Heaven's Prey

by Janet Sketchley

  T.J.’s brows drew together. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see someone at the hospital? Even a prescription to let you sleep tonight might help, and they can refer you to a counsellor for longer-term healing.”

  “I’ll phone my own doctor tomorrow. If I went to Emergency I’d be there forever. I can ice the knee myself, and as for the wreck inside me, I just want to go home.” Her voice sounded like a little girl.

  T.J. nodded. “Why don’t you tell me what happened from the time you entered the store? Try not to leave anything out.”

  Ruth closed her eyes. In retrospect, there wasn’t much to tell. Just long stretches of fear and panic-filled incidents. She spoke slowly, objectively, almost as if the woman in her story was someone other than herself.

  T.J. listened without interrupting, scratching notes on her pad. Ruth said nothing of Harry’s conversion. That was a deeply personal experience, and he should be the one to share it. It was true he’d wrestled with his decision to surrender himself to the authorities. She left it at that.

  When she finished, she watched T.J. scribble a few last lines. Then the policewoman looked up, her brow creased.

  “Ruth, are you sure you haven’t missed anything? You’ve been in a very difficult situation, and it’s only natural to try to block out the memories.”

  Ruth pushed into the corner of the couch.

  “He’s a dangerous man, yet he didn’t harm you in any way? You told me about the men at the other cottage. Don’t be afraid to tell me everything that happened with Harry. It’s important that I know the truth.”

  Ruth focused on the point of T.J.’s pen. “He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I know.”

  Ruth’s head jerked up at the calm words. T.J. grinned at her. “If he had, you wouldn’t be trying to protect him now. The trauma would be too great.”

  The faint whir of the camera grew louder in Ruth’s ears. She felt the blood rush to her face. “If I were trying to protect him, wouldn’t I have helped him meet that boat?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” T.J.’s tone was apologetic. “All I meant was you’re very careful not to make his part sound any worse than it has to. If he raped you, your attitude would be different—you’d be trying to dig him in as deeply as possible.”

  Like she’d done with Denny’s part of the story. With an effort, Ruth met the other woman’s eyes. “Sorry to be so sensitive.”

  “That’s okay.” T.J. flipped through her notes. “I’m just trying to make sense of what happened. He tried to assault you, but got sick. You escaped, were caught by his associates and returned. You planned to escape after dark, but you waited for morning.” She looked up, frowning, and Ruth braced for another round of ‘Why?’

  Instead, T.J. shrugged. “Now, when he regained consciousness, he didn’t try anything else?”

  Cold shivered up Ruth’s back. “He’d recovered more than I knew overnight. I planned to get away before dawn. He grabbed me when I came out of the bathroom. I thought he was asleep.”

  T.J.’s face relaxed, betraying a hint of satisfaction, as if she’d known there must be more. “Go on.”

  Chapter 32

  Ruth gulped a mouthful of cold coffee and willed the awful taste to pull her mind out of the well of memories. She clenched the porcelain mug in both hands, concentrating on its solid feel, watching the dregs of brown liquid ripple in time with her trembling hands.

  If she filled her thoughts with something else, there wouldn’t be room for Harry’s voice, for the terrible things he’d told her. The Lord is my Shepherd—

  It took three tries before she got through the whole of Psalm 23 without derailing on images of his screaming victims.

  T.J. waited, pen in hand, compassion on her face. She nodded away Ruth’s apology.

  “He had a gun. He told me about the others— I’d read some of it in the paper, but they kept a lot back—” Ruth’s voice wobbled, then grew stronger. “Then it all seemed to overwhelm him. He was struggling so hard in his own mind, he forgot about me.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “He pushed me down, and I hit my head. When I came to, he was wrecking the place. He couldn’t see me where I lay, and I didn’t dare move. When he collapsed, I went to tie him up and get out of there, but he was... different. Once he got his strength back, he decided to surrender.”

  T.J. studied her through narrowed eyes. “Do you know why?”

  “He said he owed it to his victims’ families.” Would T.J. believe her if she revealed Harry’s conversion? Would anyone believe it, even from Harry’s own lips, or would it be seen as a ploy for lenience? “It’s his story. He should be the one to tell it.”

  “Don’t worry, Miles will ask him.” The constable tapped her pen on the edge of the clipboard, looking over her notes. “That’s an amazing experience, Ruth. You’re a lucky woman.”

  Ruth took a deep breath. “I believe God protected me. Apart from that I wouldn’t be here now.” And I will never be the same again.

  “Well, it sure sounds like a miracle story.” T.J. laid the clipboard beside her on the couch.

  Ruth leaned forward and set her mug on the coffee table. Heat flared again in her cheeks. “What’s happening to Harry? I—you must think I’m crazy.”

  A gentle hand on her shoulder telegraphed understanding. “No. You’re not crazy, just concerned. You were terrified, and he set you free. He may have even saved your life at the end. It’s easy to forget—for the moment—that he’s the one who caused the problem in the first place. The feeling will fade over time. Then you’ll be furious with him for putting you through this.”

  Ruth nodded. Perhaps. But the spiritual bond between them wouldn’t go away.

  T.J. continued, “He came in willingly, ready to talk. That’s set the tone for us. You can forget those overdone movie scenes, with the bright lights and harsh interrogators.”

  She pointed at the mottled brown carpet. “Miles is interviewing him now, and he’ll be keeping things very casual. He’s given Harry a coffee, maybe removed the cuffs. It’ll be as if they’re having a chat, only it’s all going on tape. Miles is an old hand at this. He’ll get all the information he needs, and make his prisoner feel like a friend at the same time.

  “Harry has a long night ahead of him. They won’t be through downstairs for a few more hours, and then they’ll go back to the crime scene—the cottage—and go over it again.”

  Ruth thought of the carnage they’d find. It must have shown in her face, and T.J. flashed her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to go back. Since the prisoner turned himself in and gave evidence, they’ll take him with them, to corroborate his story and to see if he remembers anything else. It’s standard procedure.”

  “Oh.”

  “This could be a major break, depending on how much detail he’s able to give us. And what the young guy he brought in says. Our drug enforcement officers will investigate that other cottage and set up a stakeout for the boat.”

  T.J. stretched her shoulders and leaned back on the couch. “The Halifax City Police will come pick Harry up, since you were abducted from their jurisdiction. Then, it’s back to the penitentiary until his trial date arrives. I expect he’ll ask to be placed in protective custody. Informing on a drug ring is a dangerous game. Don’t worry about him, though. He’ll be well taken care of.”

  “I suppose so.” Inmates sometimes died in prison. Ruth swallowed hard.

  The constable spread her hands. “That’s it for now, unless you have any other questions or concerns?”

  “I don’t think so. And thanks for making this easy on me.” Ruth wasn’t sure what she’d expected.

  T.J. grinned. “It’s all part of the job. You didn’t need a hassle, especially after what you’ve been through.”

  She stood. “I’m glad to have met you, Ruth. You’re a neat person. Thanks for all you’ve told me. If anything else comes to mind later, however insignificant it
may seem, I want you to contact us. We need every piece of evidence you can provide.

  “One last thing: I can’t force you, but I strongly suggest you have yourself checked out at the hospital. If not tonight, then tomorrow.” She raised both hands before Ruth could protest. “I know, but you’ve been through a lot. Remember the old saying, better safe than sorry.”

  She crossed to the camera. “Now, I’ll check our recording and then we’ll be done.”

  ~~~

  Ruth couldn’t sit still any longer. T.J. had gone to put away the camera equipment, and Tony would be here any minute. What time had she called him? Chester was only an hour’s drive from home. She hoped he hadn’t been stopped for speeding.

  She checked the coffee room window for his car, straightened a dry-mount poster of an eagle in flight, limped back to the bulletin board to examine the snapshots of the officers’ children. She’d looked at their smiling faces so many times in the last ten minutes, she was sure she’d recognize those kids anywhere. Especially the blond, round-eyed toddler hugging the enormous black Newfoundland dog.

  Where was her husband? Her stomach fluttered as if she was a teen waiting for her prom date. That made her smile—she wasn’t exactly primped and satin-sheathed. She did a little pirouette despite her knee, holding the denim skirt out to its fullest.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Dropping her hands, Ruth turned as Tony burst through the door.

  She ran to his embrace and pressed her face against his shoulder, arms locking around his neck. “Oh, Tony,” she whispered into his shirt. She was crying again. He held her tightly, and his warm scent filled her nostrils. Slowly, she began to relax.

  “I was afraid I’d lost you.” The warmth in his voice caressed her, and she raised her face to his. Their lips met in a long, tender kiss.

  Only the two of them existed here, in this bubble in time.

  At length, Ruth burrowed her face into her husband’s neck and let out a deep sigh. It was over. Resting in his arms, she knew she was safely home.

  Tony’s hands moved to her shoulders and eased her back a step. His warm brown eyes probed hers, then slid over her face. His index finger traced the discolouration on her cheek.

  “What did he do to you?” His voice was husky with concern.

  Ruth had forgotten the bruise from her fall in the woods. “I fell, trying to escape. Honestly, I’m all right. Just a sore knee and a bump on the head. Nothing some ice won’t cure.”

  “What happened to your clothes?”

  “They were ruined. I left them behind.” First the police, now Tony. Ruth shoved her hair back from her face. Would the questions never stop?

  Tony’s hand snatched hers and bent it toward him. He pushed back the too-long flannel sleeve and examined the fading welt on her wrist. Granite-faced, he checked her other arm.

  “Don’t tell me you did this trying to escape as well.” There was a feral sound to his voice Ruth had never heard before. Even knowing it wasn’t directed at her, she trembled.

  “No... But that’s all. He barely touched me.”

  Tony’s hold on her hands was gentle but firm. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Her eyes focused on the glint of gold at his neck. Strong fingers cupped her chin and tilted her face toward his. “Look, Ruth, I’ve got to know.”

  He gripped her shoulders again, not hard, but she felt the desperation in his touch. “You’re my wife—part of me. It doesn’t affect us, whatever happened between you and him. You had no choice. But I’ve got to know what he did to you.”

  The memories rushed back. Ruth shook her head, desperate to throw off the images that rose like banshees in her mind. She choked back a sob, suddenly blinded by tears. Tony squeezed her shoulders. She clung to his touch, a lifeline against the horrific tide.

  “Oh, Tony.” She could barely push the words out. “He told me... he told me everything. He made me hear it... every detail... every time. He made it so real. It’s as if I saw it all and lived it at the same time. It’s inside me now, and I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

  A sob tore from her mouth, and she clung to him, her body shaking. Strong arms cradled her against his chest. He stroked her hair until exhaustion quieted her.

  “It’s all over now. I’m here. Somehow we’ll get you through.”

  Ruth stirred in his arms and pulled back to face him. Every crease of his bearded face showed his agony. She swallowed hard. “Harry asked me to tell you how sorry he is for what he’s done to us.”

  “I see.”

  “He’s not a killer anymore.” She pulled a shaky breath. He had to understand. “It was a kind of addiction, almost a possession, I think. Tony, he gave his life to Jesus, and he’s changed. You could turn him loose in a crowd of blond women, and he’d be fine now.”

  The frown lines deepened around Tony’s eyes. “So what he did was okay because he couldn’t help it? I suppose he’s actually a nice guy.”

  “That’s not what I meant. He made his own choices, and he’s responsible for his actions. But God changed him. That blond policewoman—he felt nothing. He’s free.”

  Tony gave her a sad smile. “I don’t know what to think. My mind tells me God has enough power to do that, but in my heart, Harry Silver is the creep who tried to destroy the woman I love.”

  The woman I love. The protective note in his voice warmed her. She smiled up at him.

  His fingertips brushed her bruised cheek. “Ready to go?”

  Ruth nodded. She felt a bit disoriented, like coming out of the cinema after a particularly intense movie. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

  “Lorna and Alden are downstairs. Lorna couldn’t wait at the house, but I wanted to see you alone first.” He kissed her again.

  Tony kept his arm around her going down the stairs, and Ruth leaned into him. He gave her a little squeeze. “What happened to your knee?”

  “That wasn’t him either, although he’s the one who made me hit my head. It’s a long story. Can I tell you, Lorna, and Alden all at once when we get home?”

  Tony held her hand as they stepped into the main office. T.J. Weber sat at the nearer desk completing her paperwork. A second officer occupied the other desk, facing Lorna and Alden.

  “Ruth!” Lorna rushed to embrace her. Ruth kept hold of Tony’s hand and hugged her sister with her free arm, smiling at Alden over Lorna’s shoulder. He and Tony joined in the hug.

  Lorna pulled back, head to one side as she studied Ruth. “How do you feel? What happened? They said he turned himself in. What—”

  Alden put a hand on Lorna’s shoulder. “Let’s give her time to catch her breath.”

  T.J. stepped forward, smiling. “You’re free to go, Ruth. We’ll contact you as the case progresses, and as I said earlier, if you have any questions or concerns, please call. We’re delighted to see this come to a happy ending.”

  “Thank you.” Tony grinned. “So are we.” He clasped her outstretched hand, and Ruth hugged her. T.J. escorted them to the door, and called goodbye as they stepped out into the warm June afternoon.

  As they walked to the car, Ruth thought of Susan. “I had no idea when I was praying for Harry that God would use me as part of the answer.”

  Tony tightened his arm around her waist. “It’s a good thing neither of us knew.”

  Epilogue

  Kingston Penitentiary, Ontario, Canada—

  nine months later.

  Harry matched the stride of the prison guards on either side of him and kept his eyes straight ahead. Shouted profanities followed him down the corridor.

  How soundproof were the visiting rooms?

  Sweat tickled under his hairline. He was crazy to have agreed to this. If she planned to curse him out, she had the right. He’d take it in silence. But it would hurt more than the garbage he heard daily, because it came from her.

  The guards stopped. “In here, Silver. One sign of distress from the lady and you’re back in your cell.”

 
Harry stepped inside. Rooms for closed visits didn’t have to be very big. Two tables, chairs, and a wall with a Plexiglas divider didn’t take much space.

  On the other side of the barrier, Tracey rose half-way to her feet, but settled back in her chair. One downward glance at his prison clothing, then her eyes searched his face. Her lips quivered and she squeezed them shut.

  Behind him, the door slammed. The sound unlocked his joints and he slid into his seat. What am I doing? He pushed his lips into a smile. “Hello, Tracey.”

  She looked tired, but her eyes had the same blue sparkle. She still wore her hair long. Today it was piled in a golden mass on top of her head, and it shone in the harsh lighting. Her business-casual jacket curved in all the right places.

  He watched her study the Plexiglas between them, the metal grill that let their voices pass. She stared at the table for a moment, then seemed to summon strength to meet his eyes.

  “Oh, Harry.” Her soft words held regret. Not hate, not revulsion.

  A bit of the stiffness left him, but shame filled its place. He took refuge in a joke. “Sorry about the décor.”

  One corner of her mouth quirked. “How are they treating you?”

  “Better than I deserve, most of the time.” The inmates delivering his meals didn’t throw as much garbage—verbal or physical—through his bars as at first. “The shrink comes by once a month to make sure I haven’t cracked up. I can see the chaplain or my lawyer. Other than that, I do a lot of reading and staring at the walls.”

  He leaned his forearms on the table and folded his hands loosely. Look relaxed. “It’s good to see you—especially in here. But why did you come?”

  Tracey sighed. “You still have to meet things head-on, don’t you? I’ve been speaking at a conference in Toronto.”

  “Close, but not next door. How long a drive did you have?”