Leo handed him a mug of coffee.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet, Marcus."
"Why not?"
"It's decaf."
"You trying to kill me?"
"I was thinking that you drink too much coffee. Maybe that's why you aren't sleeping."
I'm not sleeping because when I try, I see Jane and Ryan.
"I get enough."
Leo snorted. "You don't get enough. Of anything."
"Please don't start."
Leo shrugged. "I'm worried about you, man." He paused and shuffled his feet. "Val wants you to come to dinner on Sunday."
"She does, does she? Who else is coming?"
Leo's face reddened. "Who said anyone else was coming? Why can't it simply be the three of us enjoying a good meal together? We're all friends."
Marcus cocked his head to one side. "Uh-huh…"
"Jesus, Marcus, you're always so…untrusting."
Marcus said nothing, his gaze locked on Leo's.
Leo let out a huff. "Okay, fine. Val invited one of her girlfriends from work. Marcy. She's smart and very attractive."
"Leo, my good friend, you've gotta stop trying to hook me up."
"It wasn't me. It was—"
"Val?" Marcus finished. "So it's all Val's fault, huh?" He picked up the phone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm calling your wife. It's time I set her straight on my love life."
"What love life?"
Marcus scowled. "The one I'm supposed to be in control of."
Leo leaned forward and disconnected the call. "Okay, it was my idea. Not Val's." He sighed as if the whole world were on his rugged shoulders.
"I knew that." Marcus grinned.
"Shipley's heading your way," Carol called out as she passed them.
"Lucky me," Marcus muttered.
Leo ducked down behind the partition.
"Coward."
"I doubt he's coming to talk to me," came Leo's muffled reply.
Seconds later, Pete Shipley appeared. "You messed up on yesterday's reports, Taylor."
"Great. What did I forget this time? To dot the i's?"
Shipley slapped the papers on Marcus's desk. "The dates are wrong."
Marcus glanced at the top report, taking in the dateline. It should have read June 13th. Instead it read 12th. What the hell?
He picked up the paper and held it closer. The 1 was darker than the 2 and it slanted to the right. He tended to write his numbers vertically. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the form. And there was only one person motivated to do something that vindictive.
He gave Shipley a bland look. "Wite-Out will take care of this."
Shipley shook his head. "I'd like you to retype the forms."
The man was looking for a fight. He'd do anything to goad Marcus into making a move that would land him in jail.
Marcus smiled. "Sure. No problem."
Shipley's face flickered, shifting from arrogance to confusion, then back to arrogance. "This is going in your file. Too many mistakes like this and we may think you're not doing your job effectively enough to satisfy your rehab agreement."
We? Had Shipley just cloned himself?
"Who else have you mentioned my mistake to, Pete?"
"The powers that be have asked me to report in to them. They take your rehabilitation very seriously."
"As do I."
They locked eyes again. Shipley was the first to back down.
"Get to work, Taylor." Shipley looked at the partition. "And Leo, enough socializing with our addict here. Do what we pay you to. Work." He marched off in the direction of his office, puffing and primping along the way.
Leo's head appeared above the partition. "What a pompous peacock."
Marcus chuckled. "You have a way with words, Leo."
"Maybe that should be his nickname. Pompous Peacock."
"Nah. Titanic suits him better. He's heading for disaster and doesn't even know it."
"Yeah, and one day he's gonna go down with his ship."
The afternoon passed uneventfully after that. Marcus retyped the reports. When he handed them in to Shipley, he said, "I've decided to make copies of my reports. In case we have another issue with the dates."
Shipley squirmed in his chair, his face slightly pink.
Marcus's message was clear. He wouldn't put up with sabotage.
The guilt-ridden part of him knew he deserved Shipley's disdain. But hell, he was clean now. He worked hard, ate well and did everything to prevent that other Marcus from showing up.
Except you still have that box.
Why the hell was he still holding on to it?
Because it's a reminder of everything you've lost.
Jane had given him the wooden box with the medical insignia on it when he'd been hired by EMS. She hadn't thought about what he'd store inside it. He supposed she figured he'd use it for his cufflinks, watch and his father's ring. It had started off that way. He'd even kept his passport inside.
Until he started using drugs and needed a place to hide them.
The box had been a safe place. After all, why would Jane need to look at his few pieces of jewelry?
Stupid.
He recalled the night he'd come home after work and found Jane sitting at the dining room table, the open box in front of her. Her eyes were swollen. She'd been crying.
"Jane, what are you doing?"
"That's what I was going to ask."
He approached with slow steps, his mind churning over all the lies he could tell her. His stomach churned with each step closer.
"Marcus?" She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Why are there drugs in this box?"
He leaned over and closed the lid. He shut his eyes, ignoring the magnetic pull of his old friend. "Don't worry about it, hon."
"Are you doing drugs?"
His eyes flared open. "Why would you ask me that? Am I not providing for you, working hard, taking care of everything?"
"Of course you are, but—"
"But what? You've got nothing better to do than snoop through my things?"
"I wasn't snooping."
"No? Then why in hell were you looking in this?" He waved the box at her.
"I was going to surprise you on our anniversary."
He snorted. "Surprise me?"
She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. "I was going to get your father's ring sized. So you can wear it."
He clenched his teeth, fighting back the rising anger. He wasn't simply pissed off at Jane. He was mad at his father for giving him a ring that didn't fit. At himself for lying to Jane. At the drugs for making him so weak.
"You didn't answer my question," she said in a subdued tone.
"What question?"
She stared into his soul. "Are you doing drugs?"
"Only to manage my back pain. It's no big deal." He snatched his hand away. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? There's no prescription label on the bottle. Where did you get it?"
"From work. We don't need prescriptions—merely someone to okay it."
She gave him a doubtful look.
"Look, I'll stop taking anything except ibuprofen. I promise."
"So you'll get rid of this?"
He took a deep breath and prepared for his biggest lie. "I'm not an addict, Jane. I don't need this. It was a quick fix. A temporary fix."
He walked over to the kitchen, opened the cupboard beneath the sink and tossed the box in the garbage can. "See? Gone."
Jane stood and made a beeline for him, her hands shaking as she reached to touch his face. "I was so worried, Marcus. I thought…well, you know what I thought."
He smiled, then kissed her lips. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
In the early morning, he had rummaged through the garbage until he found the box. After wiping it down, he hid it behind some tools in the garage.
Now it was in his brother's footlocker.
It called to him
. Use me. You'll feel so good. You'll be free. No more pain.
He took a long swig of coffee. It was cold.
During the dinner break, he pulled Leo aside. "I need to go to a meeting."
Leo patted his arm and nodded. "We'll go together."
Carol entered the break room, and they moved away from each other.
"You two whispering secrets over there?" Carol asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Leo said with a grin.
The woman let out a dramatic sigh. "There are a lot of things I'd like to know, Leonardo. Like why your wife lets you out in public wearing corduroys. Didn't you know that went out in the '80s?"
Marcus laughed. "She's right about that, my friend." He'd teased Leo about his cords for the past few months, but Leo liked to be different.
"What are you two—the fashion police?" Leo waved a hand in the air. "You two know nothing about fashion. Everything comes back eventually."
"So you're saying you're ahead of the times?" Marcus asked.
All three started laughing. Well, if you could call Carol's "snort, snort" a laugh.
Footsteps.
"Shit!" Leo muttered. "It's probably Titanic."
They erased all signs of laughter from their faces the second Shipley rounded the corner. He headed for the coffeepot without saying a word to any of them.
With a small wave to Carol, Marcus headed back to his desk. Leo was right behind him.
"The man has a radar for anything remotely like fun," Marcus said.
"Maybe he's bugged the break room."
"Your inner mobster is showing again, Leo."
The phone rang and they went back to work.
The early evening crept by with fewer than normal calls. Marcus handled a store fire and one suspicious call that turned out to be a crank call by a couple of bored teens. The police were on the way to their home, and Marcus could only imagine the parents' reactions when they discovered what their sweet little boys had been up to. The officers would give them a warning. Maybe the parents would ground the boys. Who knew in today's age of parenting?
He wondered if Ryan would've been so mischievous had he lived. Marcus had missed out on time with his son. Work had gotten in the way at first. And then the drugs. One thing he could always say: he had never used around Ryan. Usually he snuck out into the garage late at night. Or right before his shift. Not too responsible.
But he'd hidden that box where no one would find it. Especially Ryan.
Stop it! Don't think about that damn box. He clenched his fists. Focus!
The report swam in front of him. He blinked. Then he double-checked the facts, recorded the date and signed his name.
He rose from the chair, grabbed the form and headed to the copy room, where he made a copy of the report. Back at his desk, he shoved the copy into a folder in his briefcase. He'd be damned if he'd allow Shipley to set him up again.
Of course, he had no proof his supervisor had changed the dates on the other forms, but that didn't matter. Who else would have done it? Leo? Carol? Hell, even with her pinched expression and disapproving eyes, Carol was professional. He couldn't say the same about Pete Shipley.
I've got my eye on you, Shipley. Make a fool of me once, shame on you. Make a fool of me twice and you'll regret it.
Chapter Ten
Highway to Cadomin, AB – Friday, June 14, 2013 – 6:57 PM
It was almost seven o'clock by the time she pulled out of Edmonton and veered onto the highway heading toward Cadomin.
The kids pouted in the backseat. Ella was tired of the long wait, and Colton was upset because Rebecca refused to leave the house until he'd completed the last page of homework. Since math wasn't his strong suit, it took longer than either of them had thought. Then he'd insisted on bringing his hockey stick and duffel bag with all his gear, except for skates, which she'd made him leave behind.
He held the stick across his lap, while the bag lay wedged between his feet. "Stop kicking my stick, Ella."
"Mommy, Colton's being mean," Ella said.
"You're such a baby," Colton snapped.
"Colton!" Rebecca admonished.
From the back seat a small voice said, "Mommy, am I being a baby?"
"No, honey. Why don't you have a nap?"
"I'm not sleepy."
"Want to read my Kindle? I downloaded some books for you."
"All right."
Rebecca kept one hand on the steering wheel while she rummaged around in her purse on the passenger seat. "Here." She held the eReader behind her seat and released it when she felt Ella grab hold. "There's a night light if it gets too dark. Colton can show you how to turn—"
"How long until we get there, Mom?" Colton interrupted.
"Not long. We'll be there before you know it."
With her mouth firmly set and both hands clenching the steering wheel, Rebecca concentrated on the road ahead. Every now and then she flexed her fingers, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something.
She hated night driving, especially when the highway was busy or it was raining. Tonight it was both.
She turned on the radio. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she was relieved when she saw Ella's eyes drift shut. Colton was playing with his iPod. Probably Angry Birds.
Oh, to be an innocent child with no worries other than which game to play.
She longed for a time when she could relax and enjoy her children, instead of working long shifts and shipping them off to a sitter. Kelly often babysat for her when she worked the later shifts. At least she had that. But being a single parent wasn't an easy feat.
She tried to focus on their family vacation. Though it hadn't started out that way, she was now enjoying the thought of sharing her adventures in Cadomin with her kids. It might be their last truly happy time together for a while.
Because when we get back, I have to tell them about the divorce.
Ella and Colton knew their family had problems. That's why their dad had moved out. But they thought it was temporary, that he'd come home. Even though they visited Wesley in his new apartment, they still thought he was coming home.
She bit her bottom lip. How do I tell the kids?
She was a child of divorce, though she'd been an adult when her parents had split. It had left her feeling hurt and betrayed. By both parents. How could they split when they'd been married so long? She'd always known their marriage had been anything but perfect. But still…
And now she was going to do the same to her own kids. Hurt them.
They'll heal over time.
She knew that was true, but it didn't make things any easier.
When they returned home from this trip, she and Wesley would sit the kids down and explain to them as gently as possible why Mommy and Daddy couldn't stay married. She couldn't give them all the facts. Ella and Colton needed to know that they were loved. Nothing would ever change that.
Then she and Wesley would head to Carter's office and sign the final papers. Wesley would most likely put up a bit of a fight, but even he had to know deep down that their marriage was over. There was no salvaging something so damaged and broken.
Driving down the highway, she listened to the drumming of the rain and tried to convince herself that Wesley would see reason and sign the papers. Then they each would be able to go about their lives, separately. No more drama. No more angry, bitter words. No more accusations. No more beatings or late night hospital trips.
Her life would become…hers.
She smiled. My life, my rules.
Rebecca had been driving almost two and a half hours when she spotted the signs for Edson. Cadomin was about an hour and a half from there.
"Anyone need to go to the bathroom?" she asked.
"I do," Colton said.
"Me too," Ella chimed in.
She took the Edson exit and found an Esso station. She parked in front of the washroom doors, then got out. Ella and Colton followed her inside the station, where they picked up the washro
om key.
"Me first," Colton said, squeezing past her as she unlocked the door. He went inside, locked the door and she heard the toilet seat bang.
"I really need to go, Mommy," Ella whispered.
Rebecca groaned. "Hurry up, Colton. Your sister has to go badly."
A minute later she heard the toilet flush, then the tap running. Good boy!
"Wait in the car," she told him when he emerged from the washroom. "And don't forget to lock the doors."
As Ella ran into the washroom, Rebecca remained outside until Colton was safely in the locked vehicle. She took a cautious survey of the gas station parking lot. Four vehicles were parked nearby—three cars getting gas and a dirty truck that was idling near the car wash. No one lurked outside. It was far too cold, due to the rainstorm.
"I can't reach the sink, Mommy," Ella called out.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, Rebecca opened the washroom door and stepped inside. She kept the door ajar so she could keep an eye on Colton. Once Ella had finished washing up, they returned to the car and climbed inside.
"I'm going to tape my stick while we're driving," Colton said, grabbing a roll of white hockey tape from his bag.
"Just be careful you don't accidentally hit Ella," Rebecca replied.
It was darker when they left the gas station and headed out of Edson. Within seconds, Mother Nature unleashed a torrent of wind and rain. Rebecca slowed the car and stayed in the right lane so faster traffic could go around her. Two cars passed her, an unusually slow day for the area. Visibility was so bad she could barely make out the brake lights on the vehicle in front of her. Then it disappeared. Except for one vehicle behind her, she was alone on the road.
Damn. Why couldn't the rain wait until after our trip?
She'd been on the road for about a half hour when a bright light flashed in the rearview mirror. "Ella? Put the Kindle down, please."
"She's asleep, Mom," Colton replied.
She squinted at the light in the rearview, then took a quick look in the side mirror. Someone trailed behind her in a large vehicle. The rain and dark sky made it hard to see whether it was a van or a truck. Every now and then the driver would inch up on her back bumper, far too close for comfort.
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