Page 48 of The Woodcarver's Model
“Everything as I remember it.”
Mali referred to his notes. “And this man Yussuf…”
“Yussuf. Yussuf Ali.”
“This Mr Ali—do you have any way of contacting him?”
“Yes…” Rob started to root through his carryall, finally finding his notebook. “It’ll…be here… Here it is!” He slid the book over to the Chief Inspector, pointing to the name and his cell number. Rob was always amazed that, no matter the level of apparent poverty and hardship, people in the farthest-flung reaches of the earth had cell phones.
“And you met this man how?” Mali continued.
“Through a UN contact of mine. He recommended him as my guide for this trip.”
“Okay. I’ll pass it on to Monsieur Robichaud in Dubai and he’ll follow up on it. So, will you be any easier to find on Marsh Island if we have any further questions?”
“Actually…I won’t be heading back there,” Rob replied. “I was hoping to return to Toronto if I’m allowed to. I think you know my address there.”
“It’s on file. At this point there’s nothing to hold you here. Check in with our local office when you get home.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And with that, Rob left the office.
* * * *
Rob remembered very little of the journey from the police station to Vancouver. The ferry ride from Swartz Bay to Tsawwassen on the mainland was an endless trip of emptiness. He remembered the happiness of the young couple he’d met on the way out, the unspoken fear that he would never find such happiness, and the bliss he had experienced with Mitch. He stared at the waters below and longed for the strength to throw himself into them, vanquishing the pain of his shattered heart.
In Vancouver, he crashed at his sister’s. The evening was a wine-soaked blur. He couldn’t face a night alone in a hotel, even if it was the Sylvia. He dreaded the thought of going home where he would be alone, haunted by ghosts, of images of Mitch in tears, of Kevin smirking at his humiliation and the fear of the damage Kevin would do to his brother for daring to date his ex.
What if he’d taken his sister up on her offer to set him up with Thom? He seemed like a nice-enough guy and wasn’t bad looking. He had a good job. He could have established a nice, solid life here on the west coast. Not a precarious one with a bowl-carving hippy on an unknown island. Well, it wouldn’t be unknown for long.
Once his article came out, it would draw attention to the development. But would it come out? Would Cedric still publish it? And why would he publish it if he was behind the development? Rob’s mind questioned everything that had happened over the past weeks until his brain gave him up to sleep.
His sister knew well enough not to ask him any questions during his stay. As she dropped him at the airport, she said, “Take good care of yourself. You know I love you.” Rob knew she used those words sparingly.
“I love you, too.”
With that, he entered the terminal, and in a few hours was flying home.
Chapter Sixteen
Rob opened the door of his house and once inside, leaned against the door to keep out the demons that followed him.
The air was stale. Karen had moved out as soon as the RCMP had started to make inquiries. He would deal with that problem in the morning, but for now, what was that smell? He took a deep breath. Then, like it was a childhood sense memory, he knew. It came from the sweater he wore. He’d left it out on his bed before heading out for his meeting with Cedric. From a time when he was still happy. The sweater smelled of Rufus.
He held it up to his face and breathed in. Then, for the first time, he cried. He cried as he had cried when his parents had died. He’d forgotten how he’d wept back then. A deep, soul-wrenching wail that grew from a life-altering experience. From the death of a part of himself.
The next morning, he woke. He looked out the window which faced the lake. He felt nothing but exhaustion. He’d cried himself out. He was spent, feeling an overwhelming emptiness punctuated with a pain in the pit of his stomach. He had to move on. He knew that much. He’d been through trauma before. He’d handled it then and he could handle it now.
He stepped out of the shower. As he towelled himself dry, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He had aged since he’d last had a good look at himself. He stooped a little, and his stomach sagged. He watched himself closely as he would once have stared at a wild animal in the woods. His breath was shallow, his skin duller than it once had been. It was like looking into the future. One without Mitch.
He stood on the deck staring out at the water. The lake was still. There were no sailboats tacking against the wind. The sky was a lifeless grey. Even nature offered no solace.
Well, he had a book to write. That would fill his time. Writing was a solo sport, and solo was what he did best, wasn’t it? He had a lifetime of practice. And he’d promised Estelle he’d get her a draft in the next few months. He’d wasted good time on that puff piece on Marsh Island when he should have been working on the bigger commitment. He should go next door and thank Gina for looking in on the place after Karen left, and maybe he would go out for dinner with Karen. She could always make him laugh. He’d give her a call. But first, he had to go see Estelle and set everything straight with her.
Rob went to the bedroom closet, pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a pressed cotton shirt and got dressed. He made his way to the kitchen. Breakfast was a bowl of yogurt with fruit and a latte. He dropped a blueberry on the floor and for a moment expected Rufus to snuffle by and pick it up. He and Mitch had joked that he was their Roomba. But that was in his previous life. He picked up the blueberry and threw it into the compost bin. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his car keys and headed out to catch a water taxi.
Rob retrieved his car from the spot he rented in a Toronto condo building near the water taxi pier. He liked to drive. Even in the city. He started every trip with a deep breath and a moment of meditative thought—his version of a prayer asking for the strength to detach himself from his emotions so he wouldn’t lose it when some asshole driver cut him off or deked into a parking space ahead of him. He would be the Buddha of drivers.
