “A warrant for Stark’s arrest has been granted, as well as your warrant for his DNA.
“Gannon also said Stark never crossed any of the borders. And border officials have been alerted to detain him if he tries.”
Allan said, “Good. At least we know he’s still in the country.”
“Hopefully, he’s still in the area.”
“If he is,” Audra said, “he might just come home.”
“Here’s hoping Mrs. Stark never tipped him off,” Allan said.
At eight thirty, a fine mist fell, like curls of smoke riding the air currents. It mixed with the dirt on the windshield and bled down to the wipers. Denis squirted the washer fluid a few times to clear away the mess.
Minutes later, the mist became a drizzle punctuated by fat drops that plunked on the cruiser’s roof.
A car approached, headlights glancing off the glassy street. Allan leaned forward in his seat as he watched it coming closer. When the car turned into a driveway across the street from the Stark house, he expelled a low sigh.
“Shit,” he said. “I thought that might’ve been him.”
“Me too,” Denis said.
At eight forty-five, the clouds broke and a heavy rain swept down the street in dark sheets. It was a cold rain, too, and the windows of the cruiser quickly steamed up.
Denis turned over the engine and put the heater on high, adjusting the temperature so it wouldn’t roast them out.
Allan used the cuff of his coat to wipe at the condensation on his side of the windshield until the Stark house reappeared, blurry and distorted.
He saw the living-room light turn off, then the kitchen, and the house sat in darkness. Allan checked his watch: 8:55 p.m. He rubbed his chin, mystified. He thought it weird that Heidi Stark would be turning in so early, especially after learning about her husband.
His suspicions were answered a few minutes later when he saw the garage door on the right begin rising. He watched the Corolla back out into the driveway.
“She’s leaving,” he said.
Audra propped herself up between the headrests again. “I bet she’s afraid to stay home.”
“Of course she is.”
Heidi backed into the street and began driving away.
“Hang on,” Denis said, stamping on the gas.
The cruiser shot forward. Denis switched on the grille lights, and the red-and-blue strobe flashed off the surrounding houses.
Heidi pulled the Corolla over. Denis, Allan, and Audra stepped out into the rain. Denis reached the driver’s door first. Heidi lowered the window halfway.
“Mrs. Stark,” Denis said, “where ya going?”
“My mother’s,” she said. “I can’t stay there.”
“Has he called you?”
Heidi shook her head. “Never heard from him.”
“Do you find that odd?”
She lowered the window some more and poked her face out, blinking against the rain.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “He was pretty mad last night.”
Allan peered through the rear window at the two little girls sitting in the backseat. Jade gave him a smile and waved. Allan smiled and waved back. Jaleesa stuck her tongue out at him and started laughing.
“Where’s your mother live?” Audra asked Heidi.
“London.”
“How far’s that away?”
“Two hours.”
Denis said, “I have your cell number if I need to get in touch.” He slapped a hand on the roof twice. “Careful driving, Mrs. Stark.”
As she drove off, the three of them returned to the cruiser. Shutting the door beside him, Allan wiped the rain from his face and eyes, smoothed out his hair. Denis dabbed his head with a handkerchief.
“I don’t think he’s gonna show,” Audra said.
“Not likely,” Allan said. “We don’t know what’s going on inside his mind right now. And we don’t know if Mrs. Stark mentioned us in her voice mail.”
Denis said, “She didn’t when we were there. Just tried to get him to come home.”
“Yeah, but she called him again when we went outside, remember. We don’t know if she left another voice mail or not. And she might’ve called him a few times since.”
“So do we call it a night?” Audra asked. “Head back to the hotel?”
Denis looked at his watch. “Want to give it another hour?”
“Why not,” she said.
Tilting his seat back, Allan closed his eyes. He felt tired, enervated. It was a feeling he’d been growing accustomed to. Lately, he’d just been tired in general. Tired of the stress. Tired of the nightmares. Tired of the sleepless nights. Tired of all the senseless deaths and all the scumbags who caused them. Tired of the sheer effort it took to crawl out of bed every morning and face another day.
When this case was finally over, Allan knew he would have to get help. Another appointment with Dr. Judy Galloway was in store. He regretted never telling her the truth from the beginning; he could’ve gotten the proper treatment he needed months ago.
The radio suddenly squawked to life. “Copy unit six-zero-six-five.”
Denis perked up in his seat. “Shit. I think that’s our car.” He keyed the mike. “Go ahead.”
“One of our patrol units just spotted your suspect’s vehicle sitting in the parking lot of Starbridge Suites. Gray Toyota Camry. Plate number: Bravo-Foxtrot-Sierra-Juliet-six-nine-zero. Car is registered to a Jacob Miles Stark.”
Allan asked, “Where’s Starbridge Suites?”
Denis pressed the mike again. “Location. Over.”
“Wyecroft Road. Here in Oakville.”
“Is that close to your department?”
“Affirmative. One point five klicks away.”
Denis tapped an index finger against his lips. “Still doesn’t help.”
Allan gave him a smile. “Lost, aren’t you?”
“A bit, yeah. I honestly don’t think I can find my way back to the department in Oakville.”
“Well,” Allan said. “Don’t look at me.”
Audra said, “What about the other crew on site with us?”
Denis got on the radio. “Copy unit six-zero-two-eight.”
The radio squawked. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know where Wyecroft Road is?”
“Affirmative. Drive by it every day.”
“Can you lead us there?”
“Wilco.”
Dispatch radioed back. “Unit six-zero-six-five, do you want Tactical?”
Denis looked over at Allan with his eyebrows raised.
Allan said, “I’d really like it if we were the arrest team.”
Denis nodded. “You and me both.”
He got on the radio. “Negative.”
“Copy that.”
Through the windshield, Allan watched a police cruiser speed down the street toward them. It stopped next to the driver’s door, and the window lowered, revealing the boyish face of a constable. Denis put down his window.
“Ready to go, Detective?” the constable asked.
“You lead the way, son.”
As the cruiser sped off, Denis made a U-turn in the street and stepped on the gas.
“We got him,” he said. “We got the son of a bitch.”
46
Oakville, November 1
9:10 p.m.
After stalling much of the evening, I finally decide I’m not going home. I call instead.
There’s no answer on the
home phone. I hang up as my recorded message begins telling me I have stepped away from the office.
Maybe Heidi has the girls in the tub. On a school night, she makes sure they’re in bed by nine thirty.
I dial her cell number. She answers on the fourth ring.
“Jacob,” she says.
I skip the formalities and say, “Let me speak to the girls.”
A long silence hangs over the line between us. In the background, I can hear the sounds of tires slapping through rain and the humming of a car engine.
“They’re both asleep,” Heidi says eventually.
“You in your car?”
She pauses. “Yes.”
“Where’re you going?”
She exhales through the receiver, doesn’t tell me. I already know anyhow. There’s only one place she would be going at this hour—her mother’s.
“The girls have school tomorrow,” I say.
“They can miss a couple days.”
“Why’d you leave?” I ask. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“Where are you?”
“At a hotel.”
Another moment of silence. “The police are looking for you, Jacob.”
Her words bring me out of the chair. “What?”
“They showed up at our door tonight with a search warrant. They were pretty specific on what they were looking for.”
“What’d they take?”
“Your computer,” she tells me. “Some of your hiking poles. That roll of rope you had in the garage. They were also looking for your blue hoodie and Adidas sweatpants. I couldn’t find those for them. They even asked me if you owned a pair of Merrell hiking boots.”
A chill works up the back of my neck and across my face. I feel the strength flooding out of my legs.
“What did you do, Jacob?”
“So,” I say, “you never wanted to talk things over. You were trying to get me to go home because they were there.”
“They asked me to. What was I supposed to do?”
I close my eyes. “Did they tell you why they wanted that stuff?”
“Evidence.”
“For what?”
“They think you murdered someone.”
“Really? Who?”