The Shadow's Edge (4 page)

             
He was quiet during the ride out to Thornhill Road. When we arrived at our destination he said, “I had a good look around here yesterday. There was no sign of a struggle having taken place. Your wife will most likely turn up in a day or two with a nice simple explanation for why she took off.”

             
I tried not to let my contempt for him show too much when I faced him. “Pretty much the same thing you figured about Charlene Lamont, I imagine, huh?”

             
He ignored the question. And my disdain.

             
I got out, freed Bix, and stood watching as Jessup sprayed gravel pulling away. A few yards up the road he cranked a u-turn and drove by me with a bored look on his face.

             
“Shit-heel,” I mumbled.

             
Bix stared after Jessup’s fading presence and barked once, then looked at me and dropped his head nervously as if to apologize for speaking out of turn. It was the first sound I had heard him make.

             
Before getting into the pickup Bix got side-tracked, sniffing something that intrigued him but I couldn’t see anything that looked out of the ordinary with the exception of the small quantity of roadside dirt on the pavement.

             
We drove back to town.

             
It was noon so I stopped into the diner. The lunch crowd was on hand but, as soon as she saw me, Kat came over to serve me at my spot at the counter. “You’re getting to be a real regular,” she said as she poured me a coffee.

             
“I figure if I eat here often enough I’ll find something edible.”

             
She shook her head sadly. “Good luck with that,” she said. “Anything further on Callie?”

             
“Not yet.”

             
Her face reflected real uneasiness at my response. I wondered, not for the first time, if maybe she knew more about what was going on than she was willing to admit.

              Miles and Betty were sitting on the porch with coffees in hand as Bix and I pulled up to the house. Betty immediately rose from her chair and disappeared inside, still unable to work up the will to speak to me.

             
“Sorry about Betty,” Miles muttered as I joined him. “She’ll come around eventually.”

             
“I don’t blame her for the way she feels, Miles.”

             
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “me and a lot of other folks around here feel Henderson got pretty much exactly what he deserved.”

             
It closely mirrored what Fordham had said but it was also true that a good many other people felt differently. For the rest of my life I would have to accept that there were those who regarded my actions as every bit as immoral and unforgiveable as those of Henderson himself. I couldn’t in all sincerity say that I disagreed with them.

             
“What else can you tell me about this Charlene Lamont?” I asked.

             
Miles ruminated for a moment or two. “Not much, ta be frank. Very pretty young gal, married but maybe not too happily. There was speculation that a bad marriage was the reason fer the hasty departure.”

             
“And why is it that you think there may be something more to it than that?”

             
“The fact is, Jack, I don’t really have any strong feelings one way or the other. I know Billy Lamont ain’t the easiest fella in the world ta live with and Charlene and him had their ups and downs. But he did report her missin’ and it just seems ta me there shoulda been more of an effort put inta locatin’ ‘er.”

             
“Have the state cops investigated?” I wondered.

             
“Unless Jessup makes it clear he believes a crime has been committed they’re not gonna get involved. And he’s been makin’ out like---”

             
“She’s a runaway, a bored housewife,” I interjected.

             
“That’s about it,” Miles confirmed.

             
“Isn’t it possible he’s right?”

             
“Sure, I suppose it is. Who knows.”

             
“Failing a kidnapping scenario or something like that, what do you think might be Callie’s motivation to disappear?”

             
Miles’ facial expression indicated a reluctance to say whatever it was that was on his mind. “She’s a much different woman from the one you married, Jack,” he said. “Her mind don’t work the way it used to. It’s possible … just possible, mind ya, that she ran because she couldn’t face up ta seein’ ya again.”

             
“Has she talked about me much over the years?”

             
“Not a lot, no. She never seemed ta want ta talk about you
or
Tanya. Just too painful for her. But the thing that worried us the most was this edge she has now that was never there before the poison that put her in that coma.”

             
“The doctors warned me when she came out of it that her mental functioning would be impaired to some degree,” I said.

             
“Yeah, that’s obvious enough at times. She often gets frustrated when she’s faced with situations that require her ta make immediate choices, that kind a thing. She don’t deal well with stress.”

             
“Still, disappearing like this doesn’t make sense to me.”

             
“I agree. Leavin’ the truck out there, that don’t make no sense at all. She had ta have left with
somebody
. But who, and why from there?”

             
“You can’t think of anything she said in the days leading up to this that might shed some light on her actions?”

             
He went into a thoughtful mode, staring off at nothing. “Now that I think about it,” he said after some time, “she was gettin’ more phone calls than usual for the past couple weeks or so. She never said who it was or what the calls were about. Seemed ta upset her, though. Lookin’ back now I wish I had a been a little more inquisitive.”

             
I wished the same thing.

             
Just then we heard the phone ring in the house. A few seconds later Betty came hurrying down the hall and out to the porch. Her breathing was labored, like she couldn’t quite get enough air into her lungs. Miles and I both stood, not sure what her problem might be. My first thought was that she might be having a heart attack – she was, after all, nearly as overweight as Miles.

             
Miles took her arm and steered her to a chair. “What is it, darlin’?”

             
“Chief Jessup,” she said in a choking whisper, looking at me. “He says you’re to come to his office right away. He’s got news about Callie.”

             
                                                                                   
5

             
One day earlier …

                            Callie woke with the conviction that today she would deal, once and for all, with John Croop. She had known from the very first moment of their brief affair -
could she really call it that?
– what a terrible mistake it had been. How she could have let things get so out of hand was beyond her. She only wished she could go back in time - relive her initial encounter with the man who, at first, had seemed so considerate and thoughtful.

             
              What she had mistaken for compassion, however, soon enough revealed itself for what it really was – a man willing to take advantage of a woman not entirely capable of making wise judgments at all times.
Strange,
she thought,
how clear it seems to me now. Why not then, when it mattered most?

             
             
Other things had become clear to her lately, too – most notably her feelings for Jack. It had taken a long time to forgive him for abandoning her, for not trusting her enough to speak of the terrible madness that had overtaken him seven years earlier. But lately she had begun to see that the measures people sometimes take in an effort to protect those they love are not necessarily easily understood. Jack’s actions, viewed in hindsight, made more sense to her now than ever before. Looking at circumstances from his perspective she was able to see that he had only wanted to spare her the pain he knew would be brought on by coming forward.

             
             
So clear now. Why not before?

             
             
She had first met John Croop while shopping at the Price Right – had quite literally run into him while rounding an aisle out of the deli section. The half dozen items she was balancing in her arms had spilled to the floor and he had gallantly insisted on picking them up. When he bent down she had thought what a handsome man he was – soft-spoken and gentle of manner. After that first encounter she had not seen him again for several weeks. Then, coincidentally –
or was it?
– he had shown up just in time to help her with a flat tire when she was leaving the pharmacy. She had offered to pay him for his trouble to which he had responded, “I wouldn’t think of taking your money. I will, however, accept a coffee in payment but only if you’ll join me.” How could she possibly refuse? It had seemed so utterly innocent.

             
              She bought a couple of coffees to go at the diner and they sat together on a bench outside, enjoying the weather. Croop, aware as everyone was of her background, asked how she was dealing with such a difficult past. Callie acknowledged only that she was coping as best she could. Croop seemed  remarkably empathetic but did not press for more information. Neither did he push to see her again or hint that they should expand on their talk. So totally charmed by Croop it had in fact been her idea to have coffee again sometime. He seemed somewhat reluctant, pointing out that she was a married woman and that he wouldn’t want to give the town’s citizenry the wrong impression. “You’re right,” she said. “I shouldn’t have---”

             
              “You know, I was just thinking,” he said, “I have to take a drive out to a friend’s place near Fairmont tomorrow. I’m keeping an eye on the place for him while he’s away. Why don’t you come along and keep me company? It’ll give us a chance to talk without worrying about the town gossiping.”

             
              If it had been a year earlier she likely wouldn’t have cared much about anyone seeing her socializing with a man, but lately, with her changing views, she was more aware of such things. Croop’s idea seemed an acceptable solution. “I suppose that would be alright,” she had said.

             
              He suggested she drive her car out to Thornhill Road – it was on the way - and he’d pick her up there. This struck her as just a little odd but she didn’t have any real qualms about Croop. He was, after all, a reserve cop and seemed like a decent guy. She knew several women in town who would have loved to date him but he seemed to be something of a loner. The fact that he was handsome, eligible, and yet still unmarried had led some to believe he was gay. Callie supposed it was possible that he was. Either way he appeared safe to her.

                                                                                                  *              *                           

                            When Croop turned off the highway, took a secondary road for a few miles, and finally turned into his friend’s property Callie actually cringed at the sight of the place.

             
              “Sorry about the shabby appearance of the house,” Croop said. “My pal bought it recently and plans to fix it up. He’s quite a handyman – it’ll likely turn out to be impressive enough once he gets around to it.”

             
              Callie tried not to let herself overreact but she experienced at that moment the first twinge of uneasiness.

             
              Croop seemed to sense her discomfort and when they went inside he set about trying to put her at ease. He pulled aside curtains, letting sunlight fill the dingy interior, then filled an electric kettle with water and made tea. His efforts to relax her worked, at least to some degree. She settled into the worn sofa with a hot mug of tea resting on her lap. Croop sat opposite her, smiling.

             
              The look on his face was hard to read. “A penny for your thoughts,” she said.

             
              “Oh, they’re worth much more than a penny,” he quipped.

             
              An innocent enough rejoinder but she thought she detected just the tiniest hint of wickedness there, too. Her problem was she didn’t trust her instincts anymore. There was a time she relied on her gut to tell her when something wasn’t quite right but now she never really knew whether her radar was off a little. In situations like this she often feared she misjudged people because of her inability to interpret actions or events correctly.

             
              When Croop spoke next, though, her anxieties were alleviated, at least a little. “How’s the tea?” he asked.

             
              “Fine. Very good actually.”

             
              “I’m glad you like it. It’s a special blend. My pal orders it online from an importer in Augusta who brings it in from England.”

             
              “I’ve heard you make your living on the internet. What do you do exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?”

             
              “I don’t mind at all. I’m what’s known as an ISD – an independent software designer.”

             
              “That sounds very impressive.”

             
              “Not really, but it’s work I enjoy. It pays well enough and it allows me to work from home and dictate my own hours. For the last couple of years I’ve been working with a range of database engines, mostly building applications from the ground up but also---”

             
              Callie held up her hand. “It’s like you’re speaking a different language, John. I’m afraid I don’t have a clue what any of that means.”

             
              Croop smiled good-naturedly. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s one of the disadvantages of working and being on my own so much. Sometimes, when I get a captive audience, I get a little carried away with the computer-speak. It’s basically why I signed on as a reserve cop – it forces me out into the real world every so often.”

             
              “Do you enjoy the cop thing?”

             
              “Oh, sure, I guess. I normally just do two days a week - weekend support usually - and occasionally stand in during holidays. It’s interesting work … well, I almost forgot about you being the police chief yourself. You know very well what’s involved of course.”

             
              “Yes, I think I have a pretty good idea all right.”

             
              “Do you miss that part of your life at all, Callie?”

             
              Callie was pensive for a few moments. “It’s not that I miss being a police officer so much … it’s more that I’m kind of sad that I couldn’t go back to it even if I wanted to.”

             
              “You’ve had a difficult time, what with all you’ve been through.”

             
              Croop’s empathy seemed so sincere Callie’s stubborn reluctance to talk about her dreaded past seemed to dissipate. “Yes … it’s been very hard. Losing my daughter was so completely overwhelming and then, on top of that, believing that my husband was dead, too – another victim of the man who had fathered me – it … it ...” Her voice broke. A flood of tears spilled down her cheeks.

             
              Before she realized Croop had moved he was beside her on the sofa, a comforting arm around her shoulders. It felt good to feel a man’s close presence. She leaned into him with her head against his chest.

             
              When Croop gently tipped her head back with his finger under her chin she expected nothing more than a reassuring smile. Then he leaned forward and very slowly brushed her lips with his own.

             
              It was like a switch was thrown somewhere deep in Callie’s brain. With an abruptness she was totally unprepared for, passions long forgotten suddenly surfaced. What she initially regarded as a consoling gesture between two tentative friends turned into an urgent demand for something much more. In a blur their clothes were discarded, their physical union happening so fast it seemed surreal.

             
              And, in an instant, it was all wrong. That same switch had been thrown again and Callie now wanted nothing more than to put an end to what was happening. But she could envision the bitterness that would result. All she could do, realistically, was wait Croop out. When he was finally done she pushed him off, gathered up her clothes, and scurried to the bathroom, quickly but thoroughly washed all traces of their conjoining – she couldn’t think of it as lovemaking - away. She felt sickened by what she had allowed to happen. She would have given anything to be able to escape to her own vehicle and disappear. The idea of a long drive back to Thornhill Road with Croop now made her almost nauseous.

             
              When she reappeared she saw Croop was still completely naked and sprawled unselfconsciously on the sofa. “Everything okay?” he said. His tone was callous and the look on his face showed no regard for her obvious discomfort.

             
              “I need to leave,” she said.

             
              “What’s the hurry, baby?”

             
              “John, please, just take me back to Colville.”

             
              “All in good time. Let’s have a drink and---”

             
              “NOW!”

             
              Croop only squinted his eyes, a cold smirk on his face. “Maybe I don’t feel like leaving right now.”

             
              There was a time Callie would have felt entirely capable of taking control of a situation like the one she now found herself in. But that was long in the past for her. Physically overpowering Croop, grabbing his keys, and taking off did not register with her as a viable option now. Although against her instincts she felt forced to try to appeal to Croop’s inner sense of decency. “Please, John. I don’t feel well. I need to go.”

             
              Croop made no effort to move, the smug smile remaining in place.

             
              She stared at him, waiting him out.

             
              Finally, he relented. “Okay, Callie. If that’s what you want, of course we’ll get you back home.”

             
              The ride back to Thornhill Road was the longest journey of her life.

                            Every few days for the next two weeks he phoned her. She tried to end the first call on a reasonable note. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I was interested in a relationship,” she enunciated slowly. “It was a mistake. Please understand, and please don’t call me again.”             

             
              When he continued to call she became more adamant and less pleasant. Her unremitting rejections, however, only resulted in a shift of gears on Croop’s part. Without spelling it out he made it clear that, if she were more obliging, he would have no reason to have a little chat with Jack when he eventually came on the scene.