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The fog in my head persisted despite the dawn of a brilliant morning. I took my coffee to the balcony and bundled up. Without a peep from James, I had to face the unpleasant facts. Never had his lack of communication spoken louder. How long would the pain of missing him last? Seeing his earrings, touching them, had always reminded me of him. Now their absence served the same purpose.
I desperately needed a new focus. One far removed from death threats and Fliers. I thought of yesterday’s meeting with Ben Nicolson. Maybe Sebastian was right. Rebuilding the cottage might be the perfect distraction for me right now.
I found Ben’s card and dialled his number. That afternoon, he took me on the promised tour of his favourite renovations, but we skipped Sebastian’s. I didn’t want any reminder of the Flier world today.
Some of the projects were rebuilds, others were additions. All of them inspired confidence. One was still under construction. Before we went in, he made me don a hard hat and a pair of steel-toed boots he’d brought along. I spared a moment to wonder where he’d borrowed a pair of steel-toed boots that almost fit.
He introduced me to the foreman and handed him a set of drawings. After our tour of the site, we retreated to a trailer, where the foreman had unfurled the new drawings. He whistled out the door of the trailer and a few minutes later, a woman wearing a tool belt joined us. Ben included me in the discussion about the work’s progress and the possible sticking points.
When we finally returned to his truck and I got back into my own shoes, he suggested we go out to Cliffside Avenue in Summerset and take a look at my property together.
“Unless you have other plans,” he said.
“Absolutely none. Let’s go.”
Ben left the truck on the road at the end of the cul-de-sac. “I want to approach it on foot, get a feel for it,” he said, snagging his camera’s strap as he stepped out of the truck.
We didn’t say a word as we walked up the driveway. He stopped every few yards, turned left or right, snapped some photos then continued. When we got to the garage, he circled around it. He didn’t look into the window or ask me to open it. He got to the top of the driveway turnaround and stared out toward the gap in the trees where the cottage once stood.
“You won’t be able to build as close to the cliff’s edge as before. New setbacks came into effect twelve years ago.”
I stayed in place while he walked along the edge of the cliff from the south end to the north, looking through his camera’s lens, recording every angle, every view. I loved that he treated the property with the reverence it deserved.
He appeared lost in thought when he returned to me. The wind had tossed his hair.
“Is there someplace nearby we can go for a coffee or a drink? I’d like to jot down some notes while they’re still fresh in my mind.”
“There’s a Starbucks on the strip.”
“The strip?”
“Sorry. That’s local-speak for a popular section of Deacon Street. It’s not too far.”
We climbed back in his truck and made the short drive to Deacon.
He brought his camera and notepad into the coffee shop and set to scribbling away at a table while I continued to the counter and ordered two Americanos. I returned to the table and set his cup in front of him.
“Thanks.” He took a sip and returned to making notes. A full ten minutes passed before he reached for his camera. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” He then clicked through the shots he’d taken and made some final scratches on his notepad. “There, that should hold my ideas in place.” He closed his notepad and set the camera down on top of it.
We talked for an hour, maybe more. He wanted to know what I envisioned for the property, and then he teased out more details, like the number of bedrooms and bathrooms I wanted and the scale I imagined.
“Why do you call it a cottage?” he asked.
“My father told me the old couple who sold it to him referred to it that way. That must have been Frank and Nelly Thomas. I’m glad I know their names now.”
“What else do you remember about the cottage?”
An unexpected wave of emotion hit me from out of nowhere. I looked away as tears welled.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “That was careless of me.”
“No. Not your fault.” I blotted my eyes with a napkin. “I miss it is all. The last time I saw my father was in that house. I was twelve years old. All of my memories of him were tied to that place, and now it’s gone.”
“Did they ever catch the arsonist?”
“Yes. He’s dead.” The perfect distraction had run its course. “Will you take me home?”
Ben didn’t notice the police cruiser that pulled in and parked on the street when he dropped me at my building. He offered another apology and a promise to get some preliminary ideas to me within the week. I thanked him for the day and headed inside.
A woman I knew as Mary was on the front desk. She wanted a first-hand account of the break-in but I had neither the energy nor inclination. “Ask Colin. He was here,” I said, and continued to the elevator.
Upstairs in the condo, I dug out my phone and dropped my bag on the kitchen counter. No one had called. I opened the fridge and looked at the roasted chicken. Later, I thought, and closed the door, settling for a glass of wine instead. I set a music playlist going, dropped into one of the chairs and swivelled to the view. As much as I enjoyed the warmer weather, it meant shorter nights and longer waits until darkness brought the promise of relief. Tonight, the sun wouldn’t set until after 9:00 p.m.
At 7:00 p.m. Mary called from the front desk. “Detective Jordan is here to see you.” I asked her to send him up and went down the hall to open the door.
I could tell by the stiff set of Sam’s shoulders as he came off the elevator that whatever news he had for me wasn’t good.
“Would you like to join me in a glass of wine?” I asked.
“How about a beer?”
I handed him a cold can and a glass and he poured his own. He took the seat beside me in the living room and we both stared out to the Pacific. He put the glass to his lips and drank down a third of it.
“What’s on your mind, Sam?”
He looked at me in the window’s reflection. “Your father wasn’t the only man in Jolene’s life who died unexpectedly.”
I turned to him. “Who else?”
“A guy named Nick Pagonis, and another whose name was Arthur Curtis.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “One from Greece, the other from New York.”
Sam swung his head to me. He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that?”
“Sebastian told me. He said Jolene was unlucky in love.”
Sam snorted. “Some would call her a black widow. What exactly did Sebastian say?”
I retold the conversation as best I remembered it. “Sebastian didn’t say the men had died. He just said it didn’t work out.”
“That’s one way of phrasing it. You need to prepare yourself, Emelynn. If not Jolene then someone she knew killed these men. And if you believe Sebastian, that Stuart wanted her to marry within the community, then Mason or Stuart could very well be responsible.”
I stared back out of the window. His words wrapped around my heart and squeezed.
“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, Emelynn. But don’t dismiss it.”
“It wasn’t Jolene. Not where my dad was concerned, anyway. It could have been Carson Manse,” I said. “In which case, we’ll never know. How did the other men die?”
“A drowning and a suicide,” Sam said.
“Of course.”
“The suicide was controversial. He jumped from the George Washington Bridge, which is monitored by CCTV cameras. I haven’t seen the film myself, but the police reports describe the man as being loose-limbed and moving unnaturally.”
“As if a Ghost were helping him along? That eliminates Manse.”
Silence stretched between us.
“It could have been Sebastian,” Sam said. “You told me he loved Jolene. Maybe he was jealous.”
“Maybe, but it seems unlikely. He married Kimberley after Jolene took up with my dad, and they’re still married. Besides, Sebastian’s too proud to be jealous.”
“I’m not ruling him out.”
And the two I wanted to rule out, I couldn’t. Sam’s investigation was tightening a noose around Mason’s and Stuart’s necks, and I was the one choking. And if that weren’t stifling enough, we were nowhere closer to finding the Flier who wanted me dead. “Any news from the Mansfield people?”
“Nothing yet.”
Not that long ago, I’d hoped they wouldn’t find Dad’s wreck. Now I wondered if it even mattered. If it was sabotage, I’d suspect Mason and Stuart. If it wasn’t sabotage, I’d still suspect them. Either way, I couldn’t trust them around me or my mother.
We sat and watched the sun’s descent. I poured another glass of wine and handed Sam another beer. I liked that we didn’t need to fill the silence.
We both started when my phone rang. It wasn’t the phone on the coffee table but the one still in my purse on the kitchen counter. The one Sebastian was monitoring.
He followed me to the kitchen. I dug out the phone and we both stared at the screen. Unknown Caller. “It’s Cain,” I said. I answered it and put it on speakerphone.
“I can only assume you didn’t take me seriously when I told you to call off your boyfriend.”
“But . . . I did call him off.”
“Then why is he standing in my sister’s living room? You have forced my hand, Emelynn.” Sam jumped and pulled out his phone. He must have had it on vibrate. “You have one hour to see that James gets on an international flight. I don’t care which destination.”
“Hello,” Sam said, answering his phone. “Who is this?”
“That will be for you, Emelynn,” Cain said.
My mother’s voice came out of Sam’s phone. “Emelynn! Emelynn!” Her panic stabbed me.
“I’m here, Mom! Where are you?”
The phone’s reception was dampened by something covering the mic. Sam and I strained to hear. When Mom came back on the line, her voice was faint and broken by sobs. “I c-can’t say. He told me to tell you . . . he’ll send me back to you . . . one p-piece at a time . . . if you d-don’t do what he says.”
Mom’s voice cracked and the sound of her fear raged in my ears. “Don’t you fucking hurt her!” I shouted into the phone. No one but Sam heard me. Cain and his accomplice had already hung up.
I covered my face with my hands and groaned in despair. Sam dialled a number and held the phone to his ear. “Cain’s got eyes on you. Get out of there.” He immediately called another number and repeated the message. James wasn’t picking up.
Fucking hell. I followed Sam’s lead and stabbed at my phone. I left James a voice mail and then I texted him. Cain has Mom. I prayed he had his phone on vibrate. I lost count of the number of texts I sent, one after the other, all with the same message.
Sam laid his hand over mine and stilled my fingers. “Breathe.”
I looked up at him and drew in a ragged breath.
“Call Sebastian,” Sam said. “See if he got a location.”
Why hadn’t I thought of that? I dialled Sebastian’s number. It went unanswered. “Doesn’t anyone answer their fucking phones!” I left a message and tossed the phone to the counter.
Sam stared into space, deep in thought. “What is it?” I asked.
“Cain had James in his crosshairs and instead of putting a bullet in him, he calls you.”
I frowned. Sam had a point. Why wouldn’t Cain get rid of the problem himself? There could be only one reason. “He wants James alive.”
Sam nodded his agreement. “Cain’s not finished with whatever he’s doing.”
I picked up the phone and checked the time. Seven minutes since Cain’s call. “I’m going to Sebastian’s,” I said, and turned for the hall.
“You don’t know where he is.”
“Kimberley will know.”
“If she’s home.”
I stopped in my tracks. Damn. I’d never felt so useless in my life. “I don’t know what to do. I’m out of options.”
“But James isn’t. Have some faith.”
I bunched my hands into fists and closed my eyes. We both paced. I had a phone in each hand and checked them at every turn on the floor. Ten minutes. The condo felt stifling. I opened the balcony door to let in some cool air. Fifteen minutes. My mother’s life hung in the balance and I couldn’t stand it.
“I gotta do something.”
My phone rang. The traced one. Sam bolted to my side. It was James. “I’m on my way to the airport. Cain’s following. He’s brazen now. Out in the open.”
“Please do what he says, James. Mom’s life is on the line.”
“I know. Gotta go.”
He’d hung up. I stared at the screen until it went blurry with unshed tears. Sam came to stand in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. He bent to look me in the eye. “He won’t do anything to put your mom in danger.”
The tears spilled over and Sam pulled me close. “If anything happens to her . . .” I said, and then I melted into his embrace and gave in to the guilt. Sam didn’t ply me with platitudes and I was grateful for that. Sometimes, knowing what not to say was more important than words.
He held me until I’d composed myself. “What now?” I said, pulling away and swiping at my tears.
“We wait.”
We both checked the time. Twenty-two minutes. “Will Cain call back?” I found a tissue and blew my nose.
Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. He wants to make sure you know he’s in control.”
I sat on the edge of the sofa with my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands. Sam walked to the balcony door and went outside.
My phone vibrated. A text. Sam saw me reach for it and rushed inside. Sebastian had written Stay off your phone so Cain can get through. I showed it to Sam. “Guess that means he knows.”
As I watched Sam read the message, something else occurred to me. “James called me on my traced phone. He was making sure Sebastian knew what was going on.”
Sam grinned.
The next hour tested my fortitude like it had never been tested before. When I stood, I paced. When I sat, I fidgeted. I carried a tissue and wiped at tears that leaked without warning. I raised the phone’s ringer to maximum volume. The sixty-minute mark came and went. I fought to keep dark thoughts from consuming me. Have faith, Sam had said. I repeated his words over and over in my head.
Almost two hours later, the phone rang. I jumped. “It’s him,” I said, and answered it.
“Your mother is in one piece. For now. Her fate is entirely in your hands. If I see any sign of James or another of your kind, she’s dead. If anything happens to me or anyone in my family, she’s dead.”
“Please don’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with this. Let her go. You can take me.”
He laughed. “I like my odds with your mother better. Don’t test me, Emelynn. I’ve been playing this game since before you were born. There isn’t a trick I haven’t seen or perfected.”
“James has left. He’s not coming back.”
“You think I should take your word for it? You can’t be trusted. Your people, if that’s what you are, tried to kill me. You wiped out my entire team. Most were friends. You will pay for that.”
“We already paid, or are you forgetting that ICO kidnapped me, kidnapped James. Used us like lab rats. You facilitated that.”
“Fuente is responsible for that, not me.”
“Who told Fuente about us?”
“No one on the team you wiped out.”
“Bullshit. A CIA director went rogue and recruited someone in ICO. Your team is ICO.”
“My team was going after those bastards.”
I searched for the term I’d heard on the news. Collateral damage, they called it. Was that what he was insinuating?
“What? Got nothing to say to that?” Cain said.
“You knew for three months that someone had infiltrated ICO. You left James and me exposed for three months! That’s how they got to us. And after we escaped, when you finally enlightened Sam, you wouldn’t name names. That’s on you.”
“You and your people have the blood of innocents on your hands. When I’m ready, I will prove it.”
“Ready? What does that mean?”
“You didn’t wipe out everything. I have irrefutable proof of what you are. This time you won’t be so quick to erase it.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone. “Bastard!”
Almost immediately, the phone rang again. This time it was Sebastian. “You heard that?” I asked.
“Yes. I sent reinforcements to James after his initial call. Cain won’t get away this time.”
“You can’t do that! He’s got my mother.”
“We’ll find her.”
“You’ll get her killed.”
“Your lack of faith is hardly fitting for your new role.”
“Do not throw that crap at me, Sebastian. My mother isn’t some sacrifice for the cause.”
“I am well aware of that. We will not endanger her. Remember your training. Step back and look at the big picture. We are the hunters, never the prey.”
“Please don’t underestimate him. You did that once and he got away. You do it again and he’ll kill her.”
That night was the longest of my life. I woke in the early hours on the sofa with a blanket over me. I checked the phones. Nothing. I made a pot of coffee and walked down the hall to my room. Sam had tucked into my mother’s bed. I used the washroom and splashed water on my face. For the thousandth time, I wondered if my mother was dead or alive. Where had James gone? What were Sebastian’s men doing? The questions hammered relentlessly in my head.
When Sam woke, he banged around in the kitchen and then set a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of me.
“I can’t eat.”
“You’re more clear-headed when you’re fed, and you need to be sharp. Eat up.”
Sam wolfed down his eggs while I picked at mine. “How long has it been?” I asked.
He checked his phone. “We’re still within the first twenty-four.” The first twenty-four. The most critical hours following a kidnapping. If Mom wasn’t found in that time frame her chances of survival diminished exponentially with every hour that followed.
Sam’s phone rang. It felt like an electric shock straight to my heart. He spoke briefly then disconnected. “That was the chief’s PA. He wants to see me.”
“What about?”
“He wouldn’t say. I stalled him, but I can’t put it off for long.”
“Thanks for staying with me.”
“We’re partners, remember?”
We took turns with the pacing. Hours later, Sam went back to the fridge. This time he came out with roasted chicken sandwiches. “Hope you like mayo,” he said, setting one in front of me.
“Do you vacuum, too?” I asked, and surprised myself with a smile.
A matching smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “You get cocky and I won’t feed you.”
We sat on the sofa and ate slowly, staring out the window. When dark thoughts swooped in I swatted them away. Not knowing was exhausting.
I pulled a blanket around my shoulders and dozed on and off in the early afternoon. How Sam managed to keep himself sane, I had no idea.
When the traced phone vibrated on the coffee table, I knocked over a glass of water getting to it. Sam was behind me in an instant and read the message over my shoulder. Your mom is safe. It was from James. I closed my eyes and sent a silent thank-you to the heavens.
Sam put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s over.”
