Shallow End

by Brenda Chapman

  “Can we get you a drink, Jane? Coffee or a soft drink? Water?” His voice was kind, the one he used when speaking to people in distress. He’d said in his office that when people were violent and mentally ill, he was torn between the need to bring them to justice and compassion. He’d feared that Jane Thompson’s hold on reality might be tenuous, but her conversations with her psychologist in prison were protected for the most part.

  “No. I’m fine. How long will this take?”

  “Do you have to be anywhere?”

  “Not really.”

  Rouleau looked at his notes. “We shouldn’t keep you too long if you tell us what you know.”

  “Then ask away.” Jane settled back in the chair, arms wrapped around her waist. Her eyes darted between him and Kala.

  Kala turned her chair slightly so that she was angled toward Rouleau, trying to make Jane focus on him. He’d be asking the questions, gaining her trust and drawing her out. She pictured Gundersund, Woodhouse, and Bennett behind the two-way glass observing.

  Rouleau walked her through her earlier whereabouts the week that Devon was murdered. Her responses were short, never elaborating or offering more than asked. Kala didn’t hear any inconsistencies. Jane once again denied being in contact with Devon while she was in prison or after she got out. Rouleau looked down at his notes and then back up. He was wearing a green sweater that made his eyes a deeper green than usual, and Jane seemed unable to look away.

  “Jane, what happened for you to change your mind about confessing to having sexual relations with Devon? You denied all of the allegations and refused to apologize when you had the chance in court. Why did you suddenly admit to everything?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Everything about this case so far appears to hinge on your relationship with Devon Eton, so I’d like to know what you were thinking when you decided to change your plea.”

  “Nobody believed me when I said that I hadn’t slept with him, but everyone believed me when I said I had.” She shrugged. “So, it must be true, right, Detective?”

  “Tell me why you admitted to everything when you did.”

  Jane dropped her eyes and was silent. She began to say something but her voice caught and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, fighting to gain control. When she lowered her hand to her lap and looked at Rouleau, her composure was back in place. She said, “It seemed like the right time to tell the truth.”

  “Your husband announced your divorce two weeks after you confessed, a year into your sentence.”

  “He did, but it had nothing to do with my decision to confess to my sins.”

  “When did you start to have feelings for Devon?”

  She blinked and bit her bottom lip. She took her time responding. “Let’s say that my feelings for Devon blossomed after he decided.”

  “Decided … what?”

  “Decided to have the affair.”

  “You’re saying that he instigated what went on between you?”

  “Most certainly. He set everything into motion.”

  Rouleau checked his notes. “You’ve never said this before. In fact, Devon and Charlie Hanson both claimed that you made the first moves.”

  “I know what they claimed.”

  “You must have been upset when Devon admitted to everything that had gone on. He’d have known what it would do to your career and marriage.”

  “I was upset, yes.”

  “Were you upset with him when you got out of prison?”

  “No. I’d accepted what happened. I only wanted to see my kids again.”

  “What would you say if I told you we have a witness who put you in the neighbourhood the night that Devon was murdered?”

  She closed her eyes. “They’d be lying.”

  Kala glanced at Rouleau. They had no such witness and he was walking a fine legal line with the wording of his question. He was watching Jane with a curious look on his face. As far as Kala could see, he hadn’t gotten any closer to getting her to confess to killing Devon. In fact, she was slipping further away from them the more he probed. Kala was struck by the waste this woman had made of her life and the loss. What she’d done had harmed Devon, his family, the school, and her own family, but her actions had destroyed her most of all.

  Rouleau looked at Kala. “Anything else you’d like to ask Jane?”

  Was he admitting defeat or was he trying to throw Jane off? Kala thought for a moment. “What are your plans going forward, Jane, you know, after all of this is settled?”

  Jane’s head swivelled in Kala’s direction. Her initial startled expression quickly disappeared. “No plans. I’m hoping to see my kids on a regular basis once Adam has time to set up a schedule. I might start taking classes at the college. I’m going to need to make a career change.”

  “Will you continue living where you are now?”

  “For a while. I’m thinking of moving out of Kingston but will see how everything goes. For now, I’m staying for my children.”

  Rouleau checked his watch and Kala did as well. Six hours had gone by without learning anything new. Kala thought it might have been too early to bring Jane in this second time without all the for-

  ensics completed. They didn’t have any evidence to leverage a confession. On the other hand, it never hurt to get the main suspect giving statements on record that could be later disproven. Somewhere in all of Jane’s six hours of testimony, she might have made a slip.

  Rouleau asked, “When you were in prison, could you see yourself starting back up with Devon when you got out? Did you see a future with him?”

  “God, no.”

  “How do you feel about his death?”

  “Shocked but not devastated, if that’s what you’re after.”

  Rouleau closed his notebook and studied her with his penetrating green eyes. After a few moments of silence, he got to his feet and looked down at her. “We’re done for now, Mrs. Thompson. Please be ready to come in again and keep to your routine. The officers who brought you will take you wherever you like.”

  Once alone in the hall, Rouleau said to Kala, “Got time to meet at the Merchant? It’s been a long afternoon and I could use a beer.”

  She was sorry to turn him down. “I have to get home and take Taiku out. He’s been acting strangely and I want to keep an eye on him.”

  “Another time then.”

  Kala returned to the office and grabbed her leather jacket. The rain was still coming down when she stepped outside but lighter than it had been. She zigzagged around puddles as she ran to her truck, her hair soaked by the time she made it inside the cab. She pulled out her phone to check for messages before turning on the engine. Caroline Russell had left two voice mails. Kala accessed the messages and listened as the rain pattered on the roof.

  Caroline’s voice was loud in her ear. Had she made a decision about a visit with Dawn? Please call back as soon as she got the chance. Kala erased both messages without listening to the second and turned the key in the ignition. After all the system had done to her and to Dawn, now they were pressuring her to fix things after Tamara Jones made it clear that her involvement was no longer wanted. The foster mother Colette had brushed her away like a bothersome fly.

  Kala turned on the windshield wipers and put the truck into gear. She glanced in the rear-view mirror and stared into her own reflected eyes. The anger and pain gave her pause. This isn’t about you. Stop taking this personally — Dawn’s welfare trumps your wounded feelings.

  She pulled out of the parking spot and bounced through the puddles toward the exit onto Division Street. As soon as she got home, she’d call Caroline Russell and agree to a meeting. She’d want Caroline to promise that this would be a long-term arrangement and that Dawn wouldn’t be used like a yo-yo that they’d pull back when it suited them. The social worker’s word wouldn’t be worth much i
f her own history was anything to go by, but she’d tuck away her misgivings and give the system another chance for Dawn’s sake.

  Decision made, Kala felt lighter at the thought of seeing Dawn again.

  Jane refused the offer of a lift home from the blond police officer who looked like a Viking and caught the bus instead. Luckily, she reached the bus stop as one was pulling in and she was on schedule to make her four-thirty meeting at the Iron Duke on Wellington Street. The bus would take her close enough that it would be a short walk in the rain.

  As she paid her money, she scanned across the street. A plain blue sedan was idling half a block away and was pulling into traffic as she took a seat at the back of the bus. Through the back window, she watched the car follow the bus toward the downtown. Two men sat in the front seat, neither of whom she recognized, but she knew they were undercover cops. She took careful note of their faces.

  The car was a block back when she got off the bus. She kept her head lowered and stepped around puddles as she cut across to Wellington Street. The wind was brisk and wet and she pulled the hood up on her coat. A quick glance back at the street and no sign of the blue sedan, but she had no doubt it was somewhere close by.

  She looked around the restaurant’s interior and chose the empty table wedged into the corner near the brick archway that separated the main rooms. She’d be able to keep an eye on the door without looking obvious and was away from the windows. As instructed, she would wait for her contact to find her. She hoped the cops would stay outside but wasn’t counting on it.

  She studied the menu. She was way past hungry after her day in the police station and decided to splurge on the meatloaf with cheddar mashed potatoes and gravy. She ordered a glass of red wine when the waitress came by for her order. She’d earned a drink, the first since her release.

  While she waited for her meal, a young Asian man carrying a beer slid into the booth across from her. He had spiked, straight black hair dyed red at the tips and was wearing a green duffle coat. He smiled when she looked up. “Kimmy said you were a looker. She wasn’t kidding.”

  “Hieu?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks for coming. How’s your sister?” Jane glanced toward the door. One of the cops was coming into the restaurant and looking around. He spotted her and walked into the other side.

  “Good. She’s good. Said to say hi. She’s signed up for that college nurse helper course now that she has her grade twelve. She says you turned it around for her.”

  “Kim did it for herself. Tell her how happy I am that she’s going back to school.”

  “Our mom wants you to come for supper so we can all thank you.”

  “That would be nice, but maybe not for a while.”

  The smile reached Hieu’s eyes. “Of course. I’ll let her know you’re on vacation, having some family time.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll be right. Don’t look now but a cop just came in and we have to act like you’re trying to pick me up.”

  “Not a problem.”

  The waitress arrived with Jane’s meal. Hieu said to Jane, “So, are you from around here?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d rather eat my supper alone if you don’t mind.”

  The waitress eyed Hieu. “Everything okay, ma’am?”

  “Yes, no problem. I can handle it.”

  The waitress took a last hard look at Hieu before she walked away.

  Hieu said from behind his raised glass. “How do you want to do this?”

  “I left my jacket on your side. The packet is underneath. You can take it and exchange it with yours whenever the moment seems right.”

  “Cool.” He reached into his jacket pocket and dropped something onto the floor. “Damn,” he said and hunched over to pick it up, twisting his body sideways in the booth. When he straightened, he lifted his beer and stood. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, thanks for understanding I’m not up for company tonight.”

  Hieu’s face expressed fake disappointment. “We could have gotten to know each other better.”

  “Another time.”

  “Yeah, another time.”

  Jane watched him saunter over to the bar on the other side of the arch and take a chair near the front of the room. He immediately pulled out his cellphone and began scrolling. She ate her meal slowly and avoided looking at Hieu. When she finished eating and pushed her plate away, he’d left the bar. She signalled for the waitress to bring her bill.

  “The gentleman who just left paid for your dinner. I guess he was sorry for bothering you.” The waitress smiled. “This is your lucky day.”

  “Thanks. He was cute but I wasn’t in the mood. A long day, you know?” She smiled. And I really hope you’re right about my luck changing.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Some nights you don’t need the hassle.”

  Once outside, Jane pulled her hood up over her head and went in search of a bus stop. She didn’t feel like making the forty-minute walk home in the cold rain. She wondered what the cops would think if she crossed the street and knocked on their window and asked for a ride home. The thought made her smile. She’d seen the one talking with her waitress, likely finding out what had been going on between her and Hieu. She was counting on their role-playing to be enough to put the cops off the scent.

  When she got home, she took the packet from Hieu out of her jacket pocket. He’d wrapped the three passports in brown paper and put them into a zip-lock bag. She pulled them out and carefully looked through each. She touched Ben’s and Olivia’s faces with her fingertips. The passports looked real to her. Kim had promised that Hieu would come through. Jane hoped she’d be able to thank them properly sometime but wasn’t counting on it. Once she and the kids got out of Canada, all ties would have to be broken.

  Before taking a hot shower, she hid the passports under a floorboard that she’d worked up under the carpet in the living room. Sitting on the bed afterward in her housecoat with her hair in a towel, she called Sandra.

  “Good thing we cancelled tonight’s dinner. My interview went late. Does tomorrow still work? I can take the bus. No, it’s no trouble. I know how much you hate driving. Are you sure I can’t bring anything? Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing you, too.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rouleau was having trouble sleeping. Ever since Frances’s death, he’d been unable to put his grief away and let his mind relax. It was okay during the day when he was busy, but nighttime was another story. This morning, he woke at three thirty, but lay in bed until five so as not to waken his father in the next bedroom. Then he got up and had a quick shower before going to the kitchen to make breakfast. He got the coffee brewing, then turned his attention to scrambled eggs, sausage, and hash browns with toasted English muffins. Rouleau liked to give his father a good meal to start the day since he never knew how long he’d be at work with a murder case underway.

  Rouleau sat at the table with a cup of coffee and his laptop reading the news while his dad shuffled around in the next room, getting set for the day. Henri had aged over the past year. A broken leg followed by a heart attack had left him physically weaker. Frances’s death had devastated him. Even though Rouleau and Frances had been divorced, she’d always kept in touch with Henri and they spoke often on the phone. Rouleau only found out after she died how often she’d made the trip from Ottawa to Kingston to visit his father the years before Rouleau moved back.

  Henri told Rouleau at her funeral, “I feel like I’ve lost my child.”

  His dad was dressed in grey slacks and his favour-

  ite frayed pullover. His white hair was combed back and damp from the shower. He sat in front of the place setting that Rouleau had arranged for him and lifted the napkin from the placemat and shook it out. “You’re turning into quite the gourmet breakfast cook.” His sharp blue eyes surveyed the kitchen and landed on
Rouleau. “Rough night again, son?”

  Rouleau got up and poured his dad a cup of coffee before refilling his own. “I was awake early but got a few good hours in.”

  “You need to be sharp to solve this murder case. How old was the boy again?”

  “Seventeen. In grade twelve.”

  Henri shook his head. “Such a waste of a life. I understand he had a sad history, as well. I followed that trial with the Thompson teacher. For the long-

  est time, I thought she was telling the truth.”

  Rouleau turned from the stove where he was spooning eggs onto their plates. “What made you think that?”

  “Something in her eyes and the set of her shoulders when the media filmed her going to and from the courthouse. Call it an old man’s intuition. Obviously, I was wrong. Does it look like she killed him? I ask this knowing you can’t say much.”

  Rouleau scooped hash browns and sausages onto their plates and brought them to the table. He buttered the toasted muffins and set the plate on the table next to his dad before sitting down. “We’ve no evidence linking anybody yet.”

  Henri took a mouthful of eggs. “Excellent eggs. Just how I like them.” He chewed slowly before taking a sip of coffee. “What else is on your mind besides the case?”

  “An HR problem. One of the members of the team is disruptive but hasn’t given me enough grounds to get rid of him.”

  “That cop Woodhouse, is it?”

  “The very one. I thought a new partner would help straighten him around, but he’s become something of a bully to the new young recruit. He’s also barely civil to Kala Stonechild.” Rouleau spread jam on his muffin. “I had a beer with Gundersund last night and he’s worried. Thinks Woodhouse’s attitude will drive both Bennett and Stonechild to take jobs elsewhere.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “My first step will be to speak with the two of them to see how big the problem is. Then I’ll have to figure out a way to bring Woodhouse into line.”