"So he hasn’t made any threats?"
"No. There hasn’t been so much as one word from him."
"But he could be upset with you or your father."
"Yes, if he knows that Dad came out for us, I'm sure that he’d be furious."
"I need his full name, address and telephone number. I’ll have someone from Alberta go talk to him tomorrow, unless he's on his way here."
"Oh, gosh, I didn't even let him know what happened. I never even thought of him. I guess I'll have to call out there." She got to her feet.
"Go ahead. After you speak to him, will you call the station and leave a message there for me. I want to know what he plans to do. If he’s coming here, I'd like to talk to him.”
“All right.”
“And if you think of anything at all that might have any bearing on this, however small, I want you to let me know. Also if you need me for anything, call. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated for a moment, and then looked into the face of the policeman before her. “If it’s true that somebody did it, please find whoever it was. That sweet little boy didn’t deserve to be hurt. Whoever is responsible has got to pay for this.”
Something in her voice caught his attention and he looked into her eyes. “We’ll get whoever did it and the sooner we get on it the better. Is your father still here?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to talk to him as well. Perhaps he has some ideas.”
"I'll get him."
“I’m going to make a promise to you that I won’t let this rest until we find out who was behind it.”
“Thank you.” Somehow Emily felt reassured and comforted by the calm determination of this big, red-headed man. She went into the room where Kyle lay and touched her father's arm. "Dad, there's a policeman out there who wants to talk to you.”
“All right.”
“Dad, he says it was dynamite that caused that explosion."
"Dynamite! That’s impossible! There was no dynamite around there."
"They don’t think it was an accident. They think it was deliberately set off."
"What! No! Why would anyone want to do that?"
"I have no idea."
"Oh, my...You don't think Eric..."
"I did think of him. But Dad, they are his kids. Surely he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them."
"I know they’re his but you know better than anyone what he’s capable of. It’s probably eating him alive that you have those kids, and you know what a mean cuss he is. I wouldn't trust him for anything."
She nodded. "You better go on out there, he’s waiting for you."
"All right but I won’t be long." He bent over his grandson and kissed the top of his head before going out to the waiting room.
Emily moved up beside Kyle and gently stroked his forehead. So much fluid had been pumped into his body that it was hard to recognize him now. Yet the soft golden curls were unchanged. She ran her fingers through them, feeling the plaster dust on her fingers and swallowing the lump in her throat spoke softly to him, "Kyle, darling, Mum is here. I love you and I want you to just rest and get better. Everything is going to be all right. We are all here with you and we all love you very much. Just get better.” She turned to the young doctor who was checking his blood pressure and asked again, "Has there been any change at all?"
"No, none. But we’re not really expecting any change too quickly. He's holding his own. We've got to be grateful for that."
She sat by her son stroking his face for quite some time trying to take in all that had happened in the past few hours. It seemed impossible to her that this nightmare could have happened and yet she had only to look at the small unconscious boy lying before her, with tubes running into and out of his injured and almost unrecognizable body, to know that it was only too real and that for some reason, someone had deliberately done this to him. The nurse moved up beside her, "Sorry, Mrs. Thompson, I’ll have to ask you to step out for a few minutes. I've got some work to do with him. Can you give me about ten minutes?"
"All right, I have to make a phone call anyway. I'll be back shortly." She left the Unit and went to the hospital lobby where she found an available pay phone. In a few moments she was listening to the phone ringing in the house she had once shared with the man, whose name had come to her mind in connection with this horrible act, and who, apparently was not at home. She hung up and phoned the plant where he worked and spoke to his foreman who told her that Eric had a few days off so wasn't there. She stood with the receiver in her hand, speechless and unable to move. "Could it be possible? Could Eric have done this?"
Suddenly, she needed desperately to hear Jeanie's voice. Her voice had been the one of strength and sanity during those years of turmoil with Eric and a voice of encouragement during these past months with her father and right now she desperately needed that strength that she knew she would find in her friend. It was just past 1:30 a.m. in Toronto, which meant that it was just past 11:30 p.m. in Alberta, but despite the late hour Emily called her friend. When she heard a sleepy 'hello' she fought back the tears and tried to speak.
The silence on the phone brought back memories of the frightening calls that had been coming in during the winter and Jeanie was afraid that they were starting again. There was a note of fear in her voice when she answered again, "Hello, who is this?"
"Jeanie, it's me, Emily.”
She knew immediately that something was wrong - terribly wrong and the concern was evident in her voice. “What’s the matter?”
“There was an explosion at my Dad’s house. Kyle is hurt."
"Oh, no, Emily. How bad?"
"Really bad. He’s in Intensive Care. They aren’t sure that he’s going to live."
"Oh, no. Did you say it was an explosion?"
"Dynamite. Somebody blew up the back of the house."
"What!"
"Oh, Jeanie, it’s awful."
"Was it Eric?"
Emily remembered Jeanie telling her about the strange phone calls, then about the dog being poisoned and her car motor being ruined and was not surprised that she thought of him. "I don't know. It could have been."
"Em, if he's anywhere around there, you be careful. Be very careful. He is capable of anything."
"I know he is. This has been so awful. I feel like I’m moving around in a fog. I know that this happened but at the same time I think that it’s impossible and it didn’t really happen at all. I look at him and wonder how anyone could hurt such a little child. Then all of a sudden I just needed to hear your voice. I'm sorry to call so late."
"My goodness, that's all right. When did it happen?"
"Tonight, around 8:30. Danny is in the hospital, too, but he's not hurt too badly. The blast gave him a bad headache and he's bruised and cut up but it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Kyle though..."
"What about Sam and Scott, are they all right?"
"Yes, they were away with Dad."
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I got banged up a bit but I’m all right. I’m just so scared. I can’t stand the thought of having to go on without Kyle.”
"I wish I could be there with you. I'll talk to Gary. Perhaps I can come."
"I can't even offer you a place to stay. I don't know where we will be. The house is destroyed."
"If I get there I’ll find a place to stay. Don't worry about that. Can you call me tomorrow? By then I will know what I’m going to do."
"All right. But now I've got to get back to Kyle."
"Be brave and keep your chin up, girl.”
“I’ll try. Bye."
She tried Eric's number again to make sure that she hadn't dialed wrong and when she again got no answer, she hurried back to Intensive Care. Pete was waiting in the hall, "Honey, you can't go in there for a bit. They had a problem and they are working on him right now."
She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her and her mouth went dry. Was thi
s how Kyle’s short life would end?
Pete saw the look of horror that crossed her face and longed to be able to tell her that everything was going to be all right but he couldn’t say the words, for he was as frightened as she was at the thought of losing Kyle. He decided that just giving her the facts of what had happened might help to prepare her for whatever was ahead.
"There was no change that I could see in him but, all of a sudden an alarm sounded and another doctor and two nurses rushed in and they all started working on him. A nurse told me I'd have to leave."
"Oh, Dad, I'm so scared. What if he’s..." Sam crossed the room and slipped his arm around her. "He'll be all right, Mom. He's just got to be all right."
She hugged her son and a moment later felt Scott's arms slip around her. The three clung together, comforting one another.
The family was in the waiting room a few minutes later when the doctor came out to talk to them, "Mrs. Thompson?"
"Yes." Emily answered, apprehension in her voice.
Dr. Powell sat down. "Your son has had a cardiac arrest caused from fluid around his heart. We were able to get the heart beating again and we have drained the fluid. He is stable at the moment although his condition is still very grave."
"What are his chances?" Pete wanted to know.
"I don't want to raise your hopes. He has suffered serious trauma. Our biggest concern is his concussion, for there is considerable brain swelling that we are keeping a close eye on. If there isn’t any improvement soon, we will have to remove a piece of his skull to relieve some of the pressure. His left leg is badly fractured. There is a possibility that we won’t be able to save it. He needs surgery on it as soon as possible but he isn’t stable enough at present to tolerate surgery. When he is stronger and more stable, we will work on the leg. It’s not a priority right
now. He also has broken ribs and a punctured lung as well as a broken collarbone and pelvis. His liver is bruised, too. These are all serious injuries on their own. Combined, this child has suffered terrible trauma. At the moment we have him on life support so that his body can have total rest and just heal. That’s about all I can say. Personally, I think nothing will change much in the next few hours and you people should get some rest. It’s been a long night. We will keep you up to date with what's happening."
"Can I see him now?"
"Give them about five minutes and there shouldn't be any problem."
The doctor left and Helen spoke up, "Emily, dear, I think I should take Sam and Scott home with me and tuck them in for a sleep. It looks as though Scott has had about all he can take for today." The boy was seated across the room in a chair fighting to keep his eyes open.
"That's a good idea. Dad, perhaps you should go too. You have been with him for so many hours you must be exhausted. I doubt that I could sleep tonight anyway but if you could get some rest tonight and then could come back tomorrow, then perhaps I can leave and get some sleep."
"Perhaps I should at that."
"Mom," Sam asked, "Can I see Kyle for a minute before I go?"
He stood in the doorway and stared in shock at the machines that beeped and throbbed continuously in the otherwise silent room. The body lying on the bed was completely motionless except for the raising and falling of his chest as the respirator forced air in and out of his lungs. Sam stepped up beside the bed and looked into the unrecognizable face that lay there. "Kyle?" He reached out and touched his brother's swollen hand. When his mother noticed how his shoulders sagged and saw the tears welling up in his eyes, she stepped over to him and put her arm around his shoulders. They stood together for a few moments, both crying for this tragedy that had happened to them. "Why would anyone want to hurt Kyle, Mom?"
"I don't know. I still have trouble believing that this has happened." Emily reached for tissues for herself and her son, then suggested, "Why don't you go on home with Helen and get a bit of sleep. It will soon be morning."
"O.K." He bent over his brother, "Kyle, you've got to get better. You've just got to. I'll go home and find your glove and look after it for you until you get home."
Chapter 22
In less than an hour, Jim Walsh was back in the intensive care unit after hearing from his desk sergeant that Emily had called with information and would like him to return to the hospital as soon as possible. She was sitting with Kyle when the nurse came to tell her that he had returned and was asking for her. She met him in the waiting room. "Thank you for coming. I wanted to tell you that I know who is responsible for this. It was Eric, I’m sure of it. I called him, twice. He's not there. And when I called his job, the foreman told me that he has four days off. That's plenty of time for him to come here and do this. You’ve got to find him and arrest him."
"Well, that certainly gives him opportunity, but it isn’t enough. The fact that he has four days off looks suspicious but it doesn't necessarily mean that he is guilty of anything."
"You need to check the airport. He would have flown. With only four days, he couldn’t have come any other way."
He shook his head. "I don’t expect that going to the airport would help much. He probably wouldn't have used his own name. I've already requested that someone from the Edmonton detachment go out to his house tomorrow. I think that's about the best we can do for now."
"Now is the time to do something. Give him enough time and he'll come up with some way to explain where he’s been and a way to squirm out of this. You have to do something about it right now so you can catch him off guard."
"I understand how you feel but we have to go by regulations. Our hands are pretty much tied unless we get some evidence to tie him to this. At the moment all we know is that he’s not home. There could be a hundred explanations."
"Yes, so you need to go out and get the evidence.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it right now.”
“In other words, because nobody saw him do it, chances are he’ll get away with it."
"If he is guilty of this, we’ll get him."
"He’s not stupid and right now you can be sure he’s busy covering up for himself. You’re giving him an opportunity to hurt my children and walk away from it. I can’t deal with this right. I’m going back to my son."
With a sinking heart, Emily returned to the bedside of the little boy who hovered so close to death. ‘If he’s guilty.’ The words kept coming back to her as she sat by the bed, watching the lines on the heart monitor. “If he’s guilty. If he's guilty! Of course, he's guilty.” The longer she thought about it the more convinced she became that Eric was responsible for the explosion that had destroyed her father’s house and harmed her two sons and the more convinced she became that he would find a way to avoid punishment for his actions. She became more and more angry the more she thought about him. “If he’s guilty! I don't know why he would do something like this, but I know that he did it. And I know that somehow he is going to squirm out of it. He always seems to come out of things looking innocent even when he’s as guilty as sin."
She bent over the small boy and kissed his forehead. "You don't deserve this, Kyle. You really don't deserve this but I don’t know how I can convince the police to go after your father for doing it. I wish I knew what to say or do to get through to them. They have to do something about him. They don’t know him like I do or they would understand."
She resumed her seat and buried her face in her hands. The old familiar feeling of hopelessness washed over her and with it came self-doubts about her ability to make decisions for herself and the children. "I felt so good about this move and look what has happened. Perhaps I should have left well enough alone. He’d have had no need to hurt the boys if I had stayed with him." She began to cry tears of despair and frustration and she rocked back and forth, back and forth, as waves of discouragement washed over her.
Eventually, her tears dried up and she sat quietly, head aching, as she watched her son and the machines that were connected to him. She shivered in the coolness of the hospita
l room and folded her arms across her chest to hold her body heat to herself. As she sat there in a stupor of despair she began to think of her life and the events that had brought her to this point. She began to wonder what she could have done differently. In time, the despair and hopelessness in her eyes were replaced by anger and determination and the change went much farther than her eyes. She sat a little straighter in her chair and spoke aloud. "No, never again. I won’t take the blame any longer for what he does. Not even for one second will I regret having left him. What happened to Kyle is his fault, one hundred percent his fault, not mine. My only mistake was letting him walk all over me for all those years. But no more. I'm worth more than that. And so are my boys. And I will not sit by while he gets away with this. If the police won't go after him, I will. I'll look him right in the eye as he goes to jail for what he did to Kyle. I swear before God, that man will answer for this." A sense of courage that she had no idea she was capable of, filled her and she knew that she could do this. She could make certain that Eric was brought to justice and she resolved to do exactly that. But she would proceed carefully and not act until she was sure of the right course of action. She would think very carefully about each step that she needed to take. She tried to put herself in Eric's place. "Now, what would he have been thinking. I can't imagine that he would have set out to hurt the boys and yet he blew up the house with them in it. That just doesn't make sense. So, could he have hurt them just to upset me? If he did, it worked. But I don’t think he’d do that. He would be more likely go after me directly. And yet that’s not what he did. I’ve heard absolutely nothing from him. So if it wasn't me or the boys he was after, it has to have been Dad." Her mind raced. "Of course, that’s it, he was trying to hurt Dad. He'd be furious with him for helping us to get away and he’d want to get even. Eric always had to ‘get even’. So he flew here and set off some dynamite to destroy Dad's house and if he’d been in it - oh well, so be it. One thing that I’m sure about is that he would have had to fly here. The four days off would attest to that. I bet he thinks he's perfectly safe, too. And I’ll bet that he’d think no-one would be smart enough to catch him so he wouldn't bother to disguise himself. But would he use his own name? Not likely. He might be cocky but he isn't stupid. No, he probably used another name, and it could be just about anything. But someone would remember him, because he would call attention to himself in some way. His ego needs to be constantly stroked and he would do something to make people pay attention to him. The airport is the answer. Someone at the airport is going to recognize him. I'll have to get a picture of him from the house and take it out there."
Leaving Sharpstone Page 18