Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“This affair has been going on for how many years?”

“About five years maybe. I’m not sure. Tracey and I have been on and off.”

“But you’re ‘on’ now, living together.”

“My marriage is over. It has been for a long time.”

“Then why haven’t you signed the divorce papers and moved on?”

Kingston crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe we both would. I wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing. That’s what I thought, so I mailed the papers back to her lawyer.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Zur asked, leaning forward. “I think you didn’t sign the papers because once you did, you’d have zero access to the money that’s supposed to go to your kids. I think you’ve been holding out for that. And I think you hired Rufus Delaney to get rid of the three things that are standing in your way.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Kingston said in a weary voice, “I don’t know any Rufus Delaney.”

Zur slid a photo toward Kingston. “You have no idea who this guy is? Never met him? Maybe you hired him blind, a recommendation from one of your gambling cohorts, perhaps.”

Kingston shook his head. “No.”

“This guy,” Zur tapped the photo, “intentionally ran your wife and children off the road and into a frigid river, where they were submerged underwater, holding their breath, probably thinking they were going to die there.”

Kingston shuddered and broke into gulping sobs. “I swear it wasn’t me.”

“Your son and daughter, such beautiful children, almost died.”

Kingston covered his face. “I’d never hurt Colton or Ella. I love them!”

“We’re done here,” the lawyer said, tapping his client’s arm.

“Mr. Kingston,” Zur said, “you’re free to leave. For now. Don’t go anywhere. We may have more questions for you later.” He flicked a look toward the one-way mirror and gave a subtle lift of his shoulders.

Behind the glass, Marcus clenched his jaw. “Shit.”

Wesley Kingston was walking out of the station because there wasn’t enough evidence against him to hold him here.

Marcus considered everything the man had said. Kingston’s alibi had checked out. He’d been in Fort McMurray.

The door opened and Zur stepped inside, a manila folder tucked under one arm.

“We got nothing, Marcus.”

“So if he didn’t do it, we’re back to the theory that someone was sending him a message because he owed them.”

John closed the door. “We checked the casinos. He has some debt, but not much. He’d recently paid off a two-thousand-dollar loan.”

“The money Rebecca said was missing from their account.”

Zur nodded. “We’ve got Delaney though. We’ve got him on security footage at the gas station. A search of his house nabbed us the baseball cap and T-shirt—Route 66 with a mustang on it. And paint transfer on his truck matches the paint on Mrs. Kingston’s car.”

“Sounds like you’ve got enough on him to lock him away for a long time.”

“Yeah, except we’re hoping he’ll be ready to make a deal. Give up the one behind this all.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Maybe less time in prison. Don’t know yet. Prosecution is putting together a proposal.”

“Jesus, John. We can’t let Delaney walk. He has to pay for his actions. He tried to kill them, for Christ’s sake.”

“He won’t walk. He’ll go to prison. No doubt about it. We’re going to offer him minimum security in exchange for giving us the name of whoever hired him.”

“When are you questioning him?”

“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Can I—?” Marcus indicated the one-way window.

“Yeah.” Zur cleared his throat. “I heard you’re going to stay with Mrs. Kingston for a few days. You sure that’s a good idea?”

“She’s got no one else.”

“You seem to be getting a bit too close to this case. You’re supposed to remain impartial.”

“Says who? Emergency services criteria and regulations?”

“Exactly.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not currently working. I’ve been suspended. I’m on my own time now. And technically, when I left my desk, I was minutes from being done with my shift. I went to look for Rebecca on my own time.”

Zur nodded. “Stick with that story.”

“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

Zur stared at him but said nothing.

“Your truth radar is malfunctioning, John. And not just with me.”

“What do you mean?

“Wesley Kingston.”

“What about him?”

“He was telling you the truth. He didn’t hire Delaney. He wouldn’t hurt his kids, no matter how pissed off he was with Rebecca. And no matter how much money he owed someone.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw it in his eyes.”

“Saw what?”

“His love for his children. I was a father once too. Remember? He’s not personally responsible for this. He’d never risk the lives of his children.”

“But you heard him. He had no idea they were going with Rebecca. That was a last-minute change in her plans.”

“Yeah, but Delaney saw they were with her. He would’ve reported back to whoever hired him, revealed that the kids were there. And that coldhearted person is the one who gave the order, with no forethought about killing two innocent children. Kingston isn’t that ruthless.”

“Then who is?”

Marcus released a heavy sigh and shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“According to Kingston, everyone loves his wife. She’s got no enemies, been in no altercations with anyone and no one else would gain from her death. She’s cleaner than a Catholic nun.”

Marcus moved to the door. “I need to see her.”

“What about Delaney?”

“Call me if he gives up a name?” He paused in the hallway. “And, John? I’ll bet you season tickets to the Oilers that he won’t name Wesley Kingston.”

John smiled. “Done. I could use some downtime.”

“You won’t be the one going.”

“Hold on a minute.” John rifled through the folder, then handed him a photo of an unshaven, unsmiling man.

“Rufus Delaney?”

“Yeah. Show it to Mrs. Kingston. See if she knows him from someplace.”

Marcus tucked the photo into his jacket pocket and strode away.

Something nagged at him. He was missing something too elusive to catch.

Rebecca checked her reflection in the handheld mirror one of the nurse’s had lent her. Her blue eyes were framed by hollow valleys, but other than that, she looked presentable. She’d washed her face and brushed her hair—simple tasks normally, but not tonight. Her ribs still ached.

At Rebecca’s insistence and after a three-hour visit, Kelly had headed back home to be with her kids. It had been hard to say good-bye, but Rebecca reassured her sister that she’d be home soon.

Marcus had called to let her know he was back in town with the clothing he’d promised to retrieve. He’d stopped off at the police station first, where Wesley was being questioned. She was relieved to hear her husband wasn’t being locked up in a cell. There was no way Wesley had tried to kill them.

“Hi,” Marcus said from the doorway.

Self-conscious, she slid the mirror beneath the covers. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Then why was her stomach so twisted in knots?

“Good. And the kids?”

“They’re asleep. Supervised by a female officer.”

Marcus nodded, then approached the bed. He set a plastic bag on the side table. “I hope these are okay.”