by Lazuli

Part 10 ~ Not Okay

Ray gave a sigh of relief as he came off the phone.

“The local precincts back home know not to pick up the wolf, and someone’s gone out to take down the lost dog flyers.”

“What lost dog flyers?”

“I’ve been trying to find Dief, I thought maybe he’d run off when you were in that accident, and someone might spot him.”

“It never occurred to me to tell you.”

“It hasn’t occurred to you to tell me a lot of things.”

“I know.”

And that was it, nothing more offered to quell Ray’s inquisitive mind, and Ben might look somewhat embarrassed by his reticence but it was not enough to move the conversation on.

Clearing up the breakfast dishes, Ray saw Ben jump before he himself registered a tap on the front door. He checked his watch.

“That’ll be the mail.”

“I’ll wait…” Ben gestured to the living room and wheeled himself away.

Pete was standing at the door with a couple of letters in his hand, and Ray thanked him, letting him go on his way. Throwing the mail onto the counter as he returned to the kitchen, his eye was caught by a splash of colour poking out from beneath the envelopes. It was a postcard with a local view. Ray acknowledged the strangeness before turning it over, immediately noticing that there was no stamp, so it hadn’t actually been mailed, and the card was addressed to Benton Frazer. The wrong spelling hit a nerve; despite Ray mispronouncing Ben’s surname ever since he’d known him, he resented this error with a passion. And as for the message…

Ben was back in the doorway, watching with nervous curiosity as if he instinctively knew something was wrong. There was no way that Ray could avoid handing the card over. Ben took the card and stared at the message. It simply said, ‘Ethan.’

The effect was catastrophic: the colour drained from Ben’s face, and he was immediately shaking so hard it was moving the chair. Gasping to catch his breath, he clutched his chest as if he was having a heart attack and, with a strangled groan, his eyes rolled back and he passed clean out.

It was all so rapid and shocking that Ray hadn’t had a chance to react, but now he was at Ben’s side, checking his pulse with one hand and panicking at the frightening rate his heart was beating, wrangling his phone from his back pocket with the other hand and dialling 911.

…

Ray was sitting outside Ben’s hospital room with his head in his hands when a doctor approached and waited to be acknowledged. Slowly looking up, Ray was met with a businesslike smile, and an introduction. Doctor Anderson, and he was here to tell Ray that Ben was stable, sedated, and no, it wasn’t a cardiac arrest, however it presented. There was nothing to worry about beyond what Ray already knew, Doctor Anderson established. This was what the PTSD was doing to Ben, and had he tried consulting a psychiatrist?

All the information was taken in, but Ray was consumed by that fact that this doctor had exactly the kind of appearance Ben most feared. Male, tall, well-built, white.

“When can I take him home?” he asked abruptly.

“Tomorrow,” replied the doctor, unfazed by Ray’s manner. “Just to be safe.”

Ray nodded, and the doctor left him to his thoughts. His somewhat murderous thoughts. At this moment the idea of channelling Armando Langoustini at his most brutal was almost a joy. Despite everything Ray had learnt about himself during his Las Vegas time, he was good at making exceptions to his own rules, and he was looking forward to coming face to face, or perhaps more honestly, gun to face with Ethan.

When he was finally allowed into Ben’s room, Ray was on tenterhooks, not knowing what to expect. But there was Ben, sleepy and calm, looking like a name on a postcard hadn’t driven him to the verge of a heart attack.

“Hey, Benny,” Ray said softly as he came to Ben’s side.

A few strands of Ben’s hair were out of place and, without thinking, Ray reached over and smoothed them down. His hand remained there, gently stroking, a forbidden touch so full of unspoken affection it made him ache to deny it.

“Ray?”

Ray dropped his hand to Ben’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I’m here. You’re okay.”

Ben’s eyes opened, and they were glazed with tears.

“I’m not okay.”

Ben’s emotion almost broke Ray, because he was powerless to make this better and there was nothing more he wanted to do in this world.

“You will be. What if we fetch Diefenbaker and go away, far away?”

“He’ll find us.”

“Ethan,” Ray risked.

“Yes.”

“And who’s Ethan?”

Ben grabbed at Ray’s hands for comfort before he could say the words:

“The killer.”

…

The killer. That was all Ray had managed to get from Ben before he disappeared inside himself again, back to the behaviour he’d adopted at the IRF when all he could do for consolation was to hide away and deny the outside world. When all he could do to feel safe was listen.

The killer. And one name. Ray called Hazel and told her what was happening, and she promised she’d authorise a search of any and all national crime databases in case anything jumped out; they agreed the attempt to pin any individual down with so little information was unlikely to succeed, but it wouldn’t stop her trying on Ray’s – Ben’s – behalf. ‘Ethan’, a potential killer but not necessarily one with a record, and very likely Canadian as Ray assumed that was where it had all started.

Ray had a similar conversation with Lieutenant Welsh, who was concerned and ready to act when they returned to Chicago. He was in a better position than Hazel to pursue the Canadian angle, as he already had contacts there thanks to Ben’s involvement with his precinct, and how several cases had spilled over the border.

Ray then spoke to Max, tip-toeing around Ben’s condition and being surprised that Max was pretty much up to speed, Ben having been dispassionately forthright about his problems. If Ray trusted Max, then Ben trusted Max. It was a relief for Ray to offload his distress, and there was an equal amount of satisfaction to be gained from Max’s anger. Shirley, Max vouched, would be damned well furious, and she didn’t even know Ben yet! It made Ray smile, and wish it made him feel less alone.

“Here’s an idea,” Max suggested. “Come and stay with us when Ben’s out of the hospital.”

“We can’t. He has a killer on his tail and the postcard wasn’t franked, so…”

“This guy’s here. I tell ya, you’re still invited. I can send Shirl and the kids away to her mom’s, and we can set this fucker up. Sounds like he’ll find us.”

“Can’t risk it.”

“But…”

“No. Can’t risk it.”

When Doctor Anderson came back, Ray barred his way into Ben’s room.

“Mr Vecchio?”

“Detective Vecchio,” Ray corrected. “Advocate for Constable Fraser.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, you.”

The man looked justifiably confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“Me too, but you’re going to trigger Constable Fraser. It’s nothing personal, it’s just the way you look. You fit the physical profile of the person who caused the PTSD.”

Ray was prepared for the doctor to be insulted, and readied himself with a dozen smart answers to any comments he chose to make, but the man just flipped through Ben’s notes and nodded sagely.

“I’ll make a note and hand over care to Doctor Venables. She’ll be more suitable under the circumstances. I’ll also…” he scribbled in the folder, “specify female staff only.”

With a less professional, but genuinely warmer smile Anderson left. Ray felt a bit unsettled, the adrenalin that had built up ready for a confrontation having nowhere to go.

He returned to Ben’s side, laying a hand on his chest and not knowing if he was awake or being blessed with a drugged and dreamless sleep.

“You hear that, Benny? That doctor won’t be back. I’ll be here all night, so…”

The ‘nothing to worry about’ died on Ray’s lips. Tomorrow Ben would be out of the hospital and… Where the hell did they go next? Safe house? Hazel could arrange one, and Ray suspected that Lieutenant Welsh would also oblige, but that would be punishment for being targeted, despite how much more secure they’d be.

Still, the information dam had been breached, and surely the drip would become a flow now. Ben would understand that, to keep them safe, he had to tell Ray what had brought all this about. Wouldn’t he? Or would he still be helpless in the grip of his trauma?

Ray hoped the amount of sedative in Ben’s system would keep him calm enough to share the story without panicking or passing out.

Speculation was pointless; all Ray could do now was wait until tomorrow.

…

Ray creaked awake the next morning, having fallen asleep with his head on his crossed arms on the edge of Ben’s bed. There wasn’t a single joint that wasn’t complaining about the position he’d been in for hours. Ben’s hand was tightly wrapped around his wrist, having sought comfort at some point during the night and still reluctant to let go, even as sunshine filled the room and did its best to disperse the anxiety-laden gloom.

Patting Ben’s hand was enough to rouse him, Ray expecting the instant surge of alarm and being ready to reassure Ben as he came fully awake. It took longer than expected, but eventually Ben was aware of his surroundings and seemed in control, even if he was refusing to let go of Ray’s hand.

“What’s happening?” Ben asked in a whisper.

“You’ll be discharged this morning, and we’ll go back to the apartment.”

“He knows where we are.”

“But he can’t get in.”

“The postcard…”

“Was in the exterior mail box. The lobby is restricted entry, remember?”

“That means nothing.”

“Does the fact that Hazel is stationing an officer in the lobby while we’re there make you feel any better?”

Ben thought about it; the look he gave Ray was a distinct no, but he couldn’t say it.

“It will help.”

“Well lied.”

As Ray stood and started to ease his hand away, Ben jerked, head to toes, face grimacing for several seconds. Ray had noticed some twitching in the past but this was extreme.

“What was that?” Ray asked urgently. “Do I get the doctor?”

“Nerve pain,” Ben explained. “It’s a back spasm. Nothing new. It’s come and gone since the accident.”

Ray thought.

“Is that why they want to do more x-rays and another MRI back at the IRF?”

“Possibly.”

“And you didn’t mention it?”

“Most times I can hide it. Usually I have more self control. It’ll be the drugs, and…”

Ben flinched again, but the spasm seemed gentler this time. As if things weren’t difficult enough; Ray’s mind was racing ahead.

“We have to go back. If you need more treatment…”

“It isn’t my main concern.”

“But if you’re in pain…”

“Seldom. You haven’t noticed until now.”

“I’ve seen you get twitchy before, but it didn’t seem to bother you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You covering it up doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

Ben gave a humourless smile.

“Just one more thing I haven’t told you. I’m sorry, Ray. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d had enough.”

“No,” Ray protested. “Bailing is not an option. We’re in this together.”

Ben withdrew his hand and turned his head away. So Ray took the hint, moving away from the bed, stretching as he went.

“We can go to a safe house,” he offered.

“I don’t want to.”

“What do you want?”

There was silence for several minutes as Ben considered his options.

“We probably are safer at your apartment for the moment, but that’s a problem in itself.” Ray met his words with a frown. “Didn’t we already agree that the only way to draw him out is to go home?”

“Where he has better access to you.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s an idea I hate.”

“Not yet though. There some things I need to explain and I’d rather do it at your apartment.”

They were the words Ray had needed to hear, and they filled him with dread. He tried not to show it, crossing back to Ben and taking a firm hold of his hand.

“Shall we get on with it?”

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath as his expression filled with determination. He wasn’t going to let Ray down.

…

The ambulance journey back to Ray’s had been without issue. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, no strangers were hanging about, and it was reassuring to see a patrol car parked outside the building. Pete greeted them cheerfully, already on first name terms with the cop keeping him company and quite unfazed when Ray gave the briefest explanation of what was going on.

Once inside the apartment, Ray locked the door and wheeled Ben into the kitchen to prepare them some drinks. He didn’t bother with food as neither of them had an appetite, and they weren’t in the mood to pretend for each other’s sake.

Ben tried to be discreet as he scanned the area trying to locate the postcard, but Ray noticed.

“It’s been taken away for fingerprinting.”

There was something horribly ominous about the moment when they were sat facing one another across the dining table. Ray had a notepad to hand; at the top of the first page he wrote his interviewee, date, and time.

“Is this official?” Ben asked.

“I’m just making notes. I want to make sure I get everything straight.”

There was an extended pause, Ray expectant and Ben bewildered. Ray wondered how much of that was the after effect of the sedatives, and how much was sheer fear of where they were headed.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“You want me to conduct an interview? Will it be easier if it’s formal? Might also save some time when we catch up with this guy.”

Their eyes locked and held.

“Are you still going to blow his fucking head off if I give you the nod?”

Ray wasn’t sure what he’d just heard. Unrecognisably cold and measured, and that was the first time he’d ever heard Ben outwardly curse, repeating Ray’s offer and seemingly fine with it.

“I’m not going to let you down,” Ray promised.

A few frigid seconds passed and Benny was back, resigned and gripping the arms of the chair, nodding at Ray to begin his interview.

“You took a leave of absence from the Consulate five or so months ago.”

“I did.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Ben picked up his mug and sipped his drink; his hands were already shaking.

“I was approached by a man who needed help locating his daughter.”

“What’s his name?”

“John Firesinger.”

“Sounds like someone from your neck of the woods.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know John previously?”

“No, but he knew my father. Despite the passage of time he didn’t know my father was dead, and when he went looking for him he was given the news and told where to find me.”

“His daughter’s name?”

Ben paused, staring at the table. Ray already didn’t want to know what Ben was seeing in his mind’s eye, going by the expression on his face.

“Sara. It was Sara.”

“And when John approached you…”

“I can’t do this,” Ben interrupted. “Or rather, not like this. I’m going to go and lie down so I can’t run away, and… Talk. You can make notes or not, but just let me talk.”

Ray followed Ben into the bedroom and helped him onto the bed, aware that if Ben found a chance to cling on to a hand, or an arm, he struggled to let go.

“What can I do to make this easier?”

“Be here with me,” Ben suggested weakly. “But nothing will make it easier.”

“Can I record this?”

“No, because I never want to hear it played back.”

“But if you ever need to testify…?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“We still have your medication from the IRF. If you need topping up…”

“I can feel the drugs from the hospital in my system. As tempting as it is, I don’t think more would be safe.”

Ray toed off his shoes, discarded his jacket and, ignoring the waft of a body that had been up all night and needed a shower, laid down beside Ben, taking his hand and holding on tightly.

“Whenever you’re ready. If it gets too much…”

“I know I have to do this.”

Ray gave Ben’s hand another squeeze and fell silent. He waited. And waited. Eventually, Ben began to talk.

“John came to me because he couldn’t get any help back in Canada. His region is very remote and, whether it’s a case of insufficient resources, or blasé policing where the indigenous people are concerned, when his daughter was abducted he was refused help. Told she’d run off for a better life. If John believed that he would have been happy for her, despite missing her. But he knew it wasn’t the case.

“Sara had been… I have to say groomed, because anything other that that risks sounding romantic. A love smitten man rather than a calculated monster.

“John knew this man only as Dean. He was carefully manipulative, only giving out information about himself when it was designed to lure Sara into a relationship. At first Sara was happy, and John was happy for her. But as time moved on, Sara became withdrawn and troubled, although she found it impossible to confide in her father to share her worries, or her treatment at Dean’s hands.

“When the abuse became visible, with Sara needing to be hospitalised, she begged John not to go to the police, or to take any action himself. It was all a misunderstanding, she had provoked Dean, everything was her fault.”

“Textbook domestic abuse and control,” Ray couldn’t help commenting.

“Agreed. But John was afraid he would lose Sara entirely as she was so under the spell of this man. He told Sara that he was always there for her, and took a step back. And then it happened again. But worse. This time he was determined to take action.”

“Let me guess. That bastard snatched her.”

“Sara disappeared, and Dean was nowhere to be found. John went to the police and his concerns were dismissed. His immediate friends were unable to help, so he contacted everyone he knew, and was eventually put in touch with a support network that specialised in this type of case, particularly where indigenous people were concerned. It was through this network that a sighting was made, and John was given vague coordinates of where a couple that matched the description of Sara and Dean were last seen.

“It was impossible for him to pursue Sara alone, and he went to find my father, who he had known for many years, albeit distantly, and had great respect for. As I said, when he found out my father was dead, he was directed to me.

“Once he’d told me what had happened, I was happy to help him. At that point it seemed to be nothing more than finding Sara and removing her from Dean’s influence. Knowing the size of the territory involved, and doubting it would be an easy job to locate them, I took an indefinite leave of absence. I left Diefenbaker under the care of a colleague at the Consulate.

“John and I travelled to the coordinates given by the support network and began our search there. We were able to locate several small towns and communities, and after several weeks met someone who was able to give us more detailed information. We found Sara and Dean in a remote cabin with wholly inadequate facilities, so Sara was already suffering from hypothermia, and what appeared to be a severe chest infection that had been left untreated for weeks.”

“Bet he was fine though.”

“Certainly fit and healthy enough to maintain his abuse of Sara, but she remained trauma-bonded to him, and her father’s pleas for her to accompany him home, or at least to secure medical help, fell on deaf ears. I attempted to negotiate her release, but this man delighted in his power over her, and she was mentally unable to go against his wishes.

“Sara pleaded with us to give her some time to persuade Dean to return home with her and her father, and John agreed, despite my reservations.”

“Next time you turned up they were gone.”

“Yes. And John was crippled by self-recrimination, which made the next steps harder because his motivation waned. He was convinced his actions would result in her death, and it took everything I could muster to make him continue the search. After meeting Sara, there was no way I could back down from this.”

“It’s hard to stop yourself once it becomes personal,” Ray agreed, and Ben squeezed his hand again, as if in thanks for his understanding.

“When John was ready to carry on, we followed Sara’s trail, as far as we could deduce it. I’ll be able to provide coordinates later when you show me a map, but for now, the only way I can tell you where we were so that you can picture it is the middle of nowhere, as unscientific as that is. But truly the middle of nowhere. I attempted to construct a rudimentary map in my mind as we went, but it became harder as the terrain grew less remarkable, and we continued searching for weeks, becoming more and more isolated. We were on the verge of turning back because our supplies were running low, when Dean began calling to us.

“Because of the way sound echoes in a snow-laden environment it was impossible to pinpoint his position or direction, but it did allow us to attempt to communicate. John was desperate, offering whatever it took to get his daughter back, but Dean’s reply was exactly as I expected. If John didn’t withdraw, Sara would pay for his disobedience. John was still intent on bargaining and, despite Dean’s early insistence that the law was not involved, he told Dean that if he let Sara go, then I, as a Mountie, could guarantee there would be no further pursuit of him.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ray groaned.

“So the promise of no police presence was now void, and although I tried to assure Dean that I was only there unofficially as a family friend and experienced tracker, he sounded delighted that the agreement had been broken, and was now free to act however he chose as punishment. He told John that he’d been warned, and once again disappeared.”

Silence fell as Ben withdrew into his thoughts; Ray leant up and tried to gauge whether they were done for the time being.

“Can I get you a drink? Benny? You want a drink?”

“Thank you,” came the reply, without any outward signs of reengaging.

Ray reluctantly withdrew his hand and went to the kitchen, fetching bottles of water from the fridge and muttering crossly to himself that he still hadn’t thought to buy straws. Back in the bedroom he placed the bottles on the night stand and waited. Nothing.

“Can I give you a hand?”

The effort Ben made when it came to opening his eyes and returning to the here and now was visible. Ray ignored Ben’s difficulties and helped him prop himself up long enough to drink, then allowed him to slump back before returning to his place. Once Ray was lying down, Ben’s hand was searching for his, grabbing and gripping tightly. A few deep breaths and he resumed his story.

“It was a while later when we finally located Sara. She’d— He had bound her and left her in a shelter that—” Ben stopped for a moment, struggling with his account, furiously shaking despite how firmly Ray was holding on. Ben cleared his throat. “The shelter was enough to keep her from freezing to death, but it offered no protection from predators, and how she was bound prevented her from defending herself.”

Ray braced himself as he presumed what was coming. But it was worse.

“She’d been partially covered, but her face and hands were deliberately exposed. And this is what had been predated upon.”

“You mean…”

“Her… Sara’s face and fingers had been gnawed off. But…” Another deep and ragged breath. “She was still alive.”

“Oh my God, how?”

Ben shook his head.

“We had a sled with us, something lightweight for carrying our provisions, and we were able to make it comfortable for Sara, and headed back towards the nearest civilisation.

“One night, when John and I had both passed out from exhaustion, our camp was infiltrated. Our compasses, maps and personal belongings were stolen, along with the majority of our ammunition.”

“The majority but not all? So… He left your guns?”

“He was perversely thrilled by the thought of a fair fight. That’s what he called it. At intervals he’d call out to us, telling us how much he’d enjoy killing us, taunting John with what he’d allowed to happen to Sara. John believed Dean. Believed it was all his fault.”

There was another pause as Ben tried to cope with the memories, and what recounting them was doing to trigger his PTSD. Ray could only sympathise, edging slightly closer, letting Ben know he was present, even as Ben’s mind was sucked away to the past.

“As we tried to escape from Dean, and his threats, we became lost. The sky was blank, starless, the landscape featureless, and it was too easy to lose our bearings.

“Sara died without ever regaining consciousness. A blessing under the circumstances. We attempted to make a cairn for her, to protect her from foraging animals. If that’s still in place, perhaps it can be found. Perhaps not. We were so lost.

“Then, one day, another voice was there. He made Dean sound like an amateur. The depravity of what he could conjure with a few words, torturing John and—”

Ben came to an abrupt halt, pulling Ray’s arm across his body as he fought to manage the ferocious trembling and shuddering breaths.

“Don’t tell me what he said,” Ray told Ben, “basic facts, nothing to make this worse for you.”

Ben let out a tearful laugh and Ray understood: as if this could be any worse.

“Dean just called him brother. Brother. It was only at the end when he called him by name.”

“The end?” Ray gently prompted, wanting to know the facts about this man they were now dealing with and equally wanting to get this out in the open and finish it.

“Not yet. We’re not there yet. We were out of food by now, and growing weaker but still pressing on. Dean was coming closer at every opportunity, leaving footprints or writing in the snow. He drew a heart and wrote Sara inside it. I thought John was going to die from grief there and then. Dean came still closer to enjoy John’s suffering, and I spotted him. I finally spotted him, and went in pursuit. He was careless, too busy enjoying my clumsy attempts to catch him to pay attention to the terrain. He disappeared into a crevasse and was badly injured. He screamed for help. I thought the brother would make a move to rescue him, and that’s when I’d have a chance to restrain him, but I just sat there alone, listening as Dean’s cries and weeping grew weaker and weaker. He finally called for Ethan. His brother. When I imagined he was dead, and I was half frozen, I returned to where I’d left John, but he was gone. That was why Ethan hadn’t shown up for his brother. He was abducting John. He’d gone to the trouble of making a confusing number of crossed tracks, ensuring there was no chance of detecting the correct path they’d taken. By then I was suffering from starvation and exposure, too exhausted to go any further, and I expected to die that night, but no.

“Morning came and there was a bundle of food by the fireplace. Bread and meat. I did wonder if it was poisoned but I didn’t care by then, and ate it. Ethan clearly wanted me to have strength for his games.”

“Games?”

“He needed a smarter prey.”

“He—”

“And I needed the energy to run. I told him I wasn’t prepared to play his games, so he chose to persuade me. I can still hear John’s screams, the agony in them as he was tortured. Just to encourage me to play. What could I do?”

“This was revenge for his brother?”

Ben thought back.

“He seemed entirely unmoved by Dean’s death.”

“Then why?”

“I got the impression that he was just enjoying himself.”

Ray shuddered, and Ben carried on.

“At first I tried to move towards where I thought his voice was coming from, and the screaming, hoping that I could find them and help John. But Ethan was always one step ahead. I actually respected his survival skills. His cunning. Far beyond my abilities, under the circumstances. Whenever I rested in daylight, the screams would begin. I tried to stay awake to catch him, but inevitably I’d pass out at night and wake to a bundle of food, I’d eat the snow to keep hydrated, and then I had the choice to make: look for John or try for freedom.

“After a few days of what I imagine was considered a lacklustre performance, I woke to the food and two of John’s fingers, rising from the snow. The agony in John’s cries made more sense as, day by day, I came across more of his body parts. Fingers, toes, ears, then a foot… I suddenly realised that I was being driven in a certain direction by what I was finding, so I made a break for it, turning back on myself and ignoring his threats, and the pieces of John’s body, and the gunshots.

“Finally there was a broken cry of ‘Ben, run!’. And I think John was giving me permission to lose hope of ever finding him, and save myself. I think that was when John was killed.

“Once I stopped playing Ethan’s games he became furious, hounding me across the tundra until one day I found myself face to face with the remains of John’s body. It was hacked to pieces, and—” Ben gasped and shook Ray urgently. “Bowl.”

Ray raced from the room and returned with the requested bowl, helping Ben lean up over it.

“It was made plain, with…there was… A carefully butchered thigh, made it plain that the meat I’d been given to eat was Jo—”

Ben groaned as his body seized, trying to eject the little in his stomach. Heave after heave as Ray stood silently by, wanting to comfort but knowing they were far beyond a hand hold or a tender pat. Ray gave Ben a towel to wipe his mouth, and Ben nodded in thanks.

“That’s how it was until I was nearly dead,” Ben murmured. “Day after day, that man hunting me down like an animal and screaming at me, laughing as he told me what he’d…helped himself to with Sara, with others, what he’d done to John, what he’d made me participate in. I tried every trick and device I knew to escape from him, and nothing worked. I was too weak, my body was failing.

“I was finished. And finally I didn’t care.”

Ben pushed the bowl away and fell back, forearm across his eyes. Placing the bowl on the night stand, Ray sat at Ben’s side, laying his hands over Ben’s arm and stroking. He felt the shudder as Ben fought back tears, and wished he’d let it go, let it all out and begin the cleansing process. In his mind’s eye he saw himself after Las Vegas, mourning the nameless men that had offended Armando to the point his acolytes cold bloodedly intervened.

“Benny?”

Ben sucked in a breath.

“Hunters found me. By some miracle I was still alive, and they managed to get me to a town where my condition could be stabilised before I was moved to a hospital. I don’t remember any of this, but I was told later. My rescue didn’t seem real. All that was real was his voice in my head, and John’s agony. I was delirious for a while, I couldn’t tell them my name, how I’d got to where I was found, nothing. And as I recovered I chose not to, feeling safer being anonymous. I lay there, not able to communicate, and just listening. Always listening, because I didn’t know Ethan’s face, but I knew his voice, and if he was there, if I heard his voice…I was going to kill him. Laughable, the state I was in, but I was going to kill him.”

Ben allowed Ray to move the arm away from his face, gazing up with an expression so lost that it broke down any inhibitions; Ray leant in and, as best as he could, pulled Ben into a hug, whispering platitudes and condolences and wishing he’d come back from the hell he was experiencing. The words sunk in, and Ben whispered back, but he didn’t let go.

When they’d both regained some composure, Ben drank more water, and asked Ray to help him sit up for the rest of the story. Ray hoped that meant that it wasn’t going to get worse because he, let alone Ben, really couldn’t manage anything worse right now. But when Ben resumed his account, it was as if all the emotion had been drained out of him.

“One day I found an envelope on my night stand. In it was some money, and a key for a safety deposit box at Edmonton rail station. I got up, got dressed, walked out of the hospital and hitchhiked all the way to Edmonton. The box contained all the personal belongings that had been stolen from me. I took them and came home, knowing that one day I’d have to tell this story but not knowing where to start. For a while I was convinced that I’d dreamt it all. It was as if my own mind was trying to protect me, keeping it hazy. But eventually my memory cleared, and it was too real to deny. I knew I had to tell someone about John and Sara, but… It was as if I’d been struck dumb with shock. A reaction to the trauma, no doubt, but nothing I could rationalise at the time.

“I collected Diefenbaker from the Consulate but wasn’t able to tell anyone of my experiences, let alone return to work. Perhaps I should have forced myself to go back because, left to myself, there was nothing to fill my mind other than what had happened. I couldn’t settle, I still felt hunted, and I was hearing Ethan’s voice all of the time, wherever I was.

“I started to grow afraid for Diefenbaker, and that was when I told him to go away and keep safe. If Ethan would butcher a man without a moment’s hesitation, he’d have no compunction about doing the same to a wolf.

“So then I was alone. And lost. He was everywhere. I needed help. I needed… You, Ray. I needed you.”

“Ah, Benny…” Ray sympathised.

“I kept reliving it all, and I thought that… Maybe if you’d been with us it would have been different. If you’d been there, maybe we all could have saved Sara. And you and I could have saved John.”

“What could I have done that you didn’t? I’m a liability out there, you know that. If you and her father couldn’t save her…”

“You’ve done it before. After the plane crash.”

“That was thick-headed determination and pure luck, no skill involved.”

“Perhaps. But that thought never went away. By then it was me I wanted you to save. I kept seeing you out of the corner of my eye, although, of course, it wasn’t you. But it had been you once before when it shouldn’t have been you, and that gave me hope. Then, one day…”

Ben’s voice trailed off; he looked at Ray very pointedly. As the message sank in, Ray closed his eyes and screamed internally.

“Why did the Mountie cross the road,” he whispered, understanding now and hating it.

“I thought I saw you on the far sidewalk, definitely you this time and, beyond that, I didn’t think. I just desperately wanted you to be here.” Ben looked down at his legs, and across to his chair. “I suppose it worked. Just not as I intended.” He looked back at Ray, confused. “Maybe I deserve this. Do I deserve this?”

Ray was already furiously shaking his head.

“Don’t you dare think like that.”

“But…”

“You should be able to walk but can’t walk, so that’s what? You being punished? How the hell do you deserve that?”

“That monster is still out there, free. I let him get away. And… I can’t cope with that.”

Ray was growing more aghast by the minute.

“And now you’re saying you deserve this because you didn’t get your man?”

“Because a friend who turned to me for help was tortured and murdered.”

“You say that as if you let it happen.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No!”

“I feel as if I killed John myself.”

“Benny, no, stop it. You were lucky to get out of this alive. What else could you have done?”

“Had you with me.”

“You are blameless in this, you are a victim,” Ray stressed. “A victim of this freak and his brother, and a victim of what they did to your mind.”

“I—” Ben reached out a hand toward Ray then let it drop. Ray snatched the hand up. “I really thought it was you across the street.”

“But you knew I wasn’t here.”

“You could have been visiting.”

“Think I would have been visiting and not come to find you?”

Ben gave a loose, defeated shrug.

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t know then, maybe, but you know now. The minute I heard you needed me I came running.” Ray waited and Ben gave a shallow nod, like he knew the correct response but didn’t really believe it. “I think that you seeing me everywhere, hallucinating me, was your brain telling you to stay safe. It was a response to hearing that guy’s voice, or thinking you heard it.”

“I did hear it.”

“Genuinely? ‘Cause we know the mind plays tricks.”

“He followed me to Chicago. He was stalking me…”

“You would have spotted him.”

“Not necessarily. He’s an expert in survival, he’s used to blending in, being invisible. I only saw him once in Canada, and that was because he wanted me to.”

“Would you know him if you saw him again?”

“Just his physical attributes. But I didn’t need to see him at the IRF. You’re forgetting that I received a card from him, so I knew he was around. He wouldn’t have known where I was unless he was somewhere in the vicinity.”

“And stalking you. Okay. Did you ever think you heard him there?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Did the card come in the mail or was it hand delivered?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because the postcard wasn’t mailed. If the card wasn’t, maybe someone at the IRF will remember the guy who handed it in. Or maybe there’s CCTV.”

“Once I received that card I knew I’d never be safe again. I can’t run, I can’t hide, there’s no escape from this. It’s my days, my nights…” Ben shook his head in despair. “My nights. The nightmares are horrendous.”

“God, Benny, how could they not be?”

“Life is reflected in my dreams. I’m always paralysed, whether it’s mentally by fear, or physically by my circumstances. Then there’s you. And it’s always you.”

“What am I doing?”

“Walking away. Turning your back on me.”

“But I wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t you see, Ray? It’s exactly what you did. Once again real life is reflected in my dreams. Although the context was completely different, my mind doesn’t seem to care about that. You walked away.”

Ray had the good grace to look guilty.

“We’re talking about…”

“When I came back from Canada, and you’d left to go undercover. The shock was intense, you were just…gone.”

“I tried to warn you, that phone call, but I was in an impossible position. No-one was supposed to know what I was doing. To keep me safe, and to keep Ray safe.”

“But why did you go? You’d never mentioned wanting that kind of work, in fact I can remember times when you said the absolute opposite.”

Ray tried to fidget away but Ben pulled him back.

“This isn’t what we’re talking about right now,” Ray insisted. “I think I have enough to take back to Hazel and Welsh and, whatever the guy’s name is at the 29^th.”

“Lieutenant Jameson.”

“I need him to check for CCTV at the IRF. Let me speak to Hazel to start with as we’re still here, and apparently so is Ethan. You happy for me to do that?”

“No. Would you be?”

“Stupid choice of words. Do I have your permission to pass on information that may be beneficial in finding this scumbag?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Now, can I help you before I go and do this? Want to get back in the chair?”

“If you can help me lie down, that’ll be good. And I will take my medication. Can I have enough to sleep until tomorrow?”

“No, but you can have more when you wake up tonight.”

Ben agreed with a shallow nod, and once the drugs were taken Ray did what he felt they both desperately needed, hugging Benny so tightly he almost stopped those traitorous panicked breaths. Ben leant into him, almost inaudibly keening, taking every ounce of comfort he could absorb before the chemicals took hold and he became unnaturally calm. Only then could Ray do as he’d been asked, carefully helping him to lay down, startled when a spasm hit when he was moving Ben’s right leg and Ben hissed in a breath between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Ray said urgently. “Was that me, did I hurt you?”

“No, Ray, not you,” Ben assured, before dozily sending Ray on his way.

“Shout if you need me,” Ray called over his shoulder as he left the room, pausing outside the bedroom door just in case Ben wanted him back. No. Silence. Ray desperately hoped it was as peaceful inside Benny’s head.

Picking up his phone he went to call Hazel, but his wavering finger couldn’t finish the action. He’d got what he wanted, he knew the truth, the awful, awful truth, and now he was sitting here trembling as if he’d caught the shakes from Ben.

Ray closed his eyes and attempted to blot out the distress, both his and Ben’s, and then he remembered where they’d ended up, with Ray leaving Chicago and deserting Ben, and knowing they had a whole other conversation to finish, and it would likely be sooner rather than later.

The Lesser Distance 11       The Lesser Distance Index       Notes

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