One Kill Away

by Alex MacLean

  Nassir’s mother, which had been sitting under the hammock, reared on her hind legs and picked him up. He scooted over her shoulder and onto her back, clinging there as she began knuckle-walking away. She carried him to the right side of the exhibit, sat down, and began nursing him.

  Brian looked up at his father. “They’re kind of like us, aren’t they?”

  “A lot like us,” Allan said. “Some believe they’re our cousins.”

  “Are they?”

  Allan looked at the big silverback sitting in the background, munching a handful of silage. Behind him hung a scramble net. Every couple of seconds, the gorilla would give the faces in the windows a casual glance. When he came to Allan, he locked eyes with him a brief moment, and Allan could sense intelligence lurking there, a recognizing or a registering of someone new.

  “I think so,” he said at last.

  The exhibit was getting crowded, so he and Brian decided to move on. The animals they saw next were colorful African birds, a dwarf crocodile lounging at the edge of a pond, and Lake Malawi cichlids swimming inside an aquarium that filled an entire wall. Above it read: Darwin’s Dreampond.

  “How do you like the zoo?” Allan asked, heading for the doors with Brian.

  “I love it. It’s huge.”

  “Yup. Much bigger than the one we went to in Aylesford.”

  Brian tilted his face up at him. “Where’s that?”

  “Don’t you remember it?”

  “No.”

  “Your mother and I took you when you were four. They had monkeys and tigers. You fed the baby goats.”

  Brian snapped his fingers. “Ahh, now I know. The farm?”

  Allan looked down at him, smiled. “That’s it.”

  “I remember.” Brian chuckled. “The goats ate right out of my hands.”

  They walked outside the pavilion. The morning was gray, mild, and breezy. The air had the damp feel of rain, but for now it held off.

  The paths and walkways were full of people. Couples walking hand-in-hand. Tourists taking pictures. Parents either pushing strollers or having their kids cavorting beside them, some screaming, some quiet.

  Brian suddenly perked up. “Elephants,” he said, pointing. “This way.”

  Just up ahead, three of them were shuffling around a paddock. One had its trunk curled around a pile of timothy hay, feeding herself. Another tossed dirt over her body. The third picked up pieces of apple off the ground.

  The exhibit was packed. A zookeeper stood off to the side with a microphone in his hand, telling everyone the names of the elephants—Iringa, Toka and Thika. All females, ranging in ages from 29 to 40.

  Brian turned to his father with an excited smile on his face. “They’re some big, Dad.”

  Allan smirked, gave a curt nod. “They sure are.”

  He had mixed feelings about seeing intelligent, social animals like that confined in such a small enclosure. They deserved to roam free in their own natural habitat without man’s interference. But because of poaching and deforestation, many animals were probably better off at a zoo, the elephants more so at a nature reserve.

  Allan and Brian spent two hours exploring Kesho Park. The rolling grassland, scattered with trees and shrubs, was a picturesque recreation of the African Savanna. Allan captured it all on his camera phone.

  He watched Brian enjoying himself. The zoo appeared to pique his curiosity, his delight at discovering animals he’d only seen in books. Allan let him lead the way to the different exhibits. At each one, Allan would read him the interpretive sign, explaining the animal and their habitat. But Brian seemed more interested in moving and looking.

  They saw two warthogs snorting and playing chase around a circular stand of trees, tranquil hippos wallowing in a pond. Farther on, zebras and antelopes grazed on hillsides, a caretaker fed apples and carrots to a white rhino.

  Before reaching the big cats, Allan stopped at a snack bar and bought himself and Brian a sundae. They sat down on a bench and watched for a while as the people strolled past.

  “It’s nice here,” Allan said.

  Brian scooped ice cream into his mouth, swinging his legs over the asphalt. “Mhm.”

  When Allan got up and dumped his spoon and empty container into a trashcan nearby, his cell phone rang. He became still as he stared at the number on the display. Captain Thorne. What did he want? What the hell did he want?

  Allan looked at Brian and he could feel it in his blood, a sudden, awful certainty of things falling apart. He gritted his teeth, felt that familiar weight of anxiety begin to press down on his bones like a ton.

  The phone stopped ringing. Moments later, a voicemail alert beeped. Allan ignored it.

  Jesus, he almost said aloud. Just leave me alone.

  Brian finished his sundae and the two of them ventured on. They came upon a cheetah relaxing in the grass next to a hollow log, a troop of olive baboons grooming each other. Two infant baboons entertained the crowd gathered at the viewing window by wrestling in the grass, chasing each other up a rock face with the one on the bottom pulling the other’s tail.

  Watching them, Brian laughed. Allan folded his arms and dropped his gaze to the cement floor of the exhibit. Thorne lingered there on the edge of his thoughts, drawing his focus. Allan stepped away from the people, took out his cell phone again, and listened to the message left on his voicemail:

  “Sorry to bother you, Al,” Thorne said. “Please give me a call. It’s very important. If I’m not at the office, call my cell.” He read off the number. “Thanks. Bye.”

  Something was wrong. Allan could hear it in Thorne’s voice. Quiet. Laced with melancholy.

  A stir came from the crowd nearby and Allan glanced over to see a juvenile baboon sitting on a rock on the other side of the viewing glass, holding its hand against the pane where Brian held his.

  “Look, Dad,” Brian said excitedly. “Look.”

  Allan smiled. “It likes you.”

  He framed a shot with his phone and snapped a picture. He decided to call Thorne later. Whatever he wanted could wait.

  Allan and Brian stayed at the baboon exhibit for another half hour. It was just that entertaining.

  Like the cheetah, the lions were either sleeping or relaxing. A majestic male lion sat atop a kopje, surveying his enclosure. The hyenas were just as inactive. Blame it on the time of day. One slept inside a den constructed of rock slabs. Another slept on the grass a few feet away.

  Brian exaggerated a shudder when he saw them and wanted to move on.

  “I don’t like them. Dad,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “Why not?”

  “They’re bad.”

  Allan chuckled. “You don’t know that.”

  “They tried to kill Mufasa and Simba.”

  Allan frowned, not getting it. “Right,” he said. “I forgot about that.”

  After they stopped to see the giraffes, they made their way out of Kesho Park and began exploring other geographic regions in the zoo. They saw arctic wolves howling and polar bears swimming at the Tundra Trek; the kangaroos and Komodo dragons in Australasia; the Siberian tigers and snow leopards with their incredibly thick tails in Eurasia; the Sumatran tigers and orangutans in Indomalaya; touched and fed the stingrays at Stingray Bay.

  The enormity of the zoo surprised Allan. By the end of the afternoon, he knew they hadn’t seen everything. Brian’s interest, he noticed, was beginning to wane and so was his energy. He was dragging his feet, rubbing his eyes. Allan decided to pack it in, come back again another day to see what they’d missed.

  They had a quick supper at Pizza Pizza, then headed out. Driving back across the city, Allan adjusted the rearview mirror to see Brian in his booster seat, starting to nod off, then jerking back awake.

  “Did you have a good time, bud?” Allan asked.

  Brian’s eyelids fluttered. “Yeah.”

  “What were your favorite animals?”

  “The baboons,” he mumbled. “The stingrays.”

>   “Yeah, they were cool.”

  “The stingrays were really soft. They tickled my hand when they ate those fishes.”

  Allan smiled. “Their mouths were like little vacuums, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah.” Brian giggled. “What did you like, Dad?”

  “All of them. I thought the baby gorilla was cute.”

  But Brian was asleep.

  He remained that way for the entire trip back home. When they arrived, Allan woke him up and walked him to the door.

  “What time is the party with your friends tomorrow?” he asked.

  Brian yawned into his hand. “Umm…two to four.”

  “I’ll come by in the morning to see you. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Allan gave him a hug, kissed the top of his head. “Good night, son.”

  “Good night, Dad.”

  Allan waited for him to go inside and close the door. Then he retrieved the booster seat from his rental.

  As he placed it back inside Melissa’s car, he heard her soft voice call to him, “So, how was the zoo?”

  “Great,” he said. “It’s really too big to see in a day.”

  “Brian went straight to his room and conked out on his bed.”

  Allan turned to her, closing the car door. Melissa stood on the front steps, her arms crossed.

  “I’ll probably do the same when I get back to the hotel,” he said. “We walked a lot of miles today.”

  Melissa gave him a light smile. “Didn’t they have a ride you guys could take?”

  “I did see some tram cars going around.” Allan shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, well. Know better next time.”

  “Brian’s happy you’re here, Al. You’re all he’s talked about these past few days.”

  The tightness in his throat surprised Allan. “I really miss having him around,” he said. “The old house just isn’t the same without him there.”

  Melissa lowered her head and made a face, looked back up at him. For a moment, they stared at each other and in that distance between them, Allan saw the wreckage of their marriage. Shattered pieces of it tossed across his mind.

  The gray sky finally began to spit a few drops of rain. Allan looked up, batting his eyes at them, then back to Melissa.

  “I better go,” he said.

  Melissa uncrossed her arms, brushed the hair away from her face. “Have a good night, Al.”

  “You too.”

  As he drove away, he saw her in the rearview mirror still standing on the steps, watching him leave. By the time he reached the hotel the sky opened up into a full downpour.

  He went up to his room and took out his cell phone, listened to Thorne’s message again. Slowly, his fingers began to punch numbers.

  “Al,” Thorne said. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re off for a few weeks.”

  “What’s going on, Captain?”

  “We have a problem.”

  Allan gripped the phone. “What?”

  “It’s Audra.” Thorne expelled a breath. “Do you know her daughter?”

  “Daphne? I met her a couple of times. Nice kid.”

  “Yeah.” Thorne paused. “She…ah...tried to commit suicide this morning.”

  “Jesus.” Allan stood up. “How is she?”

  “Not good. She’s in a coma. Not sure what’s going to happen.”

  Briefly, Allan shut his eyes and pinched the top of his nose, feeling the tragedy in the pit of his stomach.

  “Audra’s a mess,” Thorne added.

  “I can only imagine what she’s going through right now.”

  “I need your help, Al.”

  Allan watched the rain bleeding down the glass of the sliding door. “With what?”

  “A case Audra just started working.”

  “Dory?”

  “You heard already?”

  “Yeah. Read it in the paper up here.”

  “You know Dory and the Black Scorpions better than anyone.”

  Allan shut his eyes again and placed the phone against his forehead. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. He moved his thumb to the end-call button. He wanted to press it, to disconnect that life of stress, heartbreak and self-recrimination.

  “Al?”

  “I’m here.”

  Thorne gave a quick inhalation. “Listen, I know how you feel. I’m only asking you to lead the investigation until Audra is ready. She’s in no shape to do this right now. And you’re my top guy.”

  Allan bowed his head. He saw himself balancing on a tightrope of hope and bitter reality.

  “See you when I get back,” he said, and hung up.

  He tossed the phone on the bed and clenched his fist. His mind echoed with the sound of Melissa’s voice. Brian’s happy you’re here, Al. You’re all he’s talked about these past few days.

  Allan swallowed, feeling a hole in his heart.

  26

  Halifax, June 12

  11:13 p.m.

  Audra looked at her watch and flinched. Time felt like an enemy, a silent menace lurking over her shoulder. Twelve hours had passed and there was still no change in Daphne’s condition.

  Dr. Salinsky’s words replayed in Audra’s mind, never more so grim and scary in their imminence.

  “After twelve hours in a coma, a good prognosis becomes less likely…”

  Audra squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as a fresh slice of anguish cut through her heart.

  She sat in a bedside chair, holding Daphne’s hand. Staff had given her permission to stay overnight. She didn’t want her daughter to be alone. Daniel had left for home.

  Audra touched Daphne’s hand to her cheek and gazed into her face. So many questions she wanted to ask her.

  Why, honey, why?

  What happened?

  What was so terrible that made you do this to yourself?

  Why didn’t you come to me?

  Didn’t you trust me enough?

  Saddled with guilt, Audra lowered her head. She wondered if Daphne had left a note. She couldn’t remember seeing one. In her panic, had she just overlooked it?

  Daphne would leave one, right? She’d provide some reason why, so not to burden her parents with that question for the rest of their lives.

  Wouldn’t she?

  The mother in Audra kept turning that question over and over in her mind, trying to convince herself. But deep down, the cop inside her knew only about a third of people ever wrote a note or letter. Family members—shattered, crippled with grief—were left behind to make sense of it all, often blaming themselves for not being able to help.

  Like Audra did.

  Gently, she laid Daphne’s hand on the sheets and stood up, wavering. She grabbed hold of the chair arm for a moment in fear of falling. The ravages of the day had taken its toll on her body, torturing every joint, consuming her energy like a glutton, leaving her weak and shaky. She had nothing to eat since breakfast. Just too miserable, too damn sick at heart to even try.

  She walked to the window and looked out. The night sky over the city was clear. She didn’t see the moon, but the stars shimmered brightly in that distant patch of black. Down through the dark trees below, cars drove down Robie Street. Many were taxis. Saturday night in Halifax. People would be making their way to the bars and nightclubs.

  Audra glimpsed her reflection in the window. Her hair was wild; her eyes aged and hollowed out. Behind her, voices drifted in through the doorway. Nurses were huddled around their central station speaking to each other in low tones.

  Audra couldn’t let them see her exhausted, for they’d surely tell her to leave. Sometime tomorrow, she’d go home and try to grab a few hours of sleep.

  She went back to the chair again and sat down, picked up Daphne’s hand. For a long time Audra stayed there like that, just watching the rise and fall of Daphne’s chest, praying she would soon open her eyes.

  27

  Toronto, June 13

  8:38 a.m.

  With slow steps Allan
approached the front door. He paused a moment before ringing the bell. As he waited, he clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to calm the emotions churning in his gut.

  Melissa opened the door. Her lips parted, hand still on the doorknob. She wore red polka dot pajamas and slippers.

  “Al. You’re here early.”

  “Is Brian up?”

  “He’s in his room.” Her dark eyes peered into his face, narrowing with curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

  She could always tell, he knew. Whenever he was troubled about something, she could always see right through him.

  In a weary voice, he said, “I have to go back home.”

  “What? Today?”

  “My plane leaves at five to ten.”

  “I thought you were off for a few weeks.”

  “I was.” He drew a breath, let it out. “Do you remember Audra Price?”

  Melissa frowned. “Vaguely. She works in your unit, right?”

  Allan nodded. “Her daughter attempted suicide yesterday.”

  “Oh, no.” Melissa clutched the lapels of her pajama top. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s in a coma.”

  Melissa squeezed her eyes shut and winced. “That poor baby. How old is she?”

  “Fourteen, I think.”

  “Oh my God.” A look of disbelief crossed her face. “What would she even know about life at that age?”

  Quiet, Allan spread his hands. He’d worked the front lines of too many of those tragedies. Kids overdosing, shooting, or hanging themselves over reasons trivial to adults.

  “The Captain wants me to lead an investigation Audra was on,” Allan said. “She’s the only reason I’m doing it. The only reason.”

  “It’s going to break Brian’s heart. But I think he’ll understand.”

  Allan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “This isn’t easy for me. I never wanted things to be this way.”

  In Melissa’s eyes, he saw the flicker of some new emotion.

  “Me either,” she said softly. “It’s been hard seeing you again.”

  Allan paused, fighting the urge to reach for her. Over her shoulder, he saw Tom appear with an inquisitive look on his face. His hair was mussed as if he’d just climbed out of bed.