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“Maybe. Get the dog walker to look at the maintenance truck, too. Not sure why, but…” Gibson trailed off.
“Okay. I have the guy’s name here.” Scottie flipped through her notebook. “Liam.”
She hung up.
Gibson rose from the chair and pocketed his phone. He would go to the shop. He bent over Jason’s desk to inspect a photograph that he hadn’t noticed before. It was Tammy dressed in a perky outfit on a sailboat. He heard footsteps and voices in the hallway. Jason and Tony strolled into the office. They were startled to see him.
“What are you doing? What do you want?” Tony demanded. His tone had a gruff edge to it. He pulled up a chair and plopped himself down.
Jason edged his way around the room and twisted into his chair. He pushed his hand over his chin.
“Why did you leave your former job, Tony?” Gibson asked. He stared at his bald spot and pudgy body. He was in rotten humour, he had to take it out on someone. The supervisor was the ideal guy.
“Better opportunity here. What’s it to you?” he scoffed. His lips curled into a half smile; a half sneer.
“You were fired,” Gibson said, meanness creeping into his speech. He didn’t like either of these guys, and he was drained from their stonewalling him. “For sexual indiscretion,” he underscored, narrowing his steely greys into a hard stare.
Tony slunk into his seat. The redness crept up his neck to his ears, eyes cast to the floor. He remained silent.
“The bloody jacket was found in your department. Anything to say for yourself?” Gibson was annoyed and wasn’t holding back anymore.
Tony wiped his clammy palms on his sweatpants.
Gibson’s phone rang, fortuitously interrupting him before he blew a gasket. It was Scottie.
“The girl at Best Of Coffee just called me.”
He waited, holding his breath—it was becoming a habit.
“One of the employees saw Jason on Monday. He grabbed a coffee and quickly disappeared. Usually he sat by the window and drank his coffee.”
Gibson forced the air out through his lips, making a rude sound.
“Okay. What time was that?”
“Somewhere around a quarter after six.”
He studied Jason, with his grey hair and lifeless grey eyes, thanked Scottie and disconnected.
“A staff member at Best Of Coffee saw you on Monday,” Gibson said. “You picked up a coffee and left.”
Jason waved his hand in dismissal of the suggestion.
“I can’t remember one day to the next if I stayed or not. How can a silly waitress be so certain?” he said. Disdain dripped through his remark.
Before Gibson could oppose that rationalization, his phone sounded again. As he listened, his face paled. He charged out the door.
Chapter 25
Katherine’s panic attack had sent Gibson’s optimism plummeting. After her frantic call, he dashed down the steps and out of the building. The sound of the slammed door reverberated in the stairwell. He galloped across the boulevard, ignoring the blare of a horn as he skipped on top of the snow bank onto the curb. Gibson sprinted through the rutted grass, spraying water as he jumped over large icy puddles. He yanked at the door and ran for the elevators. Ding. They were all in use. He whipped about and headed for the stairs. It was just one flight up, but he was drained by the time he entered the corridor. It was empty except for his wife.
Katherine was collapsed on the stone floor. Her legs pulled into her body, and arms wrapped securely around her shins, reminded Gibson of a pill bug curled into a ball. The flushed skin was clammy. Small drips of moisture under her nose glistened in the fluorescent light. Her breathing was stilted. Her wild eyes were riveted on the handbag and books strewn at her feet. She twitched at the approach of footsteps. Her lips, faded red, made a small heart when she opened her mouth.
“Oh, honey,” she whimpered.
The overwrought intonation banged against his heart. Gibson slid down the wall onto the ground next to Katherine and leaned into his wife’s aura. He stretched out a hand to stroke the ruddy cheek. It was burning hot. She drew her trembling limbs tighter into her body, making her sink deeper into the floor. He placed his arm around her shoulders and cradled her shivering body. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. She scrunched her face, repressing tears that threatened to release down her cheeks, bringing black mascara with them. The vacant expression lightened as she firmed her jaw. He freed his hold when she tried to stand up.
“Not sure I can do this.”
Katherine faltered at the door, gripping the jamb with slender fingers. Her slight frame looked taut from tension. A pause brought a slow trickle of sweat to her forehead. She mustered all her courage and stepped through the doorway. She glanced back, bounced on the balls of her feet and held her hands in prayer. The door was shut behind her.
* * *
It was done. Katherine had completed the exam and truly felt good about it. Now Gibson was free to enjoy his weekend, leaving Scottie in charge. Southwest winds had driven the clouds away and brought a balmy warmth. Snow from the early storm was melting fast—global warming. The shift in weather energized him. Equilibrium was restored. He skipped out the front door to the café with a weightlessness in his limbs. His buddy sat at the regular table by the window gazing over the light-dappled water. Waves gently striking the shore washed the rocks. Jesse didn’t notice him until he plopped himself in the chair and snorted a throaty laugh.
“Hey. How’s it going?” Jesse held up his hand to get Gibson a coffee, but the waitress was on it.
“Good.”
Both remained taciturn, looking over the bay. Gibson knew he wouldn’t be urged to talk about the current case. It was up to him to start any discussion.
“Doesn’t look like a hate crime,” Gibson said. He needed to shake off this setback. “My prime suspect got cleared yesterday.”
He looked at Jesse. His smile was relaxed, but his eyes twinkled merrily. He grabbed this friendship. Recharged, fearless. “I was sure, but I was mistaken.”
“No matter,” was all Jesse countered. “Want someone to kayak with today?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
He could count on his buddy to cut to the chase. Let it go. The men finished their coffee and preceded down the ramp. They gathered their gear and slipped their boats into the ocean, setting off to the south arm of the inlet. Although the sun was pleasant on their faces, the breeze on the water kept them from feeling the heat. They would use the wind to their advantage and steal a little push down the waterway. As they swung out into Finlayson Arm waterway, Gibson looked up to the cell tower that marked the crest of the Malahat—a thousand feet above sea level—and the loftiest point of the highway leading through the hills to North Vancouver Island. As his gaze shifted to the east over the forested shoreline, the sunlight reflected off windows on the waterfront across the inlet.
Soon they were paddling smoothly in rhythm, side by side, listening to the chants of the wild. A gaggle of geese flew overhead, honking as they made their way to California. Jesse glanced over to Gibson and nodded his approval. For several hours they travelled along the shoreline undaunted by their screaming muscles. They halted for a snack near the famous Butchart Gardens. The friends devoured several power bars and guzzled water all the while tuning in to the drone that surrounded them. Jesse si
gnalled to go back. Off they went. The wind pushed at them so they had to paddle with more resolution. By the time the landing at Brentwood Bay was in sight, they were exhausted. It was a superb day undisturbed by the cell phone Gibson had deliberately left behind on the dresser. The grin on his face as he dragged his kayak onto the wharf was proof of his ‘Don’t Care’ attitude. He was overwhelmed with the week’s events. Something about being outside vaporized the disquiet. They walked up the incline together, promising another day of kayaking tomorrow.
Katherine’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway, so the doubt that had sprung up was spurious. When his wife returned home, he took the phone off the hook and shut down his cell. It was a rebellious move that he seldom did, but he needed an entire carefree night with his wife.
* * *
Sunday was an echo of Saturday. Gibson met Jesse at the café. After a shot of caffeine, they strolled lazily to their boats confident of the day. They headed north this time, zigzagging in and out of the coastline. Both men were chattier today, babbling about new gear and equipment. Gibson let the last of his apprehension melt away as the hours passed by, pleasantly paddling his trusted kayak. The sun was intense in the sky and beating down on them as they veered toward home at the halfway mark. Jesse picked up the pace, propelling himself to the limit. Gibson followed. His muscles weakened and his lungs burned. All he wanted to do was stop and catch his breath. Gibson hit the dreaded wall and pressed on, letting the throbbing wash over him. They lay on the dock, tension from their exertion melting into the hard surface—slow, smooth breathing restored. They bumped fists.
Gibson headed home. His mouth watered the moment he swung open the door. The rich aroma of roast beef wafted down the hallway and beckoned him to the kitchen. The music was low. Katherine sat at the table, tapping a foot to the easy beat. A random birdsong floated through the crack of the open window.
“Ten minutes.” Her smile was sweet with a faint curve of the lips.
Later they relaxed on the couch, fire throwing warmth into the room. Katherine discussed her disintegration in the hallway, happy to expel her demons. Just as Gibson had driven through a physical barrier that afternoon, Katherine had pushed through a mental block the other day. Youthful self-assurance put rosy dots of colour on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. Hope whispered in her ear. Would she pass the exam and secure the coveted diploma? Gibson braced himself against any other conclusion.
