"All I need is someone to say they saw him here. It's really important. Please."
"What did he do? Why are you looking for him?”
“Our house was blown up last night and two of my boys were hurt and I think that he’s the one who did it.”
“Cripes, they’ve been talking about that all day on the radio. You really think he did it?”
“Yes, I do. But I need someone who saw him here to be willing to tell the police so they will arrest him.”
Well, I suppose if they asked me I'd have to tell the truth, but I'm really not keen on having anything to do with that guy."
"You won't have to even speak to him. I just need proof that he was here and you are the only person I've found so far who saw him. I really need your name and phone number, please." Her voice echoed the desperation she was feeling.
Looking into the tired eyes of the woman standing in front of her, the girl knew that she had no choice. She needed to do the right thing. "All right, I’m Allana Beckett. I’ll write my number down for you."
Within minutes, Emily was in a taxi with the two names and phone numbers tucked safely in her purse. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, hoping that the Tylenol she had just taken would soon kick in and give her some relief. She had only two hours to see her father and the children and get back to the airport to catch today’s last flight to Edmonton.
At the hospital, she hurried to Intensive Care and found her father with Kyle. She was shocked to see how the last twenty-four hours had affected her father, for he had visibly aged. She walked into his arms and hugged him. "You look so tired."
"So do you, Curly-top."
"I am. Has there been any change?"
"No. He's still 'holding his own' whatever they mean by that."
"Dad, he was here. Someone identified him from the picture. He was at the airport last night."
"Was he absolutely sure it was Eric?"
"It was a she and she was sure. He spoke to her. She's very sure."
"Now what?"
"I'm going out there. There is a plane in an hour and a half and I plan to be on it."
"No! Not on your life. You let the police handle it."
"I have to do this myself. The police don't seem to be in a hurry and I am. I've tried to explain that this can’t wait. The time to deal with him is now. They don’t seem to think that there is any hurry but I know that there is. I’m sorry to worry you, Dad, but this is something I have to do. I know how you feel but I have to do this, not just for the boys but for me, too and I need your help.” She spoke quickly, hoping to get it out before her father had a chance to object. “I have a name and phone number of the girl that saw Eric and I want you to get it to Jim Walsh. I also need your Visa to pay for my flight. I’ll pay you back later but I need a credit card to book the flight. Actually, I don’t have much time. I wonder if you would book it for me. Dad, even though you don’t approve, please, I’m begging you for help, please call the airport and make the reservations for me?"
"Well, you’re right about one thing, I certainly don't want you to go out there. I'm scared to death of what he might do to you. He could hurt you, or worse. I lost you for eight years, I don't want to lose you again."
"I’ll be careful. Honest. But this is important. I don’t want to be afraid for the rest of my life and I think that going out there and facing him will get rid of this fear once and for all. And I need to show him that I’m not afraid of him anymore.
The brown Mercury she had rented from Hertz nosed out of the parking area at Edmonton airport and turned north. Just half an hour away, was her destination, the house that Emily and the children had left so many months before. She turned north on the highway and checked the clock on the dash. It read 11:45. Hopefully, Eric would be at home and in bed. She had only to get him up and convince him to tell the truth. And then what? She had intended to spent the hours on the plane figuring out just how to go about approaching him, but instead had fallen into an exhausted sleep, which had certainly done her a lot of good, but left her without a
clear plan. The closer she got to the house the more uncertain she became. It would be a big mistake to go to the house without being prepared. He wouldn’t easily give himself away and then even if he did admit to having caused the explosion, he would just deny it later. She might ruin her chances by going there unprepared and she had every intention of etting the upper hand and keeping it that way, for she had to be the one in control this time. She chewed her lip and wondered what to do. The only sensible course of action would be to spend the night somewhere and then in the morning, face Eric. She knew that she would be welcome even at this late hour at Jeanie and Gary’s, even though it would mean waking them, and for a few minutes that’s what she planned. But then she thought more about it and decided that for tonight she wanted to have no distractions, no-one to visit with and no-one to take her mind off the reason she was here and the difficult situation that she had to face in the morning. That settled in her mind, she began to look for a motel on the outskirts of town where she could get a room. Once there, she would come up with a plan to make him admit that he was responsible for the horrible explosion that had torn her family's lives apart. And she needed some way to get proof of any admission he might make. Could she get a tape of him confessing? It would be worth a try. She pulled the car into the Starlight Motel that had a vacancy sign lit up out front and rented a room for the remainder of the night. In the morning she would get a small tape recorder and then face Eric.
Chapter 24
Despite worry for her son, back in Toronto fighting for his life, Emily slept quite well and woke ready to do whatever was necessary to get a confession from her husband. She phoned the hospital and learned that Kyle, although still unconscious, had spent an uneventful night. "At this point," the doctor again assured her, "We aren’t really expecting a quick recovery. ’No change’ is not bad. He seems to be a fighter and he is holding his own, which is good."
She took time for a quick shower, then dressed and left the motel to go find a place where she could buy a tape recorder. As she pulled out of the parking area of the motel she spotted the Pay-Rite Pawn Shop and decided to start her search there. She could hardly believe her good fortune for they had exactly what she wanted, a voice activated recorder for only $25.00. “If I was superstitious,” she thought, “I’d take this as a real good sign.” The owner of the pawnshop showed her how to operate it and she tucked it into her purse then drove to Radio Shack where she bought a package of six tapes. Now she was ready to face whatever waited for her at house where her husband was living. She turned the car north. A quick stop on the way for coffee and a muffin gave her a chance to try out the recorder. She fitted the small microphone into the clasp on her purse where it was hardly noticeable, turned on the recorder and went into the shop. When she got back to the car, she played back the recording and there it was, clear and easy to understand, the voices of herself and the girl in the do-nut shop.
"Right on, it works really well," she thought. "I'm on my way, Eric. And you aren't going to lie your way out of this."
Before pulling into the driveway behind Eric's car, she decided to play it safe and let Jeanie and Gary know that she was in Alberta and had gone to the house to talk to Eric. When she discovered that her friends weren’t at home, she left a note, and then returned to the house that for so long had been her home.
Eric had slept poorly and had wakened in a foul humor. He had landed at the airport shortly after noon yesterday, afraid that the police would be waiting as he exited the plane, ready to arrest him for the fiasco that he had left behind in Toronto and when they weren’t there he got his car from the parking area and drove home with one eye on the rear-view mirror, expecting them to appear behind him at any moment. Even after arriving home, he continued to worry, fearing that they would appear on his doorstep, handcuffs in hand. He knew that it was
imperative that he come up with a plausible stor
y of where he had been yesterday, but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to function. There was always the ‘gone fishing story’ but he would have to have time to drive up to the lake to get his story straight. He was certain that he had left nothing behind that could point to him but still he was worried. He had planned this whole affair so carefully and followed his plan exactly, yet nothing had gone the way it was supposed to go. He was again filled with anger as he thought of the person who was to blame for all these problems that he was facing - Emily. If only she had stayed home where she belonged, none if this would have happened. He would have had no reason to go to Toronto, no reason to have been at her father’s house and certainly no reason to have set off the dynamite that had resulted in hurting Kyle and Danny. Why on earth had she taken the boys there? How on earth was he supposed to have known that they were there? Yet he would be held responsible for hurting them if the truth were ever to be found out. Once again, Emily would be considered the innocent party even though she was to blame for putting them in a position where they could be harmed. It just wasn’t fair. He sighed as he realized that there was no hope that he would get any more sleep and that he might just as well get up and see what the day would bring.
He wished that there were some way to find out how badly the boys had been hurt. According to the radio, Kyle and Danny were pretty seriously injured, but there had been no mention of Sam and Scott. Had they also been injured? Is it possible that they weren’t at the house when the accident happened? He had to assume that they were all right or they would have been named on the radio report. How he wished he could just phone and find out what.
was going on there. He had hoped that Emily would phone last night after he got home but she hadn’t. Was there any chance that she would call today and tell him about what had happened to his boys? Not likely!
He threw back the covers and got up. He decided to get dressed, grab a bit of breakfast and then drive up to the lake. When his sock drawer proved to hold nothing but one woolen sock without a mate, he boiled over and kicked the dresser. "Ouch! Blasted dresser," he muttered as he grabbed his dirty socks and limped down the stairs and across the kitchen to put the kettle on to heat for coffee.
Just as he was finishing his breakfast, he heard a car out front. By the time he got up from the table and went to the window to see who it was, the driver was already knocking at the door. He didn't recognize the car and quickly scanned the room to assess the disorder before answering the knock. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he opened the door to see Emily standing on the doorstep. He had only to look into her eyes and note the determined set of her jaw to realize that although this was Emily, there was definitely something different about her. She seemed so sure of herself and there was no sign of the frightened woman he had last seen. Her gaze was steady, as she looked him straight in the eye; it wasn’t the furtive look that he had become so accustomed to. He was speechless.
Her voice was assertive as she spoke, "I need to talk to you."
He stepped back to let her enter the kitchen where she had spent so many hours during the eight years that she had lived in the house. Although she didn’t really care what condition the house was in, she couldn’t help but notice that the once clean and tidy room was now littered with garbage and dirty dishes and the floor was in desperate need of sweeping and mopping.
"What...why are...what are you doing here?" he stammered.
“I came to ask you why you tried to blow up my Dad’s house.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t try to blow up anything.”
"I know that you did it. You were right there in Toronto. I talked to someone who saw you at the airport. Eric, why?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I know what you've done. I just don’t know why. But I do know that you can't get away
with it."
"You don't know anything."
In a calm, even voice, Emily stated, "I know that you lied to my parents about where we had moved to. I know that you fixed things so that I lost contact with them. I know that my mother died and I didn't have a chance to see her before she died and that she died not knowing that she had two more grandsons. I know that you were in Toronto the night before last. And I am positive that you are responsible for blowing up Dad's house and hurting Kyle and Danny."
"You can't prove anything," he snarled.
"Oh, yes, I can." Emily's voice began to rise, "I most certainly can."
"Don’t you dare to raise your voice to me. Who do you think you are that you can come here and yell at me after what you did to me?"
"After what I did to you! Eric, you just about killed me."
"Yeah, I know. Poor Emily! Poor, little Emily who had a nice house, food on the table, and whatever she needed and never had to work a day in her life. I worked every day for you and when did I get any appreciation."
"It's hard to appreciate black eyes and broken ribs."
"Yeah, I know, you had it so rough."
"I’m not here to argue about something that’s ancient history now and frankly, at this point, I don’t really care what happened in the past. What I do care about what you did to my boys. I’ve came out here so I could hear you admit that it was you who hurt them."
"Your boys! Your boys!" Eric shouted, "They are my boys, and don't you ever forget it. You have no right to them and I'll get them from you if it takes me the rest of my life."
"Forget it, Eric. Those boys are more than possessions. You have always put on a good show of how much you care about them, but if you really cared you would have at the very least asked how badly Kyle and Danny were hurt, but you didn't.” Her voice lowered and there was a hint of disgust in it. “I can't believe that you didn't ask, but you didn't. I think that tells volumes about how much you care about those boys."
"Shut up." Eric shouted, "Shut your filthy mouth." The back of his hand caught her across the face and sent her reeling into the wall as her glasses flew onto the floor.
"Don't you dare ever do that again." Emily faced him with fury in her eyes.
"Well, what is this?” he sneered, “We’ve got another Emily. You’re sure not the woman I married. But even with this new you I’ll do as I please." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up against him.
"Get your hands off me." The cold, even voice stunned him for a moment and he dropped his hand. Emily stepped back. "I won't let you get away with this anymore. I won’t be your punching bag. For once in your life, be a man, and admit what you did. Tell me why you hurt the boys."
"I'd never hurt the boys."
"But you did. You did. Why, Eric?"
"I had no reason to hurt the boys and you can't come up with any reason why I would want to hurt them. So forget it."
"I've already talked to the police."
"You have what?"
"I told the police that I’m convinced that you're responsible."
Again, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards him. "Now get this through your head, there's nothing to connect me to this, nothing."
"We both know the truth, Eric. Why can’t you just own up to what you’ve done and admit it."
He yanked her hair and pulled her down onto her knees. "I'll admit nothing."
Emily closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm. She had promised herself that she would never put up with this again and yet her best chance of getting a confession on tape would be if he were to lose control and let something slip that could be used to prove his guilt. "You hurt those two boys and we both know it. Admit it, Eric. For once in your miserable life take responsibility for what you have done."
His knee caught her under the chin and snapped her head back but the grip he had on her hair kept her from falling onto the floor. "I don't have to admit anything to you. You get that! I'll admit nothing."
"What could you have against two little boys? Danny's just a baby."
"Shut up" he screamed, twisting his hand in her hair and pulling
it until she cried out.
"You're a grown man. Why would you want to hurt children?"
"I didn't want to hurt them." He let go of her hair and punched her in the mouth. "Now, will you shut up."
Nothing could stop her now. She was sure that he was about to say more and she knew that she had to keep up the pressure a little longer. This was one time when a beating would be worthwhile. She wiped the blood from her mouth on the back of her hand and asked again, "Why, Eric, why did you do it?"
“Shut up.” he screamed.
“Come on, Eric. Think for a minute. What kind of a father would do this to his own children?”
Again his fist hit her in the mouth. "I told you to shut up. How was I supposed to know that you took them there? They shouldn't have been there. It's your fault that they were there. Not mine."
The purse she had held so carefully slipped unnoticed to the floor as she fell back against the wall. Her tongue explored the inside of her mouth. The front teeth were loose but were still in place. The blood was coming from split lips. She looked at this man she had shared her life with for so long and spoke with hatred in her voice, "It was my Dad you were after. You wanted to kill my Dad."
"That's crazy!” His voice was shrill and panicked, “I didn’t want to kill anyone. Why would I want to kill him? I just wanted to teach him to mind his own business. He had no right to come here and take my family away. I got him where it hurt. That house was always his pride and joy. He won't be so proud of it now. That explosion was loud enough that I know I did a good job on it. He always thought he was better than me. I finally showed him that I’m better and smarter than he is. I got him good and he had no idea it was coming"
Emily stumbled to her feet. "Yes, you showed him all right."
"Yeah," he snorted, "I sure as hell did."
She started toward the door but had only taken a couple of steps when he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face him again. “Now, you don’t really think I’m stupid enough to just let you just walk out of here, do you?"
Leaving Sharpstone Page 20
