Page 36 of Absolution

Ten

Kerry

When I wake, he’s sitting patiently by my side, his hands folded in his lap. A day passed already? I attempt a smile. “I must be such a good witness,” I croak. “You always know where to find me.”

He fires off one of his friendly smiles back but doesn’t answer.

I fight my way up to a half-sitting position, regarding him curiously. There’s something he wants to get off his chest. I feel it. I fear it.

“This man…”

“Yes?”

“He doesn’t seem to exist.”

I look up at his scraggy features, his stubble is longer, and somehow grayer, than yesterday. “What do you mean?”

“The fingerprints we found on the knife in your kitchen, and around your house, don’t match any registered felon, or anyone else for that matter who has ever passed through customs, been in a car accident, been arrested for pickpocketing… anything.”

“You were in my house?”

“We’re investigating a homicide, Miss, and you housed a man we suspect for the murder.”

“I didn’t ‘house’ him. He broke in.”

Tremblay bows his head in acknowledgement. “Very well.”

I frown. “So then… that just means he hasn’t been arrested, right?”

“We’re still waiting for the Americans to get back to us, but so far… it’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“But he does!” Suddenly I’m worried he won’t believe me. Will he think I killed Ray?

“We have fingerprints unaccounted for, a car with the same prints inside, a dead body, your statement. We’ll keep looking further downstream when it gets bright again. If he’s out there, we’ll find the man who did this to you, and to Ray.”

“He couldn’t have killed Ray, Officer. Christian was with me the whole time. It was a storm. Couldn’t Ray have gotten hit by something? I don’t understand.”

“It’s not unlikely his head wound is from the car crash. We’ll get the coroner’s report later today.”

Tremblay stands, fiddles with his cap, taking me in. “Have you heard of Stockholm syndrome, Miss Jackson?”

My heart drops. No. I know what that is, but no. That can’t be it. Can it?

He lays a hand on my forearm. “Do you have someone to talk to?”

I look away. I don’t want him to see the tears that well up in my eyes.

It’s not Stockholm syndrome. Christian was a complex, real person, who just happened to make bad choices. When I think of him, I don’t see the furious murderer anymore. I see a father. A man. A man I could have known, and maybe more… had things been different.

I lower my gaze to Cece, sleeping in her little bed with steel bars on the sides. When she’s older I’ll try to explain to her who he was—to the best of my knowledge. Christian won’t come after us again. We’re free. But it’s not how it feels.

When I look back toward Tremblay, he has left the room.

“We’ve stopped the search, Kerry.”

One or two more days have passed. I’m not sure. It’s hard to keep track of time here.

“You don’t think you’ll find him?”

---