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Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

ON TUESDAY MORNING, Joe Prior is on the job site when his foreman approaches him and tells him that two detectives want to speak to him. Joe doesn't like the look on his foreman's face, as if he's wondering what the hell he's done now. Joe's already told him that all he'd done is chat that girl up at the cash register at the Home Depot. Now his foreman is obviously wondering why the detectives are here. Well, that makes two of them.

Joe looks past his foreman at the two people standing near the foreman's trailer. He recognizes them. It's the same two detectives who interviewed him before about Diana Brewer.

He approaches them, and the foreman heads back inside the trailer, eyeing them suspiciously. Joe faces the detectives.

‘What can I do for you?' he asks pleasantly. He thinks the detectives look a bit ridiculous in their suits in the middle of a construction site. Be a shame if a beam hit them, and them not even wearing hardhats, he thinks to himself. But no chance of that, really.

‘Just a couple of questions,' Stone says.

‘Okay.'

‘You crossed the border into Canada on Sunday afternoon,' Stone says.

Shit . How do they know that? Are they watching him? Following him? They can't do that. They don't have sufficient reason to follow him. He thinks fast, considering his options. He can't deny it, they know he crossed the border. It's a worrying development, if they start to look at where he's been, what his habits are. ‘Yeah, so what?'

‘What were you doing in Quebec?'

Joe shrugs. ‘Just went for the day, shopping.' It's a stupid thing to say. He doesn't make a habit of shopping. But he's been caught off guard.

‘What did you buy?'

‘I can't remember.'

‘Do you have receipts?'

‘What the hell is this?' he says, looking warily at them.

‘We'll take that as a no,' the detective says. ‘One more thing – where were you on Sunday night, between eleven and eleven thirty?'

‘I was at home, why?' Joe answers. He wonders if they're just trying to shake him up, let him know they've still got their eye on him.

Stone glances at his partner.

‘Thanks, we'll be in touch.' Then the detectives turn and head toward the foreman's trailer. Joe turns around to go back to his worksite, but glances over his shoulder to see Stone knock on the trailer door. Joe stops to watch, apprehensive. The foreman appears, closes the door behind him, and walks with the two detectives over to the area where Roddy Donnelly is working. Joe can see the detectives talking to Roddy. Now he's worried. He wishes he could hear what they're saying. But he's afraid he knows. If Roddy was just confirming what he told them before it would be a short conversation, but this goes on for too long. Stone is questioning Roddy hard, getting into his physical space. Joe can tell, even from here, from Roddy's body language – he can tell the moment that Roddy capitulates. He's not looking at the detectives any more – he's looking at the ground, shaking his head. The detectives are nodding as Roddy keeps talking. Stone claps him on the shoulder.

Fuck.

Brenda's lost track of what day it is. With each night that passes she becomes more convinced Diana is here with her; she can sense her in the house. She talks to her daughter as if Diana can hear her, as if they're having a conversation. Perhaps all this is making her lose her mind.

She hasn't been eating much. She feels rather faint, dizzy when she stands up or climbs the stairs. She must take Riley and Evan up on their offer to run some errands for her. She's out of bread.

It was on the news, about the other girl. Brenda wants to know what the gym teacher did to her, what he did to Diana. She may never know.

She texts Riley and Evan and asks if one of them could come over after school. A minute later Evan answers, saying he'll get Riley and they'll be there in fifteen minutes.

When they arrive, she's surprised at how glad she is to see them. They're the only ones whose company she seems to want these days.

‘You shouldn't be missing school,' she says.

‘I haven't gone back to school yet,' Riley tells her.

Evan volunteers, ‘It's no problem. I'm on lunch now, and I've got a free period after that.'

‘I was hoping you could pick up a few things for me.'

‘Of course,' Riley answers.

She hands her a list, some money, and some cloth bags. ‘You're such a help, you two,' she tells them gratefully, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table. She's quiet for a moment, fighting tears. At last she asks plaintively, ‘Do you think we'll ever know who killed her?'

They both look back at her gravely. Finally, Evan nods. ‘I think we will, Mrs Brewer. You've got to have faith.' And then they leave to get her groceries.

She wanders around the house, talking out loud to Diana. Asking her, if she's there, to give her a sign.

I'm back at the police station. The detectives have brought in that horrible Joe Prior. I watch him sit down in the interview room. He's just like I remember him, big, unkempt, with shaggy red hair and a scruffy beard. His jeans and shirt are dirty, and his jacket has seen better days. He's got small eyes. He smells of days-old sweat, as if he doesn't bathe enough or wash his clothes. I recognize that stench, from when he would bother me at the cash register at Home Depot. I could always smell him coming. I associate that odour with a feeling of dread. Even after he left, the stale smell would linger.

Now, I watch him sitting in the interview room and try to remember if I ever noticed that awful smell of him anywhere else. I read somewhere once that smell triggers memories. I breathe it in reluctantly and hope it triggers something now. But it doesn't. All I feel is disgust. Revulsion.

Detective Stone tilts his head at him. ‘So,' he begins, ‘your alibi didn't pan out.'

Prior looks annoyed.

‘With friends like that, who needs enemies, huh?' Stone says.

‘Well, I shouldn't have asked him to lie for me,' Prior says. ‘It was a stupid thing to do, especially since I don't have anything to hide anyways.'

‘Right. You have nothing to hide, so you asked someone to lie for you,' Stone says.

‘Look. Try to see it from my point of view.' Joe makes his voice sound reasonable. ‘My photo had been all over the news in connection with this dead girl. It looked like I was a suspect, for Chrissake. That's why I came in voluntarily to talk to you as soon as I could, as I'm sure you remember.' Stone regards him steadily. ‘I had nothing to do with it and just wanted to get you guys off my back. I didn't have an alibi because I was home alone that night. But I thought if I could get someone to vouch for me that would be the end of it.' He leans back in his seat. ‘You have no idea what it's like, having your picture on the news for something like this. People look at you funny. My foreman was asking me about it. People at work were talking about me. I just wanted it all to go away. I had nothing to do with this dead girl.'

‘You harassed her at her job. You showed interest in her, and it wasn't reciprocated.'

He shrugs.

And then I remember something I'd forgotten, about that smell.

Stone says, ‘We've been looking into you. You're a loner. You move around. We're in the process of tracking your previous addresses, your movements.'

‘Knock yourselves out,' Joe says.

I gaze down at Prior. I remember where else I found his particular, offensive odour. It was one night after work, when Aaron, my manager, walked me to my car. I never bothered locking it. There was nothing in the car worth stealing, and it was an old beater anyway, not worth stealing either. I got in the car and there was this stink. I thought maybe some homeless person had been inside my car, and I rolled down the windows to let the air in. After that I always kept it locked. But now I think it was him – Joe Prior. He was in my car. What was he doing there? And then I realize. I kept the ownership and registration in the glove box. He could have found my address.

I want to scream this at the detectives. And I do, but they can't hear me. They don't even flinch. It enrages me that I can't reach them. But now I'm remembering something else, something frightening.

I'm standing at my bedroom window, late at night, looking out at the backyard, and someone is there. I see the dark shape of a man, looking up at me. I don't know who it is, and I'm terrified.

Now, looking at Joe Prior, I feel the same terror that I did then.

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