As the hours passed, her determination to face Eric became steadily stronger. She wasn’t going to wait in hopes that the police would decide that they had enough reason to check further into his whereabouts at the time of the explosion. This was her problem and she wouldn’t wait for anything or anyone. “I’ll find you out,” she spoke in a whisper. “Whatever it takes, I swear, I’ll do it and I’ll find you out myself. This time, I’ll come out on top or die trying.”
As she thought more about it she realized that it wasn’t just for Kyle that she was determined to follow through on this. Perhaps if she could stand up to him just this once, she would be able to finally put him completely behind her. These months in Toronto hadn’t really consisted of freedom, for she was still being held prisoner, not by her husband but by fear of him. She knew that the love she had once had for him was gone and had been for a long, long time. He had beaten that love out of her, punch by punch. It had finally been replaced by fear, which was the point where she found herself now. And now she was determined that she would cut lose this last hold he had on her. She wanted to be totally done with him, to not spend the rest of her life watching over her shoulder for fear he would be out there somewhere waiting for the chance to get her alone.
For so many years after the beatings began, she had been paralyzed by the fear that he would kill her. It had taken a number of years for her to realize that she was tougher and more capable than she had ever thought possible. Not only had she survived his abuse, but also she had managed to escape from him, even though she had needed help to do it. Still the fear of being hurt, even though it was a normal fear, often held her back from enjoying her new-found
freedom as she should. She hoped with all her being that he would never have the opportunity to hit her again but she was convinced that even if he did, it would be different. He would never be able to get away with it again for something deep inside her had changed. No longer would she be the quiet, meek Emily who tried to be a good little wife and not cause waves. She pulled the chair closer to the bed and laid her head close to Kyle’s shoulder. She was sure that she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep but wanted to at least rest her eyes. Tomorrow she would have a lot to do and she needed as much rest as possible tonight. She would just wait for sunrise and her father's return so she could leave the hospital to get a picture of Eric from the house and take it to the airport. She reached up and took her son’s motionless hand in her hand and in minutes had dozed off.
She was wakened about half an hour later when the nurse came in to suction Kyle’s lungs but then was able to fall asleep again until the nurse returned. This continued throughout the remaining hours until morning arrived. Kyle had survived the night. She was asked to leave when the shift changed and she took the opportunity to go to pediatrics and reassure herself that Danny was doing all right and then she returned to ICU. The sense of calm that had finally settled over her during the night was still with her and came as a surprise, for she had expected to be filled with fear as the time approached to put her plan in action. At ten minutes to eight, Pete arrived and Emily explained to him what she planned to do. After announcing that he positively refused to allow her to go and arguing with her for some time, he accepted that he could do nothing to change her mind. He held her for a moment, kissed her on the forehead and whispered, "Curley-top, I can't lose you again."
"I'll be fine, Dad. I know that I’ll be fine and I’ll be back. I feel as though I’m so much stronger than I was that there is absolutely nothing he can do to hurt me. I’m not really afraid of him anymore, either. I think that half the control he had was just my fear of him. I don’t know why Dad, but I’m not afraid anymore. I know that I have to do something, though. I can't sit here helpless and hope that someone else will come along and take care of this. Years ago, I gave away control of my life and now I have to get it back. I promise to be careful but I have to do this. Please understand. It's something that I just have to do."
"I'm not sure that I do understand. But if you feel that you have to, then I guess I can't stop you."
"No, you can't. I’m sorry but that’s the way it is. You nor no one else can stop me. You'll have to look after the boys until I get back."
"I will."
"They might send Danny home today."
"I'll talk to Helen, I think she will take him home so I can stay here with Kyle."
Emily took the elevator up three floors to pediatrics once again. As she walked down the hall to the room where her youngest son lay, she smiled at the Disney characters that pranced across the walls. With all that had happened in the past 12 hours, it was hard to comprehend the normalcy of these happy pictures of Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Pluto, Goofy, 101 Dalmatians and Pocahontas. The floor was just coming to life and the early morning commotion, like the pictures on the wall, were almost too ordinary to be real. She made arrangements at the nurse's station for her father to take responsibility for Danny and then went to her son's room to spend some time with him. He was thrilled to see her and once gathered into her arms, didn't want to be put down, not even for a minute. She helped the nurse by getting him washed and ready for the day, then gave him his breakfast and rocked him for a few minutes. "Mommy has to go, darling, but Grandpa will be here to look after you until I get back. I love you, little pet." When the baby realized that his mother was about to leave, he wailed in anger. Last night he had been hurt, had strangers poking and prodding him and had wakened up in a strange room without his mother. Now that she was here, he would not let her get away without protesting at the top of his lungs. She gently pried his small arms from around her neck and with tears streaming down her cheeks, stumbled from the room.
Back at Kyle's bedside, Emily allowed herself the luxury of more tears. All the calm
resolve had faded as she faced actually leaving the children here at the hospital. Leaving Kyle was especially hard for there was always the possibility that he could die before she returned. "This isn't fair," she sobbed, "I need to be here with my children. Why won't the police go after Eric? I shouldn't have to do this. I know him, Dad; he’ll figure a way out of this if they give him enough time. Right now he’ll be off center. If there is any hope of getting proof, it has to be now."
Pete patted his daughter on the shoulder, unable to find words of comfort for her. "If only I could fix things and take us back to yesterday," he said. "I couldn't do a damn thing when your mother was so sick and I can't do a damn thing now."
Emily dried her eyes; sorry that she was making this harder for her father. "Yes, you can, Dad. You can be here for the boys so I can do something about their father." She kissed Pete, then turned back to her son and stroked his forehead. "Kyle, I’m going to have to leave you for a while but your grandfather will be here with you. I love you. But this is something I have to do." She closed her eyes and fervently prayed that this small life would be preserved, "Dear God, don't take my son. How could I go on without him? Keep him safe...at least until I get
back."
Chapter 23
Getting access to the house to get a picture of Eric wasn't easy. She explained that she needed ‘some things’ but without permission from the lead detective investigating the explosion, the policeman guarding the house wasn't about to allow her or anyone else to enter during his shift. No amount of coaxing or bullying made the slightest difference. Emily was every bit as stubborn and it became a complete stand-off, with her demanding entrance and him refusing and barring her way physically. They both stood their ground with her refusing to leave until she had retrieved what she had come for and him refusing to allow access for even a minute. Finally, a call was made to headquarters and Jim Walsh, who hadn’t left the station yet, was dispatched to deal with the problem. Very quickly, he realized that the woman he was dealing with today was very different from the one he had spent time with the evening before. Last night she had seemed meek and resigned to whatever life had to offer her. This morning she was a woman with a mission. He explained
- she argued. He reasoned - she insisted. He insisted – she demanded. She won.
The compromise they worked out was that he would accompany her, she would touch nothing that he advised her was not to be touched and nothing could be taken out unless it passed his approval. With this deal struck, they entered the house together. In the light of day, the damage proved to be more extensive than she had realized. Furniture was overturned and tossed about the room as though a tornado had passed through. Glass was broken, plants and their soil were flung everywhere and plaster dust coated everything. She was terribly saddened to see things that her mother had treasured, strewn about the floor, broken and left to lie there like garbage. She cried out when she found her parents wedding picture, glass broken, on the floor. “Please, can I pick up my Mom and Dad’s picture?”
Jim Walsh didn’t have the heart to refuse. “Sure, go ahead.” She picked it up and blew the plaster dust off of it. “It’s all right,” she said. “The glass is broken but the picture is fine. Thank you.” He was strangely touched by the simple ‘thank you’ and wished that there was more that he could do to put her shattered home and life back together.
They made their way carefully across the living room to Emily’s bedroom which was every bit as bad as the rest of the house. Almost everything in the room was upset and on top of all the mess were chunks of the plaster ceiling that had been knocked loose. An overpowering smell of spilled cologne added to the discomfort of the room and hastened the job of getting the picture from the closet and locating her purse. She also got a change of clothes, as those she was wearing were torn and blood-stained. "All right, I'm ready to go."
"Why the picture, Mrs. Thompson?" He saw no real problem with her taking a picture, but was curious about the reason she had for wanting it. It had not been an afterthought, but rather was the first thing she had hunted for when she entered the room.
She debated about lying to him but decided against it. "It’s a picture of Eric. I’m going to find out whether or not he has been here in Toronto."
"Why don’t you let us worry about that? That's what we get paid for you know."
"I'd gladly let you do it but it needs to be done now."
"I explained to you..."
"But you are wrong."
"I can't let you interfere and ruin the investigation."
"Tell me what investigation. It seems to me that there isn't much of an investigation. If there was, I wouldn't need to do anything."
"Why don't you just give me the picture and go back to the hospital. If the department decides that a crime was committed, and that any evidence exists that points to your husband, I'll, personally, go straight to the airport."
Her eyes flashed with anger. "Too little, too late. Do you really think that he would leave evidence behind. He’s not stupid, you know. He would be very careful. I am taking this picture to the airport and I am going to find out if anyone saw him there. I’m certainly not going to give you this picture unless you will take it to the airport yourself, right now.”
"I’ve already explained. Someone will talk to him today. If anything at all points to him, we will question everyone at the airport until we know if he was there. Now, just let us handle this."
"I can't. This is something I have to do. And it has to be done now."
As the taxi pulled away, Jim stood watching it, shaking his head, surprised at the determination of the young mother inside. Although her refusal to listen to his advice left him feeling frustrated, he couldn’t help but admire the spunk she was showing and he suddenly realized that besides feelings of admiration and frustration, she was stirring other responses in him, that he was totally unprepared for. When his wife had left him, unable to cope with being a cop's wife, he had given up on the thought of having a woman in his life. Most of the women he had come in contact with in recent years had certainly done nothing to change his resolve to remain alone. Even last night, despite her obvious pretty face, there had been nothing in this woman that had interested him. But today there was a difference. What it was that caught his attention, he wasn't sure, perhaps the fire in her eyes and the determination in her voice. "I honestly don’t know what it is about you, girl,” he spoke to the departing cab, "But I intend to spend some time figuring it out."
In the airport washroom, she washed and changed into the navy slacks and navy and white striped sweater that she had brought from the house with her, and then tossed her torn, bloody clothes into the garbage can and began her search for someone who might have seen Eric at the airport or on the plane. First, she made inquiries to find out when any flights had arrived from Edmonton the day before and then she began to question people in hopes of finding someone who might have been on the flight with him. None of the airport personnel she approached were able to help her at all. No one could remember seeing the tall thin man in the picture either yesterday or this morning and after spending more than three hours approaching people, showing the picture and asking questions, following such a traumatic night with little sleep, Emily was getting very tired and discouraged. “I need a pick-me-up,” she decided and stopped at the coffee shop for a hot cup of coffee, hoping that it might wake her up somewhat.
When a stewardess sat down next to her, she pulled the picture from her purse once again. "Excuse me," she turned to the uniformed woman seated next to her, "I'm looking for anyone who was on a flight from Edmonton yesterday and might have seen this man."
"Sorry."
"Would you look at the picture anyway? Perhaps you saw him around here this morning."
"It's not likely, I haven't been here very long."
"Please, just look."
Something in the woman's voice made the stewardess look up and for a moment she studied the tired, distraught eyes that were watching her. "I can look but I honestly can't help you."
"How can I find out who worked on that flight?"
"Did this guy run out on you?"
"No." She sighed, then looked straight into the stewardess's eyes, "I think he blew up my Dad's house and hurt two of my boys. There’s a good chance my six year old might not live."
"Oh, wow. Those are the kids I heard about on the radio. Look, I think I know someone who might have been on a flight from Edmonton late yesterday afternoon. I can't give you her name, policy, you know, but I can take yours and ask her to call you. Sorry, but that's the best I can do."
"That would be great."
Emily tore a blank page out of her address book and wrote her name on it. She was about to write her phone number on it when she realized that she no longer had a home or a phone. She explained the problem and then gave the hospital number complete with the ICU extension number as well as Helen's home number. On request, the stewardess wrote her name and number in the little address book and then wished Emily well in her search before hurrying away to begin her day's work.
Revitalized by the small success she had just had, she began again to approach people, showing Eric's picture to anyone who would take the time to look. By mid-afternoon, she was so tired and discouraged that she considered going back to the hospital waiting room to try to get some rest, but instead, spotting a bench near the smoke shop, she sat there to rest. “Perhaps I’ll just sit here for a minute or two,” she decided. She let her head fall forward and closed her eyes for a moment. Her head was aching and the effect of the Tylenol she had taken earlier had worn off long ago. “They’ll have something over at the smoke shop,” she decided. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a pretty dark-haired girl go into the smoke shop, remove her coat and hang it in a closet behind the counter. "Shift change." She smiled. "Of course. The afternoon shift would have been here last night when Eric was here. No wonder no one saw him. None of the people I’ve been talking with would have been working last night."
She bought the Tylenol and a soft drink to wash them down and then with renewed resolve, she began again. One ticket agent thought that she might have seen him but she couldn't be sure. That was the
closest she had gotten to an identification yet today. It was something but definitely not enough. Two hours later she had covered the whole airport and spoken to hundreds of people and still had no positive identification. She was back at the bench across from the smoke shop, by now feeling very discouraged. She sat there for a few minutes and then got up with a sigh. "Why not! I've asked everyone else."
Just a quick look was all that the pretty sales clerk needed to recognize the man who had been so angry with her the night before. "Sure, I remember him. He was here about 10 o'clock last night and he was some mad."
"Are you positive it was him." Jackpot!!! But she needed to be one hundred percent sure.
"Oh, yes. It was definitely him. I watched him pacing back and forth between here and that bench for a long time, getting madder by the minute."
"Would you identify him to the police if they asked you to?"
"Gosh, I don't know. I hate getting mixed up in police business and I don't really want to have anything to do with that guy. He stared right at me last night and there was something really scary about his eyes when he glared at me."
Leaving Sharpstone Page 19
