Shallow End

by Brenda Chapman

  Mitchell said, “You might not know it now, Katie, but I’ve done you a favour shooting your husband. He was a child molester.”

  Katie raised her head and looked from him to Jane, who was still standing motionless with hands at her sides on the other side of the desk. Katie still had no idea who she was. “What are you going to do?” she asked Mitchell, frightened for this woman who didn’t appear prepared to fight for herself.

  “Finish. I’m going to finish this.”

  Katie tried to get him to look her in the eyes. “Let her come with me, Mitchell. I don’t want to leave her here.”

  The phone in the kitchen began ringing. It rang three times and went to voice mail. A few seconds later, it began ringing again.

  Mitchell had turned his head to listen. He looked back at Katie. His eyes were resigned. “Go now,” he said, finality in his voice. “Before I change my mind.”

  She walked through the kitchen and down the hallway, her son’s cries increasing in volume. She was glad now that they’d put off getting him a bed because the crib was keeping him from coming downstairs. The front door was so close, but dare she open it? She wouldn’t do anything to risk Kyle. As she passed by, she saw dark forms moving outside the door and she looked back toward Ivan’s office. Mitchell hadn’t followed her.

  She put her foot on the bottom stair and hesitated. A sharp rap on the door startled her but she knew help was on the other side. She made a final check down the hall and scooted across the space, throwing back the deadbolt and pulling open the door. Three police cars were in the driveway and cops were everywhere. The one directly in front of her motioned for her to stay quiet and asked, “Where are they?” He had a large handgun aimed at the ground.

  She pointed down the hall. “He has a gun,” she said. “He shot my husband but he has a woman with him.”

  “Go outside.”

  “My son is upstairs.”

  “We’ll get him.”

  Before she stepped outside or the police made it down the hall, the sound of two gunshots in quick succession came from Ivan’s office. Katie held on to her belly as her knees buckled. Hands held her up and someone lifted her and carried her down the steps and into the yard.

  Jane opened her eyes and wondered if she was dead. She blinked and suddenly Officer Stonechild’s face was hovering over her. Officer Stonechild smiled and told her that she was going to be fine. She was safe in the hospital and the surgery had gone without a hitch.

  Jane closed her eyes and when she opened them again, some time had passed but Officer Stonechild was still there, sitting in a chair with her head back and snoring softly. The detective was instantly awake and on her feet when Jane tried to sit up.

  “You’re still here,” she said. The words came out hoarse, and Officer Stonechild offered her ice chips from a cup on the tray and helped to prop her up comfortably on the pillows.

  “The surgeon took the bullet out of your stomach and said not to expect any lasting damage. You were very fortunate.”

  “Mitchell. Is he…?”

  “Dead? Yes, he shot himself in the head before the police got to him. Ivan Bruster also passed away, likely instantly. One bullet hit his heart.”

  “Mitchell told me that he killed Devon. He lost it that night when he found out from Sophie what had happened. Devon drugged her, but she knew what was going on. She was a wreck when she got home. Devon tried to bluster it out.” Jane searched Officer Stonechild’s face to see if she believed her. For some reason, this police officer’s good opinion mattered to her.

  Officer Stonechild’s eyes were kind. “Charlie and his sister Tiffany have given statements that Devon lied about having sex with you in grade seven. Charlie confessed to helping bring Sophie to the hotel where Ivan Bruster molested her. We will do everything we can to make sure the public knows you were wrongfully convicted.”

  Jane shut her eyes and tears squeezed out the sides.

  “I’ll let you sleep now, but wanted you to know before my partner and I head back to Kingston.”

  “Thank you, Officer Stonechild … for everything.”

  “I wish I could have done more sooner.”

  Adam and the kids were in her room the next time she was fully awake. Ben and Olivia looked scared but smiled when she opened her eyes. They hugged her carefully and talked a mile a minute, asking her if she was okay and telling her they could see her again. Their dad had promised.

  Adam waited until they stopped for air before getting close to the bed. “Here’s some money. You two go buy your mom a present from the gift shop while we chat for a second.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat where Jane could see him easily. He had a five o’clock shadow and his eyes were filled with contrition. “I’ve been wrong,” he said, “about a lot of things. The police told me that the kids made up the story about you and Devon. I’m angry as hell at them for what they did and I’m sorry for doubting you. I wish we could go back in time to before any of this happened.”

  “I want to renegotiate our custody agreement.”

  “Of course. I was hoping that we could see about spending more time together after you get back to Kingston. Maybe, you could come live in the house again. We can take it slow.”

  She studied him and wondered what kind of man would spray-paint the words he did on her walls. Mitchell had had no reason to lie when he said he hadn’t done it. That left Adam, whose anger and obsession wanted her to keep paying. He’d promised to disappear with the kids forever if she didn’t confess and take the counselling courses. Underneath, he was more like her mother than she’d ever imagined. Rigidly fixated on fire and brimstone and retribution. “I’m going to stay with my sister when I leave here. It’s all arranged.” It wasn’t, yet, but Sandra had gotten a message to her through the nurse that she was on her way.

  He covered her hand resting on her chest with his. His eyes drilled into hers. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Jane. Even through all the bad times.”

  She studied his square jaw and handsome face. Odd to think how once she’d reveled in his need to have her in his life. From the start of their relationship, he’d put her on a pedestal, idolizing her physical beauty. She’d loved him then, mistaking his obsession for passion and love. The answer was simple, really. She slid her hand out from under his and said gently, “But I don’t love you, Adam.”

  His eyes searched hers. She’d waffled about leaving him before Devon accused her, but he’d always been able to win her back. He appeared to see something in her gaze that rattled him. The certainty left his voice. “I guess I deserve that. Believe me when I say that if we could go back in time, I would do a lot of things differently.”

  “That makes two of us, Adam. Too much has gone on that we can’t take back. I hope we can be friends for the children.”

  “We can try. I warn you, though, I’m going to try to win you back.”

  His words felt like a threat, but she knew she was strong enough to leave him now. Odd that it took three years in prison to make her feel liberated. She’d get a teaching job and make a life for herself with the children. The future was wide open; she’d grab on to it and never look back.

  She would begin living again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Gundersund dropped Kala off at her house shortly before eight o’clock, following a quick stop at Gibson’s restaurant in Napanee for a bite to eat. After checking in with Rouleau, Kala had taken a break from her cellphone but began scrolling through messages as she walked up the driveway. The sun was completely down, but the sky was clear and cloudless and a dome of stars made her tilt her head back and breathe in the night. The cool breeze from the lake stirred up the autumn smell of composting leaves and end-of-season gardens. Someone had lit a bonfire and she caught the scent of woodsmoke as she entered the backyard. She hadn’t thought about it before, but she had lots of room for a firepit. It woul
d be pleasant to sit next to a fire on the cooler nights and even cook her supper in the open air. She had to let Marjorie know soon if she wanted to buy the house. Evenings like this one, the idea was tempting — a place to call her own; Gundersund down the road; Rouleau and his father close by in town. Maybe, it was time to put down roots. She could always sell or go on long trips to quench her wanderlust.

  She had a couple of voice messages and was accessing the message centre when she unlocked the back door. Taiku was standing in the hallway, tail wagging. He ran over to greet her, and she petted his head while listening to the voice mail. Caroline Russell was phoning to find out if she’d been in touch with Dawn. No cause to worry but Dawn hadn’t gone to school or returned home after leaving in the morning. Kala took Taiku outside and sat on the deck to return Caroline’s call while he snuffled around in the grass.

  “Sorry to keep bothering you,” Caroline started, “but has Dawn been in contact with you today?”

  “I haven’t had any word from Dawn since you brought her to see me last week.”

  “Damn.” Caroline took a deep sigh before saying, “We’re going to have to come up with another place for Dawn to live. The foster family where she’s placed now isn’t working out.”

  Kala let the empty air stretch between them. Before her meeting with Dawn, she would have immediately offered to take her back, but Dawn didn’t want to be with her. She’d made that crystal clear. Kala had betrayed her, and in Dawn’s place at the same age, she would not have forgiven either.

  “Well, if I hear anything, I’ll call you,” said Caroline. “Would you please do the same?”

  “Of course.”

  “Dawn has become independent and resourceful. I’m hoping these traits will keep her from getting into trouble.”

  Kala sat for a long time after the call, sitting on the deck and watching the twinkling night sky. Taiku eventually tired of roaming around the property and came back to sit beside her. When they went inside, he ate a bit of his supper but left most of it in his bowl and came to lie at her feet while she drank a cup of tea and read the news on her iPad. When she stood to empty the last of her tea into the sink, he leaped to his feet and started down the hall to the stairs, stopping and looking back to make sure she was following.

  “I’m coming, boy,” she said. “I have to lock up and I’ll be right behind you.”

  He’d disappeared up the stairs and out of sight by the time she set foot on the bottom step. She was surprised not to find him in her bedroom and backtracked to the guest room where she found him on the foot of the bed, his bright eyes looking at her from the darkness of the room. Kala stepped closer, and from the light in the hallway, she made out a form lying under the covers and saw black hair spread out on the pillow. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hand on the girl’s back. She rolled from her side onto her back and looked up at Kala.

  The house’s secrets revealed. Kala smiled. “Dawn. I’m so happy to see you.”

  Dawn stared at her. “Are you angry?”

  “No. No, I’m not angry. I’m glad that you’re safe.”

  She sat up. “Can I stay, Aunt Kala? I don’t belong with that family. We don’t have to tell them. They won’t miss me.”

  “How have you been getting here from downtown?”

  “The bus. I kept my key. I’ve been looking after Taiku while you worked the case. I belong with you and Taiku.”

  Kala rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. This child had never let go of her even though she had every reason to turn her back. Kala had never had anyone love and need her like this before. She reached out and pulled Dawn to her. “We’re both home,” she said. “We’re both here where we belong.”

  “It’s getting late,” Vera said, standing in the doorway to Rouleau’s office. “Heath will be pleased that you skirted around the reporter’s questions about why he jumped to conclusions before the facts were in.” She smiled her Mona Lisa smile.

  “Thanks, Vera. This case had some peculiar turns that nobody could predict. I’ll be finishing up here in a few minutes. You should run along though and get some supper. Thanks for all your help getting the media briefing together on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Will Heath be back in the office tomorrow?”

  “He texted me while you were answering media questions that he’s taking his wife to Turks and Caicos for a couple of weeks.” She shook her head. “Making amends for his trespasses.” She paused as if she wanted to say something more but seemed to think better of it. “Don’t work too late,” she said and beamed a smile at him before turning to leave. He watched her walk down the hall and out of sight.

  Rouleau finished typing the report he’d been working on and turned off the desk lamp, sitting in the darkness while his eyes adjusted. His father would be in bed by now and the idea of being alone with his thoughts was not a good idea. He picked up his coat and left the building, getting into his car and heading into town toward the waterfront. He debated stopping at the Merchant for a nightcap, and an empty parking spot near the pub seemed like an omen that he couldn’t pass up.

  The team’s usual table was occupied and he got a beer from the bar and stood at one of the high tables nearby. The band was on a break and the room was filled with lively chatter. He settled in to people-watch and sip his beer.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  He looked over his shoulder and Marci Stokes skirted around to stand next to him. She’d been at the media briefing and was on her phone calling in the story when he last saw her. He’d manage to leave Sophie’s name out of the story, but knew the press would see the holes in the sequence of events eventually. Interest in the story would end sometime, and he’d protect Sophie from the worst of it until then. Ruining her reputation would serve no purpose. Jane Thompson and Bruster’s wife knew, of course, but neither would be giving details to the press. “I’d enjoy the company,” he said and waved over the waitress. “What will you have?”

  “Gin and tonic, thanks.” She undid her coat and draped it over a stool. “Well, that was quite a turn in the case. Did you have Mitchell Eton in your sights all along?”

  “He wasn’t one of our main contenders.”

  “So Devon concocted the entire story about Jane Thompson and their affair. I see a lawsuit somewhere.”

  “She might have a right to some compensation, but the court will have to decide.”

  “Hmm.” Her eyes found his. “One wonders what sent Mitchell off to Ajax to kill a business associate, but we may never know. Is that how you see it, Sergeant?”

  “People do unpredictable things when they become unhinged.”

  “Indeed. Perhaps, the trigger was something long simmering. I can understand Mitchell striking out at his son when he found out that he’d concocted the story that put Jane Thompson away for a couple of years.” Her drink arrived and she raised her glass. “A toast to closing chapters and new beginnings.”

  And media not finding out what really happened in the Eton family. He clinked her glass and drank from his. “Are you returning to New York? You make it sound as if the blacklisting has lifted.” He grinned and thought that he might miss her if she left this time for good.

  “On the contrary. I’ve been offered an assistant editor job on the Whig that I accepted” — she made a show of checking her watch — “not even an hour ago. You’re going to be stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

  The idea was not unappealing. He raised his glass again. “Congratulations. I trust this is what you want.”

  She tilted her head and smiled at him. “This town is growing on me, Sergeant. Enough criminals to keep my interest but not too many that I fear for my own safety.” She took a drink. “And how about you? Will you be sticking around for a while?”

  “Until my father doesn’t need me anymore.”

 
She looked thoughtful. “Not to harp on this Eton case, but deliberately setting up a teacher the way Devon did might be viewed as an act without conscience, especially not coming forward with the truth once she was incarcerated.”

  “Nature versus nurture, you mean? I’m not sure but I haven’t seen many truly evil people in my career. Usually, something in their past led them to commit a crime. Often drugs or alcohol are involved.”

  “But you admit a person can be born without conscience?”

  “I do, just not as often as media would portray.”

  “Touché.” She pushed her hair back from her face and took another drink of gin. They watched the band leap back onto the stage and take their places. “Well, it’s been a long day so I’m going to push off,” she said. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  EPILOGUE

  Hilary Eton parked across the street from Winston Churchill Public School, rolled down the windows, and turned off the car engine. She’d brought a crossword puzzle and spent a few minutes folding the newspaper and finding a pen in her purse. She rested the puzzle on the steering wheel and immedi-ately forgot it was there, instead staring out the front window and going over all of the preparations she’d made for their trip to Bermuda. The suitcases were in the trunk. She’d notified everyone she needed to that they’d be away for two weeks, and she’d exchanged enough Canadian money for American to last them several days. It had been over a month since they buried Mitchell, and she and Sophie needed time away to heal and to reconnect. Sophie’s therapist had suggested the trip and her own heart doctor had supported the idea.

  Kids started to stream out of the school and raced toward waiting buses or parents standing in groups on the sidewalk talking. Some of the older children were walking home in groups or pairs, their voices loud and animated. Hilary was about to get out of the car, thinking Sophie had forgotten their meeting place, when she spotted her daughter walking in her direction alone. Hilary reached a hand out her open window and waved. Sophie gave a half-hearted wave in return but kept trudging along as slowly as ever. Hilary thought that she was looking stronger than she had even a week before with more colour in her cheeks and some life back in her eyes. She didn’t think this was only her wishful thinking.