Submerged (5 page)

Who the hell was he kidding?

Over time, his addiction became more demanding. Codeine stopped working, and he returned to Vicodin and Percocet. Occasionally, he'd inject himself with morphine, when the pain became unbearable. Soon his dilated pupils gave him away.

Jane
broached the subject one evening, but he walked out of the house, pissed that she'd accused him—a paramedic, for God's sake—of being an addict. Then Ashton told Marcus he knew about the pilfered drugs.

Within days, Marcus's
deep, dark secret was out. He was exposed, humiliated and ashamed. He was given a choice—rehab or jail.

Wasn't much of a choice.

Jane had stood by him. She was wonderful that way, always forgiving. She even supported his decision to take off to Cadomin for a week, without her or Ryan. Fishing, he told her.

In actuality, he
'd gone there to contemplate his life and the terrible choices he'd made. The box with the insignia had gone with him. It would be his last time using, he promised himself. Then he'd bury the box and be done with it all. He swore he go to meetings, get clean, whatever it took, as soon as he returned home. But he spent most of the time in the cabin high on morphine and sleeping. That was back in the days when he
could
sleep.

He remembered sitting in the candlelit cabin, a hypodermic needle in his arm. He
was dozing, embracing the flow of lightness, when his cell phone rang.

"
Marcus, it's John Zur." The detective went on to tell him Jane and Ryan had been involved in a serious car accident.

Marcus ripped the needle from his arm and jumped to his feet.
"Where?"

"
Not far from Cadomin."

"
I'm on my way."

"
Marcus, you should—"

Marcus
shifted into autopilot. He hung up the phone before Zur could finish what he was saying, grabbed his coat and ran from the cabin to his car. It was raining, freezing rain, but he barely noticed. All he could think of was his wife and son, hurt and dazed. They needed him.

He
sped down the highway until he saw the police cars and fire truck. He pulled up behind an ambulance, parked, then leapt from his car.

Zur strode toward him.
"Marcus, I don't think you should—"

Ignoring the detective
, Marcus skidded down the muddy embankment toward the water-filled ditch.

Then he saw it. Jane
's car. It had flipped over and was half submerged in deep, murky water.

"
Jaaaane!"
he screamed. "Ryan!"

Two rescuers using the
Jaws of Life ripped open the side door, the metal grinding and squealing in rebellion, water pouring to the ground. In the driver's seat a body hung upside-down, water up to the waist.

Marcus recognized Jane
's jacket immediately.
"Nooo!"

The remainder of that night was a blur of flashing lights and sirens.

And death.

He had a lot to make up for.
Penance was his middle name.

The phone rang
, tearing him from his dark thoughts. Over the next few hours he filed paperwork, forwarded a suspicious arson call to Fire and Police and sent an ambulance to a possible home invasion, while doing his best not to think of the meeting he'd promised Leo he'd attend.

There was a brief
second when he stared at the computer monitor and thought of why he went to the meetings in the first place. To make amends. To help assuage the guilt.

To be forgiven?

Was that even possible?

Chapter Four

Edmonton
, AB – Thursday, June 13, 2013 – 6:24 PM

When Rebecca pulled up to the house, the first thing she noticed was the garage door. It was open. She parked the car on the driveway and muttered a curse beneath her breath.

"
You forgot to push the button, Mom," Colton said.

"
Maybe it hit something and bounced back up."

She
jabbed the remote button and watched the door close. It stayed closed. She pressed the button again and watched the garage door open.

"
Nope, Mommy was a twit," she said in a cheery voice as she pulled the car inside and lowered the garage door once more.

"
What's a twit?" Ella asked.

Colton snorted.
"It's what you are, twit."

"
Mommy, am I a twit?"

"
No, honey." Rebecca turned in the seat and pointed a finger at Colton. "Stop teasing your sister."

She eyed the garage and the door
into the house. She never locked that door, except at night. It made her nervous, knowing the house had been left unsecured. There had been a couple of break-ins in the neighborhood lately—mostly the larger, newer homes. But even though her open garage was an invitation to every thief and vandal in the area, she doubted anyone had bothered. The outside of the house was plain and unassuming, and with few luxuries, the inside screamed "hockey mom." Not exactly the best place for delinquents to shop for electronics, drugs or money.

She
opened the car door. "Wait here. I'm going to check the house. Then I'll come get you."

"
Aw, Mom," Colton said with a groan.

"
Colton, watch your sister. I'll be back in a minute."

"
Okay, but I'm timing you." He grinned. "Starting now."

Rebecca
went inside the small bungalow that Wesley had convinced her to buy. "A great fixer-upper," he'd called it. She'd grown accustomed to calling it "the money pit," even though her husband had promised he'd handle all the repairs and finish everything the previous owners had neglected. Like baseboards. There wasn't one to be found anywhere in the house. Who lived in a house with no baseboards?

On the main level, the master
en suite toilet was a constant annoyance, plugging the instant anyone flushed more than three sheets of toilet paper. And the fireplace in the living room leaked into the window casing, causing tiny puffs of smoke to enter their home. This was of great concern to Rebecca since Ella had been recently diagnosed with asthma.

"Note to self," she mumbled. "Get fireplace leak fixed next week."

Then there was the family room in the basement, which had no ceiling. Wesley had insisted that the raw wood beams and pipes made it feel rustic, like a "man cave." She'd told him he was welcome to it.

As Rebecca
walked through the rooms, she looked about for anything missing. She hesitated near the table by the living room window. The family photos appeared disturbed. She frowned, examining the dust trail on the table. Was she imagining it, or had the photo of her and the kids been moved?

She repositioned the picture, stared at it a moment, then gave a nervous laugh
.
One of the kids probably knocked it over.

Shrugging off her paranoia, s
he hurried back to the garage and waved at the kids. Colton climbed out on the side with the good door, while Rebecca fought with the damaged door and helped Ella with her seat belt.

"
Why'd we have to wait in the car?" Ella asked, scowling.

"
Case there were burglars," her brother answered.

Ella
's eyes grew wide and fearful. "Burglars?"

"
You know, bad guys. Like The Fog."

"
Colton," Rebecca warned. She turned to Ella. "There are no burglars in our house, honey."

"
What about bad guys?"

"
Nope. None of those either."

"
You sure?"

Rebecca nodded and took her daughter
's hand. "I checked everywhere."

"
Everywhere?"

"
Yes, honey. Even in the fridge."

Ella laughed.
"He'd be pretty cold."

"
And stupid," Colton said. "Maybe he's hiding under Ella's bed."

"
Nope," Rebecca said. "I checked there too." Over her shoulder, she threw her son a scolding look.
I'll deal with you later, mister.

"
It's just us chickens," she said. "Cluck, cluck."

This set Ella off into a round of clucking and flapping her arms.

Rebecca grinned. "Homework before pizza. Go! Both of you."

The
"chicken" raced down the hall, her scowling brother plodding behind.

R
ebecca ordered a pizza for the kids.

Not in the mood for such high carbs, she pulled a container from the refrigerator, lifted the lid and sniffed. "Good God, what
was
this?"

Whatever it had been, it wasn't identifiable anymore, and she scooped it out into the garbage can under the sink. On the bottom shelf of the fridge, she found
the leftover Greek salad from last night.
That'll do.

She settled into the armchair in the corner of the living room and polished off the salad while taking in
the chaos of the living room. Wesley had always loathed coming home to a messy house, so she'd spend hours tidying up before he came home. Since he'd moved out, she'd become lax in her housekeeping. It was kind of liberating.

"
We gotta clean sometime," she muttered, strolling into the kitchen and setting the empty salad container in the dishwasher.

Back in the living room, s
he gathered up Ella's sweater and Colton's hockey uniform and threw on a load of laundry. She put away Colton's Xbox and gathered up Ella's half-naked Barbies that were scattered over the sofa. She also wiped what looked like dried peanut butter off the coffee table.

Then she turned on the
laptop that sat on the desk in the corner of the living room. Planning to pay the electricity bill, she logged into the joint checking account. "What the―"

The account showed a negative balance.
Wesley.

R
ebecca wanted to cry. Next week the mortgage payment was due. That meant they'd be going into the overdraft again.

She cl
icked to view the check for two thousand dollars that Wesley had written. It had been made out to Jeffrey Dover, one of the guys her husband played cards with every week. It wasn't the first time he'd owed someone money.

Suddenly, she didn
't feel like crying. She wanted to strangle Wesley.

The phone rang.

Seeing the name on the call display, she muttered, "Damn."

"Hey, Rebecca," Wesley said when she picked up.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She was being snide, but she doubted he'd pick up on her sarcasm.

He didn't.
"I wanted to thank you for being so agreeable about Colton."

"
Yeah, that's me. Agreeable."

There was a pause.

"You sound pissed," he said.

"
I am."

"
What's up?"

"
There's no money in the bank account."

"
Oh yeah. I was going to mention that check, but I forgot."

"
How could you forget two thousand dollars?"

"
I'll make it back next week. We're playing double stakes."

"
Jesus, Wesley! You can't guarantee you'll win at poker. Besides, where are you going to get the money to play?"

"
Mike said he'd front me the money."

"
And what if you lose?"

"
You sure have a lot of faith in me. No wonder I feel so shitty all the time. I can't win with you."

"
Don't make this about me. You're the one who put us in the hole again. I'm doing everything I can to keep us afloat."

At least until the divorce comes through
, she thought.
Then I can save my own money.

"
Oh yeah. You're so wonderful to be supporting us all." There was acid in his voice.

"
What are
you
doing to provide for your kids?" she snapped. "My lawyer and I would like to know."

There was a low growl
on the other end of the line. "Rebecca, we managed this separation without a lawyer interfering. That's because we're reasonable adults, and we're thinking of our kids' best interests. I should move back. We can work things out. I'll go see someone—a shrink, if you want."

Her eyes watered.
Why does life have to be so hard?

Part of her wanted to beg him to move back home.
Maybe she
was
contributing to Wesley's employment problem and anger. How good could his self-esteem be if she kept nagging him? She should be more supportive. Her husband was a proud man who'd hit a crossroads in his working life. The economy wasn't helping either. Up one week and down the other. It made finding full-time employment very difficult. Wesley wasn't the only person looking for work. As for his anger issues, counseling could help.

But he won
't go.
She'd tried before.

"
Leave things as they are," she said, drained of all energy.

"
But how can we fix this if―"

"
We
can't
fix this, Wesley. Our marriage is over."

S
ilence.

Rebecca juggled the phone and wiped a sweaty palm on her hip. She heard a clock ticking somewhere in the house and the kids giggling
down the hall.

"
Wesley?"

No reply.

"Wesley!"

"
I've got a lead on a job," he said finally, his voice icy. "It's up north. Fort McMurray."

"
Did you go for an interview yet?"

"
I'm heading up there tomorrow morning. I won't be back until Sunday. How about we talk about everything when you get back from Cadomin? By the way, how's everything at work? I heard they were laying people off."

Tell him you
're going to quit Alberta Cable and start a business of your own. Don't be such a coward!

For the past year or so
, she'd been playing with the idea of owning a bed and breakfast outside of Edmonton yet close enough to the highway that she could advertise to travelers. Every time she'd considered bringing it up with Wesley, she froze.

What I do doesn
't matter now. Not to him.

"
Everything's fine," she said. "We'll talk later."

"
Becca?"

She sighed.
"Yeah?"

"
Enjoy your little holiday."
Slam.

She
was left holding a dead phone.

At 8:50 Rebecca poured a small glass of white wine and sank into the faux suede recliner in the living room. She released a soft groan and mentally shook off the remnants of her day.

The kids were in bed. Ella was probably already asleep, dreaming of fairies and flowers. Colton had been playing
Jade Empire on his Xbox 360. She'd given him until nine, then lights out. Of course she'd have to remind him more than a few times. That came with the territory of being a mom. She recalled reading with a flashlight under the covers when she was about Colton's age.

She smiled at the memory.

Thinking of her upcoming holiday, she began her nightly ritual. First she turned on the TV for noise. It comforted her to hear someone else's voice besides her own. Some nights she listened to music. Anything other than listening to the house breathe and creak and groan. She also turned on a light in the kitchen and bathroom, plus the lamp by her chair. She didn't like the shadows or walking into a pitch-black room. One never knew what was lurking in the dark.

Or
in the fog.

Back in 2007
, a serial child abductor had terrorized Edmonton. Reporters had dubbed him "The Fog" because he struck on foggy nights. She'd cried when she heard about the children's bodies found in the woods.

The Fog was gone now, yet when s
he thought of the open garage door, she shivered.
Forget about it, silly.