“How long have I been here?”
“You’ve been comatose for two days. Today is your third day here.”
Christian!
“Have…” I lick my lips and fight the intense urge to cough, I need to ask this. “Have they found him?” My voice wavers pathetically.
A fleeting look of pity passes over her features. “Your friend was found right next to your house. I’m sorry.” She lays a hand on my arm and holds it there, for comfort, to keep me still. “You’ve been through a lot.”
Next to my house? How did he get there? Then I realize she isn’t talking about Christian.
She clears her throat. “Actually, there’s someone who will be very happy to hear you’re awake. Officer Tremblay has requested to see you on several occasions.”
The door falls closed with a whisper.
The curtains are half closed. It’s dark outside. Officer Frederic Tremblay takes up the whole room.
I lay my hand protectively over Cece’s sleeping form in the bed next to me as the hulking giant of a man invades the room. Taking off his cap, he pulls a chair closer, scraping it across the floor, the sound cutting painfully into my over-sensitized mind. He is surprisingly graceful as he folds his body into a sitting position, on a chair that looks like it’ll collapse beneath him, before extending a hand to me.
“Kerry Jackson. I’m terribly happy to see you awake.” His voice is deep and husky. He sounds like a friend, like a father would. I suddenly miss mine so much my chest tightens, and I grimace from the pain. I wet my dry lips and give him my hand. It disappears completely in his large paw.
“Do you need anything? Water?” He looks around him and then back at me.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t need anything.”
“Are you sure?”
I have to bite my lips to not start crying as his kindness overwhelms me. “Yes, I’m sure. Thanks.”
“Miss Jackson, as you can imagine we have questions about what happened to you and your daughter. There are some inconsistencies in your story. For instance we’ve found you are divorced. There are no restraining orders or police reports. Yet you have told everybody your husband was after you. Why is that? I don’t understand.”
“I…” How can I tell? I can’t tell. I see Salvatore before me, the man who once ordered my death. I’ll be dead if I ever tell the truth. “I was stalked. I thought there’d be less questions if it seemed domestic.”
“Who stalked you?”
“A… man I met.” I ponder for a moment if I should lie, but no, better to stick close to the truth without ever telling the whole truth. “His name was Christian. Just a flirt on a stupid night out with friends. He got obsessed with me.”
“Do you have a full name for this Christian?”
I shake my head. “No, Officer, I have no idea what his last name was.”
“He stalked you?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“So you fled?”
I nod again.
“Has this been through a court? Restraining order? Anything?”
“No,” I mouth.
“Why is that?”
“Because I knew it wouldn’t help.”
Tremblay is quiet, narrowing his eyes slightly as he holds my gaze.
“What happened in the woods? Ray McGonaghan has been found dead outside your house. We’re investigating his death and can’t rule out homicide yet. Miss Jackson… we need to know what happened.”
“Homicide? But… What?”
“He had head trauma and a brain hemorrhage due to blunt force. There is no blood in his truck, and he walked quite far only to be found dead outside your house. It might be a coincidence. Or it might not.”
“Blunt?”
“Something, or someone, whacked him over the head.”
I see his body before me, see Christian, compassionless trying to rid Ray of his boots. Did he kill him? But even I could see that Ray had been dead for a while, and Christian was with me the whole time. Right?
For a moment I’m back there, tied up, crying. I fight against the memories. They hurt. “My… stalker. He found us.” My voice breaks, the pain too great. “But he didn’t kill Ray,” I add quickly.
He nods. “Go on.”
“I knew he would come after me sooner or later. I kept seeing him. Wherever I went, he showed up. That’s why I finally left the US. I thought I’d be safe.”
“And this was,” he looks at a notepad, “a little more than a year ago? Somewhere in all of this you had a child.”
“Yes,” I say, defensively.
“Where’s the father?”
I don’t miss a beat. “I don’t know.”
He doesn’t miss a beat either. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head. “I was with someone… Just a night out. I was a bit reckless back then.” I grimace and try to mix my real pain into the lie. The pain I felt then, the pain I feel now.
“That’s a lot of nights out.”
I raise my chin. “So? Is that a crime?”
He frowns, then he shakes his head and scribbles. I’m not sure how to interpret his expression. Drunken one-night stands are as far from me as it gets, and I itch to rectify the lie, to restore my reputation, even if it’s only between him and me, and doesn’t mean a thing.
“What happened after your daughter was born? Did you come here before or after?”
“I moved here after. I thought we’d be okay…” My voice trails off. My chest feels so heavy, so tight. I try to inhale but end up fighting for air through endless sets of coughs. Finally, I fall back onto my pillow, sweaty. Tired. So, so tired.
Officer Tremblay clears his throat and hands me a glass of water. “I’m sorry I have to put you through all this.”
I nod and drink a small sip. “I want to help. Did you find him yet?”
“What happened these last few days, Kerry, may I call you Kerry?”
I nod.
“Did he try to kill you? Force himself on you?”
I shake my head.
“Why is that? I’m sorry—” He waves his large hands in the air. “This is all a little confusing to me. Are you saying he didn’t try to harm you? What was he after all this time then? Did he assault you in any way?”
I clear my voice. How am I going to put this? Lies are best when close to the truth. “I think he wanted to be with me… Like romantically.” My voice trails off. “And I think Cecilia’s presence made him restrain himself.”
He frowns. “An obsessed stalker who develops a conscience… Huh. How long was he with you?”
I bite my lip and try to think. “I’m not sure… the days melted into one another… maybe three days. Or four.”
He studies me and his intelligent eyes seem to look right into me.
Tremblay looks like a teddy bear, friendly, harmless, but I suddenly know his looks are deceiving, that he is very good at what he does—a frightening opponent for those who oppose him.
“What happened between the two of you during all this time?”
“The first day… or two maybe, I tried to,” my cheeks heat up, “kill him… a few times.” I look defensively at him, challenging him to say something. “I had to try to get away.”
He nods and doesn’t say anything. It encourages me that he isn’t judging me. “The last day, Cece got sick and I begged him to help us get back here. At that point I didn’t care about what he did to me, what his plans were or anything… I just needed to take her to safety. And he did. He helped us.”
“What did he plan to do once you got back into town?”
I shake my head slowly. “I have no idea, Officer. I never asked. I was afraid to ask, actually.”
“Tell me about when he left you.”
I shudder, reliving the horrifying moment, fingering the soft skin on the back of the chubby little hand I’m holding. “Cece fell—I fell and dropped her—and she slid over the edge of the ravine… and he… and he… threw himself after her, caught her somehow an
d pushed her back up.” I swallow back the tears. “That was the last I saw of him. I think he must’ve fallen into the river.”
“That… or he found a convenient escape.”
I grimace. My head spins.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Christian Russo is the most capable man I’ve ever met. If there’s even the slightest chance he could have lived, he lives. My heart tells me he’s alive. My brain says he’s dead, that it’s just not possible he’d survive that fall and the cold water.
The door slides open behind him and my nurse for the day enters. “Officer! Is this really necessary? You have by far exceeded your stay for today, she’s exhausted! You’ll have to come back another time.” She rushes to my side and pulls a little at the sheet, adjusts some fluid bags and fiddles with something I can’t see, showing clearly she wants him to leave.
He takes the hint and stands, cap in hand. “I’ll need to come back, though.”
I hold his gaze. “Did you find him?”
He shakes his head. “Only the ski cap at the bottom of the ravine, and some smeared blood right next to it. We’re looking further downstream. We will find him. If he’s there, we’ll find him. Don’t you worry.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I say slowly.
“If he fell into the water, he’s dead, Miss Jackson. He wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in that river. We’ll keep looking. For closure. But I doubt he’s coming back.”
“Okay,” I whisper and smile meekly.
That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried they will find him. And that he’ll still be alive. And I don’t know who I worry about more.
Him.
Or them.
Chapter 10
Kerry
When I wake, he’s sitting patiently by my side, his hands folded in his lap. A day passed already? I attempt a smile. “I must be such a good witness,” I croak. “You always know where to find me.”
He fires off one of his friendly smiles back but doesn’t answer.
I fight my way up to a half-sitting position, regarding him curiously. There’s something he wants to get off his chest. I feel it. I fear it.
“This man, ehm…”
“Yes?”
“He doesn’t seem to exist.”
I look up at his scraggy features, his stubble is longer, and somehow grayer, than yesterday. “What do you mean?”
“The fingerprints we found on the knife in your kitchen, and around your house, don’t match any registered felon, or anyone else for that matter who has ever passed through customs, been in a car accident, been arrested for pickpocketing… anything.”
“You were in my house?”
“We’re investigating a homicide, Miss, and you housed a man we suspect for the murder.”
“I didn’t ‘house’ him. He broke in.”
Tremblay bows his head in acknowledgement. “Very well.”
I frown. “So then… that just means he hasn’t been arrested, right?”
“We’re still waiting for the Americans to get back to us, but so far… it’s like he doesn’t exist.”
“But he does!” Suddenly I’m worried he won’t believe me. Will he think I killed Ray?
“We have fingerprints unaccounted for, a car with the same prints inside, a dead body, your statement. We’ll keep looking further downstream when it gets bright again. If he’s out there, we’ll find the man who did this to you, and to Ray.”
“He couldn’t have killed Ray, Officer. Christian was with me the whole time. It was a storm. Couldn’t Ray have gotten hit by something? I don’t understand.”
“It’s not unlikely his head wound is from the car crash. We’ll get the coroner’s report later today.”
Tremblay stands, fiddles with his cap, taking me in. “Have you heard of Stockholm syndrome, Miss Jackson?”
My heart drops. No. I know what that is, but no. That can’t be it. Can it?
He lays a hand on my forearm. “Do you have someone to talk to?”
I look away. I don’t want him to see the tears that well up in my eyes.
It’s not Stockholm syndrome. Christian was a complex, real person, who just happened to make bad choices. When I think of him, I don’t see the furious murderer anymore. I see a father. A man. A man I could have known, and maybe more… had things been different.
I lower my gaze to Cece, sleeping in her little bed with steel bars on the sides. When she’s older I’ll try to explain to her who he was—to the best of my knowledge. Christian won’t come after us again. We’re free. But it’s not how it feels.
When I look back toward Tremblay, he has left the room.
“We’ve stopped the search, Kerry.”
One or two more days have passed. I’m not sure. It’s hard to keep track of time here.
“You don’t think you’ll find him?”
“The river is empty all the way down to the lake which has frozen over. There’s no use in keep on looking. We’ll see what washes up in April.”
“You do believe me, don’t you?”
“With the statements from people in town who met him, all the blood in the house that matches neither you nor Mr. McGonaghan, the car next to Ray’s down the road, yes, everything indicates things happened more or less the way you described them.”
I fall back against the pillow. “Good.”
“And I read your journals.”
I stiffen and stare at him in horror. “You did what?”
“We had to exclude you as a suspect. We don’t leave stones unturned.”
I’m too shocked to respond. Everything is in there. All the things I’ve never told anyone but Chloe.
Tremblay’s eyes bore into mine. “Who is Christian Russo?”
I swallow hard as sweat breaks out on my forehead. This is it. I’m fucked. I wrote his name. Why the hell did I write his name? His full fucking name!
“Kerry?”
My heart turns into a hard lump of pure fear. Tell on the mob and die. I know how this will go. I won’t be safe anywhere. I know it won’t be Christian. There’s not a chance in hell it will be Christian, even if he lives. But someone will find me and end me. A hole opens up beneath me and it feels as if I’m falling into a black, cold void.
Me. And maybe Cecilia too.
That can’t happen.
“We do have a few Christian Russos on the north American continent. The car didn’t lead us anywhere. We’ve found no DNA match. Who is this man? Why did you withhold his full name?”
I hear Tremblay as if from a distance. I’m frozen in terror. I can’t tell the truth. It’s out of the question.
“What I went through, Officer, has nothing to do with what happened to Ray. The man who was with me didn’t murder Ray. Whatever happened, it was an accident.”
“Kerry. I need your complete cooperation in this matter. Was it this Russo who was with you?”
I wince. “Am I under arrest?”
Tremblay looks a bit taken aback, and then he shakes his head.
“So I’m free to leave?”
“You’re an illegal immigrant. You’ve stayed in our country without a visa for either work, or vacation. Canada isn’t the US. You can’t just cross the border and make a life for yourself here without a permit.”
“I’ve neither worked nor relaxed,” I sneer. “We fled for our lives! Is this going somewhere?”
“Are you afraid to talk? Is someone threatening you? Talk to me. The police can protect you.”
I scoff. No, they can’t.
He nods at Cecilia who is sleeping peacefully next to me, her fever gone, her chest rising and falling evenly. “She’s his child, isn’t she? That’s no ‘night on the town’.”
I look away, my eyes brimming with tears.
“Why didn’t you tell us? Did you have a relationship with this man? Explain it to me. I’m a simple man. Sometimes I just don’t understand. Are you protecting him right now? What aren’t you telling
us?”
“Nothing,” I cry. “I didn’t have a relationship with him. It was a stupid mistake. He stalked me. I fled here. He followed. Saved Cecilia. Disappeared. That’s all there is to it. I held back, yes. I was ashamed. But that’s the whole truth!” My heart pounds. I don’t want to tell him about how bad I hurt. How much I ache for him. It’s nobody’s business.
He is quiet for a while and all that is heard is Cecilia’s light snoring. “You kept the baby,” he says quietly.
I sigh deeply. “Are you gonna question that too? Does that make me more or less suspicious?”
He waves his large hands in the air. “You are not suspected of anything. Not anymore. Ray’s death has been ruled an accident, so the investigation is closed. I just don’t understand all the lies. You said you were married, you said you didn’t know who the father was.”
I chew on my lower lip and think on the answer for a while. “Life has taught me to be careful, Officer Tremblay. I have a hard time letting people in.”
“There’s a difference between people and people, Miss Jackson. And lying to the police is never wise.” I flinch when I feel his hand on mine, calloused, gigantic on my tiny, claw-like hand. “You have something beautiful there,” he nods at Cece, “and whoever he is, he’s gone. You are finally free.”
I look at Cecilia, then out the window. Am I? Then why doesn’t it feel that way? I know what he says is true. I just don’t know why it doesn’t feel like a relief, but… empty.
Our things are packed, some toiletries, and a few clothes Mrs. Anderson kindly brought for us. The sheets have already been removed from our beds. Cece is playing on the floor with some borrowed toys and we are waiting for the doctor to release us.
There’s a knock on the door but it isn’t the doctor. It’s Officer Tremblay. He holds a bag in his hand and drops it on the bed as he remains standing. Cecilia looks up and regards him curiously, then she seems to decide he isn’t what she was looking for and continues with the doll and the plastic yellow truck. Tremblay pats her head and shuffles his feet, looking awkward, uncertain.
Russo Saga Collection Page 93