The Killer Trail (8 page)

“Right. The—”

“Good. So let's put this behind us, and move on.” Her dour face forced a smile, sending shivers down Chris' back.

“Okay.”

Florence sat back down. “David, do you have anything to add?”

“No, not really, Florence. Other than to tell you, Chris, that Gerald will be assigned to work with Mr. Owens. Gerald will want to meet with you to pick up your old file, ask you some questions. In due course—”

“No,” Florence interrupted angrily. “Not in due course. Today. Chris, you will meet with Gerald today. Give him the information he needs. Is that clear?”

“Yes, I'll contact Gerald after I leave here.”

“Fine.” Florence looked at Chris and David. “I do not want to have this conversation with either of you again. Have a good day.” She dismissed them both.

Chris made a hasty retreat from her office, David close on his heels. Once outside, David gave Chris a don't-drag-me-down-with-you look and told him that he would be in contact with Stephanie Rowe about his progress. Then he left Chris alone to make sense of what had just happened.
Well, at least
there's no special project in Timbuktu.... On the other hand,
perhaps I'd be better off in Timbuktu about now.

He made another washroom pit stop. He didn't need a mirror to know that he looked like hell. Lines were forming on his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot from his sleepless nights, not to mention his facial bruising from Ray's assault. He splashed cool water on his face and could taste the residue of salt from his sweat.
This day just keeps getting better and
better.
He'd endured a grilling from Stephanie and a torture session with his director. He still had to face the remand unit to meet with Gerald, and avoid Ray Owens at the same time
.
As Chris approached the entrance to the remand ward, he felt his heart hammer and his stomach flutter.

I will survive this
.

As Chris approached Alpha unit, he thought back to his first day of orientation to IFP when his manager had described the unit and the remand process for him. “Alpha unit is a maximum-security twenty-bed remand ward for individuals charged with criminal offences ranging from mischief to murder. Male patients are admitted here for court-ordered psychiatric assessments. Chris, you need to know that there are two types of assessments. A Fitness assessment involves a psychiatrist's opinion of a patient's ability to understand the court process and his ability to communicate with counsel. An NCRMD assessment is the psychiatrist's opinion of the individual's mental state at the time that he had committed the alleged offence, and whether he could be considered not criminally responsible on account of a mental disorder.”

Chris recalled David's patience in describing the remainder of the hospital to him. “The other units are designed for patients with other legal status. This includes those found NCRMD. Beta unit, for example, is a maximum security unit designated for inmates from provincial jails who require admission at IFP as a Temporary Absence in order to receive treatment under the
Mental Health Act
. The remaining units range from medium to minimum levels of security and a patient's admission on a unit is determined in part by their degree of mental and behavioural stability. You'll be working as part of a multidisciplinary team which in addition to psychiatry and nursing, also includes psychology, occupational therapy, substance abuse counselors and case managers. And we have great vocational and rehabilitation staff, along with a teacher and chaplain.”

Chris remembered his trepidation when he had first stepped onto Alpha unit. David had made him feel welcome by describing how, as a social worker, he factored into the remand process. “One of your jobs,” he said, “is gathering collateral information from a patient's family and friends, particularly on how the patient was functioning at the time of the offence. This information will complement the interviews the psychiatrist will conduct with the patient. The psychiatrist's report is then presented to the judge when the patient attends court.”

I can't believe that was ten years ago.
Chris had worked with many patients since his orientation, and he'd collected collateral from a lot of family members. But Ray Owens had always stood out. Chris was not aware of any living Owens family members or close friends and acquaintances. In fact, he vividly remembered Ray being particularly sensitive about this topic—he became prickly upon hearing even general questions about his family. Chris had been intrigued enough to explore this topic further but was hindered by Ray's short stay.

As to Ray's present admission at IFP, Chris knew that the psychiatrist would be interested in Chris' observations of him from their time at Woodland Park. Dr. Stevenson would use this information to help her form an opinion as to whether Ray was suffering symptoms of mental illness when he committed his criminal acts on the trail or whether he could be considered criminally responsible.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Chris—that he wasn't the interviewer in this case but the interviewee. His colleague, Gerald Reed, would be the social worker assisting Dr. Stevenson with Ray's assessment. Chris had mentored Gerald on his arrival at the IFP social work department
,
and they'd worked well together ever since. Chris hoped Gerald's questions would be brief, so he could go home and put an end to this wretched day.

Hand trembling, he reached for his fob key to gain entry into the locked unit. On the other side awaited the man who had tried to kill him just a few days before, the man who had threatened his daughter. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and entered the unit.
That wasn't so bad.
He walked down the hallway towards the nursing station. Although Alpha unit was a maximum-security ward, the staff consisted of nurses and health-care professionals rather than correctional officers and guards.

Chris recognized Alex Dunbar, the head nurse in charge of the unit. After several years of working together at IFP, they'd developed a respect for each other, and Chris knew Alex to be strict but fair. At six feet two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds, Alex was an imposing figure, and few people disputed his authority.

“Hey, Alex, how's it going?” Chris called out.

Alex, who had been talking with his staff, stopped and gave a surprised look at Chris. “Damn. I didn't expect to see you back so soon. How the hell are you?”

“I'm here. That should count for something.”

“Yeah. But why are you here? I heard you got banged up pretty bad.” He looked Chris over as if searching for visual confirmation of his injuries.

“My shoulder is sore as hell, but I'll survive.”

Mark, one of the other nurses, piped up, “I thought for sure they'd reassign you to another ward. You know he's here, don't you?”

“I know he's here.” Chris wasn't surprised at the question, given that Mark was on the hospital's occupational safety and health committee. Chris knew there would be people who would think he was returning to work too soon, but he wasn't interested in debating the issue. “I'm here to see Gerald. He's taking the Owens case. Then I'm out of here.”

Chris had originally intended to meet with Gerald in a few days and on a unit far, far away from Ray Owens. However, given the order from Florence to meet immediately, the best they could arrange on short notice was to get together between Gerald's meetings on Alpha unit. It was hardly ideal, but now that the case had become highly politicized, neither Chris nor Gerald was about to disregard Florence's directive
.

“Well, good to see you,” Alex said in a supportive tone.

“Thanks.” On the closed-circuit monitor inside the nursing station, Chris could see Gerald entering Alpha unit.

“Hi, Chris.” Gerald gave a warm smile and extended his hand. He had fly-away black hair and a boyishly charming face.

“Hey, Gerald. Where do you want to meet?”

“Doesn't matter to me.”

“All right then, let's grab one of the interview rooms. Hey, Alex, are any of the rooms available right now?”

“Number Three is empty if you want it.”

“We'll take it. Thanks.”

Chris and Gerald were walking down the hallway when the door of the interview room next to Room Three opened. A staff member emerged and escorted a patient down the hallway towards them. Chris instantly recognized the patient—Ray Owens. He froze. His throat felt like it was caving in on him, and he broke into a sweat. Ray was wearing the hospital-issued green sweatpants and sweatshirt. His hair was greasy, and several days' worth of beard covered his face.

The two men made eye contact, and Chris struggled to draw a breath.

Ray flashed a smirk at Chris. “Hey, Ryder, how's your shoulder?” He suddenly lunged at Chris but was restrained by the nurse, who activated his personal security pen, triggering a piercing alarm throughout the ward and bringing several additional staff racing towards them. Ray kicked and flailed his arms while being wrestled to the floor. “Hey, Ryder, you're not out of the woods yet!” he sneered, laughing menacingly as the orderlies pulled him up from the floor and marched him off to a seclusion room while Chris stood paralyzed in a frozen stupor as the action swirled around him.

“Let's go, Chris,” said Gerald. “We'll talk somewhere else.” He could see that his friend was in rough shape, and he was furious. “They want us to meet so badly, we'll do it... at Manny's
.
I'll drive.”

Chris didn't say a word as he followed his friend.

Manny's Pub was a ten-minute drive from IFP. Under normal circumstances, P.J.'s would have been Gerald's choice—closer and known for their excellent nachos. But P.J.'s was the go-to pub for IFP hospital staff, and Gerald, worried that reporters would know this, decided that the last thing he or Chris needed was to have photos of them entering a pub gracing the front page of the
Sun
. Besides, the incident on Alpha unit had made it abundantly clear to Gerald that Chris was in no shape to be interviewed anywhere near the hospital.

“How're ya doing, buddy? The beer's on me.”

“Thanks, Gerald. But I'm gonna need something a little stronger. Rum and Coke. And I've got it.”

“I thought beer was your thing. You planning on being here awhile?”

Chris didn't respond. He looked like his head was in a fog and Gerald wondered whether his friend was planning to get himself stone-cold drunk to keep his mind clouded. Gerald was under pressure to get information from Chris on the Owens case as soon as possible, but after witnessing what had happened on Alpha unit and looking at Chris now, he knew he wouldn't be getting this information today. He didn't care. He was more concerned about Chris' state of mind.

“That was pretty messed up back there, huh?”

“I guess,” Chris mumbled. He stared at the ice cubes in his glass.

“Hey, Chris, you okay?”

“I'll be okay once I have another drink.” Chris held up his empty glass and motioned to the waitress for a refill.

“No, I mean about what happened on Alpha. You kind of zoned out back there.” The waitress returned with another drink for Chris.

“Yeah... well...” Chris' thoughts trailed off. A minute passed. “You know... I saw Stephanie today. Damn, she looked good.”

“Stephanie Rowe?”

“That's the one. Did you know we almost went out?” Chris took another swig of his drink, polishing it off. He motioned for the waitress, who returned with a third glass, giving Gerald a concerned look as she set it down.

“Really? When was that?”

“Years ago, before your time.”

“You bullshitting me?”

“She still looks amazing. That's all I could think about when I saw her today. How much I wanted to—”

“So how did the meeting go?” Gerald was becoming uncomfortable. Chris rarely drank anything stronger than beer and he had never seen him drink like this before. He knew Chris was going through a difficult time with his separation, but hearing him go on about Stephanie while completely ignoring what had happened with Ray Owens was disturbing. He wanted to stop his friend before he said or did anything that he would later regret. Chris had helped him when he was going through troubles of his own with his partner a few years back and Gerald figured it was time to repay the favour.