Naomi sometimes felt as if she was an actress on one of those reality television shows, living out a drama of sex, love, and betrayal. Ever since she’d found the photos of Adam’s ex on his computer, she’d been on edge, but not completely in a bad way. Her sex with Adam was hotter than it had ever been. They’d met after work Monday in a bar downtown and done the deed in one of the toilet stalls in the ladies’ bathroom. Adam had performed in record time and only just gotten out the door before a group of university girls came in, talking about some guy who’d been trying to pick one of them up. Naomi had adjusted her skirt and walked past them with wobbly legs and a sore back from where Adam had pressed her up against the stall door. She still felt a bit tender this Tuesday morning.
She stood up and clapped her hands. Her grade four students got back into their seats and the chatter stopped. The student teacher from Queen’s took over the math lesson and Naomi gratefully found a chair and empty desk at the back of the room where she marked notebooks while half-listening to the teacher-in-training giving her lesson on decimals. The kids were paying attention and all was going well. Nobody noticed when Naomi slipped out to get a coffee in the staff room.
“You, too?” Liam Brody was leaning against the counter holding a cup of coffee and smiling at her. They were alone in the sun-drenched kitchenette, which contained the coffee machine, kettle, and microwave for communal use. Liam had arrived at the school in the fall to take over retiring Mrs. Humphries’s grade five class and had used every opportunity to flirt with Naomi even though he knew she was living with Adam. She didn’t mind. In fact, the idea of having sex with Liam had begun to dominate her daydreams. He was early twenties and a soccer player with the lean body type and long sandy hair that she liked.
“Thank God for student teaching weeks.” She smiled and brushed against him as she reached for her coffee mug.
“You smell good today.” He leaned in and inhaled the scent from her hair. “Like roses after a spring rain.”
“Have you been teaching love poetry again?” She gave him a playful shove in the arm. His biceps felt rock hard and a spasm of longing made her bite her bottom lip so as not to moan.
He turned sideways and reached across her to lift the coffee pot from the machine. “Allow me.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
As he poured, he looked at her and said, “I wonder if you might like to help me work on a lesson plan Thursday after school, that is, if you aren’t busy.”
She tilted her head, knowing this made her look cute while showing off the large diamond stud earrings Adam had given her on their six-month dating anniversary. “Why, Adam has a track meet on Thursday in Ottawa with his team and won’t be home until after supper. I think I have some time to help you out.” She was supposed to be home to watch Ben and Olivia, but they could fend for themselves for an hour. She’d make up some excuse that Adam would buy later if they ratted her out.
“I’d heard Adam was taking the track team to Ottawa. How coincidental is it that I need help on the exact same day?”
This time, Liam’s arm pressed against her breasts as he returned the coffee pot to the machine. Naomi slopped some of the coffee onto the floor and used both hands to lower her mug to the counter. “Shall I come in … or I should say, to your office when the kids leave?” she asked.
Liam’s breathing quickened. “Why don’t we meet off-site, say the Holiday Inn? We can spread out and relax.”
“Why, that sounds delightful. I look forward to sharing some of my best teaching tricks.”
She glanced back when she reached the door to the staff room. Liam was watching her walk away, and she was happy she’d put on a tight grey skirt and high heels. She knew that she should feel some guilt at setting up this rendezvous with Liam, but ever since she found the photos of Jane on Adam’s computer, she felt that the fidelity rule was off the table. Lusting after his ex was way worse than her having a meaningless physical encounter with another man. Not to mention, it would be nice to be with someone closer to her own age. She wouldn’t have to sneak looks at her iPhone after sex like she did with Adam, who said that he couldn’t understand her need to be constantly online.
At seven thirty that evening, Marci Stokes was waiting in her car for Officer Stonechild to arrive on the side street where Stonechild had told her to park, a few blocks from Jane Thompson’s apartment. She wasn’t convinced that Jane would open up to her, but didn’t mind giving the plan a try. At the very least, this would get her back into the good graces of Stonechild, and hopefully Rouleau. A truck pulled up behind her and she recognized Stonechild at the wheel. She got out of her car and met Stonechild in the road.
“Jane Thompson got home twenty minutes ago,” Stonechild said. “Here’s a recorder. Turn it on and leave it in your pocket. It’s sufficiently powerful to record the conversation so that it can be used in court if necessary.”
Marci accepted the device and made sure she knew which button to push before slipping it into the pocket of her coat. “Any words of wisdom?”
“Tell Jane that you want to help her get her story out. Don’t overplay your hand or she’ll get suspicious.” Stonechild gave a sideways smile. “I have my doubts about this, as you must, too. Jane doesn’t strike me as a woman who’s going to spill her guts, but she might let her guard down enough to give us a lead. Rouleau asked that we make an attempt.”
“I’ll give it the old college try. Where will you be?”
“Not far. I’ve got a spot to watch in the backyard. If you run into any trouble or feel threatened, walk over to one of the back windows and wave. I’ll get to you within a minute or two.”
“Great. I feel much safer, although if she wants to off me, a few minutes might be too much leeway.”
“If she sees me, you won’t get anything out of her.” Stonechild appeared to reconsider. “I could follow you up the stairs and hide in the hallway.”
“No, your first plan is better. I can handle myself.”
Marci left Stonechild and walked two blocks over to Regent Street to stand in front of Jane’s apartment building. The main door was locked, and she rang the buzzer to Jane’s apartment. She had to buzz a second time before Jane came on the intercom. Marci spoke quickly before Jane could tell her to go away.
“It’s Marci Stokes. I bought you a coffee the other night and wanted to make sure you’re okay.” No response. She thought of Stonechild’s lack of faith in her ability to draw Jane out and searched for something to make a connection. “I’ve been worried about you.” A few more seconds passed and she made one last attempt. “I’m here as a concerned friend only. Strictly off the record.”
Silence for almost half a minute, and then the buzzer sounded to let her in. Marci jumped across the space and grabbed the door. She pushed and walked into the narrow entranceway at the bottom of the stairwell. She could hear male voices in a first floor apartment that faded as she climbed the stairs. Jane’s apartment took up the entire second floor of the house. The carpet on the landing was stained and nearly worn through in front of the door. She tapped lightly and waited. Streaky light filtered in through the dirty window high up on the end wall, casting the landing in gloomy greyness.
It took a while for Jane to open the door, but as soon as she did, she stepped into the hallway and shut it behind her. She was dressed to go out in jeans, running shoes, and a jacket. Her hair was damp from a recent shower. She stepped past Marci and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Jane was halfway down the stairs before Marci could respond. She hurried after her, hoping that Stonechild would realize what was going on, but not counting on it. Hadn’t Stonechild said that she’d be watching from the back of the house? Still, Marci rationalized that she should be safe outside if Jane decided to turn on her, although she strongly doubted this would happen. Her reporter instinct told her that Jane would rather have her company than kill her.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Marci called as she ran to catch up. “Or a cup of coffee?” She tried not to breathe hard and let Jane know how dreadfully out of shape she was. God, she needed to get on an exercise regimen. She hoped Stonechild heard the front door slam or her yelling to Jane.
Jane looked back over her shoulder. “Sure, why not? I know the perfect place for a glass of wine.”
Jane appeared in a buoyant mood and Marci wondered what had changed since their last encounter. She was intrigued, but remembered Stonechild’s warning and didn’t press for information until they were settled in high-back chairs at a table next to the large brick fireplace in an establishment named Tom’s Place, a restaurant and bar that had been around for ages, or so Jane told her. “Adam and I used to come here for supper when we first started dating. I imagine that it’s too staid for Naomi, given the lack of trendy decor that her generation prefers.”
Marci marvelled at the way Jane put her ex-husband in his place with one dry observation about his much-too-young girlfriend. As she lifted her gin and tonic and eased her aching feet out of her shoes, she spotted Stonechild slipping into a chair on the other side of the dividing curtain of fabric that separated the tables. Marci forced her eyes to rest on Jane’s face so as not to have her turn to see who had caught her attention. Jane lifted her glass of Cabernet Sauvignon to her lips. The satisfied smile on her face as she swallowed the expensive wine — Marci had ordered the very best — reminded her that before Jane’s trial and incarceration, this woman had had standing in the community and a solid middle-class lifestyle. “Do you miss it?” she asked.
“Miss it?”
“Your life … before all this.”
Jane ran her tongue along her bottom lip to remove a drop of wine as she pondered the question. “Some of it. My kids and my house, but not my marriage. Money is nice to have because it buys freedom, but I’m not as enamored with possessions after my time inside. Living in prison has a way of putting what’s important into perspective.” She laughed. “Maybe, everyone should have to spend a year locked up.”
“Not something I’d like to see put into law, but I can understand what you’re saying. Have you had the chance to visit your kids?”
“No, but I hope to soon. Adam wants to make sure I’m not charged with Devon’s murder before he invites me. I lost custody when I was inside.”
“He doesn’t trust in your innocence?”
Jane’s laugh was harsher this time. “I’ve done nothing but confuse him since even before I was accused of the affair.”
Marci hunched forward so that she was closer to Jane. Now was the moment. “If I was to write about you, what would you want me to tell readers? What don’t they know about you that will help get your side of the story out?” She lifted her drink to her lips and tried to appear relaxed while she waited.
Jane’s eyes turned from pensive to anguished. “People only want the sensational, and take what is presented on the surface as fact. The more titillating the better. I was painted a seductress who preyed on her twelve-year-old student. People believed the worst because they had no interest in looking any deeper.”
“And what would they have found if they had looked below the surface?”
“It’s too late, Ms. Stokes. I could have used you four years ago. Now, I have nobody to rely on but myself, and you know what?”
“What?”
“I think I prefer it this way.” Jane looked around the room and as if imprinting it in her memory. She turned to glance behind her and Marci held her breath, relieved when Jane turned back around without appearing to have seen Stonechild. “How long have you been a reporter?” Jane asked before taking a long drink from her glass.
“Going on twenty-five years. I think about changing careers every so often but can’t seem to make the leap. Reporters aren’t as relevant as they once were with all the new social media, but I believe we still need objective, informed reporting, maybe now more than ever.”
“There was a day I couldn’t ever see myself being anything but a teacher. I might become one again someday if I get a chance. I miss it.” Jane drank the last of her wine. “I should be going.”
“Can I get you another glass?”
Jane stood and smiled down at her. “To loosen my tongue? I’m sorry, but I’m heading out now. Thank you for the drink and the chat, even if you’re doing this to write a story. I appreciated the diversion from my solitary existence. It was particularly nice to drink a good glass of wine again.” She took a few steps away.
Marci called to her. “You haven’t told me the entire story, have you, Jane?”
Jane squared her shoulders before turning back around. “No, but maybe someday I will. I have your card if I ever feel the need.” She smiled and continued walking toward the entrance. A moment later and she was gone.
Stonechild rounded the corner and took her vacated chair. She reached out a hand and said, “I’ll take the recorder. Not a confession but interesting all the same. Stay here and finish your drink. I’m going to follow her once she’s had a few seconds head start. Sorry you’ll have to hike all the way back to your car, but thanks for this.”
Marci reached for the tape recorder in her pocket and passed it across the table. “No problem. What do you make of what she said?”
Stonechild looked toward the door and back at her before taking the recorder and slipping it into her jacket pocket. “Hard to tell, but I’d better be going. See you around?”
“Yeah, see you around.”
After Stonechild had followed Jane into the night, Marci called over the waitress and ordered another gin and tonic. She took out her iPad and typed as much as she remembered of their conversation into a Word document before it faded. Somewhere in their cryptic, jumbled exchange was the making of a story. While she’d promised not to write one now, who knew what the future would hold?
The waitress set down her fresh drink on the table and Marci thought, What the hell? I’ve got all night and nowhere to be. She opened a new page and started typing an opening paragraph. She’d start a profile piece and flesh it out with facts from Jane’s life and trial. If Jane was to be charged with murder sometime down the road, she’d be just that much farther ahead.
Kala followed Jane back to her apartment, cutting through the alleyway and pushing through the opening in the fence. She saw the light go on and off in the kitchen and then on in the room that Kala had decided was the bedroom. A moment later and Jane was framed in the window dressed in her nightgown as she reached up to pull the blind closed. She stood looking out for several seconds with her hand raised to draw the blind, face tilted back to stare into the sky.
What are you thinking about? Kala stayed crouched near the raspberry bushes letting her mind replay the conversation she’d overheard between Jane and Marci. Jane played her cards close to her chest, but Kala had the feeling that Jane was killing time, waiting for something to unfold. She tried to put herself in Jane’s place. What would she do if placed in the same situation? The certainty of what that would be struck her full force. She had to remind herself that Jane was not her and might have a different reaction, but the idea was enough for Kala to change her plans and return to the station.
The office was empty and she left the overhead lights off, crossing to her desk and turning on her desk lamp. She took a while to retrieve the videos they’d made of Jane’s interviews but was able to find them filed in the common drive. She turned up the volume to listen for every inflection in Jane’s voice while she studied her facial expressions. The camera in the interview room was mounted high on the wall and had captured Jane’s every move like a bug under a microscope. When she’d viewed them a second time, she took out the recording that Marci had made that evening and listened to it several times. Once satisfied that she’d gotten all she could out of the tapes, she slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes to think.
We’ve been looking at this all wrong. The know-
ledge made her weary. If she was right, Jane Thompson would look even guiltier of Devon’s murder. Kala had found herself drawn to the silent strength of the woman and a part of her had been hoping that she hadn’t resorted to revenge and killed Devon Eton with no regard to the consequences. She was going to have to face the likely possibility.
Kala opened her eyes and checked her watch. It was nearly midnight and much too late to come up with a plan. She got out of her chair and grabbed her jacket from the desk where she’d tossed it. Long past time to head home to Taiku and get him outside for his nighttime run.
Her cell rang as she was pulling into the driveway. Kala threw the truck into park and felt around for her phone, which she’d tossed on the seat next to her. She checked the number and thought it looked familiar. “Stonechild here.”
“Kala, it’s Fiona.”
“Fiona? I can hardly hear you.”
“’S … me, all right. I thought you should know I’m leaving. Four months in Calgary.”
Her speech was slurred and Kala was having trouble making sense of what she was saying. “Why are you calling me now?”
“I want you to stop chasing my husband. We’re getting back together….” Her voice trailed away.
“There’s nothing going on between us. How many times do I have to tell you?” Kala wondered if she had something written on her forehead that only Fiona could see, or perhaps it was her highly tuned radar for female competition, because Kala had never knowingly given her cause to be jealous. “Have you been drinking, Fiona? Where are you?”
“I love him,” Fiona said and broke into noisy, sloppy sobs. “I need him,” she wailed between hiccups.
“Go to bed and sleep it off,” Kala said. “Things will look brighter in the morning.” Or not, if you have a hangover. “I’m signing off.”
Kala disconnected, the words, “Need you to stay away,” playing in her ear. Just what she wanted to hear at the end of a long day.
She stepped out of the cab of the truck and onto the ground. The wind had come up and she could hear waves crashing onto the shoreline even from this distance. The clouds were scudding across the sky overhead but not yet thick enough to block the stars completely. A crescent moon cast light onto the lake. She shivered inside her jacket and thought about skipping the walk with Taiku, but knew she couldn’t after he’d been stuck inside all day. She’d take her penance for neglecting him and take him for a long walk the length of Old Front Road. Perhaps, the exercise would clear her head and help her to fall asleep when she finally crawled into bed.