Shallow End

by Brenda Chapman

  Kala thought about this for a few seconds. “How did Devon get along with his family?”

  Charlie met her eyes and looked back at the table. “You’ll have to ask them.”

  “Surely, you have some idea of how they interacted.”

  “Let’s just say there’s a reason they don’t have any pets.”

  “Do you believe their stories?” Rouleau asked. They were gathered in the meeting area going over the interviews.

  “The question is why they would lie when they’re both implicating themselves by keeping quiet for so long,” said Bennett.

  Woodhouse gave him a disparaging look before saying, “It sounds to me like they got together to blame somebody who can’t defend himself. Saying Devon killed their father shows creativity. Oh, yeah, and can’t be proven.”

  “I agree with Bennett,” said Gundersund, ignoring Woodhouse’s glare. “Why would they make this up now? To what end? I believe they’re telling the truth. What do you think, Stonechild?”

  They all stared at her and waited.

  “I believe them, but I don’t think they’ve told us everything even now.” She turned to face Gundersund. “Do you remember Devon’s coach and what he told us? He said that Devon was manipulative and not as he presented. We should interview him again, too.”

  “You’re right. I remember we discussed that the things he said about Devon didn’t fit with what everyone else was saying.”

  “We never got a clear picture from anyone though. Nobody really seemed to know Devon and Charlie except superficially.” She smiled at Gundersund before looking back at Rouleau.

  “What about Jane Thompson?” Woodhouse asked. “We were supposed to bring her in today for questioning after the Hanson kids.”

  They waited silently for Rouleau to coordinate their next steps. He was only too aware that they hadn’t figured out who’d killed Devon, but he felt like they were getting closer. Heath was expecting him to sit in on another media briefing but that would have to wait. He said, “I’d like Woodhouse, Bedouin, and Morrison to go back to Devon’s school and re-interview the coach and his teachers based on this new insight into his character. Dangle some of the new intel you got about the kid’s character and see if they reveal anything new. Stonechild and Gundersund, pick up Jane Thompson and bring her back here and let her know what the Hansons told us. Film her reaction. I’ll take Bennett over to the Etons’ and we’ll find out what they’ve been covering up about their son. Somebody is going to break if we apply the right pressure.” He looked over their heads. The desk sergeant Fred Taylor was standing in the entrance between the two dividers, holding a sheet of paper.

  “Just got a call that Sophie Eton is in Kingston being monitored. She tried to kill herself last night. Thought you might want to know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  When she opened her eyes, Jane couldn’t believe that sunshine was streaming through the window and the night’s storm had passed. She’d been physically exhausted when she lay down but her mind had been going a mile a minute and she’d lain awake in the darkness for what felt like hours. She had no idea when she’d finally fallen asleep but figured it was in the dawning hours of the morning. She stretched under the scratchy blanket and extended her aching legs. Her body felt as if it had been pummelled relentlessly by a less-than-

  gentle masseuse. Her eyes swept the room and landed on the threatening red words on the wall next to the closet that looked stark and ominous in daylight. She jolted out of half-sleep and sat up. She thought, This is outrageous, even for you, Adam.

  The idea of giving up was seductive. Get her hands on some pills or take a hot bath and slit her wrists … or both. No more struggle. An end to the pain and constant disappointment. She thought about the cop Stonechild and her unexpected kindness the day before. She’d said the truth would come out. To have faith. Ben and Olivia might not be gone forever.

  Jane wanted to believe.

  She got up and gathered some clothes to put on after her shower. Not much to choose from, but nobody was around who cared what she looked like. She showered quickly, washing her hair and leaving it to dry naturally. The beauty of short hair was that this wouldn’t take long. Ruffle her hand through the mess while wet and good to go. Dressed in old jeans and a black T-shirt but leaving her feet bare, she put the kettle on to boil a cup of instant coffee. She’d thrown out the milk and would have to drink the brew black. She still had the money she had been planning to take across the border — luckily kept separate from the passports, which Stonechild had confiscated — and she’d splurge after this inferior cup with a Tim Hortons coffee and muffin. She’d allow herself this one indulgence before getting back to saving for when she had the kids again. She would get them back. She’d promised each of them in turn before hugging them goodbye.

  She took her coffee into the bedroom and stood in the window, looking out across the fenced-in yard to the red brick building on the street behind. The smell of garbage and pot wafted up through the vent from the apartment below. While she stood trying to figure out the rest of her life, the steady boom of music began thumping from beneath her feet. God, she hated this place, almost as much as she hated what her life had become. She turned her head believing she heard footsteps on the landing but decided the noise was just the music from below. She turned back to look out the window and thought about calling Sandra. She knew that her sister had phoned at seven the night before as she had every evening since Jane got out of prison. She’d be worried when Jane didn’t answer, convinced that her ESP had correctly predicted a new disaster. If she only knew how close to accurate her dire prediction had been.

  She sensed a movement in the doorway to her bedroom and spun around, dropping the half-full coffee mug onto the carpet. The brown liquid spread in a dirty circle and splashed onto her foot.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, hating the fear in her voice.

  Mitchell Eton took a step into the room, effectively blocking her way out. “It’s time to pay for all the pain you’ve caused. You sit here free and waiting to ruin other lives, and I can’t let that happen to some other family. Not while we’re still paying for what you did to Devon.”

  His voice cracked and for a moment, she thought he might cry. A strange calmness came over her as she faced this man who believed he had every right to hate her. He was wrong, but she knew that arguing wasn’t going to convince the cold anger in his unrelenting blue eyes. The handgun was aimed at the floor but it was threat enough to keep her rooted in place. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  “Not here. We have someone else who needs to pay, and you and I will be going on a drive. Turn around and clasp your hands behind your back.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I will shoot you right here.”

  “The boys downstairs will hear. They’ll call the police.”

  “Unlikely over the music. What is that? Kings of Leon?”

  “I have no idea.” The question was ludicrous under the circumstances.

  She turned and did as he asked, and then he was behind her tying a rope around her wrists. He tied it tightly so that it cut into her skin. He whispered into her ear, “You are so beautiful and so evil. My son didn’t stand a chance of turning out normal after you decided to fuck him.” His breath was hot, his voice breaking. He rubbed the nose of the gun across her cheek and down the side of her neck and seemed to be fighting the urge to pull the trigger. “Let’s get moving, shall we? And don’t even think about making a scene or I will kill those upstanding young men in the apartment below. Believe me when I say, I won’t hesitate to kill everyone in this damn building.” His eyes lifted to the red words spray-painted on the wall. “Looks like someone else has you figured out, too.”

  She tilted her head away from him and let him swing her around to face the door. She started walking, and he was right behind her with one hand holding on to her
tied wrists. She stopped in front of her open apartment door. “Do you honestly think you’ll get away with this?”

  “Honestly? Yeah. Yeah, I do. But here’s the thing. I don’t care one way or the other. All I want is to see is justice done and to end this torment for my family. Knowing you’re back on the street and knowing what your selfish perversion has cost us, I am prepared to take whatever comes. Do you get that, Mrs. Thompson? Mrs. Teacher of the Year? This is all on you, and I am desperate for you to see exactly what evil your affair with an innocent child has caused. I want you to go to your grave knowing why you do not deserve my mercy.”

  They found Hilary Eton sitting next to Sophie’s bed in a private room at the hospital. She was holding her daughter’s hand and Rouleau had to repeat Hilary’s name three times before she looked at him. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  Her shoulder shook under his touch as she stifled sobs. He looked down at Sophie in the centre of the hospital bed under a neatly folded white sheet, her freckled arms straight and resting outside the sheet. White bandages were wrapped around both wrists. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and an IV bag was dripping clear liquid into her arm. Her blond hair had dried in long tendrils that had been pulled to the side so that her hair lay across one shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but every so often her eyelids fluttered without opening. She looked younger than thirteen to Rouleau and heartbreakingly innocent. He asked, “Is Mitchell nearby?”

  “He had to leave.”

  Rouleau hid his surprise. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “He had something urgent to attend to but didn’t say what. He was so upset … I thought he needed to do something to take his mind off this … at least, for an hour. We’ve been here all night.”

  “Would you come with me to the cafeteria and we can talk over a coffee? I won’t keep you long. Officer Bennett can stay with Sophie and he’ll phone me if there’s any change.”

  “I don’t know. Can’t this wait?”

  “A coffee and something to eat will help you to keep your strength up. I could also use your help to move our investigation into Devon’s death forward.”

  “I don’t know how I can be of any more help.” She looked up at him. “I could use a break. The doctor gave her a sedative and said she’ll be asleep until lunchtime.”

  “Then we should take this opportunity.”

  She chose a seat in the corner of the cafeteria while he bought coffees and a wrapped ham and cheese sandwich, loading them onto a tray. If she couldn’t eat now, he’d have her take the sandwich with her. When he slid in across from her, she was sitting motionless, staring at nothing, her hands folded in her lap.

  “Did something upset Sophie besides Devon’s death?”

  She shook her head. “No. She’s been in a bad way but this … this was unexpected.”

  “I need to talk to you about something unpleasant, and I apologize in advance for adding to your pain. We’ve had two people who knew Devon well come forward with additional information about his personal interactions.”

  “Oh?”

  “Would you say that your son had a vindictive nature, Mrs. Eton?”

  She looked down at her hands. “Who have you been speaking with?”

  “Charlie and Tiffany Hanson. Also, Devon’s football coach.”

  “I see. My son isn’t here to defend himself and these people are using the opportunity to destroy his reputation.”

  “We’d like to hear what you have to say. Help me to understand.”

  He didn’t flinch from her gaze and the defiance in her eyes flickered and crystallized into pain. “My son was strong-willed right from the start, but we … I loved him. Mitchell wanted Devon to live up to his potential and pushed him, possibly more than he should have, although Mitchell always accused me of being too soft. We fought many times over our parenting styles, I’m afraid. Devon might have played on our conflicting approaches.”

  “Would you say your son was manipulative?”

  She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips as if considering the idea for the first time. “Yes, I would say that he was. He was brilliant but couldn’t handle being wrong. I think Mitchell’s insistence on perfection influenced Devon and by the time I realized its negative impact, Devon had incorporated the trait into his personality. What makes my husband a great businessman didn’t necessarily translate well into parenting.” Her jaw lifted. “I believe Devon would have found his way if it hadn’t been for Jane Thompson. He spiralled after that.”

  Rouleau found it revealing that Hilary was sharing no part of the blame for her son’s behaviour. “What do you mean by spiralling?”

  “Oh, he became moody and difficult to deal

  with. Quick to anger with me and Mitchell. Obstinate.” She laughed, more bitter than amused. “I saw this as typical teen behaviour, but Mitchell wanted him to see a psychiatrist because he thought that Devon’s moods were extreme. I felt that Devon behaved properly outside our family and was just exhibiting normal teenage rebellion. I took the brunt of Devon’s acting out, anyhow, because Mitchell was away so much. We did take Devon to see someone after the trial, but he convinced the psychiatrist that he was fine.”

  “Did you think that he was?”

  “At the time, but maybe because I wanted to be convinced. After the trial, Devon learned to hide his true feelings under a layer of charm, even with us. Later, I knew he wasn’t fine.”

  “Did Devon ever steal your medication?”

  She looked down. “I suspected he had.”

  “When did you suspect?”

  “After my heart attack. Some of my pain killers and heart medication were missing but I thought that I might have taken more than I was supposed to by accident. I asked Devon about it, and he got angry and accused me of not trusting him. I let it drop. I started keeping my medication locked up after that.”

  “Charlie Hanson said that Devon put your heart medication into his father’s beer the night that he died of the heart attack.”

  She sat very still, eyes darkening as she grasped the significance of what he was telling her. “No.” The single word was a filled with pain more than denial.

  He pressed on. “Charlie also told us that Devon made up the story about his affair with Jane Thompson and he supported it because Devon threatened him.”

  She shook her head. “That can’t be. We always believed … we believe that she was the reason he became the way he did. How could the jury at her trial be wrong? She confessed….”

  “We think she confessed only because she felt that she had no other option if she wanted to get released from prison early to see her kids.”

  “My God, I can’t take this in.” She raised a hand to cover her heart. “Why would Charlie tell you this now? How could he have left it so late and let us believe all this time…?”

  Rouleau spoke gently. “It’s never too late to tell what’s been eating away at you and to set things right for Jane Thompson so she can start putting her life back together, knowing that the truth has come out.”

  Hilary stood, a look of panic on her face. “Mitchell. I need to reach him.”

  “Where is he, Mrs. Eton?”

  “He was going to fix things. That’s what he said.”

  “Fix things how?”

  “I don’t know!” Her voice rose in a wail. “He blames Jane Thompson for everything. He wants our family’s pain to stop. Sophie put him over the top.” She dropped back into the chair, still holding her chest. “My God, Devon. What have you done to us?”

  Rouleau’s phone rang in his pocket. He grabbed it and checked the number before answering. “What have you got, Stonechild?”

  “Jane Thompson was seen leaving her apartment with a man about twenty minutes before we got here.” She sounded short of breath, as if she was walking fast.

 
“Did they get a description?”

  “Yeah, and it fits Mitchell Eton. I’m worried.”

  “I’m here with Hilary. She said that Mitchell left to take care of something.”

  “This is bad. Does she have any idea where he might have taken Jane?”

  Rouleau looked at Hilary slumped in the chair. Her breathing was laboured, all the colour drained from her face. “No, but I have to go.” Stonechild started to say something, but he shoved the cellphone into his pocket while yelling for someone to get a doctor. He pushed his chair aside and grabbed on to Hilary as she tumbled to the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Well, that was odd.” Kala lowered her phone and caught up to Gundersund.

  “What’s odd?”

  “Rouleau hung up on me. I guess he had something urgent going on. I didn’t get to tell him about the graffiti all over Jane’s apartment walls and door and the spilled coffee in her bedroom.”

  “Both disturbing as hell. If it was Eton that the kids saw leaving with her, he could have taken her to his house. Nobody else is there.”

  “We don’t have many other choices.”

  They got into Gundersund’s car and he drove down Regent, cutting across the city and making good time on the side streets. Kala’s phone rang as they pulled onto Beverly. “Woodhouse,” she mouthed to Gundersund as she clicked on receive. “Yeah, Woodhouse. Find something interesting?”

  She listened without interrupting and sat for a moment gathering her thoughts after she disconnected. Gundersund glanced over at her. “What’s going on?”

  “He tried calling Rouleau but no answer so we were the next best thing. He’s over at the Limestone Spa Hotel. The manager called him in to look at video footage from the day Devon went missing. They have a camera on the back locked door, and he had a member of his staff go through the footage for the entire day on a hunch. They found a few frames that show Devon letting Charlie and a blond girl into the hotel. Woodhouse is quite sure it’s Sophie Eton. Time on the tape is four forty that afternoon.”