Chapter 41

Davids was approaching the border, having decided to cross into Canada through Alburgh rather than Highgate Springs. He knew that the border service officer would ask more questions at Alburgh, such as How do you know about this crossing?, but he would tell them that he didn’t want to wait two hours in line at Highgate. He’d tell the officer that he was going to be visiting for six months, and intended to apply for permanent residency during that time, and then become a citizen. He was confident that his story, his forged passport, and Connecticut driver’s license would get him through the checkpoint.

On a seldom-traveled path behind a senior housing complex in Burlington, he took out his tools and changed the color of the van to black. That, combined with a change of license plates gave him comfort as well.

Lewis knew that Davids had no idea that someone was following him, even if that person based Davids’ whereabouts on probability of location, not on knowledge of it. He made some calls, got Officer Mercher’s number, and punched it into his phone.

Mercher had no information on Davids, but was glad to learn that his van had likely been painted black by now. He would send that information to all the Canadian border service officers right away. Neither Lewis nor Mercher felt that he had gotten into Canada yet.

“Look, if you find this guy, get the police involved. Don’t do anything stupid like trying to detain him. Got me?” Mercher asked.

“Sure thing. I’ll be in touch and thanks for helping me out.”

“We want him brought to justice, just like you. Remember what I said. Let the police handle arresting him.”

Lewis hung up, with Mercher knowing that he had no intention of doing so.

The Alburgh crossing was far busier than he expected, but Davids estimated only a fifteen-minute wait. The lines heading into Canada all seemed to have slowed down at the same time. He attributed it to a computer problem, but it was the border service officers reading and discussing the information Mercher had asked to be distributed. A moment later the lines began to move.

As he waited his turn, Davids watched for any movement of the two border-police cars strategically placed around the crossing. Maybe it was a computer problem, maybe it was something else. He was feeling a little spooked. But the police cars didn’t move while the first three cars ahead of him were processed, giving him a small measure of hope. He was second in his line now.

The car in front of him was filled with a noisy family of six. The four young children needed a break from their long ride; their impatience to be doing something else was stressing their parents to their capacity of tolerance. Once through the checkpoint, it was a five-minute drive to a place to eat. The parents prayed for sustainment. Davids prayed that the kids were settled down by the time he got to the restaurant.

The family was waived through. His turn. He took a couple of deep breaths and put the van in gear, inching it forward until a hand went up and he stopped. The border service officer inside the booth was friendly in a business-like way. She nearly smiled as she asked for his papers, and told him to roll down the windows in the van. Her steady gaze unnerved him; he didn’t know why. No one at the crossing knew who he was, he was certain of that. So certain that he thought about telling her that he had changed his mind and wanted to turn around.

“Please turn the engine off and step out of your vehicle, sir,” she told him.

“Why do I have to get out? The people in the car before me didn’t have to.”

“Do as you are instructed, sir.”

“Do you have anything to declare, sir?”

Davids presented the proper firearms form and said that he had a gun.

He got out of the van and stood silently as another officer methodically went through it, looking to see that the gun was properly stored. It was.

The border service officer then grilled him on why he needed a gun. Davids told her that he was using it for protection of his tools, his livelihood. She allowed him to bring the gun into Canada.

The relief Davids felt was palpable. The gun was his biggest concern, and now it was of no concern. He was almost done. In five minutes, he’d be in Canada. He leaned against the van, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh of relief. Party time tonight!

The party was over before it began. Once the border service officer learned that the only gun Davids had was secure, she had two officers handcuff him and bring him inside the office building.

She got word to Mercher that Davids was in custody. Mercher felt a sense of relief; Lewis and the Chapins would see a killer brought to justice, and Lewis wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

How in hell did they find me? Davids could not believe his bad luck.

“This is all a mistake,” he said to the officers. “Why am I being taken into custody? I haven’t done anything.”

“Watch your step, sir,” one of them said, as they led him into the building and into a holding cell. There was no one else in the building. “We’ll bring you something to eat shortly.” He turned on the TV that was attached to the wall opposite the cell. “Something to keep you busy while you wait.”

With that, the officers left.

My neighbor, goddamn it. My neighbor.