Children of the Fog (22 page)

"He'll be bringing home girlfriends soon enough," the doctor had said with a chuckle.

Sadie had believed him.

The next page showed Sam on his chubby little knees, a line of drool hanging from his smiling, toothless mouth. He was crawling to Mommy. Another photo showed Philip sleeping with a colicky Sam next to him. None of them had slept much that night.

Sadie turned the page and giggled. She had taken the picture a few months before Sam had turned three. He was sitting on the bathroom floor, an open box of tampons scattered in front of him. By the time she had discovered him, he had devilishly unwrapped every tampon and was throwing them like darts at the door.

The next page held one of her favorite photos. They had taken Sam to Galaxyland Amusement Park at West Edmonton Mall. All three of them were happy in the photo, especially Philip who was grinning from ear-to-ear. He looked so relaxed and boyish as he stood on the carousel behind the black stallion that Sam rode. Sadie stood next to him, after asking a young girl to take their photo. It was a rare moment when they had been a
real
family.

Sam had brought them all together. Once upon a time.

She sighed. "What happened to us?"

The last page in the album held photos taken a few months ago. On Valentine's Day, at the parade downtown. People were lined up on both sides of the street. Sam's class had gone there on a field trip, and Sadie had volunteered to meet them there and help. The moment he had spotted her in the crowd, Sam had beamed a smile and blown her a kiss. That's the second she snapped the picture.

Sadie blew a kiss back. "You'll always be my Valentine, Sam."

Her smile froze. She squinted at the photo. There was a man in the crowd. It would be difficult to miss him. He was dressed in a clown suit. He didn't look exactly like Clancy, but there was something about him that set off alarms. Perhaps because while everyone was watching the parade, he seemed to be watching Sam.

Since the photo was too small to make out any details, she rushed to her laptop and opened up the file where she had saved all the family photographs. Chewing her bottom lip, she scrolled down until she found the one of Sam at the parade. She enlarged it until it filled the screen.

She let out a muffled gasp.

Although his face was half hidden by shadows, the man was definitely staring in Sam's direction. Unsmiling. Intense. Familiar.

And holding six red balloons.

"Gotcha, you
bastard
."

Seated at the kitchen table with an oil lamp and the fireplace for light, Sadie tried to eat her supper, but she barely tasted the chef salad she had made. She picked at it, unable to get The Fog out of her head. He'd been watching Sam for weeks, maybe months, plotting his abduction, and she hadn't had a clue.

She had to get the photo to Jay, and there was only one way she could do that without having to drive all the way back to Edmonton.

Digging through her purse, she found Jay's card. Under his office phone number was an email address.

"Tomorrow," she murmured.

She glanced at the bin on the chair across from her. LaToya's letter lay on top, mocking her. She reached for it, then hesitated, resisting the temptation to read it again.

Her purse rang.

Without thinking, she retrieved her cell phone and flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay, Sadie?" Leah's voice was tentative, distant.

"I'm fine."

"I was…worried about you, my friend. You left so suddenly."

Sadie didn't know what to say, and she didn't feel like explaining herself. Not even to Leah. Or anyone, for that matter.

"So…" Leah said. "How's the book coming along?"

"I'm almost done. Maybe another week."

"Want me to come keep you company, wherever you are?"

She was hinting, trying to get information from her, but the last thing Sadie wanted was company. She was already a bit pissed at herself for getting friendly with the locals. Irma, Ed, Martha…they were all nice people.

Too nice to be exposed to what I'm planning.

"Sadie?"

"I'm not ready for company. I have stuff to take care of."

"Why are you pushing me away?" Leah's voice trembled. "I'm your friend, or supposed to be. But ever since Sam—"

"Look, I can't talk about this right now. I'm sorry that things are the way they are."
But they just are.

Leah tried again. "Friends are supposed to stick together in bad times. You know I'm here for you. Any time, day or night. If you need to talk, just call me." Quiet desperation echoed in her voice.

"I have to go now, Leah. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Sadie hung up and turned off her phone. To preserve the battery, she told herself. In actuality, she didn't want any more interruptions.

Annoyed by Leah's call, she washed the dishes and wiped down the counters. When she was done, she picked up the rum bottle, intending to mix a stiff drink. It held less than half an ounce.

"No point in wasting it."

She drained the rum and wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. Then she tucked the empty bottle in the cupboard, out of sight.

Philip's Cabernet teased her, calling out to her.

"No way. I'm saving
you
for last."

Resolved to a night without the comfort of an alcohol-induced sleep, she slumped down on the sofa, stared into the fire and tried to look at the positive side.

"At least you won't see ghost girls if you're sober."

An hour later, she was bored. With nothing better to do, she sat at the kitchen table and caved in to the seductive pull of LaToya's letter. She read it again, wondering why it felt so wrong. Afterward, she sorted through the folders and placed them in neat piles, her gaze skimming over them. They were legal documents, nothing exciting.

Until she found a letter that Philip had written two years ago, but never mailed.

Dear L.,

I can't stop thinking about you. I know you wanted it just as much as I did, so don't bother threatening that you'll tell Sadie. I'll tell her you led me on, seduced me. After all, you kissed me first. Sadie will never look at you the same way again. Especially if I tell her about Sam. I'm looking forward to your next birthday party, and I'm sure I can arrange to drive you home again.

Philip.

Sadie reread the last line. "What the hell?"

The truth hit her, hard and fast.

She swept aside the piles of paper until she found the first letter, the one she'd thought LaToya had sent to Philip. Then she snatched up her purse, rooting around for a sympathy card she'd received at Sam's funeral. She set the card and letter side-by-side, her eyes widening in horrified realization.

She let out a pained gasp. "What?"

There it was. All the proof she needed. Philip's name, in capital letters. Exactly the same as the card. That's what had teased at the corners of her mind, something subliminal daring her to recognize Leah's writing.

A cry ripped from her throat. "No! Not them!"

Sordid thoughts raced through her mind, taunting her, each competing for her attention. Philip had driven Leah home and they had had sex. Her husband and her best friend. Betrayal cut her like a knife, resisting at first and then slicing clean through her heart.

Philip and Leah.

She bolted from the chair and paced the cabin. Clenching her hands, she pounded on the counter. "Damn you, Philip, you fucking asshole!" She gritted her teeth. "And damn you, Leah. You were supposed to be my best friend."

Leaving the oil lamp burning on the table, she walked in a haze toward the bathroom. The bottle of sleeping pills waited on the counter. She shook two out and swallowed them dry. Then she made her way to the bedroom. In the dark, she climbed into bed and curled up into a ball.

It wasn't long before her despondent sobs filled the room.

23

Sadie didn't wake up until almost lunchtime. After a mug of instant coffee, she grabbed her purse and laptop, then made her way down the path. When she reached the Mercedes, she climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. The car let out a gravelly sputter. Then it died.

"Not now, damn it!"

It took two more attempts before the engine finally caught.

The drive to Hinton was uneventful, and Sadie kept her mind off Leah and Philip by thinking of the photograph of the clown and Sam.

"Nothing will bring you back, Sam," she said to the empty back seat. "And they'll probably never find The Fog. But I can't just ignore it. I have to tell someone. Then it's out of my hands."

"Time to charge up already?" Ed asked when she entered the pub.

"Actually, I need to ask you something."

Ed smiled. "Ask away, dear."

"Is there wireless internet somewhere in Hinton?"

He gave her a startled look. "Yeah, Cuppa Joe's. It's a coffee shop by the liquor store. There's a big sign right out front. Can't miss it."

"Thanks."

Ignoring the concerned looks he threw her way, Sadie said goodbye and sped off down the road. Just as Ed said, a sign advertising free wireless internet with the day's special brew sat on the ground in front of Cuppa Joe, a tiny cafe with four tables. The boy behind the counter gave her a vacant stare when she asked about internet.

"You gotta order coffee though," he said. "Vanilla okay?"

"Whatever you've got," she replied, handing him a five dollar bill.

A minute later, she had her laptop open on a table and the photograph of Sam and the clown was sent via the internet fairy to Jay's computer. The Styrofoam cup of coffee was still on the table, untouched, when she left.

Before heading home, she took a detour to the liquor store and bought another bottle of rum—the largest she could find—and a case of cola. A cashier wearing a University of Alberta t-shirt eyed her suspiciously and seemed shocked when Sadie brought out a VISA card.

"I'll have to see some I.D.," the girl said, chomping on a mouthful of pink bubblegum. "We've had lots of fake credit cards lately."

Sadie slid her driver's license across the counter.

Gum Girl scrunched her face. "Doesn't look like you. Your hair's a lot shorter now and you—"

"And I'm having a bad hair day. I know."

The irony was Sadie hadn't even bothered to brush her hair that morning. Or her teeth. She hadn't bathed or put on any makeup either. In the past month, she'd lost at least fifteen pounds, maybe closer to twenty, and her clothes hung loosely on her thin frame.

Gum Girl moved with the uninspired zombie-like speed of a young person who had nowhere to go and nothing better to do than breathe. Even that seemed to take some effort.

Finally, she handed back the cards. One at a time.

"Do you want that in a paper bag?" the girl asked, pointing to the rum.

"No."

Sadie snatched the rum and cola, then strode toward the exit. She was almost out the door when a gunfire pop sounded behind her. Startled, she jumped, nearly dropping the bottle. When she turned, she saw the girl peeling sticky pink gum off her mouth.

"Sorry," Gum Girl said with a giggle. "Jeesh. You look like someone shot you or something."

Sadie opened her mouth to reply, then clamped it shut.

In the car, she flipped down the visor and gazed into the mirror. "Okay, the verdict is in, folks. Sadie O'Connell, New York Times best selling author, looks awful. No, she looks like
shit
."

This swearing business was a breeze.

When she got back to the cabin, she called Jay.

"I got the photo," he said, sounding so far away.

"It's him, Jay. The Fog."

"We're checking into it, Sadie. There are some surveillance cameras in the area. We're hoping maybe one of them caught his license plate or the make of his vehicle. Something. We might get him yet."

"Great," she said, her voice hollow. "Better late than never, I guess."

"Sadie, we're doing everything—"

"I know." Her dull eyes wandered around the cabin and settled on Sam's photo on the wall. "But it's too late. No matter what you do, it won't bring Sam back. Will it, Jay?"

She heard him sigh.

"I'll call you as soon as we know anything," he said.

Jay called late the next day with bad news.

"There's nothing on camera. We're going to canvas the streets, see if anyone remembers him. It might take a few days."

"Do what you have to, Jay."

Sadie pushed aside thoughts of The Fog. Finding him meant very little to her. She didn't want to think of a long drawn-out court case, of the media frenzy it would create, and she just couldn't comprehend sitting across from the man who had murdered her son. Or testifying before a jury that she had watched him leave with Sam.

And let him.

Sometimes her thoughts drifted to Matthew Bornyk. When they did, she would shake her head. If The Fog had so brutally butchered and murdered Sam, then Cortnie surely was dead as well. Matthew was lucky, she told herself. He didn't have to watch his child die before his very eyes.

For the next two days, she threw herself into finishing the illustrations for Going Batty. Every time she glimpsed the title, she'd laugh aloud. Truthfully, it was more of a hoarse cackle.

"Yes, you're going batty," she told herself.

At night, she ignored the relentless squawking of the crow and slid into a rum-induced haze before retiring to bed. In the morning, she opened the sliding door to the veranda, wondering what strange gift would be waiting for her. After the chocolate bar and envelope, she'd found a piece of licorice. The day after that, nothing. This morning, she'd found a pen, which she dropped into a jar near her art supplies.

During the day, she wrestled with images of Leah and Philip.

With quiet resolve, she re-read Leah's letter. She sensed deep-rooted remorse in each word. But that didn't make up for betraying a best friend.

Doesn't she know that secrets only destroy things?

"For three years you pretended to be my friend, while all along you kept this horrible secret. You and Philip. You could've told me, Leah. Maybe I would've understood. Maybe I could have forgiven you. But keeping this from me? I don't understand that."