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EXTREME MALICE

Extreme Malice is a book of Fiction. All characters in the story are the imagination of the author, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 RE Swirsky

Smashwords 2nd Edition 2014, License Notes

2nd Edition Copy Edited by Kathrin Depue, The Writing Mechanic

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a separate copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN 978-0-9878574-2-2

EXTREME MALICE

By R E Swirsky

2nd Edition

July 2014

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

## 

## Chapter 1

"The Crown has a legal duty to disclose all relevant information to the defense. The fruits of the investigation which are in its possession are not the property of the Crown for use in securing a conviction but the property of the public to be used to ensure that justice is done."

R. V. Stinchcombe 1991

Supreme Court of Canada

### Saturday, September 17th 6:45 pm

There was nothing unusual about the dinner party. Jack and Donna Gardener were regularly invited next door for dinner at Fred and Tracey Andersons. The Andersons, with their son Josh, lived in the house next door well before Jack and Donna moved in two years ago. The only difference about tonight's dinner party was the conversation.

Jack was in his early thirties and was the epitome of a successful man. He was just under six feet tall, strong, fit, and had a regimented fitness program. Most things in his life were well structured. He worked as a salesman in Bluffington, a small town outside Calgary, for a restaurant and bar equipment supplier that operated out of the Midwest United States. The company sold a variety products, but the lower priced items, such as storage bags and containers, cleaning supplies, and other consumable items, were the company's bread and butter. Jack's territory was the three western provinces of Canada. Although most of Jack's time was spent in the Bluffington office processing orders over the phone and by email, he was still required to make monthly road trips to Vancouver, Edmonton, and Saskatoon to drum up new clients. He was good at his job and business was strong.

His wife Donna, in her late twenties, worked at the university just blocks away as a student counselor. They met at a Positive Outlook seminar just over two years ago, and Donna fell for Jack quickly. Donna, with her poised stature, slim figure, and beach blonde hair, was a perfect fit for Jack. It didn't take long for them to become romantically entwined. Donna's parents and sister endorsed the relationship; it seemed obvious to everyone who knew them that Jack and Donna were made for each other. Donna was happier than ever, and Jack's engaging wit and polished mannerisms made him a pleasure to be around. He was a keeper.

It was a Saturday evening in late September. The trees on Founders Road already shed most of their leaves, and those that remained were deep golden in colour. The leaves waited patiently for the first winds from the north to rip them all away and leave the branches barren like old, arthritic, gnarled fingers.

Fred had a log burning on the fire when Jack and Donna arrived. The conversation started with casual conversation as it normally would; Jack said he would have to hit the road to Vancouver again for a few days starting late Sunday night.

"You're crazy, man," Fred said settling himself down at the table next to his wife, Tracey, and son, Josh. "I wouldn't be making that drive at night. And I hear there's a big storm coming through late tomorrow. A big one!" Fred was a short, chubby little man in his early forties; his youthful athleticism was buried under the high calorie meals he chowed down every day at lunch, and his once handsome features were faded like the colour of his thin patches of hair.

Jack always drove to Vancouver at night. He started making his night drives about a year ago. He would drive all night to his destination, sleep until mid-afternoon, and then work his contacts until late into the evening, often right up until the bars closed at two in the morning. He would then repeat this routine as he worked his way back home to Bluffington.

"Frankly, I love it. There's no traffic on the road, there's always some great late-night radio to catch. I wouldn't have it any other way. The storm's only supposed to have heavy rain."

"Oh, it sounds like more'n that to me, Jack. Could be some serious snow in the pass up there."

"It'll be fine. I've made this trip many times."

"Well, you wouldn't catch me driving at night out to the coast. And especially with a storm comin'. I prefer my five-minute walk to the office each day. No driving necessary."

Jack snickered at the image of Fred waddling his way down the street every morning.

"Oh Fred, you can be such a bore sometimes," Tracey piped in. "Can you see Fred driving anywhere? Ha! Why on Earth would Fred pay for fuel when he can walk? I can never get him out of this town. He always has some excuse. I still can't believe we are really going to Denver tomorrow. And even that, Denver? You couldn't take me someplace nice like Bermuda, or Hawaii?"

"It's a business trip, Tracey! You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Oh, and miss the excitement of a bunch of accountants talking about how fat their wallets are? Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for the world. Anyway, at least it's a break from this dump of a town." Tracey loved Fred's money, and getting him to part with it was Tracey's sole purpose in life.

"You don't really mean that, do you, Tracey?" Donna asked. "I've lived here all my life and think it's a lovely town. Especially here on Founders Road with the river out back. We just love jogging along the river, and I love these lots with the giant, old trees. This street is the dream location for anyone raising a family in this town. Jack and I couldn't be happier here."

Jack nodded in agreement.

"Twenty years we've lived here, Tracey," Fred added. "I have no complaints."

"Josh, what do you think of this town?" Jack asked. Josh sat at the table, quiet as always. He sipped on a diet Coke and waited for his mom to put dinner on the table. "You were born here and have lived in this same house your entire life. What are you now? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

Josh had jet-black, wavy hair and was tall and lean. He easily surpassed his father's 5'4" height. He was a natural athlete, like his father used to be, but he preferred academics—much to the disappointment of Fred and Tracey.

"Eighteen," Josh replied.

"So what's your take on all this?" Jack asked again.

"I guess it's okay. Never really gave it much thought."

"He probably can't wait to get out of this place. This town is stagnant. It offers nothing for young people these days," Tracey added.

"Tracey, I'm sure he doesn't think that. Do you, Josh?" Fred asked.

Josh forced a smile. He wasn't used to being the focus of the attention at these dinners. "I don't know. Maybe, sometimes."

"Really? The university is full of young people. Thousands of young people from around the globe come here. There are all kinds of activity for students to engage themselves in over there. And all those pretty girls at the university. You certainly wouldn't want to run away from them," Jack said.

Josh smiled and shifted uncomfortably again. "I guess not."

"Atta boy, Josh! That's the right attitude." Jack laughed.

"Oh, Jack. Josh isn't interested in girls. He's focusing on getting good grades, aren't you, Josh?" Tracey said. "He knows where his priorities are."

"Stop hounding the boy, Tracey. Josh, will do what he wants just like I did," Fred interjected.

"I'm just saying Josh doesn't have time for girls. He's busy studying and working on his grades. He's not interested in girls right now."

"You're talking like I'm not even here, mom."

"Don't be silly. You're here. Say what you want. Tell your dad you are not interested in girls right now."

"You're still doing it. You never really listen to what I say."

"Well I'm listening now. So you're saying you do want to get away from here. You want to leave Bluffington and go to school somewhere else?"

"You just don't listen, mom. I never said I wanted to go anywhere. I just sometimes wonder if I should leave. Maybe I should have gone to another city to go to university instead of staying here in town. Maybe I should just get away and be on my own for once. The other students who live on campus get to hang out all the time. They are together from when they get up in the morning to when they go to bed. I don't know..."

"Living right here in this house is good for you, and it's only a few blocks away from school," Tracey said.

"Well... that's what I mean. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something. Most other students are staying on campus, and I feel like an outsider. I always have to explain everything I do and everywhere I go to you, Mom. It's a big joke to my friends at school. I'm eighteen, and you still won't even let me have friends over to the house."

"It's not a joke. There's a huge benefit to living at home," Jack added.

"You won't have any loans or debt when you graduate. That makes it worth living at home," Fred said. "University costs a lot of money these days, Josh. You should be happy that you have an opportunity like this. Others don't get that. You'll graduate and be way ahead of the others financially."

"Oh, here he goes again," Tracey said. "Why does it always have to be about the money, Fred? There's more to learn in life than just how to make and save money."

"With you spending it the way you do, it's a damn good thing I'm as tight as I am. And you're the one telling him he has to live here and demanding to know what he does every moment of every day. Not me."

"Josh, you've been at the university for over a year now," Jack interrupted. "Wouldn't you find it hard now to just up and walk away from all the time you've put in so far?"

"Well, I guess... probably," Josh replied. He stared at his parents and shifted in his seat.

"So? What keeps you here? Is it your mom and dad? A girl?" Jack asked.

Donna gently nudged Jack in the arm as if to say, 'back off.'

Josh shook his head, and his eyes darted around the room. "What is it with you guys tonight? I'm fine with the way things are. I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want to answer these stupid questions anymore. Just let's talk about something else, please!"

"Josh? Is there something going on?" Tracey asked. "These aren't stupid questions. We just want the best for you, honey. Is there something we should know about? Is there something at the university?"

"No!" He said. He was annoyed at being pestered by his parents. "There's nothing going on. I'm happy, okay? Just leave it!" Josh yelled and stared hard at his mother. He glanced at Donna and Jack but said nothing. Jack smiled.

"Well it doesn't sound like it," Tracey said. "See, it's this damn town. Sometimes I wish we could all move."

"This town's just fine. I like it here and my business is here," Fred said. "Whatever Josh has going on is Josh's concern. If he wants to talk about it, he will." Fred smiled and winked at Josh.

Josh ignored his father's attempt to settle things. "So when's supper, Mom? I'm hungry."

The conversation moved to other topics. Jack loved going out with Donna, and he always tried to let her know how much he loved her. He touched Donna's foot with his own and rubbed it up and down her shin. This was a private gesture that he often used to show his affection towards her in public. Donna blew a kiss to Jack from across the table while Fred and Tracey were engaged in another debate about money. Jack smiled, tipped his wine glass to her, and mouthed the word 'later'. She licked her lips and smiled back.

Tracey presented the smoked salmon and Fred opened a bottle of Chilean Merlot. No one asked Josh what was bothering him, and, as always, every topic gave Tracey another reason to leave Bluffington or allowed her to point out another example of Fred's tight wallet.

Fred asked Jack to go pick the second bottle of wine out of the cellar just as Fred emptied the first into his wife's glass. This was Fred's little ritual. He only ever brought out one bottle for dinner and sent Jack down to select the second. It was Fred's way of flaunting his success. Jack knew what Fred was doing every time, but he shrugged it off because he knew it pleased Fred when he was allowed to flaunt his wealth.

The Andersons spent a lot of money renovating their home three years ago. Tracey got a new granite kitchen. As soon as the kitchen was completed, they gutted the three bedrooms on the second floor and replaced them with a large master bedroom and one guest room. They installed a grand oval staircase that ran from the second floor all the way through to the basement. The basement now included a new bedroom for Josh, a great room, and full bath at the bottom of the stairs. Next to the bath was the small temperature-controlled wine cellar. It was Fred's prized possession. It was constructed from exotic vitex wood from New Guinea. With the exception of the wine cellar, Josh had the lower level all to himself.

Before he asked to be excused for the evening, Josh mentioned that he wanted to stay over at his friend Davey's place Sunday night.

"We are working on a presentation that's due Monday morning," Josh said.

"Josh, your father and I are counting on you to take care of Googles while we are in Denver, and that means sticking around the house to let him out to do his business," Tracey said. Googles was their year-old beagle. "There will be no sleepover at Davey's while we're away, and you are not allowed to have anyone in the house while we're gone."

"Fine," Josh relented.

He quietly excused himself and slipped down to his room in the basement. A few minutes later, the soft music from Josh's acoustic guitar hummed in the background.

Jack and Donna left around ten. They wished Fred and Tracey a great time in Denver and invited them for dinner the weekend after they returned.

## 

## Chapter 2

### Sunday, September 18th 10:40 am

It would be a long drive to the coast with a good eleven to twelve hours of black highway and winding mountain roads. Jack began planning what needed to be done before departing around 7:30 in the evening. He would arrive just as the sun rose on the West Coast Monday morning. It was nearing midday on Sunday, and Jack still had a lot to do. The sky was fully overcast, and the clouds were clustering together in darkened tumbling masses, giving hints of the savage fury they planned to unleash by the time evening arrived. The wind would periodically gust and then settle to a complete calm—a tease to those who doubted the storm.

He told Donna he needed to go into the office downtown and then to the Calgary IKEA to pick up some tote boxes as he always did before he left on a long road trip. That was exactly what he did. At the office, he logged on to the computer and spent over an hour sorting through customer files and making a list of customers to see on this trip. He also made a list of cold contacts he wanted to hit in the North Vancouver area and in the interior of British Columbia on his way back. He would have to drive to Calgary to purchase the tote boxes he wanted for his files, supplies, and brochures. He no longer had the ones from his last trip; he always made a point to empty out his vehicle at the office upon his return, and others at the office eagerly snatched up the empty totes.

Jack was very particular about the exact tote boxes he wanted, and he preferred the ones IKEA sold. He would often carry the totes in with him when he met with his clients. He wanted to impress his clients with quality, and that included the tote boxes he carried his samples inside. He finished up at the office and drove to IKEA. He picked up his totes and then went to Best Buy where he spent almost an hour picking out two audio books for the trip. He called Donna from the Best Buy parking lot to tell her he was just going to top off his fuel before heading back home to Bluffington.

By the time Jack arrived home, the rain was falling steadily. Water was starting to pool on the road, and the wind picked up into a steady force that gusted heavily at times. The wind drove the rain hard at an angle against any object in its path, swirled it in another direction for a few moments, and then gusted and crashed it hard again.

Donna had supper on the table with a single lit candle when he returned home just before six. Jack had only one glass of wine from the bottle Donna opened for them to share over dinner; he would be on the road within the hour. After dinner, Jack took Donna upstairs and made love to her. He told her how much he loved her and that she was the best thing that ever happened to him.

The storm continued to strengthen and crashed down in full fury as Jack prepared to leave. Tree branches around the neighbourhood thrashed violently leaving a profusion of twigs, broken branches, and leaves ripped from their perches and scattered in the yards and along the street. The rain was falling sideways as Jack made the crazy dash out to his vehicle. He quickly tossed his suitcase into the rear hatch of his new Pathfinder SUV. He then struggled to open the driver's door as the wind pressed hard against it. He finally forced the door open against the wind and squeezed himself inside. Jack was fully drenched by the time he sat in the driver's seat. The wind slammed the door closed beside him. Lightning flashed and lit the drive. He tooted the horn twice as he always did when he backed out of the driveway. He set down Founder's Road on a course for the mountains. The time was precisely 7:30 p.m.

## Chapter 3

### Monday, September 19th 7:07 am

Jack checked his Blackberry as soon as he arrived at the Super 8 hotel in Abbottsford near the intersection of the Trans Canada Highway and Sumas Way. He had only one message. The call came in just after ten o'clock the night before, around the time he passed through the small mountain town of Golden. He was listening to the audio book at the loud volume he preferred, while focusing on maneuvering his vehicle through the slush covered road in the mountains of Roger's pass.

The message was from Donna reminding him to call her when he got settled. He saved her message and called her, but she wasn't home. He knew she would already be at work. He left a message saying he made it safely and that the weather at the coast was clear and calm. He said he loved her and would call her later in the evening. He then closed the blinds of his hotel room, set the alarm for two the next afternoon, put his Blackberry on silent and tried to get as much sleep as he could.

Jack woke to the alarm, quickly showered, and grabbed a quick breakfast of coffee, oatmeal, and a muffin in the lobby of the hotel where a small continental breakfast for guests was set up earlier. As arranged during each one of his stays at this hotel, a muffin and oatmeal was always kept aside for him for when he woke up in the afternoon—the start of his day.

He reviewed his contacts for the day, called his office, and spoke to his boss for ten minutes. Jack opened the trunk and reviewed the contents of some of the totes. Some had brochures and others product samples. The hand sanitizer dispensers, disposable latex gloves, and food storage bags were his biggest sellers over the past few years, and he always carried samples to hand out. Everything was in order. He jumped in his car and headed out to meet his first customer.

Jack always started with a low maintenance customer—one who faxed purchase orders in on a regular basis. This practice usually left him feeling upbeat and positive for the rest of the day. Today was no different, and by 6:00 p.m., he had dropped in on four customers and had one good new prospect.

He went to the Bootleg Bar in North Vancouver. The manager was young and enthusiastic, and Jack was sure he could drum up some business at this pub. He ordered a burger and called Donna. It was after 8:00 p.m. back home, but there was no answer. Jack wondered where she was, but it wasn't unusual for Donna to go for a run along the river. He left a message telling her the trip was going well, prospects looked good so far, that he loved her, and to call him when she got in.

He finished his meal and left the restaurant to keep making his way down his list of prospective clients. He would drop in on a few more bars before returning to Abbotsford for the night. Taking business meetings at pubs was the highlight for Jack on these trips. There was so much potential business, and each pub was as unique as the proprietor who ran the pub and the patrons he or she served.

A few hours later, Jack tried calling Donna again, but there was still no answer. His message was simpler this time. "Darling? Where are you? Please call me when you get in."

Jack continued to work his route until the last bar closed at two in the morning and began heading back to his hotel. He received no call from Donna. Just like the night before, he set the alarm for two in the afternoon, turned the ringer to silent, and rested his head on the pillow.

Jack was very tired, but sleep did not find him easily.

## Chapter 4

### Tuesday, September 20th 2:02 pm

Jack silenced the alarm, sat up, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His thoughts went immediately to Donna. He grabbed his cell and saw that he had eight missed calls and six messages. He quickly scrolled through the numbers. None were Donna. Assuming they were from his office, he decided to get cleaned up before he listened to the messages.

He quickly showered, dressed, and settled himself with his work journal and a ready pen as he played the first message, but it was not from the office.

"Jack, this is Shirley Knox from the University. I got your number from Donna's emergency contact list. Can you please call me when you get in? Donna didn't come in again today, and we are wondering if everything was okay. It's not like Donna not to call. Please call me back. Thanks."

Didn't come in again? What did Shirley mean by 'again'? He listened to the rest of the messages. All were from the office. The office could wait. He listened to Shirley's message again and then called Donna's cell. After six unanswered rings, it went to her voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message and immediately called Shirley at the University.

"Jack. What's going on? Is everything all right with Donna?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I'm in Vancouver, well Abbottsford, actually. I've been away since Sunday night. You said Donna didn't come in yesterday?"

"That's right. She didn't call in yesterday or today either. Where is she?"

"I honestly don't know. I've been unable to reach her. I left a few messages, but she never called me back. I'm real worried now... um... I'm not sure what to do."

"Oh my goodness. Could she be somewhere else maybe? At a friend's maybe?"

"No, not Donna. She called me when I was on the road Sunday night around ten. That was the last I heard from her. And you're saying she didn't even show up Monday morning?"

"No, she didn't. Is there anything I can do, Jack?" Shirley asked.

"Can you maybe drop by the house on your way home? You know where the house is. It's just a few blocks..."

"I'll go right now. I know your house. Just let me sort a few things here, and I'll go right over. I'll call you as soon as I'm at the house."

"Thanks, Shirley. I really appreciate your help."

"I'm sure she's fine. I'll call you later."

"There's a key under the flower pot by the back door. If she doesn't answer the door, please go inside and check on things."

Shirley hung up, and Jack felt entirely alone in his hotel room. Things had suddenly changed.

He called the office and spoke to Reginald, his boss. He didn't tell him anything about Donna but just said he might have to cut this trip short due to a family emergency. As he waited for the call from Shirley, he began to pack his things just in case he had to leave in a hurry.

Over an hour had passed, and Shirley still had not called back. He called Donna's cell once more, and it again went to voice mail. "Donna, honey, please call me. I'm worried now. Please call me."

Time passed slowly, and Jack thought through what to do next. For the first time in his life, he was not in full control of his immediate future. This was new, uncharted ground, and he knew when the phone call finally came, it would probably change his life forever.

He thought of Donna and all the time they spent together. He thought of how they had met and the short courting period they went through before tying the knot. He thought fondly on their honeymoon and the times they spent with her family and friends. His mind waded through the memories; each one was strong and clear. It felt like just yesterday that they purchased the home on Founders Road.

All the memories of the past two years rushed forward and left him swirling in the details of their life together. There were so many good memories: the trips away together, the mountain hikes, the long afternoon bike rides, and the evening jogs along the river path behind the house. His mind raced and extrapolated all that had occurred. The events of his life almost seemed to haunt him as he waded through each event. He could not stop the memories, and a chill crossed over his body. He could only fear the worst. All of the time they shared could not possibly be all for nothing. Though he only spent just over two years with Donna, it seemed a lifetime; it was as if they had always been sharing life together as one. His mind was tearing at the memories now, pulling them apart one by one, and analyzing the details.

He tried to shut the memories aside so he could gather his composure as he waited for the phone to ring. He knew he needed to be strong.

What was he expecting? Why was this waiting so difficult? Was hearing her voice in that last voice mail suddenly tearing him apart? Her voice was soft and gentle as it asked him to call her. He picked up his Blackberry and replayed the message she left him Sunday night. These were the last words he heard from Donna.

It was four thirty in the afternoon, nearly two hours after Jack talked to Shirley, when Jack's Blackberry finally rang. But it wasn't Shirley.

"Is this Jack Gardner?" the voice asked.

"Yes it is," Jack replied.

"Jack Gardner from 716 Founders Road, Bluffington?"

"Yes. Is this about Donna?"

"Jack, I am Constable Dave McMillan with the Bluffington RCMP. I have some difficult news. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"I wish you had someone with you right now, but there's no easy way to say this. I have to tell you that your wife is deceased."

"Deceased?" Jack asked. "You mean dead? I don't understand."

"Jack, please listen very carefully. I hope you are sitting down."

"Uh, I am, but what are you saying? Dead? How?" Jack replied weakly and sat on the edge of the bed. It was suddenly all too real for him, and he felt dizzy.

"Shirley Knox from the University went to your house and let herself in through the back door. She found your wife Donna on the master bed deceased."

"No," Jack whispered into the phone. "No, it can't be true. Please tell me you're lying. Please." Jack began to cry and dropped the phone away from his ear. The constable continued to speak, but Jack didn't really hear him. Minutes passed before Jack once again put the phone up to his ear. He heard only silence as the officer waited for Jack to come back on the line.

The officer asked what hotel Jack was staying in. He told him to remain at the hotel while an officer from Abbottsford was dispatched to meet him.

Jack again asked what happened and how she died, but the officer ignored his questions. He told Jack to remain calm until the officer arrived. The officer offered to stay on the line with Jack until then, but Jack declined saying he was okay at the hotel alone until someone showed up.

***

Jack was mystified when two detectives and a team of officers arrived at his hotel room door. It wasn't what he expected.

"Can you please tell me anything about what happened to my wife," Jack asked them immediately.

"I'm sorry sir," one of the detectives said. "We can't tell you anything more than what you've already been told. But you will have to come with us. We are taking you back to Bluffington on the next flight. These other officers will see to your possessions and make sure they are returned to you in Bluffington."

"What? I don't understand. What about my wife?"

The detective did not answer Jack. He motioned towards the door. Jack was allowed to grab only his coat, wallet and ID, and nothing else.

In route to the airport, Jack asked again for any details, but the officers said they had no details to offer. He would have to wait until they arrived back in Bluffington.

"Can I get you coffee or juice or something to eat, sir?" one officer asked as they boarded the plane. Jack refused. He had no appetite.

He remained calm as the flight lifted off, but quickly became distraught after asking for details again about his wife and again receiving no answers. Why would no one tell him any of the details? He received none of the information he wanted. He sobbed alone for a while and finally pulled himself together just as the plane landed in Calgary.

It was late in the evening when Jack, escorted by the police, arrived in Bluffington. Instead of taking him to his house, the officers escorted him into one of the tiny interview rooms at the local police station. Jack knew what was happening the moment the door was closed behind him, leaving him isolated in the concrete block room alone. The room was cold and barren and contained only a small metal table, two wooden chairs and a mirror. Jack sat down in the chair in the corner, and looked around. He spotted a red light on a camera tucked up in the corner. He looked at the wall to his right and knew that someone was watching him behind the two-way mirror.

Jack knew Donna's death was not natural; if it was, he wouldn't be in this situation. There were questions that needed answers. He quickly concluded that he was their prime suspect for what happened to his wife. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand and let out a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long night.

## Chapter 5

### Wednesday, September 21st 12:05 am

Detective Dean Daly walked into the interrogation room and lifted his arms in the air.

"Jack... I don't know what to say."

"How did Donna die, Dean? Nobody will tell me anything. I can't believe you all think I had something to do with this. You know me. I could never hurt Donna. How did she die, Dean?"

Jack and Dean met at the gym nearly two years ago. Jack was already a member at the gym when Dean was promoted to detective and relocated to Bluffington. The two hit it off immediately and soon began scheduling their gym time so that they could work out together. The workouts were soon followed by the occasional beer and golf game. They became close friends who got together every other day of the week. Dean knew all about Jack's life. Dean often shared details of his work in the field.

From what he knew of Dean's interrogation process, Jack could tell Dean was gearing up to start in on him. He accepted the fact that he might be at the station for hours still, but then where would he go when the interrogation was over?

Jack's thoughts suddenly wandered to some very odd questions considering his situation. His house was obviously off limits, so where was he to go when he was let out? He didn't even have a change of clothes. What was he to do? What would he say to his friends and his parents? For a moment, he almost forgot that his wife was dead.

"Jack, I need to ask you some questions. You know the drill. It could be a long night. Unless you killed her of course." Dean let a small grin cross his face, put his hands on the back of the empty chair, and leaned in towards Jack. The grin quickly vanished as Dean waited for a response.

"Of course not. You know I was in BC since Sunday. I'll tell you everything I can. How did she die?"

"I'll give you the details later. The point is, she didn't die from natural causes, and right now, I need to ask you some questions. Let's start with the last time you saw Donna. When and where?"

"Sure. We had dinner Sunday night about six. I left at seven thirty..."

Jack told Dean exactly when he left Bluffington and arrived in Abbottsford. He recapped his day in Abbottsford, who he saw, who he called, where he went, and when he went there. He told him everything. Dean asked for more details, and they danced from one day to the next, and repeated everything from Friday, then Monday, back to Saturday, then today, back to Sunday, and then all over again. Dean asked what they ate for dinner on Saturday night and Sunday night. Dean repeated some of the details back to Jack but left out or changed some fact, but Jack corrected him each time. He was getting annoyed at the game Dean was playing.

Dean was relentless; he made Jack go through the finer points over and over again until Jack was almost losing his patience. Their friendship was fading, but Jack stood firm under the repeated scrutiny. He never wavered. He offered the same details every single time. Jack finally reached his breaking point. He screamed and jumped out of his chair, threatening to throw himself across at Dean. Dean backed off and appeared compassionate and sympathetic. Jack relaxed at Dean's words and broke down in tears as Dean continued to talk about Jack's loss instead of Jack's possible involvement in the case.

Hours passed as the process was repeated. At times, Dean would leave saying he would be back in a minute, but Jack would be left alone for half an hour. He knew they were watching for a sign of some kind. Was wiping away the sweat from his forehead or breathing heavy signs of guilt? Was rubbing his hands together a sign of more than just the stress of the situation? Maybe he was not supposed to look relaxed. Jack was tired. He was angry and confused. Paranoia was beginning to set in and he was close to his breaking point. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to behave and felt that he was making himself look guilty with every movement. He felt like screaming. He felt like throwing the bloody chair at the mirror and ripping the damn camera from its mount high up in the corner. He just wanted to get the hell out of this place. He wanted to wake up next to Donna and find this was all just a bad dream.

Dean returned and asked who knew he was gone on business. Jack offered a list of names. His workmates knew he was away. The Anderson's next door knew. The cashier at Best Buy knew—he told the cashier he wanted the audio books for his trip. He wasn't sure if Donna had told anyone else, or if his office co-workers spoke of it. Many people knew he was away.

"Jack, I hate to do this to you right now, but I have to do my job, and that means asking tough questions."

"Like what?

"Was Donna having an affair?"

"Donna? No way. She loved me, and I loved her! I told you, we even made love on Sunday just before I left. An affair? Why would you even suggest that?"

Dean let out a long sigh, shook his head, and left Jack to contemplate the question.

Another hour passed before the door opened and a different detective entered. He carried on with the questions like Dean had. Jack stayed the course and repeated the same set of events again.

Jack was finally released around five in the morning. Detectives ushered him to the Holiday Inn at the edge of town in a non-descript car, steering clear of the waiting press. He had no car or cell phone; he had only his wallet and the clothes on his back. An officer would escort him back to the house in the afternoon to pick up some personal things. He would not be allowed to live in the house for a while.

## Chapter 6

### Wednesday, September 21st 10:43 am

"Did you kill her?" asked Brad Mastersen.

Brad, Jack's lawyer, sat on the only chair in the small hotel room. Jack was sitting on the double bed. He only managed to get a few hours of sleep.

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No."

"She was strangled, Jack. In your bed. It seems pretty clear to me that whoever did this knew her."

"Strangled?" Jack asked.

Brad nodded. "I called Detective Daly before coming over."

"I wasn't told." Jack rubbed his hands through his hair and let out a huge sigh.

"When did she die? I left Sunday. Shirley found her yesterday. Nobody has told me anything, Brad."

Brad shook his head. "I don't know. They'll tell us in due time I guess."

Brad carried on with the usual questions and gathered the same information Jack had already told the police. Brad was a criminal lawyer.

"Was she having an affair?" Brad asked just like Dean had.

"Why does everyone think she was having an affair? Damn it! We were happy and in love! No, she was not having an affair."

"You're sure? How do you know what she did when you were out of town?"

Jack stared hard at Brad. "Well, of course I don't know what she did all the time. Why are you asking me this?"

"You are a suspect at this point, and I need to know everything. From this point on, I advise you to talk only to me. No talking to the police without me there, and absolutely no talking to the press."

Jack nodded. "What are they saying out there?"

"I don't know, but I am going to find out right now."

Brad left for the prosecutor's office to see what charges might be laid against Jack and what evidence or information they were prepared to offer.

***

Hours passed before Brad returned with some limited information. He spoke to Detective Dean Daly and the crown prosecutor, Ron Baxter, but neither would disclose the evidence collected at the crime scene. Both said they had telling evidence. Dean seemed agitated and upset. Dean also made it very clear that Jack was not all in the clear and would have to be brought back to the police station for more questioning.

"The evidence they have will surely point away from me," Jack said. "I didn't kill her."

"Good. If you are truly innocent, then any evidence they collect will be in our favor," Brad said.

Brad escorted Jack back to his house to collect some personal items. Officers guarded every entrance and the driveway. Yellow tape stretched across the front of the house and down the side path to the back. There was something odd about the placement of the tape, but Jack couldn't figure out what it was as he walked to the front door. There were two officers at the house; Dean was not one of them. Both wore white coveralls, booties and gloves, and they were going through drawers and cupboards, taking photographs, and placing samples into sterile bags with tags and labels.

Jack and Brad were given white booties and quickly escorted upstairs to the master bedroom. Nothing looked that different to Jack except the sheets on the bed that were mussed and out of order and there were little paper numbers on folded pieces of cardboard scattered around the room. Donna would never have left the bed unmade. Her body had been long since removed. Jack stopped and stared at her side of the bed. On any other day, Donna would simply be in the shower or in the kitchen. But she would not come back to bed tonight. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to sleep in that bed again.

Jack was instructed to indicate which personal items he wanted. Each item of clothing Jack requested was systematically logged and photographed before it was given to him. The process was efficient, and Jack was soon back on the street, holding a garbage bag of clothes.

Jack looked at the Anderson's house next door and the strangeness of the tape placement suddenly struck him. He expected the tape to surround only around his house, but it also stretched across to the Anderson's, enclosing the entire area between the backdoors of both houses.

Jack stopped Brad and pointed to the tape.

"Why is the tape over at the Anderson's house? Did something happen there as well?"

"Jack, get in the car and we'll discuss this."

"What haven't you told me? Was somebody killed there too?"

"Nothing like that. Get in the car and I'll tell you what I know."

Jack was suddenly upset at Brad for withholding information. He got in the car and slammed the door.

"Josh Anderson is a suspect. They believe they may have evidence that places him in your bedroom prior to the murder. That is the evidence they are following up on right now."

Jack's mouth dropped open.

"The evidence has not been disclosed to anyone yet. This is strictly private information, and no one outside the investigation knows anything about it."

Jack opened the door, "Fuck! That little fucker! I'm..."

Brad grabbed Jack by the collar and yanked him back inside the car. "Stay the hell in here! And close that door! Josh isn't there. He is down at the station. Has been since early this morning."

"I don't fucking believe it! Josh? Why the hell would Josh kill Donna?"

Brad shook his head. "Jack. Let's get out of here. You need a drink, my treat. And we need to talk some more."

Brad and Jack went to the Station restaurant and sat down in a small booth in the corner, away from the other patrons. Brad ordered drinks and told Jack what exactly he knew and what the police suspected.

"The evidence supposedly puts Josh in your bedroom. I don't know what the evidence is, but from what they are telling me, there is no doubt that Josh has been in your bedroom at one point or another. Has Josh ever been in your bedroom that you know of?"

"Never. He's only been on the main floor as far as I know. What kind of evidence do you think they have?"

"I don't know, but this doesn't mean you are no longer a suspect for the prosecution."

"What do you mean?"

"If it was Josh, what motive would Josh have to murder your wife?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Only what your friend Dean is suspecting. Why would Josh kill Donna when, coincidentally, you're out of town? You have an alibi. Alibi's sometimes lead to more questions."

Jack chugged back the rest of his drink. "You think I put Josh up to this? Is that it?"

"I'm just saying what others are thinking right now."

"Fuck them!" Jack shouted angrily. "Fuck all of 'em! I had nothing to do with this!" Jack stood up and waved his arm in the air to get the attention of the waitress. "Bring me another!" he shouted. "And make it a double!"

The few others guests in the restaurant were now staring at Jack and Brad. Jack sat back down and buried his head in his hands.

The barmaid quickly returned with another whiskey for Jack.

Jack was silent. Brad assured him that if he was innocent it would all come out, and he told Jack to get a hold of himself. These outbursts would not help him in any way.

Brad's cell phone rang. It was detective Dean. He asked Brad to bring Jack down for more questioning right away. Brad said they would be there within the hour.

***

"Jack, how have you been holding up?" Dean asked. Brad stood behind Jack and made sure Dean knew he was there.

"How the fuck do you think, Dean? Donna's dead and I feel like I'm being railroaded here. All you people think I killed her or had something to do with it when I didn't."

Dean paced back and forth a few times in front of Jack. He stuffed his hand deep into his pocket and was fidgeting with something inside. He stopped and turned to Jack.

"You say you were in Vancouver, or Abbottsford, exactly when she was murdered. And I'm supposed to just believe that?"

"You're doing it again, Dean. I never said I was in Abbottsford when she was killed, and you know that. I said I left the house at seven thirty on Sunday night. I could have been anywhere on the road between here and Abbottsford or Vancouver when she was killed."

"Coroner thinks she was killed Sunday night."

"Well there you go. I was on the road Sunday night."

"How convenient."

"Fuck off, Dean. What are you getting at?"

"We checked your cell phone records."

"And what did you find?"

"Donna called you at 10:27 p.m. Sunday night."

"I was listening to an audio book. I didn't hear it ring. It went to voicemail. What's your point?"

"We listened to the message. It was as you said, Donna calling you to make sure you called her in the morning. Your phone pinged the tower in Golden on that call."

"Uh huh, why shouldn't it?" he replied. He called out over his shoulder to Brad who was still standing behind him. "Brad, do I really need to listen to this?"

Brad leaned forward. "It's okay. I'll let Dean know when he's gone too far."

Dean rubbed one hand through his hair, looked at Brad, and then down at Jack again.

"This is just too neat and tidy. Yesterday you said the Anderson's knew you were going away."

"I told you that, yes."

Dean moved in closer to Jack until he was only inches away from his face. "Your wife was strangled. In your bed."

Jack could feel Dean's breath as he mouthed the words 'in your bed'. The words reverberated in slow motion through Jack's brain. She was murdered in their bed.

"Tell me about Josh!" Dean suddenly demanded while Jack still reeled from Dean's words.

"Josh?" Jack stammered.

"What do you know about Josh? Tell me anything."

"Josh? Well... Josh is just a kid. A big kid. He lived next door. He's athletic and quiet. He goes to the university. He's a good kid, really. Sometimes, when I had to be away for a number of days, he helped Donna out with some things around the house."

Dean leaned back, crossed his arms, and stared at Jack.

"Josh?" Jack asked again. Dean offered nothing in response. "Brad told me you think Josh had something to do with this. You think Josh strangled Donna?" Jack shook his head and stared at Dean with distain. "Not Josh. You're wrong."

Dean stayed silent and let Jack carry on for another moment.

"I don't understand. Why would you suggest Josh had anything to do with this? Why would he?"

"Exactly, Jack! Why would he? You tell me!" Dean shouted. Jack flinched at Dean's sudden outburst. He had never heard Dean go on like this.

"Why would Josh, the nice kid next door, kill your wife? Why would anyone want Donna dead? I believe you when you say you weren't there, but if not you, then who did this?" he shouted.

"But it wasn't Josh," Jack said again. "Why would he?"

"Donna's dead and I'm going to find out who killed her. Right now, there's a team going through your house. In the next few days they are going to know everything about you, Jack. They'll be going through your computer, your mail, and your dressers. They'll look at everything you and Donna touched, who you spoke to, who you emailed, and who emailed you back. They will know every website you visited and search you both made. They'll pick hair out of the trap in the sink and down the shower drains. They'll tear apart your vehicles and going through your closets. They'll scrape the floors and walls for anything. We will know everything there is to know about you and Donna within the next forty-eight hours.

"Is there something you want to tell me now before I find out about it from someone else?" he added.

Sweat formed in beads on Jack's forehead as he answered. "You've known me for nearly two years, Dean. Have I ever once said anything other than how wonderful Donna is, and what she means to me? You probably know more about my relationship with Donna than anyone else. Give me a break."

"Okay, let's say it was Josh. Your neighbor, an eighteen-year-old kid, suddenly decides to off Donna. Why would he do this?"

"You're the detective. You tell me."

"You're sure there's nothing else you want to offer up?"

Dean continued to pace again with his one hand still around whatever it was concealed in his pocket.

"There is nothing more. I told you everything. I told you multiple times, Dean."

"Nothing at all?" Dean turned suddenly towards Jack and spoke softly. "You think a three and a half million dollar life insurance policy on your wife is nothing?" Dean repeated the question loudly. "A three and a half million dollar life insurance policy is nothing?"

Jack sat up straight and glanced over at Brad. Brad stood up and waved his hands in the air to keep Jack from responding.

"I need to talk to my client in private before this interrogation goes any further," Brad said.

Dean interjected. "I'm almost done anyways, but before I let you go, I need to ask you, do you recognize this?"

Dean pulled his hand out of his pocket with a small evidence bag. He carefully lifted the bag towards the camera in the corner, showing that the bag was sealed. He then placed the bag on the table, removed the seal, and dumped the contents on the table.

"Do you recognize this?"

"You can answer, Jack," Brad said.

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure. Pick it up. I want you to tell me if you recognize this."

Jack picked up the single diamond earring from the table. The earring was a small, one-carat diamond in a six prong, platinum teacup.

"This looks like Donna's. I think it's one of the earrings I bought her for our first anniversary." He looked up at Dean. "Where did you find it?"

Dean held out his hand, and Jack dropped the earring into his palm. He put the earring and backing pieces in the evidence bag.

"We searched your house, and we found the mate for this earring in your wife's jewelry box. This one was not in your home. Any idea where we found it?"

"Don't play games with my client. If you have something to ask Jack, then just ask," Brad interjected.

"We found this earring in the Anderson's house. In Josh's bedroom to be exact."

"You think Josh stole it?" Jack responded.

Dean laughed. "Jack. We found it under the headboard in the carpet under Josh's bed. I don't think Josh even knew it was there."

Jack shook his head. Dean was implying that this earring came off while Donna and Josh were... "Wait, just wait. You're saying Josh and Donna..."

"I'm just telling you the evidence we have. It was under Josh's bed. Do you have any idea how it got there? I do."

"You're telling me Donna was having an affair with the neighbor kid? You're crazy! Donna loved me and only me. She would never do that to me."

"There's more, Jack. We pulled some hairs from Josh's bedding and from the floor in his bathroom. The hairs, blonde in color, appear to match Donna's. There's also a brush on Josh's dresser that appears to have blonde hair in it. We sent them off for DNA analysis."

Jack wasn't sure how to respond. He looked at Brad, and Brad placed his hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"We have evidence at your house as well. We have found black hairs in your bed, on Donna's body, and in your bathroom. We can tell right away that they are not yours or Donna's. These will be sent for DNA testing as well. We believe they will match Josh's DNA.

"It was storming Sunday evening, remember, and we have footprints leading up to the back door in the kitchen that appear to match the pattern of the Nike running shoe Josh wears. Just hours ago, we also found the top of a shoe lace in your bedroom that appears to match in size and material the missing portion of one of Josh's shoelaces... from another, different, pair of shoes that Josh also wears on occasion."

Jack's jaw dropped open as he listened to Dean tell him that the affair had been going on for some time. From what Dean was suggesting, Josh was in his bed with Donna at least twice, and Donna was... Donna was in Josh's bed.

Jack shook his head again. "Are you kidding me? You're not just playing at something, because if you are, Dean..."

"I'm sorry. There's no easy way to say this. It appears from what evidence we've gathered so far that Donna was having an affair with Josh."

Dean continued, "I'm just wondering where you fit in to all of this. Three and a half million dollars is one hell of a reason to off your wife. Especially if you knew she was having an affair."

"Look. I still don't believe Donna would do this."

"How about this? You found out about Josh and Donna. You didn't tell Donna you knew, but you appealed to Josh's attraction to money and offered him some of the insurance money if he killed her for you."

"You're crazy."

"There are three and a half million reasons why I think you're involved. Why would you take such a policy out on Donna?"

"Jack, I don't want you to answer that until we've had a chance to discuss this," Brad suddenly interjected.

"No, Brad. There's nothing to hide. We took out the same policy out on me too. Jesus, we made that decision nearly two years ago right after we moved in here."

"...and the premiums, Jack?"

"We're both healthy and fit, and we both make good money. The premiums were just over two hundred a month each. It's not really that much."

"Josh is in the building right now, being interrogated. What do you think he's going to say?"

"I don't know! I had nothing to do with this, so I don't have any idea what Josh has to say. I know what I'd like to say to him, though."

"And what's that, Jack?"

"He better hope he gets sent down for life because if what you are saying about him is true and you let him back out on the street, I'll kill him."

"Jack doesn't mean that. Jack's upset right now, aren't you Jack?" Brad added. "I think we are done here." Brad stood up as if to end the interrogation.

"Upset? Upset? Fuck you too, Brad. Donna's dead and the little shit who killed her is still walking. Why do you think I am so upset, huh? I've been sitting here listening to all of this over and over again. I didn't have any idea that kid next door could do this. I thought I knew Josh. I've had him in my house many times. I had dinner with him and his parents just last weekend! Now Dean tells me the evidence points to Josh. If so, I should be damned angry. And I am!"

"Well, I'm going to leave you two for a few minutes. I'll be back, and then you can go. Think about what I said. Josh is here, and he is talking." Dean opened the door. "Think about it, Jack." Dean left the room and left the door wide open.

Jack stared out through the open door. Across the hall was another interrogation room. The door suddenly opened and another detective emerged and walked out, leaving the door across the hall wide open.

Jack stared out across both open doors, and to his astonishment, Josh stared back at him. Unlike Jack, Josh looked broken and disheveled. His hair was a mess and his face and eyes were swollen from crying. His clothes were mussed, and he trembled.

Josh looked at Jack, and a forlorn lost look crossed Josh's face. Jack looked at Brad who simply shrugged. Josh was alone. There was no lawyer in Josh's room. Jack stared at Josh, slid his chair back, and got to his feet. Brad placed a hand on Jack's arm.

"Jack, sit down," Brad instructed. Jack brushed him off and moved towards the door.

"Why did you do it?" he shouted across the hall in sudden rage.

Josh trembled and shook his head violently. His face was contorted and a blank fear etched itself through his tears. "I didn't," he whimpered. "I didn't..."

"You screwed her? You screwed my wife?" Jack moved slowly towards the open door.

"Jack, sit down please," Brad urged, but Jack moved another step toward Josh.

"Why, Josh?"

Josh pulled his feet up onto the chair, shook his head, and whimpered. Tears soaked his face again.

"Tell me! How long has this been going on? And why did you kill her?" he asked finally. Jack paused at the door, buried his head in his hands, and sobbed.

Josh remained curled up in the fetal position on his chair. He looked up cautiously and managed to shout between short gasps, "I didn't, Mr. Gardner! Honest! I never! I couldn't..."

Brad shuffled up and closed the door. "They did that on purpose, those bastards! I thought Dean was your friend."

"So did I," Jack said through jagged breaths.

Minutes passed before Dean came back in the room. "So, anything else to add, Jack?"

"Fuck you, Dean. What made you think I wouldn't try to go across the hall and bash that kid's head in with this chair?"

"But you didn't," Dean replied as if to make his point.

"I think we've had enough now, don't you?" Brad interjected. "We are not getting anywhere, and you are upsetting my client. That little stunt just now could land you in some hot water, so I'd suggest you stay away from doing anything stupid like that again."

Dean dismissed Brad. "I think we're done here for today. Jack, you make sure you stick around town. I am not done with you yet."

"What about my car and cell phone? And when can I get back in my house?"

"The house will be off limits to you for another week at least. You might get the car early next week." Dean reached in his pants pocket. "Here's your Blackberry." Dean slid the phone across the table and locked eyes with Jack. Jack stared back and expected Dean to say something, but he was silent. Dean broke his gaze and left the room.

***

### 6:17 pm

Jack sat in the passenger seat and stared nervously out the window as Brad drove him back to the hotel. He glanced at his Blackberry and saw he had seven messages since he last held his phone. He listened to them quickly. Two were from his mother. She would be arriving tomorrow with his father from Victoria. Two were from the Reginald at the office.

"...Sorry to hear about your loss, Jack. We're here if you need to talk or anything."

He probably left the second message after reading one of the many newspaper articles about Jack's assumed involvement.

"...And you take as much time as you need to get this all sorted out, son. I'll have someone pick up your workload for a while. Take care."

One was from Fred.

"Jack, we just heard what happened. We are cutting our trip short and will be back to help with anything you need."

He obviously left that message before Frank and Tracey heard that Josh was a suspect. The two oldest messages were from Donna's mother.

"Jack, please call me. I've been trying for days to get ahold of Donna. She was supposed to call me... I'm worried, Jack."

She cried harder in the second message.

"The police told me Donna was murdered...They won't tell me any details, Jack. Please call me. I don't know what to do."

Jack hit 'delete all'. He really didn't want to talk to anyone right now, but knew he couldn't put it off for too long. Maybe he would feel like talking tonight.

They were almost back to the hotel when Jack received a text message from Dean. He read it.

DEAN what are you playing at jack?

Jack deleted the message.

"Anything interesting?" Brad asked when he heard the blackberry ping.

"No nothing, just my mother. She'll be here tomorrow sometime." He stuffed the Blackberry in his pocket.

Brad dropped Jack back at the hotel and said he would call the next day. Jack was just inside the lobby when he received another message from Dean. He stopped to read.

DEAN we need to talk

Jack knew this would happen. He really didn't want to have this conversation with Dean right now.

JACK why

DEAN  I'm not stupid

JACK  I didn't say you were

DEAN meet me

JACK why

DEAN  you know why

JACK no, I don't know why

DEAN one hour. black diamond pub

DEAN be there

JACK  no

DEAN you'll be there

Jack deleted all of the messages and looked at his watch. One hour. The Black Diamond Pub was a good forty-five minutes from town. Dean chose this pub for two reasons: it was forty-five minutes away and because of what Jack said over a few beers the last time they were both there.

Jack went to his room, changed, and readied himself to meet Dean. Dean knew he didn't have a car. How was he supposed to get to Black Diamond without a vehicle?

Jack called the front desk. He talked his way up to the night manager who gladly made some calls at Jack's insistence, and his promise of compensation, and located someone who could open up the car rental office down the street. For a modest premium, a car was quickly arranged for delivery to the hotel in about fifteen minutes.

Jack called his mother while he waited for the car to arrive.

"Oh, Jack. Are you okay? I'm so sorry. Donna was lovely," she said.

"I'm doing fine, mom. It's just so sudden, that's all."

"Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine. Really, I am."

"Well, you just keep strong. We've booked our flights and we land around noon."

"They won't let me back into the house right now. I'm at the Holiday Inn at the edge of town."

"I'll have your father call and book us a room there as well. You just sit tight and we will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, mom."

Jack hung up and moved on to his next call.

Donna's mother, Brenda, cried when she heard Jack's voice. She and Donna's father, Andrew, lived across town with Donna's sister, Sherri, in the Sherman subdivision. Their house sat up on the hillside overlooking the town below.

"Why haven't you called until now?" she sobbed. "I was so worried!"

"I'm sorry, Brenda," Jack said. "I was in Vancouver when it happened... I've basically been living down at the police station answering questions since they flew me home."

"I've been listening to the news," Brenda said. She composed herself. "You? A person of interest? It's just a load of bull, Jack. I never thought for even a second that you were in any way involved in my Donna's death. Don't you worry. Andrew and I will stand by you through all of this. We know how much you loved our girl."

"She was strangled..." He tried not to cry.

"Come on now, Jack. We already heard how she died. It's terrible."

"But..." he wiped away at the tears. He could hear Brenda's voice break with every word she spoke as she tried not to sob again. "...the neighbor boy is the main suspect," Jack said.

"Your neighbor? How could the boy next door do such a horrible thing?"

"I don't know, Brenda. But, I loved Donna so much... I miss her more every hour." He told her nothing about Dean's assumption that Donna was having an affair. "I should go. I'll call you tomorrow, Brenda."

The car arrived as Jack was finishing his conversation with Brenda. He gave the driver a ten-dollar tip for delivering the car and was on his way to Black Diamond just as the sun was setting.

He arrived in the dark, parked his vehicle in the corner of the back lot, and entered the bar. He scanned the bar for Dean. There were two groups at the pool tables, a couple of players on the VLT machines, and a handful of other patrons. Dean wasn't among them. The sole waitress delivered fries and cheeseburgers to a couple sitting in the corner booth along the perimeter of the main room. A television buzzed behind the bar, drowned out by Dwight Yokam singing about a honkytonk man.

Jack walked up to the bar and ordered a double whiskey, neat in a tall glass. He grabbed his drink and selected a small table in the corner next to a window. It was the perfect spot to watch the south road for Dean. He sat down just as he spotted Dean's Ford Pick-up pulling into the lot.

Dean eyed Jack as soon as he entered the room and grabbed a beer at the bar before joining Jack in the corner.

"I'd like to say it's good to see you, but I'd be lying," Jack said. He stayed seated and stared blankly at his glass. "You haven't been much of a friend these past days."

"This really isn't a social call." Dean gulped at his beer and wiped the foam from his lips. He eyed Jack inquisitively.

"I really don't know what you're getting at. Why the secrecy?"

"Like fuck you don't," Dean whispered back and leaned in close to Jack. "You wouldn't have come at all if you didn't know what I was talking about. You managed to rustle up a car pretty fast."

Jack chuckled. "Well, explain it to me anyways. Just say it. What are you thinking? Say it out loud."

"Don't shit me, Jack. I'm not here to play games. Your wife is dead, and I'm the fucking lead detective in this case!"

"...and you're going to find the murderer. Right?" Jack cut in with a fake grin.

"Damn right, I am. You think this is funny?"

"Of course not. Donna's dead. What do you want from me?"

"I want the truth."

"I told you the goddamn truth twenty times at the police station."

"Bull shit!" Dean leaned back, slugged back on his beer, and glared at Jack. He shook his head in disbelief.

"What did you said to me the last time we were here, exactly four months ago? Oh, I think I remember. We were drinking over at that bar and just shooting the shit. I was talking about the Ralston murder and how the trail of evidence left by the boys was obvious. I told you we didn't even have to collect it all or present it all in court to put those two away forever. Do you remember that conversation, Jack?"

"Sure," Jack replied and sipped his whiskey.

"You said, 'The way things are nowadays with all of this DNA evidence, I can commit a murder tomorrow and there is no fucking way anyone will ever catch me. Not even you, Dean. Nobody. The DNA evidence will prove me innocent. Not guilty.'"

"Yeah, I said that, and it's true," Jack replied. "I could do that."

"I think you killed Donna."

"You know me, Dean. How could I kill Donna? I loved her," Jack said and swallowed back a whimper.

Dean laughed. "You are one fucking sly bastard. It wasn't really what you said, but the way you said it. You didn't say 'nobody could ever catch me.' You said, 'nobody will ever catch me.'"

"You're crazy. I didn't kill Donna."

"I think you did."

"You're the detective."

"I am the detective. I really thought I knew you. What kind of game have you been playing with me?"

"I'm not playing any game. You're the detective, so go find my wife's murderer."

"Fuck! That boy is innocent! I've interrogated hundreds of shit-criminals from all walks of life. That kid doesn't even know how to tell a fucking lie! You should see him! He's a fucking mess!"

"I heard there was solid evidence against Josh. I wasn't even there that night, remember?"

"I am so pissed at you right now; I'd like to take you out back and beat the living shit out of you for what you are putting that boy through right now!"

"I'm not doing anything to that boy. You are. My wife was murdered while I was out of town. Now please, go find the murderer, detective."

Dean swallowed hard and ran his hands through his hair. "You set that boy up."

"I what?"

"One comment, Jack. That's all it took from you. One fucking innocent comment that made my detectives jump, drag that boy out from his warm bed in the middle of the night and bring him in for questioning. You nearly gave those officers an erection with what you said."

Jack said nothing.

"You're not going to respond? Do you deny it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The fucking guitar comment, Goddamn it! You told the other detective after I left you last night that Josh went downstairs after dinner Saturday night and started playing guitar."

"He did play guitar. So what? You're detectives wanted every single detail."

"Don't kid me. You know Donna was strangled by a guitar wire."

Jack jumped off his chair and stood. "What the fuck, Dean? No, I didn't know that! No one told me that. A guitar wire? Really?"

"You can play innocent, Jack, but I'm not that stupid. We never would have even looked at Josh if you hadn't said anything about his guitar."

"Your detectives are good. They would have made that connection sooner or later."

"Oh, you're really getting on my nerves now. You say this same shit over and over, and I'm the one who is going to pursue this every day. I'm scared now that every step I take forward in this investigation is going to drag that kid deeper into the shitter until he gets locked away for the rest of his life for something he didn't do!"

"Then, like I just said, you're the detective. Go and find the real killer if you don't think it was Josh. I thought Josh was a nice kid, but if he was screwing with Donna as all of your evidence suggests up to this point, I don't really care what the fuck happens to him. Would you care about what happened if you found out your wife was banging the kid next door?"

Dean shook his head and slugged back the last of his beer.

"I'm not done. A three and a half million dollar life insurance policy? C'mon, man. No one takes out a policy like that."

"So you are saying I've been planning this for two years? You think I've been planning this since just weeks after we got married. How silly does that sound?"

"You're bad news, and I will find the truth," Dean said and pointed his finger at Jack.

"I really hope you do. Please find my wife's murderer Detective Daly," Jack said sarcastically. "You can do that can't you? If you are really that concerned for that boy, why don't you just go down to the prosecutor's office and lay it all out for him. Tell him about this little meeting in the dark here tonight and about our conversation a few months ago. Oh, and you should remind him of all of those workouts at the gym we did together, our golf games, and the occasional round of drinks we shared."

Dean glared at Jack.

"I'm not getting myself pulled off this case. You know that's exactly what would happen."

"I'm not asking you to. Just let me be, Dean, and find the real killer. If it's Josh, then it's Josh, but that doesn't make me feel too good about the marriage I thought was so solid these past two years. How do you think I feel right now? Do you even give a damn about how upset I am about all of this?"

"Actually, I don't even know if you feel anything, ever. I thought you did, but now I'm not so sure. You see my problem?" Dean leaned in close towards Jack. "You think I'm done digging into this, Jack? I'm going to dig so deep into your ass that you're going to see my face in the mirror when you brush your teeth in the morning."

Dean stood, turned away, and walked out the door of the pub.

## Chapter 7

### Thursday, September 22nd 9:42 am

Funeral arrangements needed to be made, and Jack sat at Smitty's with Brenda and Andrew going over the details. Donna's sister, Sherri, lived with Donna's parents, but she was much too upset to leave the house to join them. Donna's body would be released over the weekend, and they decided that the funeral would be on Tuesday. Brenda insisted that she write the obituary, and Jack was more than happy to let her take over.

There was a TV mounted above the bar in the lounge just beyond the six-foot, latticed pony wall that separated the restaurant and lounge. They could see the TV from where they sat, and the hostess turned up the volume when a press conference on the Gardener murder interrupted the regular programming.

Jack, Brenda, and Andrew stopped talking and turned their attention to the TV. Detective Dean Daly was at the podium announcing they officially charged 18-year-old Josh Anderson with the strangulation murder of Donna Gardener. Josh Anderson was a second-year student at Bluffington University, the same University where Donna Gardner worked as a student counselor. Josh was being held at the county jail until his hearing on Monday.

Brenda put her hand up to her mouth in dismay, "Did you know about this, Jack?"

Jack ignored her question and listened as Dean continued. He said no details of the murder would be given out at this time because it was an ongoing investigation. Dean opened the floor to questions.

The first question came from Mark Nichols of the Bluffington Post. "Was this murder somehow related to a connection they made at the University?"

"Yes. The fact that both of them were present at the University is definitely a factor. Next question."

"Is Jack Gardner no longer a suspect?" asked by Global News.

"We have no evidence suggesting Jack Gardner was involved in the murder of his wife. Next question."

"Was Mr. Anderson seeing Mrs. Gardner for counseling? Is that the connection?" asked a CTN news reporter.

"I can't go into details, but yes, Mr. Anderson did participate in sessions at the University with Mrs. Gardner."

"So this resulted from the occupational risk of working with teenagers? Did Mr. Anderson kill Mrs. Gardner because of something in their counseling sessions?" CBC News.

"No. Her death had nothing to do with any occupational risk of being a teacher or counselor, and her death was not related to any ongoing counseling with Mr. Anderson."

"Not related to her being a counselor? You're saying this was personal, then?" Mark Nichols asked.

Dean waved his arms in front of him. "I can't give out any more details. The investigation is ongoing. I thank you all for coming." Dean turned away from the podium and headed back inside the station. Reporters followed and asked more questions, but Dean ignored the mob behind him.

"Jack, did you know about this?" Brenda asked.

"No," Jack said and suddenly excused himself from the table and headed to the washroom.

Jack splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. Dean told the press he was not a suspect. After last night with Dean, Dean saying Jack wasn't even a suspect bothered him. He spotted a dark-haired biker in the reflection standing behind him at the urinal. Jack watched in the mirror as the biker finished his business. Jack stayed at the sink and let water cover his hands until the biker left Jack all alone.

Jack shook the water from his hands, dried them off, and slowly wandered over to the urinal where the biker was. He looked down into the porcelain surface; he saw only the little sanitary cube in the bottom of the white bowl with a small stream of water swirling around and down the drain. There was nothing else of interest. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He walked back out to the table, sat down, and carried on with the others as if he had never left.

"My God, Jack. Did you know that boy?" Andrew asked. Jack could hear concern in his gruff voice.

"I knew him well, actually. We went over for dinner at the Anderson's many times." Jack paused and looked at Andrew and Brenda. "There's something I really need to tell you now before you hear it elsewhere."

Brenda grabbed Andrew's hand and began to cry. "What happened to our Donna?"

Jack knew he'd have to tell them what he knew before they heard it from the press or people around town. He began to tear up and grabbed Brenda and Andrew's hands in his.

"The fact is, Brenda...uh, I just don't know how to say it. I still hardly believe what the police told me, but...Dean said Josh strangled Donna in our bed. He also thinks Josh and Donna were having...an affair...and that Josh was in our bed with Donna more than once."

Brenda began to cry softly.

"I told Dean that it had to be a mistake, but Dean told me the evidence they found, and...I just can't..." Jack cried with Brenda.

"I don't believe it!" Brenda whispered through her tears. "No, no, no."

Andrew held Brenda close, looked at Jack, and mouthed the words, "I'm so sorry."

Brenda and Andrew now knew what they were in for over the next weeks and months, and Jack felt only a bit of relief at not having to hide the rumors from them anymore. People were already talking about it out there, and Brenda and Andrew would have to deal with it in the same way he was.

Jack's Blackberry rang. It was his mother. His parents were at the hotel.

They drove to Jack's hotel in silence until they got into the parking lot.

"Do you want to come in?" Jack asked. "I'm sure my parents would like to see you."

"No, no. I...I should get to work on the obituary," Brenda said.

Jack knew this was just an excuse; she wasn't capable of facing Jack's parents if Donna's infidelity was true.

Jack exited and Andrew rolled down his window. "We will call you when Brenda feels better," he said.

Jack nodded. "I'll say hello to them for you."

"Yes, please do that," Andrew replied and pulled out of the parking lot.

Jack was greeted with a hug from his mother, Louisie, as soon as he entered the hotel room. She hugged him like she had not seen him for years and might never see him again. Robert stood by her side and shook Jack's hand. Robert, or Bud, as most people called him, was an old boot with a sour face. He never let his emotions surface. He was stoic as usual as he asked, "So, how's things Jack?"

Louisie scowled. "How do you think things are, Bud? Jack's been through a lot. Sheesh!"

"Hmmph, I guess so. Sorry Jack."

"It's alright, Dad. I'm holding up. At least they found who killed her. It does help some."

"That's right. Donna was such a lovely girl. I just can't believe it," Louisie said and finally released her grip on Jack.

The afternoon eroded away as Jack recapped the events of the past few days and reconnected with his parents. He told them about the interrogation and the possibility that Donna was having an affair with the neighbor boy. Louisie was horrified, but Bud didn't think it was so strange these days. Louise and Bud chain-smoked and often ducked out to the small balcony of the hotel room for a few minutes. Jack watched his mother as she pinched another no name cigarette between her tiny fingers and lit up outside. Her fingers squeezed the cigarette and left a small depression in the filter. When she was done puffing away, she squeezed off the remaining ember, which fell away into the ashtray and continued to smolder, before dropping the filter portion.

Bud always rolled his own; Jack thought it was so he had something to fidget with when he was uncomfortable. Today was one of those uncomfortable days. Bud sat quietly at the table, fidgeted together a few smokes for later, and tucked them back in the pouch to keep them moist.

Jack's phone rang. It was Brad.

"You hanging in there, Jack?" Brad asked.

"I'm fine, Brad. Is there anything new?"

"Nothing new since the press conference. They are still pretty tight-lipped down at the station."

Jack half-expected Dean to call him back down for another round of questioning after last night, but he didn't hear anything from Dean. Dean was probably busy digging deeper into every piece of evidence to try to uncover something that would put Jack back centre stage in the investigation.

"You just keep holding tight. I'll let you know immediately when I know something," Brad said and hung up.

"Who was that?" his mother asked.

"Just my lawyer."

"Oh," she replied. "I want to see the house," Louisie said suddenly."

"The house?"

"Yes, Jack. I want to go see the house. We can do that can't we?"

Jack smiled. "Well, you certainly can't go in, but we can drive by if you really want to," Jack said.

"I do. Let's go."

His mother's curiosity was welcome as Jack was curious to see if there was any activity going on over there since his late night rendezvous with Dean. Half an hour later, Bud was behind the wheel driving them across town to Founders Road. A home roll bounced from Bud's lower lip and the growing ash hung dangerously suspended from the end ready to fall.

As they turned on to Founders Road, Jack could see drastic changes. Unlike yesterday, when there were only two detectives at the house, there was now a full investigation team with numerous vehicles parked in the drive and on the street, including a command centre. Dean was serious. They put up plastic sheets around the back portion of both houses. Dean was definitely being thorough.

Bud slowed the car down so he could park on the side of the road.

"No, don't stop," Jack said. "Drive slowly, but do not stop. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be hanging around here while this is going on."

Louisie and Bud both looked at Jack. Bud kept driving. Louisie frowned. Bud's cigarette ash fell unnoticed onto his slacks.

## Chapter 8

### Monday. September 26th 9:42 am

Jack sat in the front row with Brad to his left and his parents, dressed in their Sunday best, to his right. Brenda, Andrew, and Donna's sister, Sherri, sat in the row behind Jack. Sherri was already dabbing the tears away with tissue. They all waited impatiently for the hearing to begin. Ron Baxter, the crown prosecutor, sat at the table in front shuffling through a thick stack of documents.

Fred and Tracey sat at the other end of the courtroom with their lawyer, Brian Barry, and waited for their son Josh to be brought in by the officers. Fred wore his finest business suit. Tracey wore dark clothes that made her look like she was in mourning. She stared straight ahead. Neither Fred nor Tracey acknowledged Jack or his family members. There were a number of younger spectators sitting at the back of the gallery whom Jack didn't recognized. He assumed they were Josh's friends from the University.

Jack stole glances at Fred and Tracey when he could. He watched them with mixed emotions. He wasn't sure if he should show them sympathy or shout at them in anger. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since Donna's death, and though he really wanted to say something, Jack knew he would not be able to find the right words.

Officers ushered Josh into the gallery. He wore the Remand Center's orange inmate clothing, carried his head low and his eyes cast towards the floor, as he shuffled over to the single table centered below the judge. He wore chains on his ankles and wrists; he kept his hands folded. Jack was confused at the sight of Josh in chains, but he suspected it was just for show.

The session was short and quick. Judge Rumpoldt read the charges and asked Josh how he was pleading. Brian Barry stood beside Josh and prompted Josh in whispers. Josh pleaded innocent on all charges through an abundance of tears and broken voice. The judge asked Josh to repeat himself multiple times as he could not understand Josh through his trembles and tears. The repetition brought a flurry of mumbles and chatter from the gallery and forced Judge Rumpoldt to demand order each time.

Both sides pled their case on the matter of bail; Josh's lawyer insisted that Josh should be allowed to go home and remain under house arrest.

"Josh is a good kid with no record, and he is not a risk to the general population," Brian Barry said.

The prosecution explained the brutality of the murder.

"This boy is pleading not guilty to this heinous crime, but that simply shows that he feels no remorse and takes no responsibility for the crime he is being charged with. Those tears are an act!" Ron Baxter insisted. "Would any young housewife in Bluffington feel safe in their own neighborhood knowing this monster was free to walk up and down the streets at night?"

None of the evidence could be presented from either side at this point, so the decision fell to the judge to make his decision based solely on the assessments and risks presented before him.

"Mr. Anderson will be remanded without bail until the trial," the judge said.

Jack suspected the judge made this decision because if Josh were allowed return home, Jack would be right next door to the suspect charged with his wife's murder once he got his house back. Who knew what horrors could occur in that situation.

As Josh broke down in audible tears and was barely able to stand, Tracey shuddered and fell to her seat. Fred said nothing and only stared at the back of Josh's head.

Jack hugged his parents and showed little emotion about the decision.

As everyone began to clear out of the courtroom, Jack looked around to see if Dean was in attendance, but he was nowhere to be seen.

## Chapter 9

### Tuesday, September 27th 11:15 am

The wind blew in short gusts bringing the cold and snow deep into the valley. It was the first snow of the season. It seemed fitting to Jack; it matched his dreary mood.

The service at the church was perfect. Two large sweet pea arrangements, Donna's favorite, said on either side of her casket. Jack asked that the casket remain closed; the guitar wire had cut deep into Donna's skin, and the impression was still clearly visible even after the mortician worked on her.

The sermon was short: "Donna was loved..." "She only lived a short time on this earth, but she touched so many people..." "She was a daughter, a friend to many, and a partner to Jack..." "She was truly loved in the community and would be missed by so many..."

Donna's mother gave the endearing eulogy. She talked about Donna's life in Bluffington. She talked about how Donna was always trying to be the best she could be.

"She always cared about others first, and she always did everything with purpose," she said.

Brenda spoke about the relationship between Jack and Donna, ignoring the whispers around town about Donna's supposed affair.

"Jack was the best thing that ever happened to my sweet Donna," she touted. A few doubters in the audience made eyes at each other.

Jack felt drained; he may have seemed unemotional to some, but he was hurting.

After a few hymns, the guests were invited to walk by the casket if they wished. The procession was long. Many looked at Jack or Donna's parents and whispered condolences as they passed.

Jack and the family followed the casket out to the waiting hearse at the end of the service. The wind continued to whip the snow around as the pallbearers loaded the casket into the back of the hearse. Wet snow was beginning to stick to every surface it touched. Jack and his parents rode in the first limo with Donna's family in the limo directly behind.

Attendance at the graveside was by invitation only. A large, open-sided tent was set up over wet faux grass that surrounded the already-dug hole in the ground. The small group huddled close together underneath to stay warm and seek shelter from the snow, but the wind continued to buffet the small tent and drive the snow under the canopy.

It seemed to take the pallbearers a long time to bring the casket to the grave site. At one point, the casket almost slipped to the ground; the pallbearers fumbled cold and frozen hands on the handles in attempt to maintain a solid grip. The casket rocketed to and fro, and it suddenly became real to Jack that Donna was really gone. He thought about her body, cold and dead inside the casket, as it tumbled. Jack watched with horror as the casket almost struck the ground on its side. He imagined Donna inside that coffin lurching sideways and landing askew inside the cold box. He could not get the image out of his mind. He saw her face turned sideways and pressed against the satin fabric. She would remain that way, twisted and contorted, under the cold earth forever. Jack buried his face in his mother's coat and cried for the first time today.

His mother held him close and rocked him as the minister spoke about the human deliverance that we all share from birth to death.

"The road we set upon to travel is unknown, but each choice we make when the road divides is a choice we take with God. The Lord is our savior, and our eyes are his eyes. He sees the path we have chosen well before we have made any decisions, and he remains with us on our journey. We must follow and trust that the path chosen is good, that God's will is strong, and that God will carry us and continue to lead us forward. It is this faith in God, and the faith God has in us, that leads us to where we are today. Donna's passing, though tragic, was part of God's will, and we must accept that Donna is no longer with us on this earth. Her body will return to the earth from whence it came. Her soul shall be lifted up high above to become one with God, from now until eternity. Those she leaves behind..."

The wind and snow continued to blow through the crowd. Many shielded their eyes with a gloved hand.

Jack broke away from his mother and flattened his coat. He listened as the minister continued to speak of God's love, family, friends, and community.

Jack scanned the crowd of mourners and was pleased to see how many people loved and cherished his wife. Jack spotted Dean in the back with shoulders hunched against the cold and bundled up in a long coat and scarf. Jack guessed he was simply playing the part of a mourner. Dean kept his distance from the group and parked so that Jack would have to walk right past Dean to get back to the limo. Jack thought he could see Dean's eyes locked on him, but was unable to tell for sure through the driving wind and snow.

Donna's coffin was lowered into the ground, and the minister gave his final blessing. Jack pulled the single rose from his lapel, knelt down by the hole, and tossed it onto the casket. He remained on his knees and stared blankly at the ground. He sat there until his mother grabbed his shoulder.

"Jack," she whispered softly. She tugged on him urging him to come with her.

Jack stood at the side of the grave with his mother as the rest of the crowd hustled quickly to their cars, eager to find shelter from the thickening snow.

He hugged his mother. He felt lost and alone. He had Donna with him for the last two years. She was there every day when he walked into their house, and she was next to him with her warm body when he crawled into their bed each night. Her body was now under the cold earth, and her passing was undeniably real to Jack. Jack didn't know he was capable of experiencing this much pain. The severity of the pain was unexpected and it cut deep into his heart.

He turned with his mother and walked quickly towards the idling limo.

Dean stood off to the side of the path as Jack approached. He held out his hand to Jack. Jack shook it, and Dean pulled him in fast and hard. He whispered gently in his ear, "I am sorry for your loss, Jack. Donna was a very special person. I want to see you down at the station tomorrow morning. There's more to discuss."

"You're telling me this now?" Jack snapped.

"We'll all miss Donna. I miss her. She was..."

"I'm not doing this with you right now!" Jack yelled.

Jack pulled himself free from Dean and glared at him.

The storm raged on stronger than ever. Dean wiped the snow from his cheeks and stared back at Jack.

Jack turned his back to Dean, grabbed his mother's arm, and led her down the path to the waiting limo. Bud was already hunkered down inside and peering out through the open door. An unlit rollup hung from his lips.

## Chapter 10

### Wednesday, September 28th 8:45 am

Jack and Brad were ushered into the same small interrogation room. Jack sat in the corner chair, and Brad leaned up against the wall.

"I need a few more questions answered, Jack," Dean said as he walked into the room. "We came across some loose ends."

Jack shrugged. "Okay..."

"First thing, Jack, neither you nor Donna smoked. Is that correct?"

"That's correct. Neither of us smoked," Jack answered.

"Who was the last person who smoked at your house?"

Jack looked puzzled. "Well, both my mom and dad smoke, but they haven't been to the house since June."

Dean nodded.

"Anyone else? A friend maybe?"

Jack shook his head. "I really can't think of anyone lately," Jack continued. "We didn't have that many people over to the house this summer."

"This is important, Jack."

Jack frowned and tried to think about every visitor they had over the past few months.

"Donna's sister smokes some. She may have been over the past few weeks to see Donna, but she always smokes outside."

"Outside?"

"Yeah. We have a tin out on the back steps. Everyone knows it's there. Donna and I didn't want butts all over the back yard. I just emptied it last Friday after I cut the grass. There were only a few butts in it, but I emptied it anyway. Part of tidying the yard before winter sets in."

"Last Friday? I see. There was no one else?"

Jack shook his head.

"Josh never smoked?"

"Never saw him smoke," Jack responded. "What's with all the questions about smokers?"

"Never mind," Dean replied. "When's the last time you purchased anything at the 7-11 store in town?"

"7-11?" Jack shook his head. "I really can't recall. Six months maybe. I rarely go there. I like the Esso with the Timmy's coffee. Donna too."

"So you never go to 7-11? No slurpees or coffee?"

"Rarely."

"So what do you take in your coffee, Jack?"

"You're offering me a coffee? I'm not really in the mood for coffee."

"Funny guy. Just answer the question. What do you take in your coffee?...and Donna? What did she take in her coffee?"

"I just take it black, and I almost always do decaf. Donna liked it with cream, no sugar. Why?"

"Who usually does the cleaning at your house?" Dean asked quickly.

"Cleaning? Donna, I guess. I do the yard work, mostly. We would split the cooking and dishes, but she usually vacuumed and did the laundry."

"The garbage, Jack? Who takes out the garbage?"

"I did, I guess," Jack chuckled. "But only after Donna barked at me about it a few times."

"What about the bathrooms, office, and bedroom garbage?"

"Donna. I don't think I've ever emptied the garbage out of the bathroom or bedrooms. Donna was like, always emptying them. I would have let them get full before I emptied them, but not Donna. She was always carrying recycling and stuff out when she left the room. I don't think there really was any garbage sitting in any of the rooms, except maybe the office."

"Hmm," Dean mumbled and made some notes in his little book.

"You two get take-out very often?"

"Once in a while. Almost always pizza. And only Domino's."

"No Chinese, Taco Bell, or KFC?"

Jack knew now Dean was digging for something. He found something and was now looking for the needle in Jack's haystack of information.

"No, Dean. We didn't regularly eat fast food. Except for pizza every so often, healthy eating was part of our life."

"Let's change topics here. Did you and Donna want kids?"

"We talked about it a little. Donna liked her freedom, and she wanted to travel. She said maybe in a few years."

"So you used protection?"

"Donna was on the pill."

"And you? Did you wear a condom?"

Jack shuffled in his seat and looked at Brad. Brad shrugged. "It's a fair question, Jack, considering where she was found and the way she died."

"No. I never wore a condom."

"Donna never asked you to wear one?"

"No. She was on the pill, and we never really talked about it."

"Hmm," Dean responded and made another note in his book.

"I'd like to take a DNA sample from you."

Jack nodded absentmindedly and wondered why Dean had never asked for a DNA sample before.

"You don't have to give one voluntarily, Jack, but if you don't, they can have the court order a sample. And refusing to offer up a sample does not look good in front of a jury," Brad said.

"Jury?" Jack asked curiously. "What jury? I'm not charged with anything." He looked at Brad.

Dean jumped in before Brad could respond. "Josh has pleaded innocent. There will be a trial, and you will be called as a witness at some point. Now, on Sunday you were gone for quite a while in Calgary."

"Not so long. I just zipped in, grabbed what I needed, and came home."

"Look, Jack. We've compiled everything we could find about what you did on Sunday. We know everything from when you left to go to your office on Sunday to when you arrived at the hotel in Abbottsford."

"Yeah, I expected you would."

"We started with your office and looked at when you logged in and out. We know what files you accessed, modified, printed, saved, copied and e-mailed. Every keystroke."

"Okay," Jack nodded. "So, what are you saying exactly?"

"Just telling you how thorough we are being. We pulled your credit card records. You went from the office to IKEA as you said. We watched video of you inside IKEA. We tracked you over to the Best Buy too. Watched video of you going in the store and leaving fifty-seven minutes later. We know what purchases you made. We tracked you to the service station where you got gas."

"I don't get it," Jack said and looked at Brad now for some guidance. "Why are you digging for so much info on me? I thought you had charged Josh with Donna's murder."

"Is there some evidence that you think links Jack to the murder, Dean?" Brad asked. "If there is, as Jack's attorney, I need to see it."

Dean continued without answering Brad. "We timed the route from the service station to your house. That lines up as well. You would have been back in time for dinner and out by 7:30 p.m. Everything is solid and tight."

"So why all the questions? I told you I had nothing to do with her murder."

"Just one last question. What two audio books did you purchase?"

"You already know that, Dean. You have my credit card information."

Dean stared at Jack.

"Okay, okay. I got Day of the Jackal and Jonathon Livingstone Seagull."

"It took you a while to purchase those two books. Why did it take you so long?"

"It didn't take that long. I was in and out right away."

"You were in Best Buy for fifty-seven minutes. We have footage of you entering and exiting the Best Buy. Fifty-seven minutes seems like a long time to pick out two books."

"Look, Dean. I read the book covers. I read a bunch of book covers when I'm trying to decide which ones to purchase. Maybe I was there that long. It didn't seem that long to me. Is there anything else? You're making me feel guilty for no reason. I wasn't there when Donna was murdered."

"That brings me to the last thing I wanted to mention."

"What's that?"

"Donna called you Sunday night at 10:27. That's the call that went to your voicemail when you were on the road near Golden. Then, a few minutes later, she also called Josh."

Jack frowned.

"That's right. Donna called Josh after she called you. Based on these phone calls, the coroner puts the time of her death somewhere between that call to Josh and midnight."

"She called Josh? Did Josh tell you what Donna called him about?"

"Funny thing, Jack. Josh denies receiving any call from Donna Sunday night. Your house phone records show she called you and then called him, but Josh denies it. He claims to have received a call Sunday night, but it was some guy with a wrong number. Josh couldn't even remember what time that call came in."

"Well that's something," Jack stated.

"Yes it is. Her calling Josh while you were in the mountains driving to Vancouver also re-enforces the assumption that they had something going on. It also goes against the idea that you put Josh up to this. You get what I'm saying here?"

"Uh huh," Jack replied nodding.

"Anyways, the real reason I brought you down here this morning is to let you know where we are in this investigation. As you can see, we have been pretty damn thorough on this and it looks like you are in the clear."

Jack nodded again and smiled at Brad who nodded and rubbed his hands together.

"One more thing, I didn't really tell you all there is about the guitar wire."

"You haven't told me anything, Dean."

Dean ignored Jack's comment. "When we entered the crime scene, we found the guitar wire still wrapped tight around her neck. She was strangled from behind as she was face down and naked on the bed. A D'Addario package lay on the floor."

"A what?" Jack asked. Brad sat up straight and listened carefully for anything incriminating.

"When you buy a set of guitar strings, each wire comes in its own separate little package. Each string is coiled up neatly inside, and all of those little packages are tucked inside a larger package. A single 'A D'Addario" package was found on the floor of your bedroom, and the wire from that package was wrapped around Donna's neck. When we searched Josh's bedroom, we found a set of these D'Addario packages in his night side table with some used guitar wires in each package. He told us he replaced all of his guitar strings about a month and a half ago. Funny thing was, there were only five little packages instead of six and each had an old wire wound up inside. Put the packages in Josh's room with the one found in your bedroom and you have one complete set of guitar strings."

"Sounds like pretty solid evidence," Brad said.

"You know, Jack, your wife's murder reminds me of another murder. You may remember the trail of evidence left by the boys in the Ralston murder a while back. There was so much evidence that we didn't even have to present it all to put those boys away forever. You do remember that murder, don't you?" Dean let the words hang in the air and watched Jack carefully.

Brad frowned, and looked at Jack. Jack knew Dean was still hanging onto his suspicion that he had a part in the murder of his wife. He could see Dean was seething inside. Dean was putting on a show for Brad, that's all. It was still only ten days after Donna's murder. Dean had yet to receive any of the DNA results back. Jack suspected another round of questioning would come once those results came in.

Dean opened the door and waved Jack out. "Let's get that DNA sample, if you don't mind."

Jack nodded. He knew there was nothing there to find. His DNA was already everywhere in the house.

## Chapter 11

### Friday, September 30th 11:15 am

The weather returned to typical seasonal temperatures, quickly erasing all traces of Tuesday's snowstorm, and Jack was slowly starting to get back into some kind of routine.

Jack's parents had already booked a flight home to Victoria, leaving first thing Saturday morning. Jack decided he should get a start on sending out all the notices and documents regarding Donna's death and his mother offered to help. He had never done anything like this before, and there were many documents that needed to be processed. There were subscriptions, credit cards, reward cards, and memberships at clubs and websites to be cancelled. There were automatic debits that needed to be stopped. Tax forms needed to be completed and processed, and death certificates needed to be sent to numerous places.

He started at the bank where he presented the death certificate to the bank manager. All of their accounts were joint, so it was a simple process to put Jack as the sole account holder on all of the accounts. Anything that was not joint, such as her vehicle and company RRSP's, Jack directed to Brad's office.

The mortgage required a copy of the death certificate from the coroner, as the mortgage insurance would pay off the balance they still owed on it. The home was worth $900,000. Jack and Donna put down just shy of $300,000 and financed the rest. Jack would soon have the home with a clear title.

Jack filed the appropriate papers for his and Donna's employer benefits. The university was to pay double Donna's salary in the event of her death. That was nearly $170,000. Jack's company paid one-half of his salary in the death of a spouse. That meant another $50,000. Jack was becoming a very rich man indeed. Jack was told to expect payment from both companies within the next sixty days.

Jack spoke to the life insurance broker about the three and a half million-dollar Term Insurance Policy. The broker quickly explained that because this was a murder, and the investigation was ongoing, the insurance company would not pay out this policy right away. The insurance company would begin to conduct their own investigation on a policy claim of this nature and size once the police completed their investigation. The insurance company's investigation was independent and not always in agreement with police findings. Jack was told it would take many months before a decision on any payout was made. Jack expected that would be the case.

The murder was no longer the top story on the news, and Jack hoped he might finally be able to move on. He spent the rest of the day with his mom and dad. The three of them went out to dinner with Donna's parents.

Donna's presence at the meal was missed by everyone, but no one spoke of it. Brenda tried to apologize for Donna's behavior if it was true about her and Josh, but neither Jack nor Jack's parents would let her. Donna was a good person, and they all still believed that.

"I know how much Donna loved you, Jack. With her gone you are the only positive part of Donna's life that remains for me," Brenda said. "...the piece of Donna's life that always seemed most right."

After dinner and a few more drinks, Jack found himself alone in the washroom at one of the urinals. He looked down at the bottom of the urinal next to him. A single black, curly hair sat alone against the white polished surface. An urge suddenly rose within him to grab the hair. He slipped one hand into his pocket and felt for something that was usually there when an urge like this surfaced in the past, but his pocket was empty. He finished urinating and still stared at the lone pubic hair. It was only one hair. Forget about it, Jack, he thought to himself.

He washed his hands, splashed some water on his face, and stared at the man in the mirror. Who was the man who stared back at him in that reflection?

The Hollicks went home and left Jack alone with his parents.

## Chapter 12

### Wednesday, Oct 5th 14:55 pm

Jack returned to his job on the Monday and got his car back on the Tuesday. Brad told him he would have his house back Thursday evening. He also returned to his regular workouts at the gym. He was pleased to hear the words of support and condolences from everyone he ran into at his regular hangouts.

Jack was at the gym on a core machine when Dean came in. Jack didn't see him arrive. At the end of a set, he spotted Dean through the reflection on the mirrored wall behind him. He was standing alone holding his gym bag at his side. He stared at Jack in the mirror. How long had he been standing there?

Jack gave a quick wave to Dean through the mirror. Dean turned away and disappeared into the change room. He had not heard from Dean for a number of days, and although he was delighted with that fact, his curiosity got the best of him.

Jack caught up with Dean in the change room as he was pulling on his trainers.

"Hi, Dean."

Dean looked up, saw it was Jack, and continued to tie his laces.

"You can't just ignore me. We've been friends for a long time."

Dean stopped messing with his laces, stood up, and turned to Jack.

"Do you have any idea what I've been going through, Jack? No, you don't. I'm not sure you really want to talk to me right now."

"You said I was all clear. Why are you giving me attitude?"

Dean clenched his fists and shook his head.

"Jesus, Jack. I know what you did. I just don't know how the hell you did it. Right now, I'm working every minute trying to find anything to put that kid in the clear, and it ain't right. That's not my job."

"If he's guilty..."

"He's not guilty!" Dean shouted. Dean was angry. "That kid couldn't kill a fly if he tried. If it was anyone but you, I'd wash my hands of this situation, follow the evidence, and say that kid is just a good fucking liar, but I know it isn't true."

"So now what?" Jack asked. He hoped he wasn't being too pushy. "Maybe it was someone else, then?"

"Fuck, Jack! I have to present all my evidence against this kid in a matter of days. The mayor, the chief, and the prosecutor are all up my ass wanting this one closed ASAP." Dean ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "This whole mess...your own wife? Then the kid next door? And now you say someone else?" He shook his head and shrugged. "The evidence at your house, Jack...what the hell..."

"What do you want me to say? That I strangled Donna and called Josh from the house when I was three hundred miles away? What do you want from me?"

"I want to know how you did it. I'm tired, and I'm angry. We were good friends once. Real good friends, Jack."

"I know, Dean. Why won't you believe I had nothing to do with this?"

"Get out of my way," Dean said. He pushed past Jack and headed out to the weight room.

Jack sighed and stared at himself in the mirror. What did Dean see when he looked at Jack? He probably sees exactly what I see, Jack thought.

## Chapter 13

### Friday, Oct 7th 11:14 am

Jack was finally allowed back in his house. He took the Friday off to sort the place out. He hadn't expected it to be such a mess. The police had touched everything. He felt violated by the way the police turned everything inside out, and it made it difficult for him to focus. The mess in the house seemed to be descriptive of the way Donna had disappeared from his life. He did miss her.

He was going through Donna's clothes, collecting them together in different piles in the bedroom, when the phone rang.

"Jack, there's a shit storm down at the station this morning," Brad said. "Have you heard anything?"

"No, what's going on?"

"Brian Barry is having a press conference in the next half hour."

"Josh's lawyer? What about?"

"DNA evidence came back. That's all I know. Dean is pissed, and the chief is screaming for answers."

"Nothing about me, I hope?" Jack questioned and swallowed hard.

"I doubt it. We would have heard from someone if it had to do with you. I've already had calls from all the news people asking me what I know. All I know is that it sounds big. Can I come and get you?"

"Uh, sure. We're not going down there are we?"

"No, Jack. I'd just like you to be with me at my office when this goes down. Just in case."

"Just in case? In case what?"

"News people will be knocking down your door as soon as this conference is over. There might even be some on the way to your house right now in light of this announcement."

"Shit!" Jack responded.

"I'm on my way," Brad said and hung up the phone, leaving Jack to ponder what the news was. He quickly stopped sorting Donna's clothes and dashed around to start getting ready for Brad to pull up in front of his house.

Jack looked out the front window at the Anderson's driveway for any activity. Nothing. They didn't appear to be home when Jack was first allowed back in his house, and he was actually pleased they were not around. He did not look forward to the reaction he might receive from them when he did see them.

Brad arrived to pick up Jack, and they soon sat in Brad's office with the television tuned to Channel 7 as they waited for the news conference to being.

Josh's lawyer, Brian Barry, came to the podium. Fred and Tracey stood behind him. Jack tried to perceive anything he could from their stoic expressions about the news that would soon be disclosed, but he could read nothing from their faces.

Brian seemed very positive as he readied himself; he even shot an odd smile to some of the attendees who were impatiently waiting for him to begin.

He put his hand up to silence the crowd. He introduced himself and Josh's parents and then got right to the point.

"There has been a huge amount of evidence collected by the police in this investigation. I cannot disclose any details of what evidence has been collected as the investigation is still continuing, but I can say this: a number of significant pieces of evidence collected by the police were used to lay a murder charge against Josh Anderson.

"In this case, the evidence used to lay these charges by the Crown against my client were substantial enough, in the opinion of the Crown's Counsel, to find that Josh Anderson had both the motive and opportunity to have committed this crime.

"I do not believe my client is responsible for this crime. Much of the other evidence collected at the crime scene at the time my client was charged required additional scrutiny. One of the tools used to examine evidence collected at site is the use of a DNA analysis.

"I would like to announce today that I have been given the results of the DNA tests that were performed on certain key pieces of evidence from the crime scene. The DNA result on every single piece tested has come up negative for Josh's DNA. The prosecution does not, at this time, have any DNA evidence placing Josh Anderson inside the bedroom of Jack and Donna Gardner on the night of her murder."

The reporters pushed forward and began shouting questions, but Brian raised his hand to hush them and continued.

"In light of these results, I am now disputing the action of the Crown in laying these charges against Josh Anderson. It is for a jury to decide guilt or innocence based on the evidence thereafter collected and presented. I will say it once more: I have been told that there is no DNA evidence at this time that places my client in Donna Gardner's bedroom the night of the murder."

"Why would you announce this here and now?" shouted Mark Nichols from The Bluffington Post.

"My client is only eighteen years old. He has been remanded in jail until the trial. It could take as long as six months, or even more, before this ever gets to trial. That is a long time for anyone, especially someone young who is also currently enrolled at University and trying to create a future for himself. The Crown has a duty and obligation to lay charges only when they have looked at the evidence collected and to determine if the evidence collected supports the charge of murder. Only evidence that is substantiated can be used in making that decision. It must also be determined that the suspect had motive and the ability to commit the murder. The Crown must also look at the realistic possibility of achieving a conviction.

"Based on the evidence I have seen, I don't believe there is enough evidence to convict my client. Today I have announced that no DNA evidence puts my client in that room the night of the murder. If any of that evidence sent for DNA testing was used to sway or lead the Crown toward the initial charge levied against my client, then I would expect the Crown to re-assess their position on the charges against him."

"Are you suggesting the Crown drop the charges?" a CBC News reporter shouted.

"I am not suggesting anything. I am only saying there is no DNA evidence putting Josh Anderson in that room the night of the murder."

"How can they charge without any evidence?" Global News asked.

"They have evidence, they just do not have any DNA placing Josh in the room at the time of murder."

"So you are challenging the Crown in public on these charges against Josh Anderson? Have you spoken to the Crown Prosecutor?" Mark Nichols asked.

"I am holding this press conference today as a deliberate action to insist that the Crown take another look at the basis for laying these charges in light of the fact that there is no physical DNA evidence that incriminates my client. I have spoken to the Crown Attorney without success. We're here now to gain publicity for our plight."

"Oh boy, Jack," Brad said. "Brian's really ruffling some feathers now!"

Brian concluded the press conference and led the Andersons away without allowing anyone to ask any direct questions to Fred or Tracey.

"Shit. What does this mean, Brad?" Jack asked.

"It sounds to me like there is less evidence than originally thought. At least that's what Brian Barry is leading us to believe."

"If Josh is innocent, then what?"

"I don't think Barry is saying he's innocent. He's just doing his job to get the boy released and back home with his parents until the trial."

"I see," Jack said.

"Brian Barry doesn't come cheap, and he has been known to go far beyond the limits of normal protocols if he perceives that it is his only option for achieving the results he is paid handsomely to achieve."

Jack left the office with Brad. Brad's secretary was still busy fielding calls from numerous media outlets.

## Chapter 14

### Thursday, October 13th 6:04 pm

Nearly a week passed without any news. Barry's press conference did not have the effect he had hoped for; Josh was still locked up at the remand center. Jack heard nothing from Dean, and he still had not spoken to or even seen Fred and Tracey.

The temperature warmed considerably, and Jack was eager to continue having things return to normal. He donned his sweats and set out for an evening run while it was still light.

As soon as he left his property and jogged down the sidewalk toward Head Park east of town, he started to choke up. This was the first time he ran in over a year without Donna running alongside him. He missed having her there, and his mind retraced some of the moments they experienced together on this same path.

Head Park was just shy of two kilometers from his house. The park, where the Bluffington Bulldogs played their baseball all summer, was sandwiched between the highway and the Highwood River. It also contained a soccer field, wading pool and open playing field. At the north side of the park near the river, partially obscured from the highway and fields by rows of thick trees, was a gravel parking lot. Head Park was named after Mount Head, which towered above the town just across the river, but to those who parked here at dusk, the name took on a completely different meaning. Cars filled with teen males looking for their first sexual experiences and female teens eager to be accepted could be found here after sunset.

Jack and Donna's regular route was to jog from the house down Founders Road to Centre Avenue and then to follow the highway down to Head Park. From Head Park, they would cut in from the highway to the back of the park over to the parking lot and along the river path upstream until they were back at their house.

Donna's laugh and smile were in Jack's thoughts as he jogged alone. He told himself he wasn't supposed to feel like this. He shouldn't be crying over Donna, but the truth was, he missed her more than he ever thought was possible, and he wasn't sure if the pain would ever go away. He really thought this jog along the river was going to help him clear his mind and put some of the emotional distress he was experiencing behind him, but it was having the opposite effect.

He turned to enter the park and jogged steadily along the gravel to the parking lot. He spotted what he thought was Sherri's car. As he approached, he could see exhaust puffing out the tail pipe. Sherri sat in the driver's seat alone. He approached the car and tapped on the window, startling Sherri, who turned towards him with tears flowing down her cheeks.

Jack immediately opened the door, took Sherri in his arms, and embraced her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's just...Donna..." Sherri choked out through her tears.

"I know...I know," he said and comforted her. He shared her misery. He told her how difficult life without Donna had become.

"From the moment I woke up to the moment I retired at night, Donna is always on my mind," he said.

"I feel the same way...too many things remind me of her. I try to talk to mother about it, but she has become unreasonable! She denies any happy times she had with Donna. She is caught up in the fact that Donna was being unfaithful to you and had deceived everyone. She is obsessed with Donna's deceit...she is ashamed to even say Donna's name anymore.

"Mother cries all of the time...she is tearing the family apart," Sherri said and wiped her tears. "I just needed to get out of the house and away from all of the negativity."

"It's okay, Sherry...Um, did Donna ever mentioned any other guys or say she was unhappy being married to me?" Jack asked without much hesitation.

"Never. She never once said anything less than endearing things about you, and she never talked about anyone other than you," Sherri said.

"Are you sure? She didn't talk about other men she met, maybe one of the teachers at the university?" Jack persisted.

"Nothing about her colleagues at the university. She only talked about the students. She'd laugh when she told me about at some of the silly things they'd come see her about sometimes."

"I just miss her so much, that's all," Jack said. "Any student in particular she talked about?"

Sherri's expression changed. She looked back at Jack with her head tilted to the side. Jack had struck a chord with the question, and the vibrations were loosening some forgotten memory.

"None really, but..." she said.

She stopped and stared at Jack as if she was waiting for the memory to fulfill itself with some sudden realization of the truth.

"They said Josh was a student there," she said slowly as if hearing this news for the first time. "Oh my gosh! I never thought about that before. Do you really think she...and one of her students...? Josh...?" She put her hand to her gaping mouth.

Jack pressed her for more. "Did she tell you she was seeing Josh? C'mon Sherri, do you remember anything? Try to remember."

"No, Jack! She didn't talk about Josh. She talked about others, but she never said a word to me about Josh. Well, she didn't tell me any of the student's names and she certainly didn't ever say she was fooling around with any of them. I heard what was said about her and Josh in the papers, but...I didn't think...I'm so sorry Jack."

"You needn't be. It has nothing to do with you. Be strong, Sherri. Hold onto the good memories of your sister. I'll always be here if you ever need to talk." He hugged her once more, said goodbye, and then continued his run up the path along the river towards the house.

Jack mused over the coincidence of meeting Sherri in the park like this. He'd never seen her in Head Park before. Sherri was not athletic like Donna, and he tried to recall if he had ever seen Sherri jogging, taking part in any team sport, or even riding a bicycle, but he remembered nothing.

It was a good ten-minute jog up the river path to the house as the trail wound its way along through the dense trees and shrubs. Even with most of the leaves now fallen, Jack could see that the path was still far enough away from the homes that backed along the river that it remained screened and secluded. Someone would have to be watching purposefully through the trees from their windows to see anyone jogging along the path. Even if they did see anyone, it would be very difficult to identify a specific person.

Jack jogged along and thought over what Sherri told him. It was what he already suspected; Sherri offered up nothing new. He wondered how many people ever noticed when he and Donna passed by on their evening jogs along this path. They rarely came across anyone they knew along the path. The usual passersby were students from the University who were either jogging themselves, or just enjoying the peacefulness the river offered to those seeking some solace.

He was almost back to the house when he heard someone shouting. He could not make out the words he heard at first, but as he rounded a bend in the path, he spotted the Anderson's beagle, Googles, dashing towards him. A distraught and fretting Fred trundled after, shouting the dog's name and hollering for him to stop. The metal clip of the leash bounced behind him in the dust.

Jack stopped as Googles ran up to him. Fred stopped cold in his tracks and stared at Jack with his mouth wide open. Suddenly Jack knew the confrontation with Fred he had been afraid of was now unavoidable.

Jack knelt down and grabbed Googles by the collar. He held on as Fred slowly edged his way forward and clipped the leash on to the dogs collar. Fred's flustered expression remained.

Jack stood up. "I'm sorry, Fred," Jack uttered.

"Sorry?" Fred responded in confusion. He shuffled about nervously.

"About Josh, I mean."

"Oh," Fred said and rubbed his chin with his free hand.

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry too...you know, about Donna. We both are," he motioned toward his house.

Jack nodded.

"I'm sorry we didn't come to the funeral. We both wanted to, but...Josh. You know, uh..." Fred stuttered.

"I understand, Fred. I still don't believe it myself, and I'm not sure what I would have done if I saw you and Tracey there."

They stood staring at each other for a moment. The close friendship they shared was now fractured, and neither knew how they were supposed to move on.

"How's Tracey holding up?" Jack asked.

"Better than Josh, that's for sure."

"Uh huh," Jack replied. It's all about Josh now, isn't it, he thought. "Any word about them letting him come back home until the trial?"

Fred shook his head, and Jack could see Fred was dying to either sprint away or confront Jack about the suggested affair.

Fred began to tremble and a tear ran down his cheek. "Jack, I don't know what to do. I'm so upset over this whole business. I still find it hard to believe Josh had anything to do with this, and it would really make me feel a whole lot better if you told me that you also knew nothing about what I'm told was going on. Josh denies everything. He has denied it since this whole thing started, and, frankly, I want to believe him. You know him, Jack. You know Josh couldn't have done this to Donna." Fred wiped the tears away.

"I was surprised as you were to hear Josh was involved. I really don't know anything except what I've heard on the news."

"I thought Detective Daly was your friend. He hasn't told you anything?"

Jack thought about Dean's accusations that Jack had killed Donna. "Daly's told me nothing."

"Oh. So you don't know all of the evidence they have against Josh and what they are saying about Donna, then."

"Is there something I should know about Donna?"

"It's all of the evidence. There is so bloody much evidence that suggests Josh and Donna were fooling around, and I just don't know what to make of it. I didn't even go see Josh today after what happened yesterday. Tracey told me she doesn't want me going back up there."

"Geez, what happened?"

"I lost it. I lost it on my son. I should have been there standing behind him when he swore he had nothing to do with it, but after seeing all the evidence, I can't help but think he's lying to me about all of it. I just started screaming at him to tell the truth yesterday. He just cried, and I got angrier and angrier."

"I'm so sorry, Fred."

"No, Jack, don't be! The evidence. There's a lot more than you probably know about."

"Should you be telling me any of this?"

"You'll find out sooner or later." Fred continued to sob.

"They don't have any DNA from Josh, but they do have lots of incriminating evidence. There's the guitar wire, for one. The big E string. Josh just changed his strings a few weeks ago. He says they were all in the drawer by the bed, but one E string was missing. They found an E string around her neck. And then there's the shoelace..."

"Shoelace?"

"A broken tip of a shoelace was found in your bedroom. It matched a piece missing from a different pair of Josh's shoes. And there's the footprints at the back door. Same size and type of shoe as Josh's new ones."

Fred shook his head. He was trying to stay strong. "And you know they found an earring belonging to Donna in his bedroom. I was told you identified it for the police."

"Uh huh," Jack replied.

"And there's the phone call she made to our house after you left. Josh denies talking to her. I was just so pissed at him." He clenched his fists.

"But there's no DNA evidence. That's something, right?" Jack offered.

"Jack, Donna's dead, and they think Josh did it. Even I think Josh did it. I am so sorry, Jack. I'm just so sorry."

Jack shook his head and wiped away a few tears of his own.

"There's more."

"More?"

"About Donna. They have all this evidence linking Josh to the crime, but there's way more still. They have other evidence that they are keeping hush right now, but I've been told about some of it."

Fred grew quiet and took a couple of deep breathes. Jack knew Fred had something important to tell him.

"They found DNA evidence in your house that does not belong to you or Josh."

"What are you saying? Someone else may have killed her?"

"They still think it was Josh, but they found more DNA suggesting...I really don't want to tell you this, but you are going to hear it soon anyways."

"Go on."

"They have DNA from a cigarette found in a tin on your back steps matching DNA from an empty 7-11 coffee cup found in your kitchen garbage. I am pretty sure they also have a hair sample from your shower drain matching both items as well."

"What?!" Jack exclaimed.

"I'm not done yet. In your bedroom, they found black hairs in the bed that weren't yours, and they weren't Josh's. They found matching hair in your shower drain. And here's the big one." Fred started to stammer; he was eager, but reluctant, to continue.

"They found a used condom in your garbage...and a Kleenex tissue with the same DNA."

Jack stared at Fred.

"You're sure about this? You're telling me that the police have evidence of at least two other suspects, and they are also saying that Donna was cheating on me in our house with multiple people?"

Fred nodded. "Exactly. I'm so sorry. This is what makes it worse for Josh."

"I don't get it. How does this make it any worse for Josh? He is saying he didn't do it, there's no DNA evidence, and there are two other possible suspects."

"I don't know, Jack. Barry says the DNA evidence just supports the fact that it was highly probable Donna was cheating with Josh because they have evidence that clearly shows she was cheating with at least two other guys."

Jack feigned dissolution and responded, "Why not take in those other guys as suspects then?"

"They have no idea who the DNA belongs to. They thought that maybe it was DNA from Josh and someone else. It doesn't match anyone they thought might even be remotely close to you and Donna. I hate talking about this, but Barry and I have been over and over it all as he was trying to build a defense for Josh. Barry told me the DNA from the condom and tissue was at least a few weeks old, judging by how dried out the evidence was, so that doesn't even put the guy anywhere near your room at the time of the murder."

"Did he say where they found the evidence?"

"The bottom of a trash bin in your bedroom."

Jack nodded. Fred's explanation matched up Dean's line of questioning about the coffee and trash.

"The coffee cup and cigarette...that must have showed up after I left on Sunday?"

"Jack, Barry's defense will mimic the prosecution by painting a picture of Donna as being loose and sleeping around with a number of different guys behind your back. Barry says the prosecution will portray her this way to show this was no random attack, and Barry says he's going to use this tactic to show that there are other possible suspects."

Jack thought about Donna's parents. This slander would hurt them greatly.

"Jack?" Fred asked. "You seem to be taking these accusations pretty well."

Jack ignored Fred's question. "It was storming the night I left. You didn't see anyone pull up in our drive that night?"

"We were in Denver, remember?"

"Oh yes, that's right. Denver. So you were."

"No one out back either? You saw no one out on this river path?"

"Are you okay, Jack? I just said we were in Denver. Maybe you better go home and lay down for a bit. You don't look too well. Maybe this news really is affecting you."

Jack thanked Fred for sharing what he knew. He walked back up the path towards home as dusk settled in on the valley. Fred went down the other direction with Googles at his side.

When Jack returned to the house, it bothered him that he had forgotten Fred and Tracey were in Denver the night he left for Vancouver. It was unlike him to forget details like that, and he knew he would have to start dealing with the root cause. He went upstairs to the bedroom and entered the walk in closet. He began rooting through all the pockets on all of his dress coats he wore for work, but all the pockets were empty. Of course they would be empty. The police had been thorough.

Jack began to fret. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he was sure there was something. He went to the garage to look through the vehicles. He wasn't looking for anything in particular. He just wanted to see what was in both vehicles, especially his, after the police had brought it back from Vancouver.

He started with Donna's vehicle. He opened all the doors and searched the pockets. He searched the glove box and console between the front seats. Nothing appeared unusual nor missing. The road maps were still where they were supposed to be. The extra pens and note pads in the side pockets all still seemed to be accounted for.

He moved on to his own vehicle and began rooting through the glove box and compartments. Extra pens and note pads were tucked everywhere. Jack was glad to see the two audio books he purchased were still in the side pocket. He popped both cases open and saw the CDs for each were inside. The cops had even removed the one from inside the CD player and returned it to its case. He smiled.

He opened the garage door so he could open up the back gate of his Pathfinder. When he opened the back gate, he saw what he had been looking for, but he really did not want to see it at all. All of the tote boxes from his Vancouver trip were still in the back exactly where they were when his car was brought back from Vancouver.

He had forgotten to complete his ritual of taking these back to the office and emptying them immediately after receiving his vehicle back. His forgetfulness bothered him. He quickly began pulling each tote out and flipped through the contents of each tote. Sales brochures, catalogues, and sales forms filled the first two of the totes. The samples of the sterile bags, hand sanitizers, and latex gloves were in the last tote. He lifted the last tote out, set it on the ground, and knelt down beside it.

He began to inspect the contents to see if all was still there after the investigators combed through it all. Just as he reached inside the last tote and lifted out a pair of light blue, latex gloves from an open sample box, he caught the reflection of a flash from across the street behind him in the chrome bumper. He turned quickly to where he thought the flash came from but saw nothing in the darkness. He realized he may have just made a grave miscalculation.

## Chapter 15

### Friday, October 14th 1:12 am

Jack's dreams had always taken him far away to many dark places. Some of his dreams were set close to home, but many were scattered across the two provinces he traveled at night while selling his goods and building his life. There was a fortune in these dark places, and each place in his dream opened up to a more sinister and devilish place.

Tonight, he found himself standing alone in the quiet of a washroom in the back of a seedy bar in the east end of Vancouver, a block from the Vancouver Harbour. He was standing at a urinal alone with his attention immersed in the polished, white surface beneath him. He was struck by how sterile the surface appeared. The only sound came from the steady drip of a faucet behind him. A scruffy native Indian with long, black hair stood beside him, unzipped, and began to relieve himself in the urinal beside him. Jack stood still and stared down to his left. He spotted six black, curly pubic hairs spiraling downwards towards the bottom of the urinal. Instinctively, Jack reached out towards the hairs with a flesh-colored, latex glove-covered hand. He snapped all six hairs into his palm and closed it into a fist. He looked up at the Indian who was now young Josh Anderson standing next to Jack playing his guitar and smiling.

"See Mr. Gardner, I didn't kill your wife. I'm busy playing my guitar."

Jack stepped back and listened to the noise coming out of Josh's guitar. It was a sour sound without melody or rhythm and screamed of pain and suffering. He opened his gloved hand to see he now held six, curly guitar strings neatly twisted together. He looked back at the guitar. Josh was feverishly scraping his raw fingers across it. Jack was horrified to see Josh was no longer playing strings, but long blonde hairs, the same color as Donna's hair. His eyes followed the hairs up the neck of the guitar to see a scalp that was still attached with blood dripping from the flesh that still hung there.

Josh continued to sing away, "See, Mr. Gardner, seeee...I didn't kill your wife. See, Mr. Gardner, seeee...I didn't kill your wife."

Jack woke drenched in a deep sweat. He tried to remember the dream, but it slipped away quickly. After a few moments, he could only remember Josh and his words, "See, Mr. Gardner, seeee. I didn't kill your wife." He shuddered and tried to block the voice from his mind but it hung there repeating itself over and over again.

He got up and strolled around the house in attempt to free his mind from the words of his dream. He went to the window and looked out the kitchen window towards the river. He trembled. The moon was out in full force and cast an eerie light down through the barren tree branches between his house and the river.

The dream slipped away, but he could feel the residue of the dream crawl across his flesh as he shivered. He reminded himself to turn the heat on soon. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to help his blood circulate, but he knew the coolness in the house was not the reason he had goose bumps.

What had he done?

## Chapter 16

### Friday, October 14th 7:12 am

Jack awoke at the sound of his alarm but did not really feel refreshed at all. He had not slept well. He knew he had a bad dream that caused him to have to get up and walk around the house multiple times, but he could remember none of it. Suddenly what occurred the night before in the garage popped into his mind, and he sat up in the bed as an adrenalin rush dashed through his veins. Somebody photographed him as he lifted the latex gloves out of the tote from his trunk, and it disturbed him greatly.

If someone had really photographed him, then last night was probably not the first time. He wondered who was behind this surveillance. Dean's team was the obvious first choice, but Dean said publicly that there was no evidence linking Jack to the crime. Could Dean justify issuing the watch when he publicly cleared Jack's name? Jack doubted Dean could do it.

But if not Dean, then who?

It certainly was not Donna's parents, and he doubted Fred would have anyone track him. Then again, Barry was known to go beyond the norm to get his client off. Maybe Barry hired someone to follow Jack without Fred knowing.

He pondered the options as he stared out the back window of his bedroom towards the river. He needed to go for a run to clear his mind. Work would have to wait. Maybe he would go in later, but right now, he just wanted to get his blood moving so he could think through what was really going on.

Ten minutes later, Jack was heading down his usual route to Head Park. He thought about who could possibly be following him, and he concluded it was either Dean or Barry. He was upset at himself for not realizing that there may have been surveillance on him since he got back in his house, but a part of him knew there was nothing to be worried about. There was nothing to find.

Jack entered the parking lot at Head Park. He was half-expecting to see Sherri's car waiting for him, but the park was empty. He ran through the parking lot and turned back to the river path towards his house.

Jack was nearly home when he spotted a young man out on the rocks in the river with a camera. The sun was just coming up, casting a beautiful yellow glow on the valley, trees, and distant mountains. The few clouds on the horizon above the mountains were tinged with a deep purple, creating the perfect backdrop to the colors in the valley. Jack saw this view many times on his early morning runs and knew the photographic moment would be lost in another ten minutes as the sun continued its slow crawl up into the morning sky.

Jack slowed down to a fast walk and watched the young man as he toyed with his camera on a small tripod. His back was turned towards Jack as he looked up the valley. Was this photographer's presence a mere coincidence? Jack had to find out and broke off from the trail to the rocks along the river.

The water level of the river was low at this time in the morning in October. The cold nights that had now set in reduced the water flow and slowed the melt from the watershed above. Many large rocks now lay exposed on both sides of the river. The water bubbled its way down, traversing the rocky path the best it could, creating mini waterfalls and fast flowing narrow chutes that were normally hidden underneath the high flow levels of summer.

Jack forged his way out on the rocks, careful to keep his balance as he jumped from one large boulder to the other until he was within easy speaking distance of the young man.

"Morning!" Jack said to the young man.

The young man turned quickly towards Jack. His bright teeth shone in the morning sun.

"Hi," he said quickly and gave Jack a short wave.

The lean wiry young man was Asian and had straight, shiny black hair.

"Beautiful morning for photos," Jack said as he finally made his way to the young man. The young man turned his attention back to his camera.

"Sure is. Must get up early to get shots like this," he said.

Jack watched the young man as he stayed squatting hunched behind his camera taking more photos.

"You from around here?" Jack asked.

"Uh huh. Go to University," he replied.

"I live just over there," Jack said and pointed over to the left bank.

The young man looked where Jack was pointing, looked back at Jack, and smiled. He returned to taking pictures.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before. Do you come down here often?" Jack asked.

"No. First time," he said.

"My name's Jack."

"Hi Jack," the young man said and grinned once again. "My name's David. David Chow. Nice to meet you, Jack," he said politely and then set his attention to changes lenses.

"You too," Jack said. He watched David as he fidgeted with his lenses and filters and continued to take more photos. To Jack, it looked like the kid really knew what he was doing. He worked quickly as the sun continued its slow rise.

Jack had seen enough.

"Well, I'll let you carry on. Hope you get some great shots."

"Thank you," David replied.

Jack turned and worked his way from rock to rock towards the shore. He continued to hear David's camera clicking away as he finally made it to shore. For just a moment, David seemed somehow familiar to Jack. He thought maybe he had met David or seen him somewhere before. He turned back to steal one more glance at David. He expected to see David standing up with the camera clicking away at Jack, but as he turned, he saw David Chow still fixated on the last of the beautiful colors of the morning's sunrise. Jack studied the young man but was unable to find him anywhere in his memory. He let it go.

Jack ran the last section along the river path back to his property. He had just walked in the back door when he heard the front doorbell. He looked at the clock; it was barely eight in the morning. Who would come by this early? he thought. He opened the door to see Dean with another officer at his side. Dean was not smiling.

"Dean," Jack said, sounding more surprised than he wanted to.

"May we come in?" Dean asked.

"Sure," Jack replied and opened the door wide enough for them to enter. Dean entered the house and walked deliberately towards the kitchen with the officer following behind him.

"This is Officer Kent."

Jack eyed Officer Kent. The officer's gun holstered at his side made Jack uncomfortable.

"What brings you around today? I was just going to take a quick shower and head off to work."

Dean laughed. "Work, Jack? I don't think so. At least not yet. We have a lot to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Actually Jack, we are moving fairly quickly on this case, and I think it's about time we had another chat," Dean said and motioned for Jack to have a seat. "I'm not sure how much you've heard about the evidence we've collected from your house."

"I've heard some."

Dean hovered over Jack as Officer Kent left the kitchen and began to move about in the other room. Jack suddenly tensed up.

Dean nodded. "I thought you might have. From who? Fred?"

Jack nodded.

"Okay, that makes it easier. So let me guess: He told you what we have on Josh. Most of that you've heard already...the guitar strings, the footprints, and the phone call."

"Uh huh."

Officer Kent continued to make noise as he moved around in the other room.

"Pretty solid against the kid, the prosecutor says. But Jack, and there's no easy way to say it...we found DNA from a few other men in your house. We found cigarette butts in the tin outback—the one you said you emptied just two days before. We found a coffee cup and a takeout food box in the kitchen garbage. We also found hairs, a used tissue, and a used condom in your bedroom. We found a total of three different sets of male DNA."

Jack nodded. "Fred told me this, yes."

"What do you think of it? You don't seem upset."

"For Christ sake's, Dean. I've been hearing this shit for weeks now. Nothing surprises me anymore."

"The used condom doesn't upset you?" Dean asked and frowned.

"Damn it, of course it does. What the hell am I supposed to do about it now?"

Dean chuckled. "You're good. You know that? I was expecting you to put on a show for me, but here you are. You're solid." He chuckled again.

"What are you here for really? You came all the way out here today to tell me something you knew I already knew?"

"You surprise me, Jack," Dean said sarcastically. "I'm not done investigating this, believe me. I need names of all your male contacts and friends. We've gone through a number of them already, and they have all been cleared so far."

Jack gave Dean all the names he could remember. He offered up everyone he could think of who knew him and Donna to any extent.

"A lot of people go up and down that path along the river. Maybe it was a random thing," Jack said.

"The condom in your bedroom was not random, Jack. It was found in the bottom of the trash in your bedroom, and it was weeks old. That is not random. We also took samples from all of Josh's male friends with black hair, and they're all negative."

Jack shrugged. "Just trying to give you more options."

"Jesus, Jack. You know exactly what I am talking about here. You know where I stand on this investigation, and nothing's changed! More options, my ass! The investigation may be going by the book, but I've got my eyes pointed another way. You hear me?"

Now Jack laughed. "Yeah, I hear you. I guess that was one of your guys outside last night?"

Dean frowned again. "What do you mean last night?"

"The photographer. How long have you had someone watching me?"

"Watching you? No one's watching you." Dean stood up and called for Officer Kent. "No one from our office is watching you, Jack. Is there someone watching you?"

"Come off it, Dean. Who's playing stupid now? I was photographed last night when I went out to my garage. You're saying that wasn't you? Bull."

Dean shook his head and looked at Officer Kent. Dean really did look like he had no idea what Jack was talking about.

"And what's he here for anyway?" Jack said pointing his thumb at Officer Kent. Officer Kent stood in the kitchen and said nothing, but he was intimidating to Jack.

"He's here just in case you wanted to tell me something...something I've wanted to hear from you for a few weeks."

Jack got up from his chair. "I've got nothing to say to you, Dean. I think you should leave now."

Dean raised his hands in the air and motioned for Officer Kent to lead the way out the front door. Dean was only a few paces down the front walk when he stopped and turned back to Jack.

"I'm not watching you. Why would anybody be watching you?"

They stood staring at each other for a moment. Each man was trying to read something from the other's expression. Jack turned back into the house and closed the door. He wondered when this was going to end.

## Chapter 17

### Saturday, October 15th 9:11 am

Jack was out of the house early Saturday morning to run errands around town. He stopped at the dry cleaner, got gas, and was at the grocery store when he noticed that it was quite busy.

Was it busier than usual? Probably not, but Jack seemed more alert to all the people. He felt like he was being followed by a shopper with a cart down one of the aisles. He turned quickly down another aisle. A few moments later it happened again, so he stopped and went up the same aisle he had just come down.

He looked at everyone, trying to see if anyone was pretending to be someone they weren't. He eyed people's coats to see if they matched their shoes. He stared at people's glasses and wondered if they even needed them. He saw people with limps, big people that waddled, and short people he had known for years who suddenly seemed shorter today than yesterday. He stared at women's purses, wondering if the bulge he spotted might be a camera. His heart raced when he saw a man walking the aisle with one hand fidgeting away with something in his pocket.

He knew he was making too much of it, but it was too late. The suspicion already rooted itself deep inside him.

He took his few groceries to the checkout and paid for them with cash. As he walked through the automatic doors back outside, he heard the unmistakable click from a cell phone camera and snapped his head to the left.

It was only a young girl with fine black hair and a ring through her nose, underdressed for the weather, taking a photo of her friend, who was also underdressed. Jack stared hard at the girl to discern if her mannerisms and laughter were real or just a put on for show. She looked right through him and continued to cackle giddily with her mate.

He moved away and continued toward his vehicle. He spotted no less than three others in the parking lot fiddling away on their cell phones. They were all potential paparazzi.

Jack had enough. He pulled his collar high to shield his face as much as possible and jumped in his car. He needed to get back home right away before he went snaky and did something foolish.

## Chapter 18

### Friday, Nov 11th 1:34 pm

Eight weeks passed since Donna's death. Jack settled into a routine, and he was back at work five days a week. He still felt like someone was watching him, but he had no more encounters with camera flashes or strangers following him. He was starting to believe he had imagined the flash that night in the garage, but was unable to let his guard down.

Jack saw Fred a few times in passing. They talked briefly each time. There was no new news about Josh, but it sounded as if the trial might be happening much sooner than anticipated. Fred seemed to think it was going to take place in early December, and the possible date was confirmed by Brad.

Jack called Donna's parents to ask them if they wanted to get together, but they declined. Jack was a bit hurt, but he understood. Until the trial was over and all of the details were out in the open, he doubted he would be seeing much of Brenda or Andrew.

When the temperature permitted, Jack went for evening jogs, but he preferred not to run when the temperature dipped below freezing. He was getting used to running alone now and missed Donna a little less each day. On colder days, he was back at the gym for his workouts. He rarely saw Dean there anymore and wondered if he was purposefully avoiding him. When he did come across Dean, not much was said, but Dean always let Jack know he was still gunning for him.

Jack was now highly paranoid, but no one watching him would notice anything unusual about his behavior. He had created a list of people to keep an eye out for and analyzed the little things about those he watched. He began to understand each person a little bit better. He could easily remember the last time he saw certain people. He could even predict how they were about to behave. His awareness, though heightened greatly by his paranoia, was smooth, and he knew how to work with it. He noticed the young girl with the nose ring on many occasions; she was always on the same road with one of the same five different girlfriends. And she always clicked away with her cell phone camera every where she went.

He noticed the neighbor's kids with their cell phones. He archived information on each kid in his mind. He had never noticed how many young kids there were in his town and especially his neighborhood. One consistent observation; he didn't see any of these kids ever take a picture with their cell phone when they were on the street alone.

Unlike the teenagers with the cell phones, the true camera aficionados were almost always alone and focused on the subject at hand. Most didn't notice anything outside the scope of what they were shooting. Jack ran into David Chow on numerous occasions, and he also stuck to his usual pattern. David could be found at various times of the day along the river path behind Jack's house, snapping photos up the river valley, or downtown near Jack's office, at the older, historic buildings. Jack stored information on David away in the file of his brain just like all the others and continued to watch for the extraordinary occurrence.

He noticed patterns everywhere: the secretaries he knew and saw at lunch each day, the shop workers arriving and opening up in the morning, and the university students scurrying from all directions around the town and funneling through the various streets towards the school. It was all repetitive and calculated.

Jack liked what he saw. Planning around things that were consistent was easy. He already proved that it worked. The chaos surrounding him with Donna's death and the interrogations and investigations that followed were anything but planned and consistent and made Jack nervous.

Life continued steadily each day, and Jack bided his time, waiting for everything to all settle out. The chaos would eventually fade, and he would finally be able to carry on just like he did before Donna, nearly three years ago. Though he missed her dearly, he was almost exactly in the place he wanted to be. He knew it would still take until after the trial before he would feel entirely himself again.

## Chapter 19

### Friday, Nov 18th 5:17 pm

Jack arrived home from the office and parked his car in the garage. He was on his way to the street to bring the recycling bin back inside when he spotted Fred waddling up the street towards him. He removed the bin from the street, put it inside the back door of the garage, and went back out to catch Fred.

"Hey, Fred," Jack shouted.

Fred nodded and puffed heavily as he usually did when he was almost finished with his walk back from town.

"Hi, Jack."

Jack strolled over and onto Fred's property for the first time since the murder. "Can I ask you something, Fred?"

"Oh sure," he responded through heavy breaths. "What's up?"

"Nothing really. It's just that, ever since Donna's death, we hardly talk anymore. I never really talk to anyone anymore..."

"Is that so," Fred said. He scratched his chin and looked at Jack with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah," Jack said and smiled sheepishly. "We used to talk a lot, you and me. All of us, you know. Tracey and Donna..."

"Uh huh, we did at that, Jack. But things have changed now. People change."

"I know they do, but I was hoping we could talk."

"We are talking."

"No, I mean really talk...like over a beer, or glass of wine. I want to talk like we used to."

Fred looked at Jack and uneasiness pressed into the wrinkles around Fred's eyes. He looked up to his house. Jack knew he was watching out for Tracey.

"How about you come over for a drink later? Around seven? Just you and me," Jack offered.

"I'd like that," Fred replied and nodded his head. "I gotta go. Tracey will be...well, Tracey..."

Jack had his suspicions about how things were over at the Anderson house.

"Never mind. I'll see you later, then," Jack said.

Fred nodded, turned, and walked into his house.

Jack watched Fred until he disappeared. He scratched at his chin deep in thought.

A few minutes later, he was back in his vehicle and on his way to the wine store. Fred was a unique character, and he liked the finer things in life. Tracey may have called Fred cheap, but Jack saw Fred in an entirely different light. Jack respected Fred. Fred spent his money wisely, but he didn't hesitate to spend forty dollars on a single bottle of wine. Fred chose where he spent his money carefully, and Fred expected quality and value from everything he purchased.

It was dusk by the time Jack parked outside Gunther's Wine Store. The days were growing shorter. Jack entered the store and pulled the door open. He caught the reflection of a quick flash somewhere behind him. He turned quickly but did not really know where to look. A couple of cars went by with their lights on. He saw a young couple on the other side of the street holding hands and walking slowly. He looked up and down both directions and saw no else.

Had he imagined the flash? Was it just a headlight reflecting in the glass?

Jack went inside but glanced out the front every few minutes as he searched the specialty wines. He settled on two bottles of Don Melchor 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon. It was out of his usual price range, but Jack knew Fred would respect such a bottle of wine of this vintage, so he decided to go for it. He suddenly had an abundance of money, and he was sure Fred would appreciate the gesture.

As Jack drove home to prepare for Fred, he scanned down the shadows and doorways of all the dark places. He searched for anyone out of place, but he saw no one.

He made himself a quick dinner: a toasted sandwich with sliced meat, which he downed quickly before starting a fire in the front room. It was the first fire he had lit since Donna's death, and it brought back memories of the last dinner he and Donna had shared over at the Andersons. He missed Donna again, but he forced himself to carry on with preparations for Fred's arrival.

He cleared the coffee table of all the clutter and tidied the room; he replaced the clutter with two wine glasses and the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He poked the fire again and laid two larger pieces on top that quickly erupted with flame.

Fred arrived a few minutes after seven. Jack took his coat and hung it in the closet. Fred looked to be in good spirits and he had another bottle of wine for Jack. This was Fred's unspoken peace offering—a gesture Jack willingly accepted.

Jack ushered Fred into the front room and offered him a seat opposite his own spot. Fred spotted the Don Melchor immediately and smiled.

"Don Melchor 2006! A great wine. I didn't think you paid attention when I rambled."

Jack laughed. "I thought you might enjoy it."

Fred picked up the bottle and caressed it carefully before pouring a serving in each glass. "Oh, I like very much, Jack. Very much. I have a 2005 in the cellar. Haven't had the moment that deserves opening it yet."

Jack saw the 2005 in Fred's cellar many times. It was in Fred's "Do Not Touch" section, and Jack purchased the 2006 precisely for that reason. The 2005 was double the price, and Jack wanted to make sure Fred still felt he had one up on him.

Jack got right to the point with Fred. He tipped his glass to Fred and took a small sip. "So what's the news on the trial? I know they've pushed it up," Jack said.

Fred nodded. "Way up. Jury selection is next week, and I think they're shooting for early December now."

"That is quick. How's Josh?"

Fred shook his head. "I'm at a loss with the boy. Seems I've done everything wrong now. He won't talk to me. Tracey doesn't want me to go up there. I've gone up anyway, by God I have, but Josh doesn't have much to say to me. I think I may have pushed him too far now."

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

Fred became serious. "You and me, Jack. We've been very close, we have. But I'm still finding it difficult to sit here next to you with a glass of wine after what my son has been accused of."

"And my wife..." Jack added. "Don't forget that she was part of what Josh is being accused of."

Fred nodded again. "And your wife. It is still a shock to me that this actually happened. Donna was a special person, and I just can't get my head around the whole thing."

"And you and Tracey?"

Fred dropped his shoulders and shrugged. "Honestly, I think we're done. Tracey won't talk to me. Well she does but only in a matter of fact kind of way and just for what is necessary to say. I'm in the guest room now. I'm afraid I'll have to wait and see what happens when this is all over."

Jack was truly sorry for Fred and Tracey. He hated to see his friend hurting this way. "I am sorry, Fred."

Fred laughed suddenly. "Sorry? You? Why? You're the victim in all of this more than we are. Why should you be sorry? I would have expected much more anger from you. I think that's what has always made you so special to everyone, Jack. You're still that same strong soul we all love." He laughed again.

"Here we are...you and me. Two grown men sharing a glass of wine with a fire in the background like two old, gossipy women. I like you, Jack. I really do."

Fred lifted a toast to Jack and drank.

Jack hadn't expected such an expression from Fred. It was unusual, and it made Jack uncomfortable.

"What if Josh was to get off? Would that change things between you and Tracey?"

"Get off? I don't think there's much chance of that. Even Barry doubts the chances. He has been asking to have Josh make a plea. Josh won't have any of it. He still swears he is innocent and says he's not admitting to anything."

"Well he might get off."

Fred stiffened. "Jack! I've accepted it! I'm not about to go live on any false hope. That's what Tracey does, and that's what's driving us apart right now."

Jack said nothing and topped off both glasses. He thought about what Fred said about Josh being convicted. He really never believed it would come to this. If Josh was really going to go down, he would have to do what he could to intercede. He liked Fred and Tracey too much to not do what he knew was still possible.

"I wouldn't give up all hope just yet, Fred. You told me there is no DNA putting Josh is that room. That is something."

"Something, but not enough. The guitar wire is the nail in his coffin. It's the one thing I can't get my head around. I don't see how it's not Josh's. He was missing one and that same one showed up at the scene of the crime for Christ's sake. I just can't see any other explanation."

Jack felt anxious. There was another option. A simple question he could ask Fred right now would change everything for Josh, but he couldn't do it. Fred would take it back to Barry. Barry would take it to Dean. All hell would break loose again. He couldn't do it. Not yet. Not until the trial was fully under way.

"Well, this is just me talking Fred, but maybe for Josh and Tracey's sake you should not let Barry try to plea Josh. Stand behind Josh's innocence. Maybe tell Barry to back off on the plea and let Josh and Tracey know where you stand on this. It might hold you all together."

"Maybe, Jack. Maybe."

The two continued to talk, finished the one bottle, and started on the second. They talked for hours about Josh and Tracey, and finally exhausted all angles and points of view on the subject. They finally found themselves talking about wine, travel, and even the NHL hockey season. It was a good evening. Jack was finally reconnecting with Fred, and he knew what he had to do. He just wasn't sure how to go about doing it.

## Chapter 20

### Monday, November 28th 7:47 am

The snow came again overnight and settled another sheet of white over the valley. Temperatures dropped continuously, and winter solidified itself to remain constant until spring. The snowplows were already out pushing up the snowbanks a few inches higher.

Jack was out shoveling his drive before heading off to work. The trial date for Josh was confirmed for December 3rd—only a week away. Jack still wasn't sure what he should do. He continued to scrape away at his drive. He heard the click, and this time there was no mistaking the sound. That was the sound of an SLR camera shutter. He turned quickly to see David Chow smiling away at Jack. His camera dropped a few inches below his chin.

"Morning, Mr. Gardner," he said politely and walked along the sidewalk on the road.

Jack was stunned by David's sudden appearance. "Um, good morning, David." Jack looked around and saw no one else on the street.

"I was going to take picture on river, but path is snowed over. On the way to school."

"Uh huh," Jack said. Why was David was even talking to him? "Did you just take my picture?"

"Yes," David said and kept smiling. "You look good, Mr. Gardner. Wanna see photo?"

"No, I don't. Why did you take my picture?"

"I take lot of picture, Mr. Gardner."

"Well, I don't like having my picture taken."

David continued to smile at Jack. Neither moved. Jack returned to shoveling more snow, hoping David would leave, but David stayed standing at the end of Jack's driveway. Jack stopped and turned back to David. "What is it? Do you want something?"

David shook his head. "I take lot of picture, Mr. Gardner." His English was broken, but his words were sharp and clear.

"So you do." Jack was getting agitated. "Why are you still standing here? I don't want my picture taken, so...if you don't mind." He motioned with his hand for David to leave.

"I say I take a lot of picture," David said forcefully.

David was no longer smiling and Jack was starting to get uncomfortable. He finally understood what David was trying to say.

"I think you should see picture, Mr. Gardner."

Jack suddenly connected David to all the flashes he had seen.

He moved slowly towards David. "Okay, David," he said. "I'd like to see the picture."

David smiled again. His teeth glistened.

"Come. I show. I show." David fiddled with the camera and stood next to Jack to show him the picture he had just taken.

"See? That you, Mr. Gardner."

"Uh huh." Jack stared at the picture unimpressed.

David pressed one of the buttons, and then the picture changed to one of Jack's property, most likely taken yesterday or the day before from the river path judging from the amount of snow that covered the trees in the back yard. Jack stared at the picture. It was David. David had been following him.

David clicked again. The picture was from last week when he was at the wine store. There was nothing incriminating about any of these photos.

David clicked again and again. The pictures showed the back of his property, then the front. David continued to click through the photos. There were pictures of Jack arriving home, and Jack out for a run along the river. There were pictures of Jack gassing up his SUV at the service station and of Jack at his office. Some were of Jack in his house at night and then one of him in the garage as he held the sample glove in his hand.

David's photos detailed Jack's activities in reverse order over the past weeks. Jack did not know what to say, but watched as David clicked faster and faster backwards in time. Jack's head began to swim. He could tell the time was nearing the day of Donna's murder.

David was no longer smiling and had his eyes intently focused on Jack as he watched Jack stare at the photos.

Jack saw the photos of Jack with Donna's parents and others with his parents. David had photos of Jack as he and his parents drove by at the house just days after the murder.

Jack wanted David to stop, but David kept on with the pictures leading towards the night of the murder. David suddenly stopped clicking and stayed on a photo of him leaving the hotel.

Jack shook his head and felt the blood burning in his veins. He was sure he was about to break out in a sweat.

The photo at the hotel was taken the day after he was finally released from questioning and was driven to the hotel at five in the morning. David was already there waiting with his camera. David had been taking photos the entire time. Jack was suddenly terrified.

"You want see next picture, Mr. Gardner?" David asked.

The sweat finally broke across Jack's forehead, and he wiped his arm across it nervously. He did not want to see the next photo. But he knew he had to. The next photo would tell him everything. Had David seen what really happened to his wife? Jack was now beyond scared and finally removed his focus from the camera. He looked at David. David was staring at Jack, and David was crying. Tears were streaming down David's cheeks. Jack was now very confused.

"You must see next picture," David said. His voice was shaky and sounded as scared as Jack now felt.

David clicked to the next picture.

Jack felt a huge sense of relief, but his relief quickly changed to utter horror. Jack stared at the picture in disbelief and knew the picture he was looking at would change everything.

Jack looked at David again, and David was looking into the distance in his best attempt to control his tears.

Jack looked at the photo again. It showed Josh at his home in the basement great room. The picture was obviously taken using a tripod and a time delay. He was sitting on the couch with his shirt off and an enormous grin stretching from ear to ear. Sitting next to him was David, also without a shirt. David's hair appeared to be wet as if he just came out of the shower. One of David's arms was wrapped around Josh, and he was planting a kiss to Josh's cheek. His other hand was down in Josh's crotch.

Jack reeled as he suddenly retraced everything he thought he knew about Josh. Josh was never allowed to have any of his friends over. Tracey made this very clear at the last dinner party. Josh had no girlfriend. This picture could only have been taken while Fred and Tracey were in Denver. It was obviously taken the night Donna was murdered.

Jack remembered how Josh had asked to sleep over at his friend Davey's house to work on a homework assignment. His mother demanded he stay home. Josh's friend 'Davey' was the boy who stood with him now: David Chow.

Jack's head was swimming in panic. Josh had an alibi for the night Donna was murdered.

"See Mr. Gardner? See? Josh not kill your wife."

Jack shook his head. He tried to say something but he was unable to pull together any word to make a sentence. He grunted. The words from his dream returned to haunt him.

"I follow you. Josh with me night your wife murdered. I had to be sure you not murderer. I follow you and take picture."

Jack could only nod, as he listened to David's explanation in broken English.

"See, Mr. Gardner? Josh not kill your wife. You need to help Josh."

Jack shook his head. He wasn't sure what David was asking of him.

"Josh not say anything. Me neither, but I can't let Josh go to jail for murder he not do. I not know what to do, Mr. Gardner. No one else to talk to."

Jack was beside himself. All the evidence pointed to Josh, and now Josh had an alibi. He suddenly thought of Dean. Dean could not find out about David and Josh. This is exactly what Dean has been searching for.

"Okay, David," Jack said. "I believe you! I really do, but I am not sure what I can do."

"You must do something. I not do anything. Can't. But you, Mr. Gardner. You can do something."

Why did David think he could do anything? Jack wondered if David knew more than he was letting on.

"I take it Josh's mom and dad don't know?"

"Oh no, Mr. Gardner. Josh said his mom and dad not ever know! Promise me you say nothing! Promise! I only tell you cause I not know how else to help. Trial next week!"

"Okay, okay," Jack said and tried to calm David down. Jack grabbed David by the shoulders, leaned in close, and stared into his eyes. "Here's what we'll do, David. I'll see if I can talk to someone to get this sorted. But I promise I won't mention a word about you and Josh. Not one word to anyone about you."

"Thank you, Mr. Gardner, thank you. Josh not kill your wife, see?"

Jack let go of David. "Be strong, David. I will do what I can.

But Josh won't be convicted even if he goes to trial."

"No trial, Mr. Gardner."

Jack shook his head. "No, no. Listen. Even if it goes to trial, Josh will not go to prison. I promise you." Jack knew what he was saying was true, and he knew he would have to act soon.

"I not let Josh go to prison. Show photo if I have to."

David's words hung in the air. Jack nodded and watched David as he wandered off down the street. Jack contemplated running after him, grabbing the camera, and destroying the photos, but that would not stop David if he wanted to confess what was really going on.

***

Jack returned to the house. He sat down in his front room and stared out the front window into the frosty cold deep in thought about his current situation. He quickly called his boss to tell him he wasn't able to get in to work for the rest of the week. Reginald was very understanding and told Jack not to worry about it.

Jack returned to his thoughts about David. Something seemed off about all of this. Jack retraced what he saw in all of the photos David showed him. They recapped everything he did and everywhere he went since the day he arrived back from Vancouver with the police escort. Or did they? He would have to think about it more.

Jack picked up a photo from the side table and ran his fingers across Donna's smiling face. It was a photo taken of the two of them outside the house just after they purchased it. Donna was overflowing with excitement that day. Jack remembered it clearly. He was excited too but for very different reasons. He breathed a heavy sigh and shook his head as the pain of losing her resurfaced. He wanted to cry. He really did miss her. He could not deny it. He loved her more than he ever imagined he could, and he struggled with the pain every day.

The grief swept across him, and he cried aloud. He missed her. He really missed her.

Jack studied Donna's features in the photo and though back to a day in early spring. They had just gone to bed for the night when Donna told him about Josh for the first time. They often talked in bed before going to sleep. Usually, the talk was about something unimportant. Donna simply mentioned that Josh had come to see her at her office.

"Josh from next door?" Jack had responded.

"Yes. He's been dropping by my office for some time. A few months now."

"What about?" Jack had asked.

"You know I can't say anything about that...especially with Fred and Tracey right next door."

"I hope it's nothing serious," Jack responded with concern in his voice.

"Just the usual stuff. We have four other counselors, but he really wanted to see me...probably because he already knew me. It's just that summer's coming soon, and I won't be there all summer."

Jack knew Donna well and knew what she was going to suggest next.

"I only want to make the offer to him. We live right next door to him, Jack. I don't see the harm in us talking if needs to talk to someone."

"I know...but work is work. I didn't think you counselors were so supposed to get personally involved with clients outside of the office."

Jack knew it right as the words left his lips. He had been waiting for an opportunity like this for months. He wasn't sure then how he'd use it, but he knew immediately it was the real deal.

"You're right," Donna replied that night as they lay in bed. "But this is Fred and Tracey's boy."

"Do Fred or Tracey know Josh has been seeing you?"

"Oh no, Jack! That's my point. Josh made it clear that I am not supposed to tell them anything. Nothing Josh and I talk about will ever be repeated by me to anyone. Not even you, Jack."

Jack remembered how those words hung in the air that night as Jack tried to sleep. His mind crept and crawled over her words, connecting them to everything he had done up to that point. By the time morning came, Jack had it all figured out. He would only need to fine-tune the details and make it all happen. Jack promised himself that night that he would be patient.

Jack had been very patient for over two years, planning and putting everything in place. He was nearly done now. All he had planned for was out there waiting for him. It was time to start the countdown. Just another few months, and it would all be over.

Jack placed the photo back on the side table. He finally understood what Josh had been seeing Donna about. David. Josh obviously had some issue with his sexuality and was talking to Donna about it. But if that were true, then would Dean have known about it? Perhaps Donna had avoided recording anything specific in her files about Josh. He wasn't sure how it worked at her office, but Jack was pretty sure that Dean didn't know, otherwise he would have been all over David and Josh's other friends. No, Dean did not know. Jack needed to keep it that way.

## Chapter 21

### Wednesday, Nov 30th 6:17 pm

The trial was only days away, and Jack was no closer to making a decision about what he was going to do. He called Dean. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he wanted to talk to Dean about Josh.

Dean responded immediately, and they met on neutral ground at the Tim Horton's.

"Thanks for coming, Dean," Jack said as Dean approached with his Timmy's coffee in hand.

Dean sat down across from Jack and eyed him with distrust. "What's up, Jack?"

"Not much really. It's just...there's been a lot of friction between us these past months."

"And your point?"

"I just wanted to know why, Dean. Do you really still believe I had something to do with this? After all this time?"

Dean grinned. "The trial starts next week. We'll see then, won't we?"

Jack frowned. "I'm not on trial. Josh is. I don't understand what you mean."

"You've played everybody for a long time. You've done a great job, and I congratulate you. You will testify, and you will be asked questions. A lot of questions."

"So? You're saying what?"

"Why'd you call me, Jack?"

Jack didn't know how to respond. He was fishing really. He was just curious to see if Dean had anything to say that would influence Jack's action plan.

"Okay. Here it is. I don't want to see Josh go down for this."

Dean leaned back with his eyes opened wide, and Jack could see he was clearly surprised.

"I see. You don't want Josh, the suspect accused of killing your wife, to go to jail for this crime. This is the suspect who not only strangled your wife in your bed while you were away, but also the suspect who was supposedly having an affair with your wife. This is the same suspect who we have an abundance of evidence on and, by coincidence, the only real legitimate suspect we have in this case."

Jack stared at Dean. He realized how stupid his revelation actually sounded.

"It's just that Josh is just a student. You know a lot about him, right?"

Dean ignored Jack's question. "Unfortunately, Jack, it is not up to you...unless you know someone else who may have committed this crime. You know we found other DNA evidence, but the funny thing is that it didn't match anybody we could find. Strange, wouldn't you say?"

"It's not that. I've known Fred and Tracey for a long time...Josh too. Maybe I'm just offering forgiveness ."

"Ha!" Dean barked. "Guilt is more like it." Dean pointed his finger at Jack. "I know exactly what this is! You are finally feeling guilty for what you did. Am I right? I told you I wasn't stupid, and I've been right about all of this. You think I changed my mind about it? No way, Jack! I haven't changed my mind about anything. Especially where I know you're involved. Whatever gave you the idea that I was going to change my mind about any of this?"

Jack felt himself wavering. It was the first time he felt this way with Dean. He would have previously told Dean to "fuck off" when Dean accused Jack like this, but he couldn't do it today.

"Well, Jack? Talk to me!"

Jack began to stammer. "I don't know. I don't. I don't even know what I'm doing here right now. Maybe you're right about Josh. I don't know. Maybe Josh deserves to be punished. It's been so hard...week after week after week. I just want this all to be over. It's just that Josh is..."

Dean glared at Jack with an intense look of pressure and indignation etched on his face. What the hell was he doing talking to Dean at all?

"I gotta go," Jack said as he suddenly realized he had already said too much. He shoved his chair back and stood. "I'm sorry, but I've gotta go." Jack turned and walked quickly out of the coffee shop, leaving Dean to frown over this sudden, strange behavior.

## Chapter 22

### Friday, December 2nd 7:14 pm

The snow returned on a strong north wind. Snowdrifts piled up along the sides of houses and streets. Jack settled himself in for the evening trying to stay on focus, but it was not going well.

He was hoping to spend the evening in front of the fire clearing his mind of the torrent of crippling thoughts as the storm swirled around outside the house. He wanted to escape. He had the fire lit and was seated with a whiskey in hand, but he could not free his mind. Spiraling confused thoughts were slowly consuming his every waking moment.

As soon as he sat down, memories of Donna flooded his thoughts. His last confrontation with Dean left him entirely unsure of his next move and sent him back to where it all started.

Jack met Donna at the Positive Outlook Seminar well over two years ago, and it really was not the coincidence that everyone seemed to think it was. Jack's purpose for attending the seminar in the first place was to meet someone. He had been going to many seminars for many months in search of that special person.

When Jack found Donna, he knew after a few dates that she was the one. She was attractive, smart and, most importantly to Jack, she had a good paying career with money already put away in the bank.

Jack slugged back some of the whiskey and felt the burn as he swallowed. He had not intended to use anyone this way. Donna was just there at the right time. Jack laughed aloud.

"Wrong time actually, Donna. Sorry darling." He looked at her picture on the side table, and whispered, "I am sorry, Donna. I truly am, but I only did what I set out to do from the start." A tear ran down his cheek.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!" he shouted. "I wasn't supposed to ever love you! I wasn't supposed to." Jack took another sip and stared at her photo again. "It hurts every day, Donna. It really does."

Jack thought of Donna after their first encounter when she approached him at the end of the seminar. He had participated in the seminar whenever he could. He could see she was watching him the entire evening and was flattered when she asked if he had time for a quick cup of coffee. He had been to nine different seminars over the past eight months looking for the right candidate, and Donna seemed to fit perfectly.

"It was always about the money," he said aloud to the empty room. The fire crackled loudly as if to curse him.

He let his thoughts drift back even further. Back to a time nearly three years ago, well before he met Donna. He had fallen on an idea. Jack knew at the time the idea was ludicrous. It was maybe stupid, and definitely foolish, but he had done the math and played all the risks through his mind hundreds of times. It just made sense to him, and he became so obsessed with his own creative brilliance that he could not ignore his plan.

Jack always wanted to be rich. Very rich. Ever since he graduated from college and discovered that he would still have to work extremely hard just to earn an average income, he longed to be rich. He knew he was meant for greater things. Jack strived for more. He was an achiever with a huge appetite and believed no goal was out of reach for him if he desired it enough. So he set himself a goal: five million dollars.

But to what extreme would he go to achieve such a goal? What was he willing to do to get there? How willing was he to betray people he loved to achieve his goal? He laughed to himself when he thought about his plan. He knew he was willing, even back then, to go as far as necessary. It was all about the payback. That was exactly what they taught him at college. The goal is always to achieve the best rate of return on your investment. And what was Jack's investment?

Jack worked out the value of his plan. Five million dollars. If it took him four years to achieve that, then every single month for the next four years would be worth over one hundred thousand dollars. What would anyone do for one hundred thousand dollars a month? Jack knew what he would do for that kind of pay back. When Jack felt like putting off until tomorrow something he could do today, he thought about the one hundred thousand dollars he would be making per month, and the motivation drove him onward.

Jack's plan was very simple: five simple steps to complete within four years. Who would suspect him if he planned it out this far? It was an unreasonable length of time to the average person, and Jack laughed each time he thought of it this way. Unreasonable. Who could believe such a scheme?

And so Jack set about his plan: Get married. Take out a life insurance policy on his wife. Wait a couple of years, and love her to death every single day. Ensure a solid, airtight alibi. Murder his wife and collect the insurance money. It sounded simple enough. But had not this been attempted by other greedy men thousands of times already? No one had planned it in the way Jack was planning it, though. He had a new age plan. The perfect plan. He would use modern technology to prove his innocent when the time came. Well, the time had certainly come, and based on all the evidence collected, he was innocent of any crime. If he could just continue to keep his composure, he would be home free.

Jack stood up, went to the window, and watched the winter storm under the glow of the streetlights. The wind was brisk, and unyielding. He could hear the house creak and groan at times as the gusts heaved against the house as if they attempted to move the house from its foundation. The snowdrifts continued to crawl down the street and left Jack with a feeling of uneasiness about what tomorrow might bring.

He stared out at the snow, raised a toast to himself, and drank. He let the whiskey drain down inside him and leave a much-wanted burn to fester behind in his throat. He should have felt elated and prosperous at being so close to achieving his goals, but his victory was bitter. He hated how he felt now; each thought of Donna tortured him. He never imagined he could ever feel this way.

He toasted himself again and drank more whiskey. "Does it taste good?" he shouted and began to weep.

## Chapter 23

### Saturday, December 3rd 9:17 am

Jack slept late. His lifted his head from the pillow and immediately felt the pounding ache the whiskey left as a reminder of the self-pity he doused himself with the night before. He cursed himself for letting the whiskey win last night and forced his body out of bed. Soon he was standing in the bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror after downing three extra-strength Tylenol.

He looked like shit.

Jack got in the shower and cleaned up as best he could. The thumping in his head lingered; the Tylenol didn't have the effect he hoped for. He fried up a couple of eggs, slapped them between two pieces of toast, and forced them down into his belly. He felt only slightly better.

Jack sat down in the front room and stared at the frigid landscape outside. The winds calmed overnight but not before they left the streets, homes, and trees buried under a blanket of naked whiteness. The scene was not yet touched by shovel or grader.

He thought about last night. The truth hurt deep. He could not deny what he had done and realized he would never be able to separate his love for Donna from what he did. He felt fractured as if he had two demons within him splitting him apart. One wanted to scream and fight its way out. It screamed, "Stop! Stop!" and wished things never went this far. It wanted to rewind time. The other demon was harsh and cruel. It was determined to finish what needed finishing.

He wanted to laugh, but had neither the energy nor the motivation. Dean still had no evidence linking him to Donna's murder, and Jack needed to ensure it stayed that way. That meant Jack had to make sure all eyes remained on Josh as long as possible. David Chow was the unexpected ingredient, and Jack had no idea what David was capable of. He didn't know if David would even hold off long enough for Jack to finish his plan.

Just a few more days, and it would all be done.

Jack had spent years planning the details behind the DNA. He planned and gathered, sorted and rejected, over and over again until he had the perfect specimens. Fred and Donna both unknowingly showed him that Josh was the perfect suspect, and they provided the opportunity for Jack to weave them all together. It was so carefully planned.

And now David came along.

Jack stood up, walked to the front window, and stared out at the frozen landscape.

"Fuck you, David Chow," he whispered softly. His breath fogged up the glass as the words left his lips. "Fuck you..."

## Chapter 24

### Saturday, December 3rd 4:55 pm

The winter sun descended slowly from a cloudless sky and dropped in behind the mountains. The clear sky would cause the temperature to plummet overnight leaving the town immersed in an arctic freeze by morning. Jack could relate to the sudden drop in temperature as it mimicked the negativity that was descending upon the town.

Jack stopped to pull the collar of his coat up high so it covered his cheeks and kept some of his body heat from escaping. He was nearly finished shoveling the sidewalks and driveway, a chore that could still be accomplished with a feeling of fresh purpose this time of year but would be downright mundane by the end of February. He spotted Fred's car coming down the snowy road. Tracey sat poised in the passenger seat and avoided eye contact with Jack as Fred pulled the car into the drive and into the garage.

Jack stopped shoveling and hoped they would come out, but the garage door closed and Jack was left alone in the cold to finish his task.

Jack missed their dinner parties. They began only months after Jack and Donna moved in and eventually turned into an expected, weekly event. The party was more often at Fred and Tracey's than at Jack and Donna's, at Tracey's insistence. Donna was fine with that; she didn't like to fuss with glamorous dinners as much as Tracey did. In the beginning, Josh did not even sit with them at the table and took dinner in his room instead. Sometimes Tracey let Josh order a pizza from Domino's rather than making him eat what they were eating. Parties are for adults, she always said. Jack laughed to himself when she said that the first time. Josh was already seventeen at the time, but that was just how Tracey saw things.

Jack was left to spend another Saturday night alone. He did not much enjoy Saturday nights anymore. He certainly did not intend to allow the whiskey to steal his evening like it did last night, but it called to him from the cabinet and whispering sweet promises that it would behave tonight. Just a taste to wet the lips and warm the insides, it promised.

Jack saw no harm in having just one tonight and pulled his amber colored friend from the cabinet again.

He poured the Crown Royal over three ice cubes until the cubes lifted from the bottom of the glass and cracked in celebration and approval of Jack's choice. He retired to the front room where the fire was already aglow, snapping and crackling to create a calming charm about the room. It was a charm that made it simple for Jack to fall deep into thought about what to do with Josh and David Chow.

Jack sat and rolled the options over in his mind. The trial was days away, and he would have to relive the product of his actions. He had the ability to change things, but he wasn't sure whom he should use to start the chain of events. He mused, mulled, and let his brain route its own path through the possibilities.

Hours pass and more logs are burned to ash on the fire. Jack's golden friend refused to stay tucked away in the cupboard, and by the end of the evening, the devil's liquid had won again. Jack did not mind at all because as the whiskey offered itself up in sacrifice for his cause. It continued to fuel the necessary fire deep down in his belly that was necessary in the task of sorting his thoughts. The passion to reach his goal grew again tonight. Each thought seemed to right the rails, and his thoughts soon began to realign back with his original plan. One demon deep down inside his soul finally beat down the other, and his focus was once again very clear. Jack was pleased.

Jack felt the evil once again, and the warmth of the whiskey was his wanted companion. He had regained the cold, defined compassion he extolled over the past two years, and he knew he would be able to survive the inquisition of the trial. He knew he would relive all the moments over the last two years, including all the horrible things he had done. But there was comfort in knowing the evidence pointed elsewhere, and only Jack knew the real truth. He relished his own brilliance and fortitude.

Jack grinned with pleasure and emptied the last of the whiskey into one last drink. The hour fell over onto a new day, and Jack's apprehension now shifted to one of anticipation.

"Bring it on," he said and sipped on the whiskey, savoring every drop. "Bring it on."

## Chapter 25

### Sunday, December 4th 11:50 am

Jack picked his mother up at the airport. Bud, Jack's father, decided he would stay at home because he did not want to sit in the courtroom on one of those hard benches for days.

"My legs will get stiff and I'll get cramps," he said. "I can't just get up and walk around the courtroom to stretch them in the middle of it now, can I? It's best if I just stayed back here to mind the house."

He would wait to get the reports from Louisie every night instead.

Jack expected as much from his father. He liked his father well enough, but Bud was never one to express his feelings. His father had not hugged him once as a child, and Jack knew that Bud's decision to stay behind had nothing to do with the trial. It had more to do with the fact that there would be people and cameras there, and Bud might be expected to show some outward compassion and emotional support for his son—something Bud had not done in the past and was certainly not prepared to do now.

His mother was charming and excited to be back with Jack again. She wanted to be caught up on all of the details, and Jack soon delivered. His mother rode along for every turn and twist Jack put forward. Jack's confidence was lifted by the way she absorbed each of the simple facts he regurgitated about what had happened to date. If she only knew the real facts, Jack thought. The truth of how low he descended on this journey of his would horrify his mother. She would never understand why and would most likely be mortified for having born a son of such extreme malice.

## Chapter 26

### Monday, December 5th 9:17 am

Crown Prosecutor Ron Baxter stood at the front of the quiet courtroom and prepared to give his opening statement. He looked over at Josh Anderson who was now situated in the prisoner's box to the right of the judge, dressed in the orange inmate coveralls. He stared at Josh for nearly two minutes without saying a word and let the silence of the crowd enhance the anticipation of what was about to begin. Josh did not know where to look as Ron stared him down. He shuffled his eyes across to the judge and jury and fidgeted with his hands. The crowd's eyes moved from Ron to Josh and back a number of times in exactly the manner Ron wanted. He moved over to the jury box and slowly paced across in front of it and stared at each juror one by one until he was sure he had the undivided attention of each and every one of them.

Everyone was fixated as Ron made his way back to the prosecution table, picked up a plastic bag from the desk and held it high in the air above his head so every single person in the courtroom wondered what it was that was concealed inside. He finally began to speak.

"There is a single guitar wire inside this sealed bag." He waved the bag back and forth a few more times, so no one would dare to look elsewhere.

"There is no question that this guitar wire was used as the murder weapon to strangle Donna Gardner on the night of September 18th, 2011; it was still wrapped around her neck when her coworker found her body." The hum of a murmur floated amongst the spectators and faded as quickly as it had risen. Ron heard the murmur and was pleased he received the reaction he wanted.

"The evidence in this case will show you that the accused, Josh Anderson, who lived next door to the victim, was not the person his family and friends thought he was. The evidence will also show you that Donna Anderson was not the person her husband, friends, and family thought she was." Ron paused momentarily before continuing.

"On the night of September 18th, Jack Anderson left his home on a business trip around 7:30 p.m. after having dinner with his wife. This business trip would take Jack far away from his home in just a number of hours. The evidence will show that Jack Anderson was still travelling through the Rocky Mountains on his way to Abbottsford, B.C. when his wife was murdered in their home. We will also show you that a phone call to Jack was made on the Gardner house phone by Donna at exactly 10:27 p.m. and that Jack's cell phone pinged the tower in Golden, B.C., indicating that Jack was in that vicinity. By the time Jack checked into his hotel in Abbotsford at two minutes after seven the next morning, his wife was already dead." Another murmur crossed the crowd in waves.

"Donna Anderson was certainly not the devoted, dedicated, faithful wife her family and friends, and even co-workers, thought she was. The defense will bring witnesses attesting to Donna's faithfulness and character, but the evidence will show otherwise. Donna Anderson was anything but faithful to her husband and had, on numerous occasions, sex with other men. She even brought some of these men into the bed she and her husband shared every night.

"We will present evidence that will show that Josh Anderson, the suspect charged with this horrible crime..." Ron pointed at Josh. "...was one of those men. We will also present evidence that will show that on the night of September 18, Josh Anderson received a phone call from Donna Gardner a few hours after her husband Jack left town and that he went over to see Donna Gardner. We will present evidence of that phone call between Donna and Josh, and we will also show you the footprints left by Josh Anderson as he entered the Gardner property and house that night."

Ron raised the bag with the guitar wire in the air again and shook it as he carried on.

"This guitar wire was found around the victim's neck. Our suspect Josh plays the guitar. The evidence will show that Josh recently changed his guitar strings, and the old guitar strings, once removed from his instrument, were stored in the drawer of a bedside table in his bedroom. We will show you that one of the used guitar strings was missing from Josh's bedside table, and that the missing guitar string is the same guitar string I now hold in my hand."

Jack sat in the front row with his mother and Donna's mother and father next to him. Jack wanted to shout in elation at Ron's opening statement. He squeezed his mother's hand. He could not have asked for a better show, and the fact that Ron had opted to use the guitar wire as the centerpiece for his opening statement was more than he could have hoped for.

"We will show you evidence that Josh, in his second year at Bluffington University, was a frequent visitor to Donna at her office at Bluffington University where she worked as a counselor. Josh did not visit her only once or twice; he had been meeting with Donna on a regular basis for months prior to her murder. We will also present as evidence an earring that belonged to the victim, Donna Gardner. This earring was found in the bedroom of Josh Anderson. We will show you that the only way this earring could have ended up in Josh's bedroom was during a sexual encounter between Josh and Donna in Josh's bed."

Ron carried on his with his opening statement, reviewing and putting forth all of the evidence they were about to present over the next number of days. Jack watched Ron, but his mind was elsewhere—already reliving some of the evidence Ron mentioned.

As Ron moved on to the DNA evidence, Jack began slowly reliving the process he went through to collect the perfect evidence Ron now spoke about.

It was pure coincidence that Jack's collection of evidence evolved to the level it did. Jack supplied many pubs and restaurants with supplies, and right around the time he and Donna were making their wedding plans two years ago, the H1N1 flu epidemic began. The transmission and serious health risks associated with the H1N1 virus created a mass panic all across North America. As a result, many businesses took action to ensure a safe and sanitary workplace.

Jack saw the perfect sales opportunity. He moved his supply of hand sanitizers and latex gloves to his promotional items, along with the food storage bags. He often gave the products away to get in a prospective client's door.

Jack soon carried the samples everywhere; he often even had the samples at the ready in the pockets of his blazer or coat. Jack was a true salesman and never missed an opportunity. He began to see how his long-term plan for Donna was going to unfold on one of his traveling sales gigs in Edmonton.

Jack was staying at the Radisson on the south side of Edmonton. He was in the Lion's Head Pub at the back of the hotel after unsuccessfully encouraging the manager to accept some of his samples. He had been at the whiskey for a while and was about to head up to his room, but he ventured to the washroom to relieve himself first. The washroom was not very clean. A used paper towel was tossed on the floor, the sink counter was full of stains and drips from patrons washing up, and the urinals looked like they had not been cleaned for a while. Jack stood in front of one and it was so foul it disgusted him. Numerous black pubic hairs stuck to the lip of the urinal, and yellow stains and drips were dried and crusty.

Jack remained sickened by the pubic hairs as he relieved himself. He retreated to his room and tried to sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking about the pubic hairs. Jack felt a sudden bolt of excitement pass through him as a thought popped into his head. He had to have another look at those pubic hairs. He jumped out of bed, dressed quickly, returned to the pub, and entered the washroom. There were a lot of pubic hairs. The hairs seem to have multiplied on their own. Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out one of the sample bags he grabbed before coming back down. He carefully picked out a dozen of the pubic hairs from the urinal and dropped them inside the bag. He resealed the bag, washed his hands, and went back up to his room.

And so his perverse attraction to collecting discarded DNA had begun. It was not a good sample, but he had come a long way since then. DNA was a key puzzle piece in his master plan for Donna.

Jack returned his thoughts to the present to see that Ron Baxter was now seated and Brian Barry was up front giving his best "my client is innocent" speech to the jury. Jack looked around the courtroom. It was packed. Over to his right he could see Fred and Tracey. They watched Brian Barry with angst and worry that could only have been predicated by the powerful case Ron Baxter just promised to present to the jury.

Jack scanned across the crowd. All eyes were up front, and a few caught his own as he turned towards the back. One of those pair of eyes, seated far to the left in the back corner, was David Chow. David Chow locked eyes with Jack and he lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, "When?" Jack turned back towards the front and listened to Brian Barry's explanation of the lack of DNA evidence against Josh. David Chow would just have to trust him.

Jack again let his mind drift back to the collection he started years ago. He started to plan his sales trips around the collecting of DNA. He shifted his work schedule to start late in the day, and he worked through to closing. What was the perfect DNA? How was it to be handled and stored? He researched these questions at various libraries during his road trips, and soon began to understand what he needed to do.

He began a rigorous process of understanding the DNA he collected. He quickly realized that a bunch of hairs from a single urinal amounted to nothing. He began looking at other sources: cigarette butts, disposed tissues, napkins, and coffee cups. He began to watch people to see where the best sources ended up. He followed people at food courts, pubs, and parks. He watched them until they moved on and picked up their disposed trash. He began to label each specimen. At first, he added only a vague description, but it soon progressed to include dates, places, gender, hair color, age, race, and anything else he thought might matter. He kept all of his samples in a small suitcase in the back of his vehicle. He made two layers inside the suitcase. The top layer was product samples and the bottom held his little baggies with his precious DNA. If Donna or anyone happened upon his suitcase and opened it up, they would see only work product samples. Boring.

Many months passed as Jack refined his collection; replacing the old with the new and recording more info about his subjects. His collection grew slowly, but the collection was refined and sorted by sex, race, hair color, and location. He began to collect multiple samples of his subjects, starting with a discarded tissue and a used coffee cup. He would follow a patron at a bar out back for a smoke and bring one of the disposable tin foil ashtrays with him; he then offered it out at the perfect time to catch the ash and the butt. He would even share a smoke with his new friend and simply make a comment about how he hated it when people threw their butts on the ground. If he was lucky, he would also retrieve a glass or disposable cup with both fingerprints and DNA. Sometimes he would go back weeks or months later and collect more samples from the same subject.

Jack soon always carried a couple of pairs of latex gloves and a few sterile sample bags in his jacket pockets. He was always ready, but he had to be discreet. There were frustrating times when he was unable to capture that perfect sample as the crowd was much too big and close to him. He could not let anyone see him wearing a latex glove.

Jack learned the proper handling techniques to ensure the DNA was not contaminated and how to properly preserve the sample. He saved some in plastic and some in paper, whatever was required. Jack paid great attention to every detail.

The pubic hairs were still one of Jack's big targets, and he refined his collection process here as well. He picked the seediest bars, usually in the lower mainland of Vancouver or the east side of downtown Calgary. He would sit at the bar and watch who was coming in and going out. He watched the washroom and the activity of the patrons. As the crowd died down and he made a friend at the bar out of his potential subject, he would enter the washroom, put on one of his latex gloves, and scrub down the urinals so they were polished and sparkling. He would then follow his subject into the urinal and watch for any pubic hairs he left on the surface. This did not always work, but he was patient. He had two years to collect what he needed. He would pick a subject who smoked and collect the butts from the subject. He would especially watch for subjects with colds or coughs, and would grab a used tissue whenever he could. Multiple samples from a single subject was a prize collection, and Jack had a number of these already by the time Josh came into the picture.

Jack was proud of his collections, but he still needed more to put Josh front and centre and have it roll out the way he wanted. He knew that the more hair samples he had from one single subject, the better the DNA results would be. One hair was not enough. He already worked that one out in his mind, and it was going to take a serious effort to acquire. It would take him down to a new and dangerous low that he wasn't sure he could bring himself down to just yet.

Jack's thoughts returned again to the activity in the courtroom where Brian Barry was in the process of wrapping up his opening statement. Judge Rumpoldt ended the day's session, announcing that the Crown would begin producing evidence against Josh Anderson the following day.

The courtroom emptied quickly and the scrum outside was unavoidable. The media pushed microphones and camera lenses into the family member's faces and shouted questions at Jack and everyone with him. Jack pushed his way through with a repetitive "no comment" as he ushered his mother towards their vehicle.

## Chapter 27

### Tuesday, December 6th 8:22 am

Snow fell lightly as Jack and his mother made their way to the courtroom for the second day of the trail. It was another hectic day of crowds standing in their usual position as they arrived with cameras clicking and flashing. The noise only quieted once Josh was returned to the courtroom and sat in the prisoner's box.

Ron Baxter jumped in immediately to lay out the sequence of events on the night of Donna's murder. He began by calling Shirley Knox to the stand and had her describe the day she entered the Gardner home and found Donna on the bed with the guitar wire wrapped around her neck. The guitar wire was entered as the first exhibit of evidence.

Many witnesses were called throughout the day. Barry sometimes objected to questions and asked his own questions to the witness. Jack, as a witness for the prosecution, knew he could be asked to testify at any time.

The parade of witnesses was expected to continue over the next six days. Jack sat there amused by it all as he let his mind drift back to the past and recall what really happened. Barry had some of it right, but most of his argument was just a best guess from the evidence they had. Barry proposed a good plot, and Jack liked that the story locked in the theory of Josh's guilt.

Jack let himself slip back to an evening in early spring many months ago when he had decided Josh would absolutely be the centerpiece to Donna's murder. Fred's brash arrogance about how much money he had was the catalyst that let the opportunity evolve. He was always showing off and letting everybody know how rich he was. Well, Jack would just see to it that he parted with some of it. The Anderson's dinner party was where the many pieces were suspended right in front of Jack.

Fred was consistent, always insisting that Jack descend to the lower level wine cellar to pick out that second bottle of wine. It was down here where Jack finally pulled it all together. Jack started to extend his time in the cellar. He was down in the cellar for twelve minutes one time before Fred finally hollered down to ask Jack what was taking so long. But Jack was not really searching through Fred's fabulous collection all that time. Jack was only trying to discover the maximum time he could be allowed down in the cellar, only feet away from the lower bathroom and Josh's bedroom, without raising suspicion.

At the next dinner parties, Jack stole away from the cellar to quickly inspect the bathroom and Josh's bedroom. He would just have a quick peek to make a mental note of the items in each room and the layout. There had to be something useful to tie Josh into all of this.

In mid-July, at yet another dinner party, he spotted the guitar strings resting on Josh's night table. He resisted grabbing them that night as he had not yet decided on the manner in which he would murder Donna. For the next few days he could not get the guitar strings out of his mind. At the following dinner party, two weeks later, he stole back into Josh's room, but he did not see the guitar wires anywhere. He slowly scanned Josh's bedroom. He looked on the shelf, under the bed, and in the trash. He pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and there they were; six little D'addario packets laying loose inside the bottom of the drawer. Each packet contained one used wire coiled up and stuffed inside. Jack donned the latex gloves he had pocketed before arriving at the party in anticipation of scooping these up. He carefully opened each paper packet in search for the large e-string, which he found quickly. He also saw the plastic packaging that the six packs originally came in and made a note on the back of the packet about the type of guitar strings Josh had purchased with one of Josh's pens. He scribbled EJ17 on the pack and shoved it deep into his pocket with the latex gloves. Jack returned to the wine cellar, calmly grabbing the nearest bottle of wine and ventured upstairs to join Donna and the Andersons.

Jack was pulled from his daydream as Judge Rumpoldt pounded the gavel to announce the midday lunch recess. As everyone stood to leave, Jack was approached by Ron Baxter's assistant who told him he could expect to be called up in the afternoon session. Jack nodded. It was his turn to go under the lights.

The lunch break gave Jack some time to mentally prepare for what he was about to endure. He talked with his mother as they shared a couple of stuffed vegetable pita pockets. Louisie told Jack to simply tell the truth. There was absolutely nothing to worry about if he told the jury everything he knew. She smiled at Jack hoping he would smile back, but he couldn't do it. To Louisie it was simple, but he knew he would have to lie the whole way through his testimony. He was the only one who knew what really happened that night, and he wasn't entirely sure he could keep the truth from erupting if his emotions interfered. He turned his thoughts to the conclusion of it all. It was only weeks away now. The money would come. He already put in the time and effort and was ready for the reward. The stress of it all was beginning to tire him out, and being tired, he knew, was risky.

They finished their lunch. He hugged his mother and waited for her while she puffed away on another cigarette before heading back to the courtroom.

## Chapter 28

### Tuesday, December 6th 14:32 pm

Jack sat in the witness box and stared out at the gallery. All eyes were on him. He was sworn in and waited on edge as Crown Prosecutor Ron Baxter shuffled through his papers with his assistant. Jack was confused at the delay. A number of minutes passed before Judge Rumpoldt also got tired of the inaction and demanded that the honorable Mr. Baxter begin.

As Ron began the questions, Jack knew immediately which road he was driving on. The questions supported Ron's opening statement in establishing that Jack was nowhere near the scene of the crime when Donna was murdered.

"...and you left your home at what time Mr. Gardner?"

"Seven thirty."

"And you drove all night?"

"Uh, yes. All night."

"Arriving in Abbotsford at what time?"

"Just around seven in the morning."

"That's a long drive Mr. Gardner. I know when I drive like that I tend to drift off. Do you ever drift off while driving?"

"I get tired, yeah, but I've never driven off the road if that's what you're asking."

"I was just curious. That is one heck of a long drive."

Ron paced about and looked at the Jury. They were attentive as usual. "Did you stop anywhere on the way?"

"Kamloops. For gas. If I drive just under the speed limit, I can stretch my gas out that far if I start with a full tank."

"And how far is that?"

"About seven hundred kilometers."

"Seven hundred kilometers is a long way on one tank of gas. And what time did you arrived in Kamloops?"

"I'd say about four a.m.," Jack replied. "That's three a.m. in B.C. with the time change." Jack wanted to smile. It was not about four a.m., it was exactly 3:55 a.m. Jack knew it because he finally caught up to the Greyhound bus in Kamloops at precisely 2:55 a.m., B.C. time. The bus always stopped in Kamloops at two fifty-five am on its run from Calgary. He followed it many times, and he caught up to it again on this last trip.

Jack had been practicing driving that particular road faster and faster over the last nine months and recording the times and distances. He knew he would have to work it out eventually. Over and over, trip after trip, he sped and recorded until he was finally in the right towns at the right times. He would have to repeat the timing perfectly when the time came. It had come on that last trip. He had to average nearly one hundred and thirty kilometers an hour to catch up to the bus, but he had already mastered that. The highways were nearly empty in the early hours, and Jack found he could get up to one hundred and sixty in some areas for nearly seventeen minutes at a time without slowing at all. He really had only two worries driving at this excessive speed: one, of course, was the police, but he had come to know the areas where they tended to patrol and where they were always absent. His bigger worry though, was elk. It was dangerous in the deep of night, especially just after dusk and just before sunrise. The elk could jump out on to the highway almost anywhere on that drive. He watched the ditches carefully as darkness set in.

Just past Golden, when the precipitation was still teetering on the border of rain and sleet, a huge, eight-point bull elk lunged up out of the ditch on to the highway, into Jack's headlights. Jack swerved into the oncoming lane and narrowly avoided impact as the big animal reversed and dashed back down into the ditch it came from. The moment terrified Jack but pumped enough adrenalin to keep him extremely alert for the drive up through the wet snow on Roger's Pass.

"And you stopped nowhere else?"

"No," Jack lied and shook his head. Jack did stop a few times. The first stop was at the Tim Horton's in Golden. The second time was just before Salmon Arm, on a side road he picked out months ago. He prepared two Jerry cans full of gas, since he knew it would be impossible to stretch the Pathfinder's gas tank to seven hundred kilometers if he had the pedal to the metal the whole way. He emptied the Jerry cans into the gas tank, tossed the Jerry cans into the bush, and carried on. "Nowhere else," he said.

Ron moved on to questions about what time he arrived in Abbottsford, when he got up, and where he went. This line of questioning carried on until Ron had covered all of Jack's time in the Vancouver area until the police contacted him and escorted him back to Bluffington.

Jack thought Ron was about done when Ron asked Jack about his cell phone.

"Do you have a cell phone, Jack?

"Yes, I do. A Blackberry."

Ron nodded. "And you had the Blackberry with you when you left for Abbotsford?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, I did," he lied.

"Did you receive any phone calls while driving to Abbottsford?"

Jack knew where this was going. "One phone call came in while I was on my drive, but it went to voice mail. I was listening to an audio CD and didn't hear the ring."

"Can you tell us who called you?"

"Donna. Donna called me." Jack feigned misery at losing her with a few deep sighs and rubbing each eye with his knuckle.

Ron paused in anticipation of a rumble from the gallery, and he was not disappointed.

"What time did she call you?"

"I think it was around ten or ten thirty. Closer to ten thirty, I think."

"And what was the message she left on your Blackberry?"

"She hoped I had a good drive out. Uh, she asked me to call her when she got in. She finished by saying 'Love you darling'."

Ron looked at the Jury. "Those were Donna's last words that we know of."

Jack looked down to the floor inside the witness box and remembered her voice again. He thought he had beaten this devil down already, but it was trying to rise up. He wanted to cry, and knew it would make a great show for everyone watching, but he knew he may not be able to stop if he let go now.

Ron carried on with his conclusions from all of the evidence presented and left Jack in the witness box to fight his emotions with everyone looking on. Jack knew Ron was using him at this point. He just had Jack recall Donna's last words. Her husband, Jack, was now on display for the Jury and gallery to feel sympathy and compassion for. Ron wanted to make it clear that Jack was far away when this murder occurred, and Donna's own words recorded in that phone call to Jack's cell phone would confirm that Jack was on the highway near Golden at that time. That left the jury focused on the choice suspect Josh Anderson. Jack knew Ron would replay the recording from Jack's Blackberry later on to re-enforce his message, but for now, Ron had achieved his goal.

Jack did not realize he was trembling as he sat in the box and listened to Ron as he continued to speak. Part of him was elated with Ron's direction so far; it led exactly where Jack had hoped it would, but the other part of him tried to hold down the devil that loved Donna. He wanted none of that right now. He brought his hand to his mouth, felt the shake, and demanded he get control over himself. He closed his eyes briefly and focused on the facts. He could not deny the 'facts'. He need not get emotional over the facts. He let the thoughts come, and with it came a calm relief.

Jack had been nowhere near Golden when his Blackberry rang at ten twenty seven that night. The only thing near Golden that stormy night was a Greyhound bus rumbling down the cold, wet highway toward Abbottsford. Inside that Greyhound bus, down in the undercarriage, stuffed in with all of the suitcases and other packages, was one little cardboard box, insignificant in its size and shape. The small box was shipped with 'Hold for Pick Up' to Abbottsford. Inside that little box was Jack's Blackberry, turned on and waiting for the call.

As the bus rumbled on towards Golden and the time neared 10:27 p.m. Jack was home standing over Donna's dead, but still warm, body. He stared at the bedside clock and knew it was time to make the call. He went downstairs to use the house phone on the main floor. He had been careful not to touch the bedroom phone in the past six months. Only Donna's fingerprints would be on the phone on her side of the bed.

Jack pulled out the pocket voice recorder he purchased months ago in Vancouver on one of his trips, dialed his Blackberry from the house phone, and played the recording. Donna had left him the recorded message nearly a year ago on his Blackberry. He had kept it for this very purpose and transferred it to the voice recorder. Jack played back that same message into the phone.

The defense had no questions for Jack at this time but expressed their intention to call Jack back up to the stand to testify when they began the defense case for Josh Anderson. Jack was excused from the witness box. The prosecution ended the day on Donna's last recorded words, a powerful message to everyone in the room.

## Chapter 29

### Tuesday, Dec 6th 7:17 pm

Louisie grabbed Jack's hand and smiled at him. Jack could tell his mom was just dying to muss his hair like she did when he made her proud as a young boy.

"You did good, Jack. Real good."

Jack nodded and smiled at her. "Thanks for being here. It was easier with you here." He did not really believe it, but it was what his mother wanted to hear.

Louisie ordered a pizza because neither of them wanted to cook. The pizza arrived and Louisie and Jack were plating up at the kitchen table when there was a quiet knocking at the back door. Jack did not hear it at first, but it repeated a little louder.

Jack opened the back door to find David Chow standing there and flipping his hand at Jack to come with him out back.

Jack was stunned by David's sudden appearance and pushed him away from the door. He put his finger to his lips indicating that David keep his mouth shut until he closed the door. Jack turned to his mother. "Uh, I gotta go talk to this guy right now, mom. He's a friend of...of Josh Anderson." His mother's brow furled tightly.

Jack slipped into his snow boots and went outside, giving his mother a wink as he closed the door behind him.

"Come!" Jack ordered and began walking out through the shoveled path in the back yard towards the river path. He stopped about half way down and turned back to face David. "Why are you here?"

"I so sorry, Mr. Gardner. I just have to see you," he replied. "Why you no do nothing? Josh go to jail soon!"

Jack laughed nervously and paced. He glanced back to the house and could see his mother at the back window staring out at the two of them while she chomped on a slice of barbecue chicken pizza.

He rubbed his hands through his hair, unable to feel the cold outside even though he was not wearing a coat. His adrenalin kept him quite warm for the moment. He stared back at David on the edge of anger, but he forced himself to remain calm.

"I told you, Josh will not go to jail."

"Why you not do nothing? I not let Josh go to jail."

"Josh isn't going to jail, goddamn it! I told you already. Just wait. You'll see. Things are going to change soon, and Josh will be let go."

"Why you say such nonsense?" David responded. "I sit in courtroom and see. I see too, Mr. Gardner. It don't look good for Josh and trial hardly started."

"That's what I'm saying. You just keep calm and wait. If you do anything, you'll fuck this all up, and Josh will go to jail! Leave it alone, David! I will not let Josh go to jail. I promise."

David stared at Jack. It was clear that David thought Jack was just putting words out there just long enough to keep things going until it was too late for Josh.

"I don't want Josh to go to jail anymore than you do, David," Jack said.

"Then why you not do something?"

"I am doing something, you'll see soon." Jack then thought about using David's anxiousness to his advantage by having David deliver one of the pieces he still had buried away. He stared at David. Moments passed as he tried to fit David into the puzzle.

"I not let Josh go to jail. You clear things up, or I go to police on Friday. Show picture."

Friday. That left him two days.

"Okay, David," Jack said. He nodded and looked back up to the house. His mother was still there at the window staring down at them. Jack was starting to feel vulnerable to the cold without his jacket. "Promise me one thing, David."

"You say what Mr. Gardner, but I not let Josh go to jail."

"Just promise me you will talk to me before you speak to anyone. Promise me. I am going to help you with Josh. I am."

David stared at Jack with a look of desperation that slowly formed into a frown, and Jack could feel the distrust David had in him. Jack knew nothing could change without him, and Josh would go to jail if Jack took no action at all.

"Just wait. By the end of Thursday, you will know that I have done something to help Josh."

David continued to frown.

"Trust me, David. Your secret is safe, but you will know on Thursday that I have not let you down. I have my own reasons for helping Josh. You just have to believe me."

David simply nodded, turned away, and headed down the path towards the river, leaving Jack to shiver alone in the cold.

Jack returned to the house, and his mother asked him who that young man was again. Jack told his mother to never mind and refused to tell her anything about what was said. His mother was not pleased. "I think you are not telling me something. What have you done?"

Those words stung deep inside him, and his mother's ability to see through him when he lied to her as a child snuck its way back to the surface.

He forced a smile. "I've done nothing, mother. I am just doing what you taught me. I'm helping others. That fellow was a friend of Josh." Jack purposely kept David's name to himself. "He just wanted to talk, that's all."

His mother smiled back. "I always knew you were a good boy." She mussed his hair.

## Chapter 30

### Wednesday, December 7th 8:45 am

Ron Baxter called Dean Daly to the stand to start the day, and led Dean through the multiple pieces of evidence.

Dean answered questions about the scene of the crime without fanfare or enhancement. Jack noticed that Dean kept glancing over at him as he answered many of Ron's questions. Every time a question about the DNA was asked, Dean looked at Jack before answering.

Ron led Dean through every piece of DNA evidence collected and entered all of them as evidence.

A few of the jury members caught Dean's repeated glances towards Jack and appeared disturbed by his behavior.

Ron moved on from the DNA evidence found at the home to the footprints found inside the back door.

"...and where were exactly were these footprints?" Ron asked.

Dean again stared at Jack before answering, causing a few of the jury members to look at Jack as well. Even the judge looked at Jack. This was not how it was supposed to go down, Jack thought and looked over at Josh, hoping the others would do the same. But they continued to stare only at Jack until Dean finally answered the question.

"On the floor of the kitchen. Just inside the back door."

"And why are these footprints significant, Detective?"

Dean glanced over to Jack again before looking back at Ron. "The footprints match the running shoes of the suspect, Josh Anderson. They are the footprints of a size nine, Nike Air Max running shoe. The same kind of shoes were found in Josh Anderson's home."

The evidence trail questions slowly moved to the inside of the Anderson house. Dean reviewed the inspection of the Anderson home and Josh's room specifically.

Dean identified the tip of a shoe lace that was found in the bedroom where Donna was murdered and an older pair of shoes from Josh's bedroom that matched the tip perfectly.

Jack smiled inside as Dean stared at him again. The tip of the shoelace was an unexpected extra. He was in Josh's room when he spotted the shoe with the tip of the shoelace nearly broken off. He ripped the tip off, stuffed it in his pocket, and later dropped it into the trash beneath the condom the night Donna was murdered.

Ron led Dean further down the list of evidence and focused on the earring. Dean explained where the earring was found and stated that Jack had identified the earring during his interrogation.

Jack nodded slightly as Dean confirmed that this was the earring belonging to Donna and that the mate was found in Donna's jewelry box.

Jack remembered when he bought the earrings for her. He purchased them from Spence Diamonds in Calgary. They were very expensive. He gave them to Donna for their anniversary, along with the certificate of quality indicating all four C's of measurement. He even drove her to the bank to put the certificate in her safety deposit box for insurance purposes. But there was more about these earrings still to come.

Dean continued to stare at Jack and Jack continued his unbreakable gaze back. Ron noticed the juror's attention on Jack and he turned to look at Jack and back at Dean. Jack smiled at Ron and shrugged.

"Am I missing something, Dean?" he said. Ron's focus and flow was interrupted by Dean's countenance on the stand. Jack could see Ron was pissed. Dean was a witness for the prosecution, and he was behaving in a very strange manner.

Dean sat up straight. "Nothing," he said.

Ron paused, stared hard at Jack for a moment, and then looked back at Dean. Jack suspected Ron was deciding whether or not to ask Dean a direct question about why he was always looking over at Jack.

"Can you look at me while I am speaking to you? I want your complete attention. I don't care what is going on over there behind me." He waved his arm behind him at Jack, and then pointed to the defendant's box where Josh sat. "This man's life is at stake, and the murder of Donna Gardner is a very serious matter to everyone in this court room."

Dean nodded but accidentally glanced once more at Jack.

"Do you need a break, Detective?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Please continue."

"Well, I think you need a break. No more questions, for now."

Dean was asked to step down, and Ron didn't skip a beat. Jack was called up once again to testify.

Ron began immediately with questions about his relationship with Donna. He touched briefly on her background and asked Jack when and where they met. It was a quick set of questions that Ron was asking to allude to the short time they had been together.

"Just two short years?"

"Yes," Jack replied.

"So you didn't know her as a teenager or through her days at university?"

"No, I didn't."

"So you didn't really know her very well, then?"

"I think I knew her very well. We talked about everything." Jack half-expected Josh's lawyer to object to the question, but he stayed silent.

"The evidence tells a different story, now doesn't it?"

"I'm not sure how I am supposed to answer that question." Judge Rumpoldt instructed Ron to rephrase the question.

"We found DNA from three different men in your bedroom." A murmur floated across the gallery. "Three different men, Mr. Gardner."

Ron presented the evidence bags containing all of the different DNA samples into evidence. He held up a number of the bags.

"These hairs were pulled from your shower drain and carpet. Where they were found indicated that these hairs had been there for some time. Weeks, maybe months, before she was murdered."

Six weeks would be pretty close, Jack thought.

"And these..." He held up four different bags for all to see. The bag held more hair samples, a coffee cup, cigarette butt, and ashes. "These were found in different locations in and outside of your house. The hairs were in your bedroom shower drain and carpet. The coffee cup was in the kitchen trash, and the cigarette butt and ashes were found outside in a tin can you kept for guests who smoked."

Jack pretended to be terribly upset. He wondered if Ron could relate to how difficult it was to collect such samples from one single subject. It took a number of repeated close encounters with a subject over a number of different trips to Saskatoon to attain such samples. Stay at the same hotel every time, and you eventually meet the same guests. Share a drink or two and a smoke out back. Meet for a coffee at the local Timmy's in the morning, or bring back a coffee from the 7-11 for a friend. Jack had even more from this one individual. He had a lighter, glass with fingerprints, fingernails (don't ask), used straws, and a toothbrush. He opted only to use the minimum necessary components.

"You look upset, Jack?

"I am. I just don't believe it."

Ron placed the evidence bag with the hairs in front of Jack on the ledge of the witness box.

"These are the hair samples from this mysterious un-named man. The samples were in your bedroom shower drain."

He placed the second bag onto the ledge.

"These are the hairs found on the carpet under your bed."

He placed the bag with the coffee cup next.

"This is a coffee cup with the same DNA found under your kitchen sink in the trash, and this," he said as he placed the cigarette and ashes in front of Jack. "This is the cigarette butt found in your tin out back. Didn't you tell detective Dean Daly that you had emptied that tin the Friday before you left on your trip?"

"That is what I said. Yes. It was the Friday before I left. I finished cleaning the yard for the winter. Emptying the ash can was part of the cleanup I did that day."

"So how did the cigarette butt and ashes get in the tin can you just emptied, do you suppose?"

"Someone put them there, I guess," Jack responded.

Ron was pleased. He grabbed the evidence and rambled on about it and asked more questions about who and when, and Jack denied knowing that anyone had come around prior to him leaving. He agreed that it was possible someone had even been around while he was in Calgary on the Sunday before he left.

"So you don't have any idea whose DNA these might belong to?"

Jack shook his head and remained calm. He leaned into the microphone. "No, I do not."

"If you didn't let these men into your house, there could only be one other person who did, don't you agree?"

"I still don't believe Donna was having any relationship with anyone else."

Ron smiled at Jack. "Really, Jack? Your wife has been murdered, and we have a suspect right over there that we believe killed her. I have just showed you evidence that two other men have been in your bedroom...men you claim not to know."

Jack said nothing.

"Let's move on." Ron picked up the last three bags from the evidence table. He lifted each one of them one at a time as he explained what was inside each.

"These three bags also contain DNA evidence found in your bedroom from a third unknown man. The DNA again does not match you, nor does it match our suspect Josh."

"This first bag is hair samples. Pubic hairs found in your bed. We also found six head hairs in the bed and numerous hairs in the shower drain. What would you say to that Jack?"

Jack shook his head. He was thinking about how he remembered placing seven hairs in the bed, not six.

"This second bag contains a tissue with the DNA from the same subject. We even have a mucus sample from the subject from the bedroom trash bin.

"This last bag contains a used condom with semen inside, and it's not yours!"

A large roar erupted in the courtroom, and Judge Rumpoldt had to hush the crowd. The effect was not lost on Jack. Jack was using the gallery's reaction to impress the jury. He already knew the DNA was not his.

"This condom, according our analysis, was in your trash bin for at least a week, maybe two, but it was not from the night your wife was murdered. I want to repeat that again: This condom was not from the night your wife was murdered. Now do you understand what I am getting at, Mr. Gardner?"

Jack nodded. "But it would be nice if you just said what you are getting at."

"We believe your wife had another man in your bed prior to the night she was murdered. We believe she had intercourse with this man a few weeks prior to her murder.

"Now, let me ask you again. Did you know your wife was having an affair or relationship of any other kind with any other man?"

"No...I...I didn't." Jack replied and lifted the tension in the courtroom again.

"Then you do not know how the hairs, tissue, and condom ended up in your bedroom?"

"No, I do not," Jack said.

But Jack did know how they got there. This was the seediest part of what he did, and he never ever wanted to remember how low he to go to get this evidence. He would certainly never sink that low again. It disturbed him now just to think about it.

Ron ended his questioning and left the jury wondering about Donna and her faithfulness to Jack. The defense did not have any questions, and Jack was excused from the witness box.

Jack returned to the gallery and sat down while Ron called the medical examiner up for a few questions. Jack's mind continued to reflect on the condom and hair samples he collected. It was only two weeks before her death when Jack decided he would act to finish what he had been planning for nearly three long years. He wanted fresh evidence, but he didn't want it to be too fresh. He had already scouted the area many times looking for possible subjects. Fred told him of the trip to Denver, and Jack was ready to jump on the opportunity. He had to work fast to gather the last few incriminating samples in the next few weeks.

Fred told him about the conference in Denver at one of dinner parties about month before Donna's murder, and Jack decided he needed to collect this most important sample the Thursday night two weeks prior to them leaving. Donna did not suspect anything as Jack worked the late night local sales calls into his routine. He made this his practice on his out of town trips, and he was careful to do the same in town on a regular basis so there would not be any suspicion about where he was during the evening.

He first drove through and past the downtown core of Calgary to Motel Village in the northwest where he paid cash for a room. It was a seedy hotel known as a hub for drug dealing and prostitutes. The receptionist took no notice of Jack's identity and asked no questions.

Darkness descended and Jack ventured back to the city core to the hooker stroll on Third Avenue. He was wearing his all-weather windbreaker with the removable hood pulled up high on his head. He would only wear this coat two more times in the next couple of weeks before he would dispose of it. The sunglasses he donned had limited sun block, allowing him enough vision in the dark while still concealing his eyes. He drove slowly up and down the blocks looking for a particular subject. He had picked out a few favorites on his earlier scouting trips, but one stuck out. Jack was hoping he was out tonight. After a few trips around the block, he spotted the young man a block down from the French Maid strip joint. To Jack, he looked like he could have been no more than seventeen or eighteen. He was skinny, had spiked black hair, and wore a black Goth-style leather jacket and skintight jeans with high-heeled boots. He was alone and leaned against the concrete parkade at the back of a downtown hotel provocatively.

Jack drove up alongside the young man and slowed down. The kid looked at Jack, and Jack tipped his head and motioned for the kid to come over. Jack rolled the window down as the kid approached. He tucked his head inside the window.

"You clean?" Jack asked.

The kid nodded.

"Shaved?"

The kid frowned. He didn't understand Jack's question.

"Down below, man. You shaved?" he repeated.

"No," he replied and shook his head.

"Good. It's your lucky night. Meet me two blocks over and up one in fifteen minutes. I'm paying double tonight. I'll be parked on the side with my lights on and engine running." The kid's eyes grew momentarily, and he nodded with excitement.

Jack drove down the street and left the kid with his hands tucked in his pockets as he hustled up the walk. Jack rolled over a couple blocks, then back down two more before turning up yet again. He circumvented the entire hooker stroll until he was over the two blocks and up one from where he found the boy. He parked the car, left the engine running, and kept the lights on. He watched the mirror for the young man in the black leather jacket.

The young man spotted Jack's vehicle and hurried forward. Jack unlocked the door and the young man jumped in, smiled at Jack, and said hello. Jack stole a glance at him, said nothing, and drove on. He thought the kid may be even younger than he first thought.

Jack's heart raced as he drove the five minutes in silence to the motel. He kept facing forward; he was now unsure if he could go through with this. He took a deep breath and realized he had stopped breathing as a strange fear took hold of him.

"Where are we off to?" the young man asked.

"Motel Village," Jack replied. Jack could see the young man's curiosity as he tried to get a good look at who had picked him up, but Jack had the hood pulled forward and his sunglasses on. The vehicle was dark inside and the kid could not see his features.

Jack pulled up in front of the hotel and turned off the ignition. He handed the motel keys to the young man. The two stepped out in to the cool summer evening together. Jack pointed to the room on the end and ushered the young man forward in front of him.

The young man opened the door and stepped inside. Jack had already laid out several items where he wanted them. He motioned the kid towards the bed and closed the door.

***

The court broke for lunch and the questions resumed with Dean back on the stand through the rest of the afternoon. The questioning finished with Ron asking Dean about the guitar wires.

"In the drawer next to the bed," Dean answered when Ron asked where the strings were found.

"How old is Josh's guitar?"

"Josh told me it is less than one year old. Almost new, really."

Josh squirmed in the prisoner's box every time his name was mentioned. He was composed, but he was clearly frightened as the evidence now was all about him.

"These strings you found...can you tell us about them?"

"Josh had only changed the strings on his guitar once. The ones found in his drawer were the original guitar strings. We found only five guitar strings in Josh's bedside table. One string was missing."

"There was a guitar string found around Donna Gardner's neck. Do you believe this was the missing guitar string?"

"The guitar string we found around Donna Gardner's neck was the lower e-string. The string missing from the ones changed out by Josh was the lower e-string. I believe the guitar string found around Donna Anderson's neck is the same guitar string that was missing from the ones changed out by Josh."

The crowd murmured again. The murder weapon was now directly connected to Josh for the first time.

Ron picked up the evidence bag containing the guitar string and held it up. "So you believe that Josh Anderson used this guitar string to strangle Donna Gardner in her bed on the night of September 18th, 2011?"

Dean stared straight at Ron. "The evidence collected would seem to indicate that Josh Anderson murdered Donna Gardner with that guitar string on the night of September 18th, yes."

The crowd erupted with the declaration. Fred shook his head, and Tracey covered her face with her hands. The judge restored order. Ron was finished with the questions, having ended the session for the day on another high point for the prosecution and some dramatic information for the jury to consider.

## Chapter 31

### Wednesday, December 7th 3:18 pm

Jack hustled out of the courtroom with his mother at his side. The two of them pushed through the scrum of news reporters and cameras to the back of the courthouse and into Jack's car.

He was thinking about the bank. He needed to get there before it closed. His mother did not understand why it was so urgent, and Jack would only say that he had forgotten all about Donna's safety deposit box and wanted to get to it today. It was very important.

Jack supplied the death certificate to the teller, which he kept in his wallet since her death. After filling out a number of forms, he was escorted into the back to a private cubicle where he opened Donna's safety deposit box alone.

There was not much inside. Some photos, Donna's passport, two pearl necklaces, some insurance papers, and a number of quality certificates for Donna's jewelry.

Jack fumbled through the papers until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the Certificate from Spence Diamonds for the earrings. He stuffed the envelope with the certificate inside into his breast pocket and returned the safety deposit box.

Louisie held the door open with a cigarette hanging from her lips when Jack returned. "What's with you today? You acted strange all day at court and now all this rushing around."

"It's nothing. I just got a little stressed from being up front there."

"And what about that detective? He was staring at you an awful lot today. Why was that?" Louisie pinched her cigarette off, tossed it to the ground, and closed the door. Jack started the engine.

Jack just shook his head and continued the drive home without answering her. He had a lot to think about and a lot to do tonight.

Jack settled his mother in the front room to watch TV. He made her some tea and left her to watch Dancing with the Stars, which they recorded the night before.

Jack retreated to the kitchen and quickly opened the pantry door. He pulled out a zip lock bag that had been tucked away in the back corner of the lower shelf behind the bag of flour. The zip lock bag was filled with popcorn, which Jack immediately emptied onto the counter. He began sorting through the popcorn in search of one specific popped kernel. It only took a few minutes to locate. Jack smiled as he pulled an earring that was pressed into the middle of one piece of popcorn. The earring was a single, one-carat diamond set in a six prong platinum teacup. It looked exactly like the one Ron had Dean identify in the courtroom.

Jack disposed of the popcorn in the trash and dropped the earring into the envelope with the certificate from Spence Diamonds.

The truth was, this earring may have looked exactly like the one at court today, but it was not the same. This one was an exact match to the one found in Donna's jewelry box. The one Dean identified in court was purchased by Jack with cash at Spence Diamonds in Vancouver two weeks after he purchased the ones for Donna from the Calgary Spence Diamonds.

Jack had planned this moment nearly two years ago, and it was time to reel Dean in.

Jack said goodbye to his mother. He told her he would be back soon. He hopped in his vehicle and headed down to the police station.

## Chapter 32

### Wednesday, December 7th 5:18 pm

Dean was not pleased when Jack showed up and really did not want to see him at all. Jack was insistent, saying he had some evidence that Dean really needed to see.

Dean reluctantly guided Jack into the same interrogation room as before.

"This better be good," he said.

"If you don't mind, I'd like there to be another witness in here," Jack insisted.

Dean shrugged. He was annoyed but easily found an officer to step into the room with them.

Jack pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "I just found this today. I totally forgot about Donna having a safety deposit box, so right after court today, I went over to see what was inside. You can go see for yourself at the bank if you want. I didn't have access to it until today. The box is still there."

Dean grabbed the envelope and pulled out the certificate. "So what's this?" he grunted.

"There's more inside the envelope."

Dean blew into the envelope to open it up wide and looked inside. His breath was immediately taken away by what he saw. He dumped the earring onto the table and stared at Jack.

"For fuck sakes! Is this what I think it is?" He ran his hand back through his hair. "Jesus Christ!"

"I didn't know it was there. This matches the one from the jewelry box. I'm sure of it. I don't know why Donna would have separated them. But the thing is, maybe the one found in Josh's room did not belong to Donna after all."

Dean was fuming.

"That's the quality certificate from Spence's where I bought them," Jack pointed. "You can verify the quality on all three pieces, can't you?"

Jack knew they could, and Jack knew Dean's team had not checked the quality of the one they found under Josh's bed and compared it to the one in the jewelry box. If they had, they would have seen that they were slightly different. When Jack purchased the second set in Vancouver, he made sure the quality of the diamond was a lower grade in both color and clarity. They were close enough, but they were definitely different from the nicer ones when compared to the quality certificate.

Dean sighed. He looked at the officer standing next to him and clearly understood why Jack wanted the officer in the room.

"We'll check this out. Thanks for bringing these in," Dean said to Jack sarcastically.

"I think you need to tell people about this right away," Jack said and looked at the officer and Dean. "You testified in court today about this evidence, and I think there was a mistake made. Do you think I should go tell Fred and Tracey?" Jack added to make his point clear.

Dean's face was turning beet red in color, but he controlled his voice and temper. "Leave this to me to deal with. And you stay away from the Andersons. Do not, I repeat, do not, talk to them or I will charge you with obstruction. This is evidence and you will say nothing to anyone. You hear me?"

Jack nodded. He excused himself and left Dean and the officer to stare at the new evidence laid out on the table.

Jack was pleased. Dean was upset, and it made him very happy. Dean would have to deal with the issue right away; the earring was a key piece of evidence for the prosecution. Everything was happening according to plan.

Jack was not finished. The Andersons were next. Jack called Fred on his Blackberry. Dean told him to stay away and not speak to them. Well, that just was not going to happen. But it wasn't the earring that Jack would be calling about. He had a different seed to plant.

Fred answered almost immediately.

"Fred, it's Jack."

"Oh."

"Fred. I need to speak with you."

"Uh, Jack. I don't really think that's a good idea. We're pretty upset over here right now."

"No. Fred, it's important. Really important."

"Not now, Jack," Fred said and hung up.

Jack had to talk to Fred. If this was to go down the way he planned, he needed to talk to Fred tonight.

He drove back to the house. His mother was still watching Dancing with the Stars. He sat down next to her while he decided what to do. He considered calling Fred again, but he knew Fred would just hang up again.

He called out for Chinese and chatted with his mother about the trial. She really did not understand what Jack was up to and said she saw that boy who was out back yesterday in the courtroom. Jack really wanted to avoid discussing anything about David. He excused himself and said he was going for a walk.

Jack put on his coat and headed out the back door. He looked over at Fred's house and knew he had to do it. He walked over and rang the doorbell at the back. Fred came to the door and was not pleased to see Jack standing there. Jack pleaded with Fred to come for a short walk with him. He said it could make all the difference for Josh.

Hearing Josh's name, Fred relented. He said nothing to Tracey as he slipped out the back door with Jack.

Fred followed Jack out to the river path where they walked down a few properties and stopped.

"So what's so important that you have to hound me about it?"

"The guitar wire has me wondering. Maybe it's nothing, but I just got to thinking."

Fred furled his eyebrows.

"I used to play the guitar, Fred. Many years ago."

"So?"

"Well, I changed a lot of guitar strings. All the time. Some break. Sometimes I just changed them to a different type."

Fred shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. He was anxious to leave. "I don't understanding you at all. I'm going back home now," he said and turned away.

Jack grabbed Fred's arm, and Fred tried to pull away as anger contorted his face. "Leave me, Jack!" he shouted.

Jack let go of his arm. "Damn it! Listen, Fred!" This was supposed to be subtle. It was supposed to just be a seed he was planting. This had suddenly grown to the size of a boulder, so Jack just let it drop. "Guitar strings are not all the same!"

Fred stopped, confused by Jack's forcefulness, and waited for more.

"Sometimes when I played the guitar I would change the strings just to change the sound. Just because the guitar string looks like an e-string doesn't mean it's the same e-string."

Fred shook his head. He still didn't understand.

Jack lowered his voice. "I was just thinking that many e-strings look the same, but they are not. They have different sounds depending how they are wound and depending on the size and material. I just thought you might want to ask if the e-string found around Donna's neck was the exact same as the ones that came off his guitar when it was new. Just a thought."

Fred was listening carefully as Jack carried on. "You saw the evidence and how it was presented. Did anyone give a part number for the strings found in Josh's room? No. And did anyone give a part number of the guitar string found around Donna's neck? No. So how do we know that guitar string is the same as what was originally on the guitar when it was new?"

"Oh come on now, Jack," Fred responded. "That's reaching pretty far. There was one missing from Josh's set and it's the same string found around her neck."

"You sound like the detectives now; you are assuming what you hear is what you see. You're thinking the same as they have since they discovered Josh plays the guitar, and even you aren't going to ask the question?" Jack raised his hands in submission to Fred. "Okay, Okay, maybe I'm reaching a bit far. I just thought something was missing during the evidence today, and I couldn't let it pass, that's all. I'm sorry for bothering you like this."

Jack walked away from Fred, but he could see Fred had heard him loud and clear. That was one hard fucking seed to plant, Jack thought. He was pretty sure Fred was going to ask the question.

Jack returned to the house. The Chinese food arrived. He thought again about the guitar string as he dished out a plateful.

He had checked out Josh's guitar last summer after spotting the used guitar strings in Josh's bedside table. He researched what strings that particular guitar was sold with, and it did not really matter what strings Josh had replaced them with. It was the D'Addario EJ 17 with the part number PB056 that was originally installed in the lower e-string position on Josh's guitar. All of the other original strings were now wound up and stuffed back inside each one of the little D'Addario packages. After Jack pocketed the e-string from Josh's room, he purchased a different string, the EJ 18 D'Addario e-string. The part number was different, PB059, and the string was slightly different. To the average person, they looked the same, but when inspected closely, they were identifiable by the gauge of wire used in the winding of the string. Jack simply took the used string, tossed it away, and replaced it with the new string he purchased. He, of course, wound it and cut it so it had the trademark twists and bends of a used guitar wire at first glance.

Would Fred act on his suggestion? Jack was hoping he would. He would find out tomorrow.

Jack sat next to his mother on the couch. She turned off the TV. She obviously wanted to talk.

"It really bothers me, Jack. About Donna...the prosecution saying all of those things about Donna seeing other guys."

"Me too," Jack replied.

"I mean, I expect them to say these kinds of things just to build their case. Nasty stuff like this is always brought up during trials, but still..."

Jack could see his mother was disturbed by something, and Jack was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"But what, mom?"

"Well. It's just that condom. That really bothers me."

Jack nodded and hugged his mother. "I bet it does."

"So you have to tell me the truth here, Jack. I know you." She lifted her finger in the air as if to make a point and then reconsidered. She poked him in the ribs instead. "If she was fooling around on you and you knew, you'd tell me, wouldn't you? Did you know, Jack?"

"No, mom. If she was, I didn't know about it. And I still don't think she was...I don't care what they found in the trash."

"Hmmph," his mother grunted. Jack wasn't sure what that meant.

Jack knew Donna was not fooling around. He thought back to the night at Motel Village. He took a deep breathe again and looked at his mother. He hugged her again and started to cry.

Louisie hugged Jack back. "It's okay, Jack. It's okay," she said.

But Jack was not crying for the reasons his mother thought. He was crying because of what happened in that hotel room that cool summer night in the early days of September.

Jack had closed the door to the seedy motel room and ushered the young man towards the bed. The only light in the room was from the discolored lamp on the bedside table. A single cloth chair with dark stains sat opposite the foot of the bed. The tattered top cover and bedding were pulled back, exposing just the white bed sheet and pillows. A number of items were laid out next to the bed on the bedside table.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"Tony." The young man smiled. He was anxious to begin.

Jack knew Tony was not the kid's real name.

"Tony," Jack smiled back at him. He motioned Tony to the bed. "Lie down, Tony."

As Tony hopped over to the side of the bed, Jack sat down near the foot of the bed on the chair and kept his glasses and coat on.

"What's your name?" Tony asked.

"You can call me Johnny, if you want. That's not my real name, but it'll do for tonight."

Tony nodded back. "So what you want, Johnny?" Tony asked while slowly removing his coat, boots and socks. When he was done, he tucked the pillows up to the top the bed and lay back against them in just a white t-shirt and blue jeans.

Jack watched the young man, not sure of what he was supposed to say. He had never done anything like this before, and it certainly felt dirty and cheap. Jack couldn't believe he was actually going through with this, but it was too late to stop now. Tony was just a few feet away, poised and waiting to perform whatever sexual acts Jack requested. It certainly was all about the money.

"Take your shirt off," he said.

Tony grinned. His white teeth seemed to shine excessively bright when they caught the light from the bedside lamp. He pulled his tight white t-shirt over the top of his head. His lean thin body was attractive to Jack in some way. His skin was white, his body was hard, and his chest was hairless and well-toned.

"I like to watch," Jack said calmly. "I just like to watch. I'll tell you what to do and when to do it. Are you okay with that?"

Tony nodded. "I have lots that like to watch. I can do more if you want. I can go down on you or you can go down..."

"Quiet," Jack interjected. He didn't even want to hear the words Tony was about to say, and Jack felt a wave of nausea flow over him.

"Please, just do as I say...and do it slowly."

Tony grinned again, propped the pillows up higher, and leaned back against the pillows with hands behind his head and his bare feet crossed.

"Okay, I am going to ask you to do a number of different things in the next while. Some of them may seem very odd to you, but it's just what I enjoy."

Tony nodded again. "I can do anything you want. Anything."

Jack sat staring at Tony. Tony lay there smiling with an extreme easiness about him. Jack could not understand it. He had expected the opposite—an awkwardness and apprehension from both parties, one buyer and one seller, each wanting to best the other. But it was not so.

Jack asked Tony to look at the table beside him. "See that brush? I want you take that brush and brush your hair forward as hard as you can. I want your hair fluffed up, so get on your knees hang your head down towards the bed facing me and brush that hair as hard as you can."

Tony did not even flinch as he grabbed the brush, looked at Jack, and asked, "You want me to do this naked?"

Jack flinched and felt like he was going to fall off his chair. He really needed to take this slow.

"Not yet. Just as you are."

"Okay," Tony responded. He took the position and brushed the Mohawk style spikes out of his hair. He laughed and grunted playfully as he brushed his hair. He twisted and turned his body, tossing his hair forward and back, while still kneeling. Jack felt strangely aroused by Tony's actions, and he simply watched, letting Tony continue for nearly ten minutes. Tony seemed to enjoy what he was doing.

"Stop," Jack instructed Tony. "That's enough."

Tony looked up at Jack, his deep black hair was now full of body and surrounded his head like the mane of a young lion in his prime. He sat back onto his heels. Jack looked at the muscle-toned chest of the lean young man and was unsure if he could bring himself to make the next command, but he could not stop what was already started.

Tony, sensing what Jack was about to ask, pointed one finger down to the buckle of his tight jeans. Jack nodded, and swallowed hard. Tony fell gently on to his back, pulled his jeans off, and tossed them to the floor. He left only his white jockey shorts on. His genitals pushed out hard against the cotton fabric.

Tony began to move sexually and rhythmically while on his knees. He stuck one finger in his mouth and pointed down once again to his jockey shorts.

Jack nodded again.

Tony moved slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Jack as he removed his white shorts. He was then utterly naked and moving provocatively in a cadence only Tony could hear.

Jack wanted to turn away, but he did not dare. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to breathe. He was not really doing this was he? He opened his eyes back up and there was Tony on his hands and knees facing Jack, his hard erection was visible and demanded a purpose for its impermanent existence.

Jack's nausea increased, and he struggled on. He had passed the point of no return. His breathing became shallow and rapid as he fought for some focus on what he was trying to accomplish.

He instructed Tony to lie back against the pillows and to once again grab the brush and to once again brush his hair. But not the hair on his head. Jack wanted to see him brushing his pubic hairs with the brush.

"All around, top and bottom," Jack demanded with forced excitement in his voice. He wanted to see that hair as fluffed as much as possible. "Brush hard! I want to see pubic hairs on the bed sheet by the time you're done," he said.

Jack watched, closing his eyes often as Tony grabbed hold of himself sensually and stroked the brush deliberately across his pubic hairs. Tony smiled all the time and laughed. He enjoyed putting on the display. He often looked at the bed sheet and pointed as he spotted another pubic hair that had fallen out.

Jack swallowed hard again and forced out the next instruction. This was more difficult than Jack could have ever imagined, and he felt like he was now outside his own body, maybe in a dream, instructing someone else to say these words. He knew the words would forever be stored in his brain as foreign, spoken by someone else.

"Okay now. I want you to slowly masturbate, but not all the way."

Tony nodded, lay back against the pillows once again, and began to do as Jack comanded. Jack closed his eyes.

"Spit on your hand, please. Lots."

Tony did as ordered and continued using his saliva as a lubricant as Jack watched from the chair. Tony smiled as he worked himself, teasing Jack with a sensuality the kid had come to perfect.

Jack kept his eyes closed, but he could not block out what he was hearing as Tony responded to Jack's command. He added his own moans with each stroke he set upon himself.

After a number of minutes, Jack instructed him to stop, to wipe himself off with the tissue on the bedside table and to toss the tissue into the trashcan by the side of the bed.

"Now the condom. Put the condom on."

Tony grabbed it, and ripped the package open with his teeth. The condom was a lubricated one that Jack purchased earlier.

"You want me to do you up the ass?" Tony asked. "I can do you or jack you if you want."

Jack felt very sick now and was beginning to feel very dizzy. He was sweating, and he wiped his forehead. He just shook his head. "I just watch. That's all I do," Jack repeated.

Tony expertly rolled the condom on as Jack tried not to watch, but a part of him knew it was necessary that he see what was going on.

"Okay it's time. I want you to finish now. In the condom."

Jack maintained his position, unmoving as Tony massaged himself slowly. Jack did not enjoy this at all. The dark, controlling part of him laughed; it enjoyed what Jack had reduced himself to. The decent part of what remained within Jack reeled in horror of what it was seeing.

Tony continued to roll his body and twist about, sticking his tongue out and licking his lips as he pleased himself. He slid down on the bed and arched his back, twisting and moving to put on a show Jack knew would be forever etched into the dark depths of his memory.

After a number of minutes, Tony arched his back high into the squalid air of this seedy hotel room and emptied himself into the condom. He released a tiny squeal.

When he was done, Jack asked him to remove the condom, drop it into the trash, and get dressed. A few minutes later, Jack was down three hundred dollars out of pocket, and Tony was on his way out the door.

Jack immediately latched the door after Tony left. He dashed to the bathroom and vomited.

## Chapter 33

### Thursday, December 8th 9:14 am

There was a flurry of activity in front of the Judge at the beginning of this morning's session. Jack and his mother were again sitting next to Donna's parents and sister. Everyone but Jack was wondering what the fuss was all about.

The judge had both lawyers up in front of the bench. They were in a deep discussion that included grand gestures, shrugs, and hand rubbing.

Josh sat alone again in his prison orange suit, looking as lost as he did when he was first brought in. His parents stared forward with blank faces.

The dialogue continued for some fifteen minutes before the judge had both lawyers return to their respective tables. Judge Rumpoldt slammed down his gavel once again and yelled for order.

Judge Rumpoldt asked the Crown attorney Ron Baxter if he was sure he wanted to proceed in this manner. Ron said he was. Judge Rumpoldt nodded and lifted his hand to allow Ron to proceed.

"On behalf of the Crown, I would like to begin by saying that the proceedings against Josh Anderson thus far have resulted in the Crown calling many different witnesses forward to testify. Some of those witnesses have brought evidence forth that has been entered as exhibits, and these exhibits have been used by the Crown to postulate what occurred on the night of September 18th, 2011.

"Our intention today was to continue calling forward more witnesses, but that will not happen. Late yesterday, we received some additional evidence pertaining to this case. This new evidence has forced the Crown to exercise extreme discretion in deciding how to proceed with the charges against Mr. Anderson.

"This new evidence contradicts some of what was included in our opening statement. The new evidence creates enough of a contradiction that the Crown feels that the evidence as a whole, as it currently stands against Mr. Anderson, is such that it would be unreasonable to assume that a conviction can be reached if the Crown were to continue on with its presentation of evidence and witnesses."

The courtroom was quiet; no one knew what this all meant. Fred and Tracey stared forward with puzzled looks as they listened to Ron plod on about this new evidence and hoped that this was good news.

"If it pleases the Court, and our friend Mr. Barry, the Crown would like to request an acquittal of the charges against Josh Anderson and ask that he be released immediately."

There was a huge roar from the gallery. Tracey jumped up with her arms stretched open wide as Fred sat with his mouth agape in shock.

Judge Rumpoldt banged his gavel in attempt to restore order, but most of the gallery was already on its feet. Some were shouting obscenities, and others were screaming for joy.

Josh had no idea what was happening and looked about with a puzzled expression. When he spotted his mother bouncing in the air with her hands together, jostling Fred, and trying to get the attention of Mr. Barry, Josh knew there was finally some good news. He smiled for the first time in weeks.

The crowd eventually quieted and Judge Rumpoldt asked the defense if they were opposed to such a request. Of course they were not, and within minutes, Josh was released back into the arms of Tracey and Fred with a mob of friends and supportive strangers pouncing down upon them.

Jack smiled slightly. He was pleased that he had succeeded. Mission accomplished. He looked at his mother who had yet to understand what had just happened. She frowned at Jack and shrugged her shoulders; she wanted to know why Josh was suddenly let go. She was not alone, as Donna's family, friends and supporting spectators were frantic. Many even felt vilified by the sudden release of a suspect they all knew as Donna's only known possible killer.

The commotion in the courtroom continued to rage on behind Jack and his mother as he quickly shuffled her in front of him down the aisle towards the exit. Many tried to stop him and grabbed hold of him and his mother, but Jack pushed them all away with an expression of anger and irritation etched into his face. They wanted a response, and Jack was not going to surrender a comment to anyone. Let them stew. Let them wonder. It was a dirty business, and there is no normal response to any of this. He just wanted to get out. Josh was free as Jack had always intended, and the prosecution had lost all the eggs they had put in their one and only basket. Jack had seen to that, and it was doubtful now that the prosecution would ever bring forth another suspect after seeing how the evidence was accrued and handled.

## Chapter 34

### Tuesday, April 17th 6:04 pm

Winter came and went. The snow mostly disappeared from the streets and front lawns and left only patches hidden in the dark corners and shadows about town. The sky also changed and the deep, dark clouds that carried the spring rain returned.

Jack headed straight to the post office after work. He spotted the notice on the front door when he pulled in the drive the evening before and knew immediately what it was about. He tried to look relaxed and uninterested as he signed the ledger at the post office, but his heart was pounding as they handed him the envelope.

The sky was overcast, and the wind blew a fresh, cool breeze across town as Jack scurried to his vehicle. He jumped inside and placed the envelope on the passenger seat. He wanted to open it right there, but it needed more ceremony. He drove carefully home and dropped his eyes to the envelope every few moments. Maybe I should have buckled it in, he thought to himself and laughed.

At home, he hastily dashed inside to avoid the wind gusts. The weather forecast called for rain and possible even thunder later in the evening, but this only invigorated his excitement.

He tossed his overcoat over the back of couch and dropped into the seat. He leaned back, lifted the envelope high and stared at it a moment before lowering it to his lap. He tore the seal off the end. Inside was another envelope. It was from the Western Provincial Life Insurance Company, just as he hoped. He slipped his finger under the edge of the flap, tore the flap open, and looked inside.

He was dumbstruck for a moment. Speechless. He stared hard at what he saw, and it felt like he just swallowed his own heart. He reached in and pulled out the check. It was payable to Jack Gardner for the amount of three point five million dollars.

Jack leaned back and laughed. He clenched his fists in victory, slightly creased the corner of the check and raised it above his head. He screamed with joy. He jumped out of the chair and hollered louder than he had ever hollered in his life. Ecstasy overflowed, and Jack could not control the sudden sense of relief and wonder the presence of that check delivered. He accomplished exactly what he had set out to do. It was a process lasting well over three years from start to finish, but today was payday, and Jack felt invincible.

It was a great day for Jack. The best day of his entire life. Nothing was going to take the moment away, and he wanted to celebrate. He needed to celebrate. Victory was sweet, but Jack knew this kind of success could not be shared with a single soul. He planned this alone and remained as cold and calculating as necessary the entire way. He allowed no one to steer him from his intent—not even Donna herself.

He thought about her once again and realized he sacrificed a part of his soul in his actions against her. He was never supposed to love her. She was just another piece of the plan, and the plan was always on his mind, but she had become much more. He felt a moment of remorse as he looked at the check and asked himself one more time if it was all truly worth it.

Jack jumped in the air and pumped his fist. "Hell, yes!" he shouted. "Hell, yes." He paused and stared down at the check again. He tried hard to engage his own enthusiasm but found it extremely difficult to do so. He rubbed his lips.

"I am so sorry," he whispered.

Jack had been very good about suppressing any thoughts about Donna these past few months. He was not proud of what he had done. How could he be? It was beyond cruel. It was purely evil. But did he really feel so evil? No one even suspected him. Well, no one but Dean anyway, and Dean was completely incapable of doing anything to Jack anymore. Jack had ruined Dean; he made Dean and his crew look incompetent in the end. Any attempt by Dean to challenge Jack now would appear petty and vengeful. No, Dean was no longer something Jack needed to worry about.

Jack looked outside and decided to go for a run before he exploded. He was pumped so full of energy now, and it was just yearning to burst out of him. A run would help release all that, and the fresh air would help him sort everything out...he hoped.

Jack tucked his large check away in the drawer where he kept all of his important documents. He would go to the bank tomorrow to make the deposit. Right now, he just needed to release the energy building inside him. He donned his running shoes and made his way down his usual route on Founders Road towards Head Park. The wind was beginning to pick up again in fresh gusts, and the clouds spit down rain in small pockets. This was the first rainfall he could remember since that difficult night in September.

He ran on, and as he entered the park, the weekend of Donna's death resurfaced. Jack wanted to remember now. He needed to remember. As much as he wanted to forget everything that led up to it, he needed to remember one last time. He did a savage thing. He now reaped the benefits of his actions, and he wanted to feel closure. His feet pounded across the gravel road in the park and many thoughts swirled around in the darkness inside him.

It started early that September Sunday morning with Jack preparing for the drive to the coast in the evening. The forecast showed heavy rain showers with possible thunder. It was late in the season for thunder, but heavy rainstorms were not uncommon. Jack had been pleased. The storm would give him much more cover when darkness descended.

He started that Sunday by going to the office, where he spent specific amount of time working on the computer, looking at customer files, and prepping documents. He knew he would be investigated in extreme detail, so he made sure they would find extremely specific details.

Heading into Calgary for the tote boxes also had a purpose. He had planned the trip to Vancouver as his alibi well over a year before, but he also required an excuse to drive into Calgary prior to the late night drive to the coast. His pickiness about the tote boxes was the key for this. He started cultivating his fussiness about the totes a year and a half before, around the same time he started the evening drives to Vancouver. Truth was, Jack could not stand the night drives, but to have his nighttime alibi, he had to make those damn night drives every few weeks for over a year. He was glad it was over.

He had driven into Calgary to IKEA that day just like he told his wife, and detective Dean later. He bought the totes just as he said he would and then went over to Best Buy to buy some audio CDs. But there was more to his stop at Best Buy than simply the purchase of these audio books.

Jack owned an expensive windbreaker from Outdoor Adventurers in Calgary. The coat was reversible and had a removable hood. Jack wore the coat around town and to the office that day. He wore it into IKEA and then into Best Buy. But as soon as he was in Best Buy, he headed straight for the washroom were he reversed the jacket and put on the hood that was tucked away in an inside pocket. Then, faking a slight limp, he walked out the store after purchasing a pack of blank CDs at the front till. He paid with cash, just for show in case anyone thought to review the video tapes of people leaving the store while Jack was supposedly there looking at audiobooks. Jack had scouted the store long ago, and he knew where the cameras were and where they were pointed. He ensured the hood would conceal his face from the cameras.

Once out of the store, he walked to his vehicle and removed a small cardboard box out of the trunk that he placed there earlier. He stuffed the empty box, containing only a strip of bubble wrap, into his pocket, and then walked towards the First Choice Haircutters on the other side of the lot where a bicycle was waiting for him in the bicycle rack. On the way he tossed the CDs he purchased into a trash bin.

Jack picked up the used bicycle and lock two weeks ago from the Recycle Centre at the High River Dump. After dropping some cash into the donation box at the dump, he brought the bicycle in his Pathfinder back to the mall where he locked the bicycle to the bicycle rack.

The bicycle was still there, locked and waiting for him just as he left it. He grabbed the bicycle and rode as fast and hard as he dared to the other side of the downtown core to the Greyhound bus depot.

Jack planned and practiced this ride a number of times with his own bike. It was five kilometers, and Jack had previously made this trip on his own bike in as little as fourteen minutes. On this final trip, he set out to ride harder than ever. He narrowly missed a collision with a city bus as he cut across 11th street to 42nd Ave.

There was almost no lineup at Greyhound when he arrived. He placed his Blackberry inside the box after verifying it was still on and fully charged. He paid in cash to have the box delivered 'Hold For Pickup' to the Abbotsford station on the 6:45 p.m. bus. He addressed it to Black's Photography, c/o J Gardner with a fake phone number. It did not matter what company was named on the Way Bill when it was sent 'Hold For Pickup'; only the care-of name was necessary for pickup at the other end. Even a search on the computer afterwards would not pull up J Gardner. To find his name, they would have to have to first search for Black's photography. Jack held on to the Bill of Lading in case there was a problem when he went to retrieve the package.

Jack rode the bicycle back from the Greyhound Depot to the far side of the Best Buy parking where he left the bicycle leaning against a street light unlocked. It was now an easy target for a bicycle thief. The round trip took him forty-six minutes. He pulled the hood back over his head, limped slowly back inside to the Best Buy washroom, removed the hood, and reversed the coat again. He quickly picked out the two audio CDs, paid with his VISA, and walked out of the store. The total time in Best Buy, the way Dean saw it, was 57 minutes.

Jack jogged on as he easily remembered the vivid details of that trip.

The spring rain started to come down harder, reminiscent of the night of the murder, as he entered the park towards the parking lot and river. He felt uncomfortable as he neared the parking lot; he remembered the angst he felt as he sat parked in the lot waiting for time to pass after saying his last goodbye to Donna.

He left the house at exactly 7:30 p.m. that night, but drove no further than the parking lot at Head Park, where he parked in the corner near the river path. The night was still young, and the wind and rain began savagely beating down around him. He had a few hours to wait and a long night still ahead of him. He lay his seat back, set his watch alarm for 9:30 p.m., put on his sunglasses, and forced his eyes closed while the storm outside raged on.

He had tried to sleep but worry and fear was slowly slipping in. The rain continued to fall and beat down on the roof of the car. He pressed his sunglasses tighter to his face to shield his eyes from the bright, intermittent flashes of lightning. Flash after flash lit up the inside of his vehicle, and each flash seem to trigger another crazed thought in his head. Too many flashes, and too many crazed thoughts. He felt a calming relief when his watch beeped at 9:30 and broke the thoughts racing through his manic mind.

Jack then opened the trunk and pulled out the carefully prepared bag from the bottom of the sample case. The pair of Nike Air Max, size nine, were a little tight, but they had to be the same size as Josh's. He slipped them on, stuffed the other items he needed into his pockets, and set out on the pathway back to the house.

The rain was fierce, and the wind drove hard, pelting him in his face and leaving a stinging sensation from each of the cold pellets of rain. Lightning crackled above, and the tree branches thrashed in and out along the pathway. The branches seemed to be reaching out to grab hold of him as if attempting to stop him from doing what he was about to do. He fought his way up the path towards his house, fighting the driving wind that seemed to increase the further up the path he ran. He could see lights on in many of the houses, but the downpour would make it impossible for anyone looking out their windows to spot him, let alone identify him.

For ten minutes, he ran up the path, and he grimaced as he began to feel winded. He was close to home and could see the window up in the upstairs bedroom was still lit. The rest of the house was dark. Donna was probably reading in bed as she usually did before turning in for the night.

As he reached the backyard, he slowed to a fast walk and entered the back yard. He tried to wipe the wetness from his face, but the driving rain immediately had him sopped once again.

He stopped on the back steps and checked his pockets to make sure he still had everything he needed. He carefully and quietly unlocked the back door and stepped inside. He walked around inside the back porch area to make sure the Nike Air Max footprints were clear and visible. He stepped into the kitchen area and removed the shoes.

He removed his wet coat and set it on the back of the kitchen chair. He grabbed a hand towel and wiped his face, hair, and hands free of the rain as best he could and then hung the towel to dry on the oven door handle.

He slowly crept up the stairs with only the guitar wire tucked in his front pocket and left the other items in the kitchen.

He pushed the door open slowly and saw Donna laying on the bed reading. She turned towards him and looked startled. She smiled as soon as she spotted his own huge smile. He played the smiling husband for two years, and he was about to give his last performance for Donna.

Lightning crackled and pulled Jack back to his current jog up the same path he ran that night. Jack remembered vividly what he did in the bedroom with Donna next. It came back to him like a false dream, and though he remembered it clearly, he felt disconnected as if a part of him had acted on its own and left the shell of his soul to only watch. But his soul was unable to stop him; his wretched side that had emerged from the dark abyss inside him was in full control. Precise, calculated, and cunning were the words that described Jack that night as he approached his unsuspecting wife.

Donna put the book down on the night table. "What's happened?" she asked.

Jack moved quickly towards the bed. "It's the storm. It's just as Fred said. It's going to be worse than I thought, and the pass might be closed due to heavy snow. I heard that on the radio after I drove a ways, so I turned around and came back."

"I didn't hear the garage door," Donna said.

"I parked on the drive. I didn't want to disturb you in case you were already sleeping."

Donna smiled. Her husband was always so thoughtful.

"Anyways, I am back now." He lay down on the bed next to her. "I thought we might finish what we started before I left." He kissed her on the lips and asked her to turn over onto her stomach.

Donna kissed him back and rolled over. Jack removed his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He removed his white sport socks and threw himself on top her, sitting straddled across her back with one leg on each side of her. He pulled back the blankets to expose the top portion of her back and began slowly massaging her. He spoke softly and told her how much he loved her. He kissed her on the neck and licked her ear lobes. She giggled and told him to stop with the ear licking.

Jack continued to massage her back as she lay on her stomach. Her arms were down at her sides under the blankets. He carefully removed the guitar wire from his pocket. He kept whispering sweet, loving comments into her ear, and she giggled in delight as he slowly pulled one sock onto each hand.

She laughed, and he whispered as he slowly wrapped the guitar wire around each hand over the sock until he had the wire ready.

"I love you more than anything, my darling," he said. "Lift your head up for a sec."

And she did.

Jack quickly slid the wire over her head and tightened as hard as he could. He crossed his arms over one another as he pulled the wire taut. Donna did not react at first, and Jack thought it was going to be quick. But Donna suddenly jerked and fought as fiercely as she could. She tried to pull her arms out and up to grab at him, but Jack had her arms tucked under the blankets and held the blanket down with his knees as he sat on her back.

She thrust her pelvis and legs in attempt to throw Jack off, but she had no leverage and could not fight hard enough without the ability to breathe. It seemed to Jack like Donna struggled for a very long time, but she quit fighting in only a few minutes. Jack sat there holding and pulling back as hard as his body was able. His muscles vibrated under the force as his hands held tightly to the wire around the socks. His arms were beginning to burn when he realized she had given up.

Jack let out the huge breath he had held in his chest the entire time and let her head fall forward on to the pillow. She was dead. He relaxed his hands, unwrapped the wire from each, and left the wire under her body with the ends hanging out to the sides.

He removed the socks to examine his hands. He was sure he was going to see deep cuts into his skin; he didn't realize the panic of the moment would have overtaken him like it had as she struggled for her life and he for her death. He looked at his quivering hands, flipping them over and inspecting them for any sign of the guitar wire, but he found none. He let out another breath in relief and got off of his dead wife's body.

He picked up his socks and shirts and redressed while he stared at Donna's lifeless body. The worst part was over. He swallowed, went downstairs to retrieve the rest of the items, and came back up to the bedroom with them.

He began with the trash bin in the bedroom. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, removed the loose garbage from the bin and inserted the end of the shoelace, then the condom, and then the tissue. He tossed the rest of the garbage back on top.

Next was the hairs. He placed Tony's head hairs on the bed, on the carpet, and in the shower drain, which he flushed down with water. He went pretty low to collect these samples, and he collected a lot of hair from Tony that night at the hotel, so he wasn't super careful how much remained in the trap in the bathroom and how much washed away.

Jack lifted Donna's body enough to lay a number of the pubic hairs right under where her own were on the bed. He was careful and thorough. He planted some of the other hairs on the carpet, elsewhere in the bed, and even the walk in closet. He was done upstairs.

Jack stood over her body, knowing he would be identifying her body at the morgue the next time he saw her.

Jack went downstairs to place the rest of the evidence: the coffee cups, take-out boxes in the kitchen trash, and the cigarette evidence in the tin out back. He was almost done.

Jack looked out the window to the Anderson house next door. He could see lights on inside so Josh must certainly be home. He planted the blonde hairs in both Josh's bedroom and bath during the dinner party on Saturday . In the bedroom, he placed a couple of long blonde hairs similar to Donna's on the bed and carpet. In the bath, he pulled a few hairs through Josh's brush and tossed a few more into the corners on the floor under the sink cabinet and behind the toilet.

Jack pulled a small voice recorder out of his pocket that held a recorded copy of a message Donna left on his Blackberry nearly a year ago. He used the main floor phone to dial his Blackberry, which by this time at 10:27 p.m. would be nearing Golden, B.C. on the Greyhound Bus. When his Blackberry went to voicemail, he played the recording from Donna.

Jack called the Anderson house next. The phone kept ringing, and Jack thought Josh might not pick up, but he did after the seventh ring.

"Hello?" Josh answered sounding out of breathe. In hindsight, he knew that David would have been with Josh at the time he had called.

"Uh, hello," Jack said back to Josh, he deepened his voice so Josh would not recognize him. "Can I speak to Mike, please?"

"There's no one here by that name," Josh replied.

Jack dragged on the conversation with Josh as long as possible; he kept insisting that he had the correct number and that Mike must be there. Jack ended by asking if Josh knew what Mike's number was, but Josh finally said goodbye. Jack felt good that as he had managed to keep Josh on the line for a couple of minutes—long enough to serve as incriminating evidence of a full conversation with Donna.

Jack was done. He grabbed the evidence bags, wiped the back door handle clean of his fingerprints, inside and out, and then stepped outside. He pulled the door closed behind him, and wiped the knob again. He ran back down the path to his car at Head Park, and ten minutes later, he was making his mad dash in the darkness down the highway through the raging storm to catch the bus by the time it got to Kamloops.

He felt possessed as he drove. He was entirely alert to the road conditions, driving rain, and mixed traffic, and he paced himself, hour after hour as he watched the clock to ensure he was on schedule to meet the bus in Kamloops.

He thought of Donna most of the drive, and as much as he tried not to care, he did. He told himself it was necessary for her to die, and he tried to feel remorse. He was not supposed to love her; he was only supposed to play the part of the loving, caring husband. The emotion was raw and difficult to suppress as his adrenalin continued to pump hard.

He stopped in Golden for a coffee at Tim Horton's. He parked on the outer edge of the parking lot and walked inside. After getting his coffee, he returned to his vehicle and placed the coffee in the cup holder. He grabbed the plastic bag from the back seat and stuffed the running shoes and plastic baggies that once contained the DNA inside. He dropped the latex gloves in the bag and walked to the Petro Canada truck stop next door. He went inside to the washroom and was glad to see it empty of patrons. He removed the Nike shoes and placed them randomly on the floor inside one of the stalls. He simply dropped the rest into one of the trashcans. He returned to his vehicle and pulled back on the highway to catch the bus at Kamloops.

The night drive was long and hard. The storm was already abating now that he passed through the Rockies, but he was still worried about Roger's pass and the possibility of heavy snow. The near miss with the elk livened his senses, but the worst weather he found as he climbed up the mountainside was a light sleet that turned to snow near the summit. It was completely gone by the time he came down the other side of the pass into Revelstoke. He monitored his speed and continued to make good time. It was well after midnight now, and the volume of traffic dropped significantly, allowing him to go for longer stretches at high speed.

Jack stopped near Salmon Arm to refuel with the Jerry cans and carried on until he caught the bus as planned a few kilometers before Kamloops. He topped up at the Petro Canada, paying with Visa for the record, and drove on to Abbotsford behind the bus the rest of the way.

When the bus finally pulled into the station at 6:39 a.m., Jack was right behind it. He waited until all the passengers emptied out of the bus and then another fifteen minutes before going up to request the package being held for Black's Photography care of J Gardner. He smiled politely to the attendant who handed him back the small box. Jack opened the box as he left the station and discarded the box in the trash bin outside. He looked at the screen and was pleased to see he had one missed call and one message waiting. He would not check that message until he checked into the Super 8 just a few blocks from the Greyhound bus station.

## Chapter 35

### April, 17th 7:27 pm

The wind continued to swirl, and the rain continued to spit down on Jack along the river path as he remembered those last moments of Donna's life. It was done. Nearly seven months had passed, and he was ready to let the memories go. He received the insurance payout. It was time to try to forget the past and bury it forever.

The night was cool. Jack stopped running and took a breath of the fresh spring air. He smiled again, realizing he had gotten away with the impossible. He looked up into the dark sky and felt the wet drops of the coming rain fall sensuously onto his cheeks.

Lightning flashed above, and he stared up into the darkened clouds and waited for the low rumble to follow. It came, but it was soft and far away. He continued on slowly down the path towards home. The sun would be setting soon, and a shadowy darkness had already begun to descend into the bushes and under the trees that lined the sides of the path along the river.

Jack was almost home when he spotted a familiar face staring out at him from the rocks along the river. David Chow. David bounced quickly across the rocks towards Jack. He had not seen David since the trial ended and was surprised to see him out here in the rain and descending darkness.

Jack stopped and waited as David Chow hurried to meet him.

"David," Jack said. He smiled and held out his hand to David.

David looked down at Jack's hand but did not take it. "Hello Mr. Gardner," he said with a serious tone.

Jack pulled his hand back, and an ugly awkwardness suddenly enveloped the two of them.

"What brings you out here?" Jack asked.

David looked upriver and grinned. "I take pictures, Mr. Gardner."

"It's raining, David," Jack replied and gestured up to the clouds.

David nodded. "I like take pictures in rain. Sometimes get good photos with lightning too."

Jack looked at David and felt more and more uncomfortable.

"Pictures in the rain?" Jack asked.

David nodded. "I take lot of pictures, Mr. Gardner. I take pictures in rain all the time."

Jack's discomfort changed to a deep, sinking feeling.

"Not all flashes in the dark from lightning, Mr. Gardner," David said and smiled again. Jack felt nauseous. He knew what David was about to say.

"I take a lot of pictures Mr. Gardner. Want to see next picture?"

### THE END
  1. Chapter 1
  2. Chapter 2
  3. Chapter 3
  4. Chapter 4
  5. Chapter 5
  6. Chapter 6
  7. Chapter 7
  8. Chapter 8
  9. Chapter 9
  10. Chapter 10
  11. Chapter 11
  12. Chapter 12
  13. Chapter 13
  14. Chapter 14
  15. Chapter 15
  16. Chapter 16
  17. Chapter 17
  18. Chapter 18
  19. Chapter 19
  20. Chapter 20
  21. Chapter 21
  22. Chapter 22
  23. Chapter 23
  24. Chapter 24
  25. Chapter 25
  26. Chapter 26
  27. Chapter 27
  28. Chapter 28
  29. Chapter 29
  30. Chapter 30
  31. Chapter 31
  32. Chapter 32
  33. Chapter 33
  34. Chapter 34
  35. Chapter 35

