The Frailty of Flesh (25 page)

Tain was tucking the last photo into a folder. He looked up as she slowly walked back to the table. “I guess this means dinner’s off?”

“You should eat something.”

“So should you. Sit. I’ll get you a plate.” He put up his hand. “Don’t argue.”

When he returned he had two plates and utensils. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“No. But help yourself.”

He left and when he came back he had two glasses of water.

While Tain ate she poked at the food and finally tried a bit of chicken.

“How’s your stomach?” he asked.

Ashlyn reached for the water. “Seems okay.”

“That’s good. Go slow, though. Just in case.”

She swallowed and set the glass down. “Craig said you’d called at first.”

“I just wanted to touch base. Smythe got in my face after you left. I had a chance to talk to Christopher, though.”

“Really?” She knew the look on Tain’s face and wasn’t about to get her hopes up. “How’d you manage that?”

“Luck. He’s completely shut off. I told him we knew Shannon didn’t kill Jeffrey.”

“How’d he respond?”

“He was startled, but in control enough not to say much. I tried to persuade him to help us find her, but he completely shut down.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want us to find her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well”—Ashlyn reached for her water again and took another drink—“we have the statement from the neighbor, which supports the idea that there’s been long-term abuse at the Reimer house. Maybe Christopher wants her to stay away. You know what Mrs. Pratt said, about Jeffrey clinging to his sister and crying that morning, then chasing her down the road. Shannon’s had enough, decides to run away, which is what her friends tell us as well. Somehow Jeffrey finds out and follows her. Christopher goes after them. Maybe he’s after Jeffrey, not realizing Shannon’s picked her little brother up. The parents pursue them. Maybe they catch them. Jeffrey ends up dead, Shannon injured and on the run.” She shrugged. “The doctor said she’d been beaten. Maybe she tried to protect Jeffrey and couldn’t save him. Christopher thinks if his sister comes home his parents will finish the job.”

“But why lie and tell us she did it?”

“Don’t abused kids often lie to protect their abusers?”

“Are you asking me as a person or as a cop?”

He stared at her for a moment, until she looked at her plate. “Tain, I never—”

He put his hand over hers. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I have no right to pry.”

“Getting back to your question”—he let go of her hand—“a lot of kids do lie to protect their abusers. Especially parents. They feel if the parent is taken away it will destabilize their life, and they’re conflicted by a sense of obligation. They’re supposed to love their parents. Christopher’s eleven. Old enough to know things aren’t right and old enough to be afraid of what will happen to him if his parents go to jail.”

“Do you really think he’d rather live with his parents if he knows they killed his brother? Wouldn’t he be in constant fear?”

“Maybe he thinks he can take care of himself. After all, the neighbor said he was the one who fought back.”

“And if Shannon knows the police think she killed Jeffrey, it’s one sure way to keep her from coming home, so in a weird way, Christopher’s protecting her.” Ashlyn shook her head. “This whole case is such a mess.”

“You didn’t learn anything promising?”

“Actually, I did.” She gave him a quick recap of what Sims had discovered about Richard Reimer’s businesses. “I’ll chase it down tomorrow.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather keep an eye on Luke Geller?”

“I think I’d be too tempted to throttle him.”

Tain nodded and stood. She followed him to the kitchen with her plate and glass.

He set his dishes in the sink. “Ash—”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded and forced a smile as she put her dishes on the counter. “We have to deal with this sooner or later.”

He walked to the door and she followed. After he put his shoes on he said, “Give me a call. Let me know what you find out tomorrow.”

“I will.” Ashlyn shut the door behind him. There was silence from upstairs. She returned to the kitchen to rinse the dishes and put the food away. Just another way of avoiding the real problems in her life. Craig would leave in the morning and be gone for at least one night.

She closed the refrigerator and stopped to look at one of the photos of them together. She could cover the physical distance between them in half a minute, but what would it take to overcome the uncertainty she now carried? Whoever said time healed all wounds didn’t know what they were talking about. Time let infections take hold. Wounds festered. In the few days since their argument the tension had distorted her judgment. The threads of doubt were undermining the strength of her convictions about the person Craig was, about their relationship and their future, and she knew if they didn’t try to sort things out before he left it would only make it harder to work through the issues.

Fighting with him was just so exhausting.

Another photo, of her in a kayak just before they went on a camping trip in September. Craig had said that was one of the best things about her, she never stood still.

He’d said that was why she’d been able to save his life. She could process a situation in a moment, make a choice and act on her decision automatically. Maybe that was the root of their current problems: too much thinking.

She went into the pantry off the kitchen and pulled out a storage bin. Once she’d removed the items she was after, she left a few of them in the downstairs hall closet and carried the rest upstairs.

When she reached the bedroom she paused. Should she knock? It seemed ludicrous that something that would never have been a consideration for her before now weighed on her mind. She opened the door.

Craig stood beside the bed as he folded a shirt and placed it in his carry-on suitcase.

“You’ll need these.” Ashlyn walked over to him and set the scarf and gloves down. “I left your boots and coat downstairs.”

He zipped up the suitcase but didn’t look at her. “Thanks.”

She watched him pick up the case and leave the room. His response had sounded choked and forced. Ashlyn followed him downstairs.

When she reached the landing he glanced at her as the color crept up from his neck into his face. Everything he needed was together: suitcase, boots, coat, keys.

He straightened up but still didn’t look directly at her. “It’s not the same.”

“I know.”

Craig turned and walked to the dining room, then stopped.

“Everything’s in the box,” she said as she walked down the hall toward him.

He grabbed the box from the floor and put it on the table. “Everything’s messed up,” he muttered as he started to sort through the files. “Couldn’t you just leave it?”

Within minutes he had the files emptied and the photographs and reports reorganized. Craig had always kept the house neat and tidy, but she’d never seen him so anal about case files before. Instead of arguing about it or blaming Tain, she leaned back against the doorjamb and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

He stuck the folders in the box and stood still. “Do you think I was wrong?”

The hesitation was unavoidable. Was he talking about walking out or staying on the case?

Craig turned then and looked at her. “You saw these photos.”

She nodded.

“How hard do you have to grab someone before you bruise them?” He walked over to her. “And if they’re wearing a coat?”

“I told you I took care of it.”

“How could you expect me to just let it go? The whole thing was my fault. If I hadn’t been late, if I’d called, if I hadn’t been sidetracked by that reporter, none of this would have happened.”

“Look, if you want to beat yourself up over this, I can’t stop you. But Byron Smythe made his own choices. When he grabbed me I kicked him so hard I think I dislocated his knee.”

Craig’s face was tight. “Guys like him need to be taught a lesson.”

“So you tracked him down and gave him a taste of his own medicine?”

“No. I’m just saying—” He stopped and turned back to the table, hands on the box.

She looked at him.
What are you saying?
That’s what she wanted to ask. “Bruises, a sprained wrist. Smythe was worked over pretty good.”

“He deserved it.”

“Craig, you don’t mean that.”

He grabbed the box off the table and brushed past her without meeting her gaze. Once the box of files was put down beside his suitcase, Craig turned and walked back to her. He reached for her arm and pulled up her shirtsleeve. “Look what he did to you.”

When she didn’t look at her arm or at him, he cupped her face with his hands. “You don’t expect me to let him get away with that?”

“And what if he presses charges? Even if he doesn’t, you put this on me?”

His brow wrinkled. “Wait. You think…” He let go of her. “How could you think that?”

“What am I supposed to think? Listen to yourself.”

“You actually think I’d assault him.”

Half of her felt like crying, the other burned with anger. “I think you’ve gotten used to handling things on your own, without even consulting me. Treating me like a damsel in distress you need to protect.”

“Where the hell do you get that from?”

“Vish Dhaval.”

Craig’s jaw went slack.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the phone calls, the threats?”

“Who told you?”

“What difference does that make? You don’t respect me enough to tell me what’s going on?”

“So you go through my desk. Doesn’t explain why you were snooping through Luke’s, though.” His eyes blazed and he held up a hand before she could say anything. “Yeah, I saw you.”

“You’re avoiding the issue. If you’d told me yourself I never would have been put in that position.”

“You could have come to me.” He tapped his chest. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “That’s not fair. You made a choice to keep this from me.”

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair. I used to think you trusted me. Maybe sometimes I’d screw up, and maybe sometimes I’d have to own up to that, but deep down I thought you knew me better than this. You’ve been carrying so much guilt over Lori’s shooting and you won’t even admit it to yourself. Every time we talk about work, my cases, my problems, it’s always there. I didn’t want anything else hanging over your head.”

“You talk about me not trusting you, but you didn’t even give me a chance to work through this with you. All this time with you not talking and I’m left thinking you blame me.”

“Ash, if you want to be mad at me for trying to protect you, fine. You go right ahead. Hate me for it. I’m the bad guy here. Can’t be too hard for you to believe that. I mean, you’re so sure I beat up Smythe.”

“You stormed out of here and you never came home. Next time I see Smythe he’s…” She swallowed. “Zidani called me into his office. He had someone photograph my bruises. If Smythe decides to file an assault charge…” She stopped.

“Did Zidani tell you about Vish’s threats?”

“No. How—”

“Then who was it?”

“Craig, it doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe not to you, but it does to me. Unless you’re the one who’s been going through my desk for months now, taking things.”

“Why on earth would I take things from your desk?”

“I saw you go through my desk today. You could have asked me anything, Ashlyn, anything. Instead you go behind my back and sneak around.”

“That’s not fair, Craig. We’ve barely been speaking. Luke tells me about the threats—”

“Luke.” He walked past her and headed up the stairs. “Big surprise.”

She followed him to their bedroom and the master bathroom. “This isn’t about Luke or Vish or Lori. This is about us. If I could take it back I wouldn’t have gone through your desk. I just want us to get back to where we were.”

He zipped the bag of toiletries and walked past her to the bedroom door. “It’s too late for that.”

“Wait a minute. You keep things from me for months, and I’m supposed to give you the benefit of the doubt because your intentions are good? I make a mistake and that’s it? No second chances?”

“You don’t even understand why I have to finish this investigation. Admit it. You don’t want me to go to Kelowna.”

“Honestly, no. I don’t want you to go. But I can accept that this is important to you.”

“You think digging out my boots and gloves makes up for everything? You doubt me, Ashlyn.” He pointed at her, then looked away, balling his hand into a fist. “The one person I thought I could count on for support, and you doubt me.” He turned back to face her. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Probably the same way Steve feels about you investigating him.”