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Mom was on her phone when I emerged from my bedroom the next morning. A pot of porridge sat on the stove. Our bowls and the brown sugar were laid out on the counter beside it. I poured a cup of coffee and couldn’t help but overhear Mom’s conversation in the living room. She was talking to Sam about Mansfield’s findings. I topped up her mug and carried the coffee pot back to the kitchen.
As usual, she’d dressed and looked fresh, ready to start the day. I looked as if I hadn’t slept and were preparing to crawl back into bed. “Did you learn anything new?” I asked, after she’d hung up.
“The Mansfield Group is demobing.”
“Demobing? Is that some secret code?”
She smirked. “Demobilizing. Packing up and heading home. Sam says to tell you Mansfield will send a final invoice that has to be paid before they’ll release the report.”
We drank our coffee while I watched the news crawl with the TV on mute. Mom scanned the news on her phone.
“Can breakfast wait until I’ve showered?”
“Sure,” Mom said.
“I won’t be long.” I placed my mug in the kitchen sink and headed back to my room.
I was dressed and combing through wet tangles when my phone rang. It was Colin. “Mason Reynolds is here. Shall I send him up?”
I froze, and my voice caught in my throat. Had Mason found out?
“Emelynn?”
“Of course. Yes. Send him up.” I raced out of my bedroom and down the hall.
Mom heard me coming. “Shall I dish—”
“Come with me. Hurry.” I tugged her up from the sofa.
“What is it? What’s going on?” She had a death grip on her phone but let me lead her at a trot down the hall.
“Mason is on his way up. He may already know about Mansfield. You can’t be here.” I pulled her into my room and stopped short, darting my gaze around. “Bathroom or closet?”
She stared back at me, stunned.
“Closet,” I said, and pushed her toward it. “Hide behind the clothes and stay quiet. Turn the ringer off your phone.” I closed the door on her hoping she’d break out of her shock and do as I’d said. I rushed back to her room and closed that door, too. Then I heard Mason’s knock.
My heart raced. I could feel the flush in my face. I deliberately slowed my steps and drew deep breaths. I halted in front of the door, schooled my face and took one last breath, then opened it.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said. Mason stood on the threshold with a bakery box in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“That’s an interesting question, Emelynn. Why didn’t you tell me Cain had abducted your mother? I had to hear it from James.”
“Why would James—”
Mason cut me off. “Are you going to invite me in?”
I shut up, opened the door wide and established my strongest block. “By all means.”
He looked to my mother’s closed door as he walked down the hall. “Is she resting?” he asked, and set the bakery box on the coffee table.
“She’s not home.”
“Will she be back soon?” Disappointment laced his words.
“No. Not for a while.”
He bent to the box, picked it up and stepped toward the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He jerked his head back. “I’ve come to see your mother and check on you.” The furrow on his forehead deepened. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You’re acting odd. Which brings me back to my earlier question. What’s going on with you? Why didn’t you tell me about Cain?”
“I . . . it all happened so fast. We’re still catching our breath. It slipped my mind.”
Mason frowned. “Slipped your mind? Like the break-in? That’s what you want me to believe?”
“It’s not as if you could have done anything. James and Sebastian were handling it.” He turned for the kitchen again. I rushed behind him and jerked to a stop.
His gaze fell on the bowls Mom had left out. He swivelled his head in my direction and then walked to the stove and lifted the lid off the porridge. He touched his palm to the side of the pot. “Where’s your mother?”
“I told you. She’s not here.”
“You’re lying. Shall I go find her and ask her why?”
“No!” I took a breath and closed my eyes. Stupid answer.
“Start talking, Emelynn. What the hell is going on?”
“It’s nothing. We—had an argument.”
“So why did you say she wasn’t home?” He tipped his head, waiting for my answer.
“We weren’t expecting company. She’s not—dressed.” Another stupid answer. I took another breath and gathered my wits. “Listen, this isn’t a good time. Why don’t you come back later?”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s got you so rattled.”
“I can’t.”
Again, he tipped his head. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Does it matter?”
“Is someone threatening you? Your mother?”
“No. Please, just go.”
“Damn it, Emelynn!” He stepped forward and I jumped back. He stopped and frowned. He took another step forward and I dashed behind the kitchen island. He straightened. “I am not leaving. You can either tell me why you’re reacting like this,” he said, waving his finger between us, “or I’ll go ask your mother.”
I rubbed my face with my hands. He’d boxed me in. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute, but not if you follow me.” I turned to leave then glanced back. He hadn’t moved. He raised his hands in submission. I took a chance and darted down the hall. I grabbed Mom’s coat and the keys for the MGB then raced to my bedroom closet. She’d crouched in the corner behind a curtain of clothes. I swept them aside and held out her coat, motioning for her to put it on.
“Mason knows you’re here. He knows something’s up. I’ve got to get you out of here. Put these on,” I said, shoving a pair of my shoes at her. They’d be too big but they’d have to do. She slipped them on. I handed her the wallet with Megan Fairchild’s ID. “I’m going to hold your hand. When I ghost, you’ll ghost too, and then I’m taking us down to the parkade.” She swallowed. “You’ll be fine.” I took her hand. “You with me?” She nodded.
I squeezed my crystal and ghosted. Mom began to fade and she yelped. I shushed her and pushed us through the closed bedroom door then out the front door into the hallway.
“Ready?” I whispered. She didn’t answer. I blasted us through the elevator doors and down the shaft to the basement and a corner I knew was blind to the security cameras. I dropped her hand and re-formed. When she materialized, she’d lost the colour in her face. Her breaths came fast and shallow.
“Breathe,” I said, grabbing hold of her shoulders. She nodded wordlessly. “Get in the car and drive. There’s a couple hundred dollars cash in the wallet. I’ll phone you when Mason is gone.”
“Be careful.”
“I will. He can’t touch me when I ghost. I’ll be fine. Now go.”
I waited until she’d started the engine then ghosted and returned to the condo. I found Mason in the kitchen right where I’d left him.
“Did you get your mother away safely?”
The kitchen walls closed in. I walked out of there and into the living room. Mason followed. He rounded the sofa, sat on the edge of it and leaned forward.
I checked my block and didn’t take my eyes off him.
“Dad’s plane wreckage has been found. It wasn’t an accident. Someone blew up his plane.”
Anger clouded Mason’s features. “Who?”
The words dried up in my throat. Mason leapt to his feet and I recoiled.
He leaned forward. “Tell me,” he said, raising his voice. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
I balled my fists.
He straightened and a look of confusion came over him. “You think it was me?” I remained silent, ready to ghost. “You think I killed Brian? Are you mad?”
“Dad warned Mom. He told her your family was powerful. That if something was to happen to him she was to take me and run.”
“Brian was a big brother to me.” Mason took a step forward.
I took a step back. “Don’t do this,” I said.
A pained expression clouded his features. “I loved your father. Mom and Dad loved your father. We were devastated when he and Jolene lost their son.”
“Your family never wanted Jolene to marry outside of our kind.”
Mason frowned. “Where are you getting this crap from?”
“Your father wanted her to marry a Flier.”
“Because it was safer for her, but he never interfered with her choices. Ever.”
“What happened to the man from Greece she was going to marry?”
“Nick? He drowned. Losing him plunged Jolene back into depression. We thought we were going to lose her as well.”
“And years later, Jolene’s fiancé from New York?”
“What fiancé?”
Ah, perhaps she’d learned her lesson by then and wasn’t sharing the happy news. Hadn’t helped, though. “His name was Arthur Curtis. He committed suicide.”
Mason took a step back and sat again. He dropped his head in his hands.
“And then my dad’s plane blew up. That’s three for three. A clean sweep of every non-Gifted man Jolene ever loved.”
Mason didn’t speak and I didn’t move.
“I didn’t kill your dad or the others, and neither did my father.”
“You’ve lied to me before.”
Mason whipped his head up.
“If you presented a case against my father to the Tribunal, I’ll find out about it.”
“We didn’t. We didn’t attend the Tribunal the year your father died. I remember because it was the year my mother had her stroke. The same year Jolene disappeared. Hard to forget a year like that. We gave our seat’s proxy to Ruby Church. She was Rachael Warner’s aunt. You can check.”
“I will. But that doesn’t mean you or Stuart didn’t have my father killed.”
“Who filled your head with this vile garbage?”
“I want you to leave.”
His shoulders slumped. He looked up, resigned. “You are being misled. I suggest you look carefully at the motives of whoever is feeding you your information. I would predict if you accused them of what you’re accusing me, you wouldn’t still be standing.”
He ghosted and within moments his aura was gone. My knees gave out and I dropped into the chair behind me. The receding adrenalin left me shaking.
I prayed Mason didn’t find out Sam was behind the investigation. And now that Mason knew, I’d have to act quickly. But first, I needed to be sure Mom was safe. I found my phone and called her.
“Emelynn?”
“It’s me,” I said. “He’s gone. I’m okay.”
“Oh, thank god. I’ve been so worried.”
“Where are you?”
“UBC. Koerner Library.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
I threw together an overnight bag for her and ghosted out of the condo. I re-formed inside the library and found her at her old cubicle, on the lowest level of the building. She sat in her chair with her coat on, clutching the wallet I’d given her. She jumped up when she saw me and we embraced. When her shoulders finally relaxed, I pulled away. None of the other desks in the study room were occupied. I closed the door.
“Here,” I said, and set her bag on the counter. “Should be enough for a few days. Buy whatever else you need.”
“What happened?”
“I told Mason about the sabotage. He didn’t give me a choice. He denies he had anything to do with Dad’s acci—murder.”
“Of course he does,” Mom said.
“He’ll be searching for the evidence to destroy it.”
“You can’t let him do that.”
“I won’t. But I can’t be fighting Mason and worried about you at the same time. I need to know you’re safe.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Don’t go back to the condo and don’t come back here. Take a taxi downtown. Get the cabbie to drop you near the Sinclair Centre and find a hotel. There are lots around there. Any one but the Hotel Vancouver.” I took my wallet from her hand and pulled out the Megan Fairchild ID and credit card. “Check in using this ID and credit card. Text me when you’re settled but don’t text the name of the hotel. I’ll be able to find you.”
“How long?”
“Give me three days. If you don’t hear from me, call Sam. If you have to leave a message, don’t use your name. Use the name on this ID, Megan Fairchild. If you have to go out, change coats. Pick up a hat or scarf, wear sunglasses.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get my hands on Mansfield’s report. Make sure Sam is out of the line of fire.”
“Be safe, sweetheart.”
“I intend to. Don’t take your usual exit out of here. Find another one and leave right away. I love you, Mom.”
I took the keys to the MGB and walked out the main entrance. On the way to the car, my phone buzzed. A message had come in. It was from Mason—a contact number for each of the nine Tribunal Novem members. He hadn’t prefaced it with a note.
The moment I got in the car, I called Sam. “You at home?” I asked. He said he was. “I need Mansfield’s report.”
“They haven’t sent their invoice.”
“I don’t care about an invoice. Call them. Get a price and I’ll send them their money. I’ll explain when I get to your place. I’m on my way now.”
––––––––
WHEN SAM OPENED HIS door, his gaze skirted around me before he invited me in. It wasn’t until he’d closed the door that I noticed he had his gun in his hand. He shoved it back in its holster. I followed him to the living room. Sam’s townhome had been one of the show suites decorated à la Martha Stewart. He kept it neat, but the décor didn’t fit his no-nonsense personality.
“I can’t reach anyone from Mansfield,” he said. “They’re probably on a flight by now.”
“Damn it!”
“What is it?”
“Mason knows Dad’s plane crash wasn’t an accident.” I laid out what had happened. “It won’t take him long to find out Mansfield was conducting the search,” I said. “We have to get Mansfield’s report before he destroys it.”
“I have no other way to contact them. They closed down the live feed from the ship yesterday. We’re going to have to hang tight until they get in touch.”
“Have you tried through their website?”
“The website contact is Peter Caulfield, and I’ve already left him a message. Mansfield is a small operation.”
“I don’t think you’re safe here, Sam. Mason might retaliate if he learns you had a role in this.”
Sam heaved a sigh. “I hear that hammock calling my name.”
“You should go. Today.”
“No. Not until we get that report. I’m safe as long as you’re within touching distance.” He looked at me with a wry smile.
Though I didn’t say it, it felt good to have someone like Sam in my corner. We retreated to his den and he checked on the flights out of Prince Rupert, where Mansfield had chartered its ship.
“They’re flying commercial. It’s a two-hour flight to Vancouver, and they have a connection there.” He checked the time. “If they’re in the air now, they’ll be landing at three o’clock. Let’s hope they check their messages between flights.”
I pulled out my phone. “I have to tell Sebastian. He’s going to be pissed I’ve tipped off Mason.” Sam nodded and I dialled. “That’s strange. No answer.” I left Sebastian a message a heartbeat before another thought formed. “Oh no! What if Mason thinks Sebastian is behind this? He probably went straight there. I should have called Sebastian right away.”
“Or he’s on the toilet. Give him a minute.”
“No. He would have picked up no matter what. I need to get to him.”
“To do what?” Sam said.
“What if Sebastian or Kimberley are lying on the floor? This is my doing. I need to check on them.”
Sam slowly nodded. “All right. But you’re not going anywhere without me.”
“Then let’s go.”
We took Sam’s vehicle, and for once it wasn’t one owned by the Vancouver Police Department. He drove a gun-metal-grey Ford pickup. We parked half a block from Sebastian’s home. “Give me an hour. I probably won’t be that long, but I don’t want you coming in there. You can’t defend yourself against these people.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Sam said. “But if you don’t come out of there in an hour, I’ll be calling every news outlet in the city for the story of the century.”
I cracked my window. “I’ll see you soon,” I said, and blinked out of sight. I squeezed out the window and drifted across the street and down the block. As I sifted through one of the neighbour’s hedges, a black BMW sports car raced far too fast into Sebastian’s driveway. It squealed to a stop at the front door. The man who emerged was Wade Hofmann. He looked like someone who’d just had his car keyed. As he approached the front door, he did a surreptitious 360-degree sweep of his surroundings then ghosted.
I started, momentarily taken aback by the brashness of it. I followed him inside. He had re-formed and was strutting toward the back of the house calling Kimberley’s name. She came down a staircase he’d already passed. I never thought I’d be relieved to see Kimberley looking so well.
“Wade. What are you doing here?”
He turned to face her. “Looking after my interests. How big is this mess your husband’s cleaning up?”
“He wouldn’t say, but it’s got him scrambling.” And too busy to answer his phone. Kimberley crossed her arms. “How did you find out?”
“He put me on notice. Told me it’s Tribunal. Sanctioned. Wouldn’t elaborate. What do you know?”
“I think it’s Mason Reynolds. When Emelynn Taylor was here the other night I overheard some of their conversation.”
“Mason Reynolds? Ah, that is music to my ears.” Wade rubbed his hands together as if a perfectly grilled steak had been laid in front of him.
It hit me then: Wade Hofmann had shaved off his goatee. He was the assassin from the caucus . . . and Sebastian was lining him up to kill Mason! I wished I hadn’t figured that out.
“No wonder Sebastian wasn’t anxious to tell me who the target was. One less ace up his sleeve.” Wade crowded Kimberley but she didn’t back away. “Doesn’t solve your little problem though, does it? I’m surprised you haven’t taken matters into your own hands.”
“You think I haven’t tried?”
Haven’t tried? What was she talking about?
“Well, well. Tell you what.” He brushed a blonde curl off her cheek. “You round up those photographs Sebastian’s holding over my head and I’ll make that little problem of yours go away.”
Kimberley kept her arms tightly crossed. “Even if I could, Sebastian’s got copies. I’d never find them all.”
“That’s a pity. If you change your mind, you know my price.” His flirty smile nauseated me. He stepped back. “No need to let Sebastian know I dropped by.” He winked at her and then walked straight to the front door and let himself out.
Kimberley stayed in place, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It sounded to me as though she was working against Sebastian. And what little problem did she need to solve? Wade had made it sound like an assassin could take care of it. Was the problem a person? Me, perhaps? I knew it irritated her that her husband had chosen to mentor me, but it was hardly a big enough offence to warrant killing me. Still, could she be the one behind the B&E at my condo? The poisoned milk?
Kimberley retreated up the stairs. What were the photos Sebastian had on Wade? Wade had been a dinner guest the night Sebastian introduced me. I’d thought they were friends, but now I wasn’t so sure. And Wade’s car—the black BMW—I’d seen that car here before, too, earlier in the spring on one of my runs. Maybe entertaining assassins came with the job of Tribunal leader.
Nothing about Kimberley’s conversation with Wade sat well with me. I wondered if the answers lay in the photographs Sebastian was using to manipulate Wade. If Sebastian was keeping the photographs in the house, they’d likely be in a safe. Fortunately, Sebastian’s mentoring had included how to locate safes.
I checked the library first and then the formal dining room. No results. I swept around the great room at the rear of the house and the open-concept kitchen adjacent, and then I skirted the rest of the main floor. The furnishings were modern and perfectly in tune with the clean lines of their home. I’d have complimented Kimberley on a job well done if I weren’t currently wondering if she wanted me dead.
Continuing the search upstairs in the master suite was the logical next step, but the idea of entering Sebastian and Kimberley’s private quarters made my skin crawl. However, short of abandoning the search and any hope of finding possible answers, I had no choice. At the top of the stairs, I found their bedroom door open. New-age music drifted out from another doorway down the hall. I followed the music and found Kimberley in a room that had been adapted into a yoga studio. She sat cross-legged in a meditation pose.
I left her and returned to the master bedroom. The sparsely furnished main room held no safe. Nor did I find the rack of whips I half expected. But the expansive dressing room coughed up the prize, a built-in model, camouflaged behind a rack of hanging clothes.
If Sebastian had taught her the tricks he’d taught me, I’d never fool her into opening it, but I had to give it a try. I pushed the garments aside to expose the safe, opened the dressing-room door and then passed back out of their bedroom and into the hall. I re-formed and slammed the bedroom door closed then ghosted again.
Kimberley burst out of her yoga studio and stopped short, gazing toward the closed door. She called out Sebastian’s name and moved tentatively toward the bedroom. With her hand on the handle, she stopped to listen then slowly turned it. She peeked inside. “Sebastian, are you home?” When she got no answer, she pushed the door open and scanned the room, stopping at the open dressing-room door. “Wade, is that you?” She approached it with caution. Kimberley wasn’t a Ghost; she wouldn’t be able to sense one. Finally, she stepped inside. She saw the safe and immediately checked to see if it was open.
With a furrowed brow, she started moving the clothes hangers back into place. I thought I’d run out of luck, but then something changed her mind and she shoved the hangers aside again. She punched in the code, opened the safe and immediately pulled out a manila envelope. She flipped through the contents and sighed with relief. With a shake of her head, she returned the envelope to the safe, reset it and pulled the hangers back in place in front of it.
I waited until she disappeared into her yoga studio again before I returned to the dressing room and re-formed. I punched in her code, opened the safe and retrieved the envelope. Inside were several five-by-seven surveillance photos of a man I didn’t recognize. I took out my phone and snapped photos of them all. In some he had a beard; in others, he was clean-shaven. His hairstyle varied as well. One of the photos—a studio portrait—showed him as a young man.
When I finished, I returned the envelope to the safe, reset it and arranged the hangers the way Kimberley had left them. I then ghosted and got the hell out of there.
When I got back to Sam’s truck, he had his notepad out and a pair of binoculars on the dash.
“I’m back,” I said, warning him before I re-formed.
“Who was the visitor?”
“Wade Hofmann. Stuart told me he’s an assassin. Is that his licence plate?” I asked, nodding to the number he’d jotted on his notepad.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t hurt to know a little more about him. What’d you learn?”
“Kimberley is alive and well. She told Wade that Sebastian was out. She didn’t elaborate, but I got an earful from Wade and Kimberley’s conversation.”
After I told him what I’d heard, Sam said, “I wonder if Kimberley can account for her whereabouts during the time of your break-in? Do you have a photo of her?”
“No. I had one, but it’s in my room at Cairabrae.” A room I’d never set foot in again.
“Shouldn’t be too difficult to get another one. Wouldn’t hurt to put a bug in Ortez’s ear. Maybe she’ll show up on camera somewhere she shouldn’t have been.”
“We need Sebastian,” I said. “Please don’t piss him off.”
Sam furrowed his brow in concentration. “If she’s working against Sebastian, I’m doing him a favour. But don’t worry, Sebastian will never know who brought Kimberley to Ortez’s attention. Remember that charity event you attended last year? The one in the Cooper brothers’ case?”
“At Cecil Green House?”
“That’s the one. Ortez is, no doubt, looking into your acquaintances. As I recall, Sebastian and Kimberley attended that event. There’ll be official photos and plenty of candid shots.”
“Good thinking! You’re unusually clever for a civilian.”
“Yeah. Should have been a detective,” he said with a wry smile. “Show me those photos you took.” I pulled them up on my phone and passed it to him. “You know him?”
“No, and there was no name on the envelope or the back of the photos.”
“Send them to me. I’ll call in a favour—now there’s a line I never thought I’d use.” He shook his head. “If he’s known to police, facial recognition will ID him.”
