Fortin woke to see two figures sitting at the foot of his bed. Their backs were turned to him. They were silhouetted against the TV, which was still on, and they were watching it.

How did that happen?

On the screen the Coyote was chasing the Road Runner – to the strains of the show’s song – before he’d plummeted off of a cliff. But he didn’t die – the Coyote never died.

Then the two figures turned, and Fortin saw who they were: Billy and Daisy Dolan.

The tiny hairs on the back of Fortin’s neck stiffened and he stared at the children – saw the bleeding bullet holes he’d made in their small bodies.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me, I’m so sorry!”

He moved toward them to embrace them but they’d vanished and everything went dark until he woke again.

A nightmare.

It had all been a nightmare.

Breathing hard, he went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Then he sat alone in the dark staring at the twinkling skyline and wondered if he was losing his grip.

He reached for the whiskey bottle.

-Chapter 17-

Southern Alberta

In the months that followed, after Fortin had returned to work, he’d decided to cut back on his counseling sessions.

He’d had enough.

No one knew better than he did what he was enduring. Whatever had happened to him, whatever he was carrying, he would take on himself.

No one can help me carry my sin. It is mine to carry alone.

His buddies, the few he still talked to, had encouraged him to continue his application for corporal and write the exam. After some consideration, Fortin resumed the process. But deep down, he didn’t care as much as he once did. Rising in the ranks, dreaming of making detective, was not as important to him as it used to be.

In going through the procedure and writing the exam, he was calm, relaxed, not stressed because he didn’t care if he failed.

That approach seemed to work.

Eventually, he’d learned through his sources, that he’d done well on his exam and his interview but no one could give him official confirmation on whether he’d succeeded. It would take a little longer than usual before he’d learn the results.

Cathy was happy for him but there were still more steps in the process.

Meanwhile, time rolled by in Lone Tree.

One day flowed into the next as Fortin took his shifts one by one, just as they came. Some were good, some were not so good. On his worst days he felt like he was just there, going through the motions. He still drank, alone in the evenings.

On one of those nights, Cathy confronted him.

“This worries me, Will.”

“What?”

She pointed at the beer in his hand.