Malcolm watched the flip of the pen between his fingers, absorbed in thought, silent.
"Anything else you want from me?" Paul asked. He glanced down into the pail again. "Your fish need CPR, Malcolm."
Malcolm nodded absently, then picked up the second newspaper, the Globe and Mail.
Paul shook his head. "Okay, I'll be going, then," he said, and left the office.
* * *
Christmas came and went with little change in Tanya's lifestyle. She gave presents to Judith, Malcolm, Charles and Edda, and felt good about it. She lit candles on Christmas Eve and sang carols, while Charles placed the star on top of the tree. It all began to seem like a normal life, with her books and paintings, and their daily routine.
"Edda, you're going to turn me into a baby elephant with your cooking," Tanya said, sampling another of Edda's mid-day snacks. She glanced at Charles, who had just finished watching an action flick. "Time for our usual walk, Charles?"
Charles looked at his watch and nodded.
The brisk air felt wonderful, even though it was a little colder than Tanya had thought. "Just a moment, Charles," she said, turning abruptly back toward the house. "I think I need my wool scarf…"
She took no more than two steps when a sharp crack echoed and chips flew from the bark of a tree about five inches from her face. She felt herself fly through the air to land with a thud, Charles pinning her to the ground. They slid over the snow-covered grass, and into the shelter of an old shed.
"Stay down," Charles said, his voice harsh. "Don't move."
Blood dripped on Tanya's cheek. "But…you're hit. Let me help you."
"Don't move, damn it," he said. "Nothing can be done right now." He looked around, his gaze missing nothing, as he slid his Glock 20 handgun from its holster and released the safety. "Edda would have heard. She'll call for help. In the meantime, I know where the sniper is. He'll have to come into the open to reach us." His lips twisted into a snarl. "He'll make a good target."
"I hear a car. It's leaving. Might be the sniper."
"Yeah, and it could be a trick, too. Don't move. Not yet. There might be more than one of them, or it could just be some passing motorist."
"But Charles…you're wounded. You're bleeding."
He grabbed at his left shoulder, the blood leaking through his fingers. "Nothing. Just a flesh wound."