After a series of foster homes, he struck out on his own when he turned 18. He dropped out of school and took several low paying laboring jobs, but never held on to them. Then he saw a recruitment poster for the Canadian Forces.
He signed up and spent five years in the forces. It was a life he enjoyed.
They taught him how to kill efficiently and effectively. It was a structured life. He followed orders and was well fed. He was able to travel.
He was stationed at several bases across the country and served a one-year tour of duty in Bosnia.
It was in Bosnia that he had his first kill.
A buxom young woman he met in a tavern. They had a few drinks. She laughed and was flirtatious. They got along famously. She invited him back to her place.
She serviced him like no other woman he had met. She started with oral sex -- he felt a level of ecstasy he had never before experienced. This was followed by passionate lovemaking bringing him to a tremendous climax.
Afterwards she asked for payment.
“You’re nothing but a common whore!” he exploded.
“What did you expect lover? I gave you the best sex you’ll ever get. A girl has to eat. Surely you don’t think I’m in love with you.” She threw her head back and laughed heartily.
“You goddamn cunt. I thought you liked me.”
“I do lover. I love a man in uniform and his money.” She laughed again.
Something snapped in his brain. He reached down on the bed and with his large hands grasped her neck – choking off the laugh.
She struggled. He saw the fear come into her eyes.
He felt the power. It felt good.
He was in charge.
Her life was in his hands. He kept squeezing tighter and tighter till her eyeballs looked like they would pop out of her skull. Soon she ceased to struggle and he felt the life ebb out of her and through his body. His orgasm was even greater this time.
He cradled her breasts one last time and sunk his teeth into each one – leaving his mark.
He quietly snuck away from her room. No one had seen him. The murder would be just one more whore found in an undesirable area in a country where killing and ethnic cleansing were routine.
The case would go unsolved, but the Wolfman was only just getting started.
He finished typing his message to that uppity newspaper bitch. He vowed she would be seeing him soon.
Chapter 14
Braden Young’s Apartment 7:15 AM
THE ALARM sounded with a harsh buzzing.
Braden Young arose from the couch after a fitful and restless few hours of sleep. His head throbbed like a herd of mustangs thundering through his brain.
God, I’ve got to stop this drinking, he thought. His back ached from the uncomfortable sleeping position on the couch.
Young padded across the room to the bathroom and downed two Tylenol tablets trying to silence the thunder inside his skull. Next stop was the kitchen to put on the coffee – elixir of the gods, or at least that of journalists!
“Good Morning, Daddy!”
Young turned to see his daughter Megan rubbing the sleep from her eyes and dressed in one of his XL T-shirts that went down to just above her knees. “Mornin’ Princess. The coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Did you sleep okay?”
“Not very much. What with everything that has happened and the uncertainty of my future, it’s hard to rest.”
“I know, sweetie. It’s a lot to take in, but give it time. I assure you things will get better. You can stay here as long as you like to get your life back on an even keel. You need to figure out what you want to do. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a roof over your head. “
“Thanks, Daddy. You’re a lifesaver. I’m so glad you are here for me.” Megan moved over and kissed Young on the cheek.
“That’s alright, baby. I haven’t been much of a father to you in the past, but I will be here for you now as long as you need me.”
“Daddy, I’ve always loved you. It’s too bad it has taken this long for us to get so close.”
Young wasn’t a sentimental type of guy so tried to switch the topic of conversation.
“Sorry there’s not much food in the place, but I’ll go shopping later and stock up on some groceries,” he said. “Being a bachelor and with the hours of my job, I’m afraid I eat out a lot. I’m not much of a home cooker.”
“That’s okay, daddy. I can do the cooking.” Megan smiled at her father.
Young opened a cupboard below the sink and pointed to a row of cereal boxes.
“Help yourself to some cereal. There is milk in the fridge and some yogurt I think.”
He grabbed two mugs from another cupboard and began to pour the coffee. “How do you take yours? I like mine black, no sweetener.”
“Black’s fine with me, Daddy. I don’t feel very sweet right now and I’m not hungry.”
“Like father, like daughter, eh,” said Young. “Now tell me about this shit heel of a boyfriend. He’s lucky he’s not here right now or I’d smash that pretty boy face of his. It would be a long time before he got in front of another television camera, or any kind of camera for that matter. You will be much better off without him.”
“But Daddy I love him. I thought things were going so well with us. Then he started staying out nights. He said it was work, but I began to get suspicious. I checked his e-mail and there were notes to Heidi Harris, that blonde bimbo who is his co-anchor. They were getting together evenings.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t work related, honey? After all they are television reporters. Maybe they were working on a story together.”
“Yeah, the only way she was working was on her back. I found credit card receipts in his home office desk for dinners at fancy restaurants and rooms at the Sheraton. When I confronted him with it, he at first claimed it was just work. He later admitted to sleeping with her, but says it just happened -- it’s only physical and he still loves me. It happened all right and it happened several times. So excuse me if I find it hard to believe he still loves me.”
Young placed his hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Well then, Princess I think you have a big decision to make. Whether you’re going to fight for him or cut him adrift. I know which choice I think you should make.”
Megan took another sip of her coffee. She looked like a lost child not knowing where to turn next. “That’s why I came here, Daddy. I need some time away to think, to decide what to do.”
Young reached out to his daughter bringing her close to him and giving her a hug. “You take whatever time you need, honey.”
Chapter 15
Katie Cannon’s Apartment 7:35 AM
ANDREW CHASE let the hot spray of water wash over him. The tingle of the hot shower felt good. It relaxed his tense muscles.
He thought about last night and the tenderness and passion that passed between him and Katie.
The relationship was great, but Chase had a difficult time playing the charade that Katie insisted upon. Keeping their relationship on the quiet was difficult for him. He wanted to shout from the nearest rooftops that this beautiful woman loved him and was all his.
He wanted to go out in public with her to show her off. After all, while he was still a good-looking man, he was almost 20 years older. Age was a state of mind and Chase did not feel any age gap between them. They went together like bread and peanut butter, smooth and homogenous.
He understood her reasons for keeping their relationship quiet, but felt that professionally Katie had proven herself. She no longer needed to fear the stigma in the workplace that came from dating the boss, he believed.
If this relationship was going to the next level, she needed to understand that it was time to come “out of the closet”. They needed to discuss this and soon, Chase felt.
His other concern was the ongoing financial problems of the newspaper. He needed to secure a new infusion of cash or seriously consider Rupert White’s buy-out offer. He had not breathed a word of this to
Katie.
He knew that she would be dead set against him selling the paper to White. She would consider it a journalistic sell-out. But Katie was an idealist, not a financial pragmatist.
Would she be opposed enough to end their relationship over it? It may be a chance he would have to take to salvage his financial resources and reputation.
Would she still stay with him if he were broke?
He took a towel and dried off. Chase quickly shaved and dressed in a white polo shirt and flannel pants, then grabbed his car keys.
He locked the door of Katie’s apartment as he slipped out into the hallway. He needed to stop at his apartment before heading back into the paper.
***
Chase had a luxury condo apartment on Lakeshore Drive overlooking Lake Ontario. It was a prime residential address where condos started at $850,000 on the bottom floor for a one-bedroom box. Chase’s $2.5 million apartment was a penthouse suite on the top 18th floor.
The large bay window in the living room offered a stunning vista of the lake and the many yachts and boats dotting the waterscape.
He stood in front of the window and took in the view for a few moments, allowing his thoughts to filter.
Such a nice place, but Katie refused to move in with him. Instead they had to grab what time they could find together at her cramped apartment. Chase was tiring of this secretive game.
He needed to air his feelings with Katie. It was time she came to a decision about the future of their relationship. It was time for hard choices for both of them.
Chase checked his Rolex. It was 8:30 a.m. Time for him to get into the office. First he checked the messages on his home phone.
There were three. The first two related to newspaper business. The voice on the third totally caught him by surprise.
“Andrew, honey,” said a silky feminine voice. “I know this must come as a bit of a shock since we haven’t seen each other in about eight months now. I miss you so much, darling. I’m afraid my life is just an empty shell without you. I hope you feel the same way. I need to see you today on an urgent matter, my sweet. It is most urgent and could affect your future. How about lunch at Antonio’s at 12? Please call me on my cell at (905) 858-1105. Hope you can make it.”
Chase stood stunned for several seconds.
It was Ashley Carpenter, his ex-girlfriend. The last person he ever expected to hear from since she broke off their relationship eight months ago.
They had dated for over almost two years. It was a passionate pairing of a power couple with wealthy backgrounds. But the similarity ended there.
Ashley’s parents were multi-billionaires. Lawrence and his wife Amber Carpenter had made their money in mining in northern Ontario and in Alberta. Now Lawrence headed his own philanthropic foundation, which gave millions every year to various charities, symphony orchestras, theatres and art galleries. They were among the crème de la crème of Canadian high society.
Ashley was their only child. She had been pampered, spoiled from birth, attended the finest private schools and then Oxford University in Britain where she graduated with an honors degree in Fine Art.
Andrew was the son of Allan and Patricia Chase. His father had been a prominent Bay Street stockbroker. While worth millions, the Chases were not in the same financial league as the Carpenters.
Allan Chase insisted that Andrew go through the public school system so he would learn to fend for himself. While he never wanted for anything, Andrew learned early on to work for his money.
He worked in the mailroom of his father’s company part-time while going to the University of Toronto. He graduated with a Master’s degree in English.
It was at university that the journalism bug struck Andrew. He volunteered at the Varsity, the campus newspaper, first as a reporter and then becoming its Editor in his final year.
Chase knew that newspapers were in his blood. He wanted to pursue a career in that field, much to his father’s chagrin. Allan Chase had aspirations for Andrew to join the family stockbroker firm and one day to succeed him.
But Andrew instead wangled a novice reporter position at the Toronto Star.
Over the next several years, he worked himself through a variety of positions to become an assistant to the publisher where he learned the ins and outs of running a large metropolitan daily newspaper. Then fate dealt him a new hand.
Allan and Patricia Chase were killed in a tragic plane crash while on vacation in Europe six years ago.
Suddenly Andrew’s world was turned upside down. He inherited the family business and fortune. He still wasn’t interested in the stock market so he sold the company for a princely sum which, added to the millions he inherited, made him a very wealthy man.
His first inclination was to try and buy a paper, but found himself shut out and shunned by the Toronto publishing community. They viewed him as a usurper and upstart.
Andrew then got together a group of minority investors and decided to start the Daily Express three years ago.
The paper initially got off to a strong start as a new entry in the Toronto media market. It had healthy sales, although still lagged behind the four other papers. It would take some time to establish the paper in the marketplace.
But after several months, circulation started dropping as the paper’s editorial team failed to differentiate the content from the existing newspapers.
Chase introduced an editorial shakeup and brought in Braden Young 18 months ago from USA Today to spruce up the ship. Young’s mandate was to set the paper sailing in a different direction.
So far it appeared to be working. Circulation had been rising. Unfortunately, the advertising content had not kept pace and the paper was continuing to lose money.
Chase knew he could carry it for a couple of more years, but the paper needed a major infusion of cash to put it on an even keel and stem the financial bleeding.
The paper occupied more and more of his time so that there was little time to spend with Ashley and the socializing she loved to do.
While he was burning the midnight oil many nights, Ashley soon found another lover to fill the empty space in her life. She started dating a wealthy art gallery owner and the couple became a fixture on the artistic social circuit.
Ashley, always was self-absorbed, gave Andrew his walking papers. Andrew knew it was for the better – they were like oil and water. The sex was great when it happened, but they had little else in common.
Now this call from her came out of the blue.
What could she want? And how could it affect his future?
The only way to find out was to meet her for lunch at Antonio’s. It was a little bistro on the harbor front that used be one of their favorite places.
Chase reached for the telephone.
Chapter 16
Braden Young’s Apartment 8:45 AM
YOUNG SHOWERED and changed into a crisp new white shirt, blue striped tie and navy pants. He checked himself in the bedroom mirror before reaching for his jacket.
As he emerged from the room, he spied Megan sprawled on his couch nibbling at some toast, sipping her coffee and reading this morning’s Daily Express that had been delivered to Young’s door.
“Hi, sweetie. It’s time I was off to the office. We have another paper to get out. Do I look OK?”
“You look great, Dad. Will you be late tonight?”
“That’s very likely. I have to stay until the presses roll around midnight, but I’ll come straight back home after work. Are you sure you will be all right on your own here?”
“I’ll be fine. I may go out to look at the stores later. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Toronto. You have a great day!”
Young took one last gulp of coffee, picked up his briefcase and headed out the door.
Megan continued with her breakfast, scanning the paper when suddenly the phone rang. She picked it up thinking it was a call for her Dad.
“Hi honey,” said a very familiar voice. “I figured you would crash at
your Dad’s place.”
“What do you want, Dennis?” Megan snapped. “And don’t call me ‘honey’, I really don’t feel like talking to you right now.”
“What I want, darling is you. I know I have really screwed up here and you’re right to be mad at me. I need to talk you.”
“No, Dennis I need some time to be alone and to think things over. You’ve seriously hurt me. I’m not coming home just yet. I want to stay here with Dad and sort things out in my mind. I don’t know if I can ever get over this betrayal. You really are one big shit-heel.”
“Darling, I’m here in Toronto. I took a late flight after you left and I’m staying at the Westin. Why not meet me for lunch and we can talk things over. I want try and make things right again between us.”
Megan paused for a few seconds to think his suggestion over. “I don’t know, Dennis. I just got here and I need some time alone.”
“Look, Megan having lunch won’t hurt you,” insisted Dennis. “I just want a chance to meet with you and talk. If you need some more time up here alone, that’s okay with me. I completely understand how you feel. But I want a chance to explain what happened. You at least owe me that, Megan.”
“I guess having lunch together can’t hurt. It’s wonderful you thought so much of our relationship you would fly right up here after I left. What time and where shall we meet?”
“Why not meet me here at the hotel. I’ll make a reservation for 12:30 p.m. at The Mizzen restaurant in the lobby. See you then, honey!”
The phone clicked off.
Megan slowly replaced the receiver. She wondered whether she was doing the right thing. Dennis was always so glib. He could sell ice to the Eskimos. He always had been an outrageous flirt, with an eye for the ladies.
But Megan loved it that she was his when he captivated so many other women in conversation.
She always believed that it was nothing more than flirting – until now. But had he cheated on her with others?
She began to wonder.
Chapter 17
Toronto Daily Express 8:55 AM
Deadline Page 4
