A long moment passed as if he hadn’t heard her. He took stock of their living room as if seeing it for the first time, the pictures of their wedding, of his graduation at the Academy in Regina. There was no blood, no chaos here, everything here was intact, all was in order.

Then he turned to Cathy and as he’d searched her face, the image of Trudy Dolan on her bed flashed in his mind. Fortin swallowed hard then told his wife everything. When he’d finished he shut his eyes.

“I messed up, Cathy. It’s my fault they’re dead.”

“No, Will, it’s not your fault. You didn’t see them. Lyle tried to kill you.”

“It’s my fault. I messed up. I killed them.”

He ran his hands over his face and they sat together saying nothing, looking through the windows at the sun rising and painting the distant mountains in a golden light more brilliant than he’d ever seen before.

Fortin didn’t remember how long they’d sat there before he got up, undressed, and stepped into the shower.

It was there, as needles of hot water flowed over him and the steam clouds enveloped him, that every emotion he’d chained in his heart erupted with such force his insides heaved. He slammed his back to the wall, blood from his wounds colored the water, and as he slid to the floor he stuffed the washcloth in this mouth to stifle a groan so agonizing he was certain he would burst.

Like the Coyote, Will Fortin was falling, falling, falling.

-Chapter 10-

Southern Alberta

The rain is coming down in sheets streaking white before his headlights, his wipers ticking against the night . . . his radio issues a static-filled transmission . . .

“Control to Lone Tree Six, got a ten thirty-six domestic. Caller is Trudy Dolan at Big Diamond Farm. Site Sixteen Forty-Nine. She’s scared, whispering into the phone and hard to hear. I’ll get more info. Copy?”

“Ten-four. I’m on the way.”

“Sending you the history, Six.”

“Ten-four . . . .”

“Control to Lone Tree Six, got an update.”

“Six, go ahead.”

“Trudy now says Lyle’s suicidal and he’s got a gun. Says he’s been drinking, shouting, and won’t let her leave with the kids.”

“Six, ten-four, copied. Can you dispatch a member to back me up . . .”

He eases his car onto the gravel shoulder in front of the property . . . kills his lights, put the transmission into park . . . Lyle’s pickup was T-boned behind Trudy’s Toyota, idling but no one was in sight . . . the night air carries a faint sound . . . lowering the car window . . . a child’s scream, an agonizing wail . . .

Reaching for his shoulder microphone . . .

“Six to Control. I’m going in . . .”

“Ten-four, Six. Are you not waiting for backup?”

“Negative. I heard a scream from the house! I’m going in now!”