by Brandon Enns
Rodney rushed back over to the window. "Rodney and Momma..."
Rodney's sobs slowed down as he refocused on the kids outside. Some were being pulled by their friends while some were taking runs at the steep hill, launching themselves down, crashing and burning in the powdered snow, howling with laughter. Even at a distance, Eli could hear the joy coming from outside and could feel the disappointment coming from Rodney in waves.
Chelsea exhaled and brushed her hair back.
"We have to get you cleaned up, Rodney."
"Please. Pretty please, pretty please. I said please!"
Eli opened the closet and pulled Rodney's winter coat off the hanger. He grabbed his ski gloves out of the coat and dressed Rodney. Rodney bounced on his heels, tears gone, joyous smile formed.
Eli turned to Chelsea. "It's okay. I'll take him outside for a little while."
"I dunno." She wasn't supposed to let him go unsupervised.
"It's fine."
"Well, all right. I'll come with you." Rodney walked ahead
toward the door, pulling Eli behind him by his hand.
"Eli come. Eli outside?" Rodney said, pronouncing his name 'Lie.’
"Yes, let's go outside."
Rodney shot out the front door while Eli and Chelsea followed behind at a slow jog. Rodney halted before all of the kids and stood there watching them play. After a moment of standing behind lonesome Rodney, Eli threw caution to the wind and approached one of the kids who was about his age.
"Excuse me. Can we take a turn on your sled?"
The chubby boy turned his back and walked away with his sled about twenty yards down and then hurled himself down the hill, snow splaying a trail to either side.
Eli approached another. "Excuse me. Can my brother take a turn on your sled?"
"I'm not allowed to let others on mine." It was a lie, but Eli appreciated being acknowledged.
Eli approached another boy, desperate for results. Rodney deserved to have fun just like the others.
"Excuse me. Could we use your sled just once down the hill?"
This kid had the Cadillac of sleds, a beautiful black GT with the three skis and a cool steering wheel in the front. The boy looked down at his GT with worry, and his lips shifted to the left as he considered. "Yeah, you can. Here, go ahead."
"Thank you very much. We will be careful with it, I can assure you."
"Yeah, go ahead. It's fine."
Eli lifted Rodney and placed him on the seat of the GT sled. Rodney looked at Eli, bright-eyed and appreciative. The sloped hill reflected bright sunlight in their eyes, and the bottom of the hill was unclear from the blinding light. Eli figured it would be best if he held onto the back and ran along with him, fearful that Rodney would generate too much speed and hurt himself.
Rodney released a sequence of squealing laughs. Eli laughed too. He forgot all about the badness that had been brewing inside; the rotten thoughts.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready."
Eli guided Rodney down the start of the hill, following behind, holding the back of his seat. Eli positioned himself in an awkward hunched-over run as he continued to hold onto the seat. They had little speed, but Rodney still laughed excitedly. They were both on top of the world, laughing as the cool wind rippled into their rosy cheeks.
Halfway down the hill, Eli let go and Rodney picked up speed quicker than he had anticipated. Slow, slow, slow... Thoughts of broken bones made him cringe as he watched Rodney hold on for dear life, probably scared out of his wits.
Rodney reached the bottom of the hill and as he flattened out and begun to decelerate, he twisted the steering wheel causing him to wobble side to side until finally, he spilled out the side of the GT, and a barrel roll ensued.
Eli ran up to Rodney to make sure he wasn't hurt. Rodney had snow all over his face and a big grin hiding underneath.
"Are you okay?!"
"Again?"
***
Eli's skin singed, a deep red forming, running between the groves of his shoulder blades and into the center of his back. He turned the nozzle off and stepped out in front of the mirror.
His body, mind, spirit; all of it, was ready.
***
Thick snowflakes were coming down, teasing Jennifer with the nostalgia of Christmas, taking her back to that little girl she once was. Every night before Christmas day, her mother would wait up for her, knowing that Jennifer wouldn't be able to sleep from an overload of excitement. Jennifer would sneak out of bed to get a peek at Santa, and her mom would be there guarding the door with two cups of hot cocoa. Because her father liked the house cool at night, Jennifer would always be shivering, teeth chattering after she had climbed out of her five quilts. After being greeted by her mom, wearing her long flowing nightgown, they would stand on the heat register and her mom would wrap another blanket around her and squeeze her tight while Jennifer sipped her hot drink.
She would often ask her mom if she could stay up to meet Santa. Her mother would reply, "No, sweetie. He's waiting for you to go to sleep. If you don't go back to bed, he can't come and it will break his heart. The wonders of Santa are meant to be wonders. Tell me, do you trust Santa?" To which Jennifer always answered yes. "Then you need to follow his rules. You see, if he took the time to meet you, he'd have to meet all the kids in the world. Do you think he'd have enough time for that?" "No..." "Exactly. He has to keep it fair for all the kids. And sometimes believing is better than seeing.
It's called faith." Jennifer could remember looking down at the floating marshmallows. Her mom had always added them for her. She remembered asking her mother if she believed in Santa, to which she replied, "Of course, dear. But you know who I believe in even more?" Jennifer shook her head no. "You."
The cancer that took her mother was fast and unforgiving. A suspected old shoulder injury kept her from seeking medical attention from the start. When the pain worsened, she was too late; it was everywhere. She had gone without knowing what Jennifer would have become. Thinking of that sad fact now, she was glad. I'm pathetic. Scared. I've done nothing but fumble the ball on this case, unable to stand up to Brian, to convince him.
Turn around and go home.
Jennifer grabbed her cell phone and dialed. It went straight to voicemail, and she hung up, frustrated. Answer your phone, Brian.
She dialed again and Steven Adams answered.
"Who is this?"
"Steven this is Corporal Allen. Jennifer."
"You shouldn't be contacting me."
"Please just listen to me, Steven."
"No. If you want to contact me, do it formally. I'll make sure my lawyer is present."
"Listen to me. You're in—"
"I'm with my family. We have already dealt with the appropriate authorities."
"Steven—" The call ended. "Steven! Shit!"
She slammed her phone into the passenger seat repeatedly.
Her phone rang. She snatched it off the seat, the screen
showing Jacey. Jennifer hit ignore and then sent her a text instead. The text read: "I'm working, sorry. Let's talk tomorrow?"
She got an instant reply, and she knew it wouldn't be good. "I thought we were going out for supper tonight?"
"I can't discuss why I can't..." Jennifer texted back.
"Please be safe. I love you."
She stared at Baker's house through her binoculars until finally there was movement. Eli walked behind the bluff of trees that blocked her vision. Jennifer put her car into drive and pulled out onto the road, driving away from the main grid. She doubled back around and parked in an approach to a field. She lifted her binoculars back up to get a look at Eli.
Eli climbed into his old LeSabre and turned the ignition. He got out of the car and unplugged the cord to his block heater. He popped the trunk before walking over to a small shed in the trees that she was unable to see. What are you up to with that old car? Show me something. Eli rounded the corner with thick plastic. She watched as he layered his t
runk with it. Her skin crawled. He spent considerable time folding the edges of the plastic. Finally, he closed it. The taillights were long rectangular blocks.
Jennifer picked up her phone and dialed Brian's cell again.
She had never been so relieved to hear his voice. "Why are you calling me, Allen?"
"Eli Baker is going to kill Steven Adams and Bart Reider."
"Allen, what are you doing?"
"All of the victims of the Satanist went to the same school. Something happened all those years ago. Something to set Eli Baker off."
"I told you to stay away. You're suspended, and I don't have time for this."
"You need to call in protective for both of them."
There was a pause on the line. "Bart Reider has gone missing."
Jennifer was furious. "Call in protective for Adams! He mentioned he's with family."
"You spoke with Steven Adams?"
"Yes, I spoke with him. Just trying to make sure nobody else gets killed. You should think about doing the same."
"We've already got someone heading to Adams to keep an eye out," he said bitterly.
"I'm outside Eli Baker's house and he's lined the trunk of his car with plastic. I'm gonna follow him. See if he makes his way to Adams’ place. Or is he with his family in Choiceland? I'm not sure where he is."
"Listen to me. You are not a cop right now. You are a civilian. I'm ordering you to stand down and report your information to Ben. Is that clear?"
It was a mistake calling him. She'd have to go off the grid, pack up her supplies and avoid the RCMP moving forward. It was either that or let an innocent, albeit snot-nosed, future lawyer die by the hands of Eli Baker.
"Ben? Why?"
"Are you not hearing me, Allen?"
"Why would I report to Ben? I'm reporting to you."
"Yes, and I'm telling you to stand down. Or get ready for a career change. Do you understand?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm in Ottawa."
"You're going federal?"
"Just do what you're told, Allen."
She was left with two options. Wait for Eli to leave and break in to see if Mia was there. Or follow him. Protect Steven Adams.
"Sarge—"
"I heard about the latest victims. I was already in Ottawa when I got word. I know the first two had gone to the same school. There was no record of Baker attending. He's innocent, Jennifer."
She had never heard him call her by her first name. He was reasoning with her now, a sense of sincerity in his voice.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Tanner Pearson and Eli Baker have nothing to do with one another. Pearson was seen having drinks at a bar before that networking conference at the Radisson. Across the street. Baker was at that bar all the time after work. For Christ's sake, they nailed him with hair follicles on Pearson’s clothing and some thin testimonies. Guy probably had shed half a head of hair in that place the number of times he's been there."
"He has a history though. Why's that sealed?"
"All I was told was it had something to do with a minor assault. Foster kid, you know how it can go. The fact that it's sealed has nothing to do with me. It's above my pay grade."
Jennifer's mind was searching for the clearest solution. Should I ask him about my father? Surely, they had exchanged words in person regarding the case back then. "Is that the only thing sealed, Brian?" He didn’t reply. "What is the RCMP hiding?" she asked.
"Nothing. Listen, Tanner Pearson was sneaking around with Kyle Morrow's girl. I understand where you're coming from. But, most often the way it looks is the way it is. And
what Ben and I are now working on is none of your concern."
"So you think it's a copycat or what?"
His sigh muffled through the phone. "That's one of our angles."
"What is your other angle?"
"That school they went to. There was a kid that went missing while the Reiders, Morrows, and Adamses all attended within that window back in '02. There was no news, no talk, nothing. Nobody knows a damn thing about it, or they're not talking. The school has official record of this kid for that year, but still, old staff, current staff, they don't remember him. Those kids, our vics, they did something to this boy. Peter Chance is his name. Nobody in the town records by that last name. He appeared and then he was gone. I think there is a damn good chance a lot of folks don't remember him, but there'll be a few that know damn well. We think they're being silenced by Dwight Pearson."
"Well, look into Pearson. Bring him in."
"Easier said than done."
"Why am I just hearing about Peter Chance?"
"Once we realized that they attended the same school, we did some digging."
"We as in you and Ben? Why not just work it with me?"
"Maybe because you had tunnel vision so badly that you got yourself suspended before you could work with us."
"What about Walowski?"
"Pearson didn't like the verdict change. He may have had a hand in it. But we got nothing concrete."
"Sarge, this just isn't right. I don't think it's this typo in student files you're looking into. You gotta believe me on this one. It's Baker."
"Call Ben and go home."
Jennifer paused for a second, watching Eli continue to work away at the plastic like a madman. "Did you work with my father on the Baker case?"
His voice ruffled the phone. "No. They gave us autonomy.
They signed off on our decisions."
“Who’s they?”
“Your father. A couple others. One in Saskatoon, one in Ottawa.”
"Are you gonna take the job?"
"I don't know."
"Okay..."
"Go home. I'll be back in a couple days. I'm not signing off on anything until this case is settled and we got the right guy behind bars."
"Yeah, okay. Hey Brian?"
"What?"
"Did you ever look into his eyes?"
There was a pause on the line. "Get some rest." He hung up, leaving Jennifer alone with a psychopath and zero resources. There was no way she was calling Ben. Brian was lying.
Jennifer scrolled through her phone to her mom's contact info. She liked having her number in her phone, even though she was gone. It was comforting but also torturing. She read through some old conversations between the two of them. Her mother always texted so formally and grammatically correct like they were letters. Jennifer didn't like seeing her own one word answers.
Jennifer looked back out toward Eli's driveway, but he was gone, along with the car. She squinted to see through the trees
by the shed, but there was no movement.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
Eli tapped on the passenger side window. The air was trapped in her throat, his face perplexed. He stood there, his tight lips glued in position, scrunching the balls of his cheeks into diamond-shaped dimples. He looked skyward, then across the road at his own house, exactly where she had been spying. He continued to stare out at his home for far too long. Then, he entered her car and sat in the passenger seat, his knees up against the dash. He didn't say a word, glaring forward across the road.
"Are you okay, Officer?" he muttered.
"Yes, you just startled me. A lot." He responds well to honesty. Keep him happy. She wanted to squeeze the handle of her gun.
"Oh, my apologies. What brings you out here?"
"Oh, I uh—"
"I was concerned that you maybe had car trouble. Would you like to come in for some hot chocolate?"
"No I—I'll be honest, Mr. Baker. I was coming out here to ask you some follow-up questions, but I realized it was fairly unprofessional to do so while off duty. Guess I had second thoughts and was about to leave."
"I appreciate your transparency. I had the assumption that you were spying on me. Ridiculous, I know. It's a constant battle of paranoia with me. Please forgive me."
I'm not getting anything passed this nut bag. We both know what this is. "No, no. That's okay."<
br />
"If you ever want to talk, just call my house here. I like to prepare for my guests."
"Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation."
"Of course, Ms. Allen. I still have great respect for the RCMP. I know it's a tough job. Thank you. For your service." There was loathing to his words. Jennifer contemplated pulling her gun on him right then, heart still racing just as fast as when he had knocked on her window.
"Yeah. Don't mention it," said Jennifer.
"Please do be careful on these roads. They're slick. I see you are wearing an appropriate down-filled coat though. That's good. The skin, it freezes within five to seven minutes at thirty below. Hypothermia can set in under fifteen minutes without that nice coat." He was refusing to shift his gaze away from her eyes. She glanced down at his hand, which was tightly gripped around the emergency brake. He squeezed even tighter, the leather making a crinkling noise.
"Have a safe drive home, Officer."
"Thank you. Have a good day." She wore a fake smile and he left. Jennifer was left sitting there in her car, her back soaked in sweat, trying to consolidate the conversation she had just had with a serial killer out in the country. She waited for him to go back into the house and then waited another hour. He wasn't coming back out. Do you have Mia Morrow down there?
Jennifer drove back into the city.
15
Brian's hotel room had a stunning view of Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Looking out at the Peace Tower's Victorian Gothic architecture, Brian felt no self-importance. He wished to do right by his potentially new position in Ottawa, but he didn't see how that was possible with everything that was going on back home.
He didn't want to sleep because he was stressed and knew that the dream would find him.
His worries were compounding. If Jennifer didn't let up, she would be in dire danger. Her persistence was going to get her killed while he was out in Ottawa for a job interview.
Her final question on the phone had stuck with him. He had looked into Baker's eyes. He had listened to him speak. There was not another person on earth like Eli Baker.
