Tanya stared at the detective, her eyes huge like the eyes of a frightened child. Tears spilled from the corners and her lower lip quivered. "The explosion was meant for me, Detective. Kathy died because of me." Her body shook, her breath came in soft gasps. Her hands covered her face as if to hide her from the memories.
Detective Warner snapped his notebook closed. "Ms. Caldwell, I think you've had enough for now. We'll need a few more questions answered when you're more up to it. Do you have any family in the area? A friend? I don't think you should be alone."
"Kathy's parents should be at my place by now," she said, her voice low. Kathy's parents…how could she cope with their grief, grief so much greater than her own? "I'll see them when I leave here tomorrow, then…yes, I'll give my friend Judith a call and see if I can stay at her place for a while." She paused. "I think you know Judith Abramson; she works at headquarters."
"Yes, yes. Of course I know Constable Abramson. It's a good idea to move in with her for the time being," Detective Warner said. He smiled to Tanya. "That's all for today." Turning to Halliday, he added, "Find the rest of her file. I think something's missing."
Tanya refused the hospital dinner and dozed, slightly drugged from pain medication. She accepted a sleeping pill around 9:00 pm, anxious not to lie awake in a strange place. The drug spun her down and into a dark, deep sleep.
She woke to the sound of her own voice, screaming "Go away! Away!" The dream drifted too far out of reach for her to grasp and left her with no desire to remember it. She sat upright in the hospital bed for the remainder of the night, eager for the light of morning.
* * *
A cab dropped Tanya off at Vermeil's public park, a large park for such a small city. Approximately 80 miles outside of Toronto, Vermeil boasted a population of only 150,000 people. Tanya had lived there for three years, all of them with her roommate, Kathy, who became her entire family.
She needed to gather her thoughts, to prepare for the emotional bout with Kathy's parents. Kind, thoughtful people, Kathy had been their only child. Tanya's heart ached for them. She had no idea what she could say to ease their pain. She remembered holiday visits to their home, the feeling of being part of a family she had when she was with them. Kathy had been like a sister to her. They had shared everything, from laugher to tears, for almost three years.