EVEN IN THERMAL clothing, the cold seeped through to chill me. A deserted lawn-bowling club on Fir Street provided cover for my descent. I drifted down, stuffed my hands in my pockets and turned north.
At the blip of my phone, I checked the message that had landed in my junk-email folder: We ship same day free; Cialis, Viagra, Vicodin for $9. Despite the randomly generated sender’s name, I knew it was my mother telling me she’d Skype me at 9:00 p.m. That was five minutes away, and midnight for my mother in Toronto—late for her to call.
I spotted an alcove in the apartment building across the street and headed for it. James had set Mom up with an untraceable phone identical to mine. He’d devised the Viagra procedure so we could keep in touch without fear of exposing our connection. She’d only agreed because Sam had convinced her of the need for caution. He hadn’t mentioned the Redeemers by name but had warned her that our connection could be exploited by the criminal at large who had me in his sights.
I paced, waiting for her call. At nine o’clock precisely, it came through. She wore a tan trench coat I recognized, and it made me laugh. “Where are you this time?” It was a running joke. She might be the smartest woman in any room, but James’s technological wizardry stumped her. She didn’t understand how he masked her location and didn’t quite believe it worked. She talked with me from coffee shops, in cabs, and huddled in bus shelters but never from home.
“Ladies’ room,” she said, and a tired smile bloomed.
“That’s a first,” I said. Her expression quickly lost its humour. “What’s wrong?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m at the police station. Someone broke into my apartment.”
I stopped pacing. “Oh my god, Mom. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was at work when it happened.”
“How’d they get in?”
“The police think through the underground. Probably slipped in after a car.”
“That underground’s been a problem for years. Was anyone else’s place broken into?” I checked my surroundings, hoping my presence wasn’t drawing attention.
“No one else has reported anything, or at least not yet, but Emelynn, the police think I was targeted.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing is missing, at least nothing I can think of.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It might be related to work. There have been a few break-ins at the labs. The university’s security team assumes it’s related to the drugs.”
She was a behavioural research scientist at the University of Toronto. A big part of her research was testing drugs. “You never mentioned the break-ins before. What happened?”
“A few months ago, after Dr. Stein’s lab got hit, my lab and a few others on the same floor were broken into. I swear these people think we leave the damn drugs in candy jars on the coffee tables.”
The hit on Dr. Stein’s lab was something I’d set in motion. I’d had no choice. It was due to an innocent mistake my mother had made. She’d passed on some of my father’s research to her colleague, Dr. Stein. She didn’t know Dad’s research involved the anatomy of a Flier’s eye and the second lens that identified us. My mother was an innocent—she knew nothing about the world of Fliers Jolene had made me a part of.
“What do the police think?”
“They’re investigating. They lifted dozens of fingerprints. They brought me down here to look at some mug shots to see if I recognized anyone. I didn’t.”
“So, what now?”
“I’ll go home I suppose. Clean up the mess. The apartment looks like a tornado’s gone through it. There’s fingerprint powder on every conceivable surface.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Do you want me to catch a flight out and help?”
“No, don’t worry, sweetheart. Dr. Coulter needs you more than I do. I can handle a bit of cleaning.”
Avery had been the one to suggest I use him as a decoy employer. Mom knew him, and she thought I was his medical assistant. It was the perfect cover for my work with ICO. “Have the locks changed as well, Mom. Just in case.”
“I will. I’ll call you when I learn more.”
“Love you, Mom. Talk to you soon.”
I slid the phone back into my pocket and, once again, headed north, toward Broadway. With the Denny’s sign in sight, I removed my gloves and hat and shook out my hair. Sam would see me arrive, but wouldn’t come in until he was certain I hadn’t been followed. I took a seat by the emergency exit and ordered a coffee.
Avery’s prime rib was no longer sitting so well. I’d thought Mom and Edgar Stein had a budding romance, though Mom denied it. I remembered him as a willowy man with long fingers, a scholarly gentleman. He didn’t seem the burglar type, but Dad’s research would have been life altering for the person who published it. Its disappearance must have been a blow. Maybe he’d hired someone to go looking for it. Then again, drugs were a solid draw for the criminal element. I was probably overthinking it.
Twenty minutes later Sam jogged across Broadway. A black watch cap covered his brush cut. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. He exchanged greetings with the waitress as his gaze swept over the restaurant’s interior. He took the seat to my right having never once looked at me and dragged off his hat. The waitress followed with a cup and poured him a coffee.
“Refill?” she asked. I nodded, and she topped up my cup.
When she was out of earshot, he turned to me. “So . . . how are you?”
I jerked my head back and grinned. “Careful, Sam. That sounded an awful lot like a social grace.”
“I hope you enjoyed it because you’re not going to enjoy what comes next.” He pulled out his cellphone, swiped across the screen and pushed it across the table. “Watch that.”
It was closed-circuit TV footage. “Where is this?”
“St. Paul’s Hospital.”
I pushed play. A woman wearing scrubs came into view, her back to the camera. She approached a closed door and checked her surroundings in a way that told me she shouldn’t have been there. And then poof! She disappeared. I glanced at Sam.
“Keep watching.”
Moments later the same woman reappeared with a bundle in her arms. She walked toward the camera then passed underneath, out of sight. The video ended.
I pushed the phone back to him. “O . . . kay. What did I just see?”
“A kidnapping. Newborn.” Sam’s nostrils flared. Law enforcement types were pretty tough, and Sam was one of the toughest, but I’d learned that crimes involving children or one of their own cracked even the most hardened.
“The parents must be frantic.”
“The mother’s a fifteen-year-old street urchin. Dropped the kid and ran. Don’t even have her name, and I doubt the father knows he has a kid. The baby’s a ward of the court. No one’s going to miss him.”
The way Sam paused before that last comment caught my attention. It seemed as if something had hit a nerve deep inside him. It reminded me how little I knew about Sam Jordan.
“When did it happen?”
Sam checked his watch. “Almost three hours ago.”
“What’s wrong with the video footage? It looks like it’s been spliced.”
“Noticed that, did you? We’re operating on the assumption the camera malfunctioned. But . . .”
I searched his face, hoping I was wrong. “You think she’s one of us?”
Sam shrugged. “I know what you can do.” He did—first-hand in fact. I’d ghosted out of a failing helicopter while gripping his hand, and he’d ghosted along with me. It had saved our lives.
He looked back to his phone and swiped through more photos. “I took these stills from the film of the kidnapper entering and exiting the building.” He pushed the phone back to me. The cop in him studied me as I swiped through them. “Do you recognize her?”
I slid the phone back. “No.”
Sam looked down at the table. “Would you tell me if you did?”
His question took me aback. Would I? I’d never imagined I’d be in this position.
When he looked up, I met his gaze. “If she were one of us, I’d get the child back.”
He didn’t respond, simply held my stare from under a furrowed brow. I looked away and stacked the empty creamer pots.
Sam exhaled. “If she’s like you, I don’t suppose we’d be able to incarcerate her anyway.”
Would he feel any better if he knew how much worse the Tribunal’s punishment would be? I resisted the urge to apologize. “Send me the files. I’ll ask some people.”
“The first few hours are critical. Do it as quickly as you can.”
“I will. I’ll call as soon as I learn anything.” I stood to leave but hesitated. “Are we good? You and me?”
Sam managed a rare, though weak, smile and nodded. “Yeah. I can read you pretty well. I know you didn’t recognize that woman. We’re good. Let’s get that child back and show him that someone cares.”
For the second time tonight, his words revealed a crack in his armour. “Don’t forget to send the pictures.”
“Right,” he said, and bent to his phone as I turned and walked out of the restaurant.
I pushed the doors open into the cool night and paused when I reached the sidewalk. A brief buzz from my phone told me Sam’s attachments had arrived. I turned west and considered my options. The kidnapper wasn’t a Ghost—of that I was certain. Despite what the film suggested, and what Sam feared, no Ghost worth her crystal would re-form within sight of a security camera as obvious as that one must have been. No way. There must have been some kind of blip with that security camera. Still, I would check it out for Sam as I’d promised.
The team that caught the case would be running the kidnapper’s image through facial-recognition software and checking licence plates on every car caught on film in the vicinity. I couldn’t help with that, but I could at least eliminate the Ghost angle and ease Sam’s mind.
I crossed to the north side of Broadway and walked west. There were only two people who could confirm that this woman wasn’t a Ghost: Mason or Sebastian. Neither option appealed to me. Normally, Mason would have been my first choice, but his time and temper were stretched between heading up the search for the remaining Redeemers and preparing to take on the Tribunal’s leadership. I didn’t relish earning his ire for a simple ID.
Sebastian would be as good a resource. I’d have to tell him about the case eventually anyway. Since he was the current head of the Tribunal, I was obliged to keep him apprised of any work I was doing for ICO. When Mason took over that position, Sebastian would lose the inside track. I was convinced that’s why Sebastian had offered to mentor me—with me glued to his side, he had a better chance of staying in the Tribunal loop after the spring caucus. I hoped he wasn’t holding his breath.
I picked up my pace and turned north toward Granville Island, where I knew of a few secluded spots ideal for a takeoff. Parked vans and sharp corners provided opportunities to check for tails. No sign of one, yet something didn’t feel right. It could have been paranoia from the weeks of intense training, but I trusted my gut and changed course.
Back on Broadway, I deked into a busy pizza shop and slipped into their bathroom. Immediately, I visualized my crystal and squeezed it until it melted like an ice chip, heralding my ghost. I blew out of there and hung around outside long enough to convince myself I’d had a case of the heebie-jeebies. But just to be safe, I drifted on a westerly breeze and didn’t re-form until I was blocks away, at the side of a lonely garage. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, snugged my hat back on and ran to Vanier Park. Deep in the park’s shadows, I took to the air and charted a course toward Sebastian’s place.
The large spaces between the Point Grey properties provided solid cover to land in. Once on the ground, I pulled out my phone. Disrupting Sebastian’s evening would be a satisfying bit of payback, but I wasn’t foolish enough to show up completely unannounced. As I walked up his drive, I dialled.
He answered with his usual haughty-with-a-side-of-sickly-sweet. “Emelynn. This is an unexpected surprise.”
“I’m sorry about the hour. Detective Jordan’s put me on a case, and I need your help.”
“Tonight?”
“I’m afraid so. It’ll only take a minute.”
He exhaled a loud and impatient breath. “All right. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes.”
“No need. I’m on your front porch.”
The silence echoed in my gut. He opened the door with the phone to his ear. One look at his stone-chiselled features told me I’d overstepped. He pocketed his phone and looked beyond me, then left and right.
“Come in.” It wasn’t a request. He closed the door. “Follow me.” I bent to remove my shoes. “Leave them,” he barked. I wiped my soles on the doormat and trotted after him. He pushed open the door to a small library and motioned me inside. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.” He closed the door and his footsteps trailed away.
I took a moment to consider the double standard. How many times had Sebastian barged in on me unannounced? What the hell was he hiding? I blinked out of sight and hurled my ghosted form through the library door. Politeness wasn’t even a consideration. James had taught me not to hesitate. Sebastian had taught me to use everything at my disposal. My skills were no match for the likes of Sebastian, but I had one advantage that Sebastian didn’t: neither he nor anyone else could sense my ghosted form. Unfortunately, he knew it—we’d had to work around it during his mentorship—so I’d have to be quicker than he was and beat him back to the library.
Hushed whispers led me to a sleek kitchen at the back of the house. Sebastian’s wife, Kimberley, stood with her hands on her hips. Her perfectly curled bottle-blonde hair and trim Lululemon-clad body seemed a poor match for Sebastian’s dark presence, but she squared off with him, nose to nose, like an opponent in a boxing ring. Hardly the loving couple I’d seen in public.
“I don’t care. What if Wade had seen her? It’s bad enough you took her under your wing like some helpless”—she twisted her mouth, searching the room for words—“foundling, but now she thinks she can just show up here?”
Helpless? Foundling? Where the hell was that coming from? And who was Wade?
Kimberley tossed her arms in the air in a dramatic show of exasperation. “She’s not Jolene!”
Jolene Reynolds? My Jolene? Mason’s sister?
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. “And she’s not deaf. Kindly keep your voice down. I’ll make sure she understands, and see her out.”
I bolted out of there as Kimberley called after him, “Please do.”
Shit shit shit! I raced down the hall a breath ahead of Sebastian’s stomping heels and re-formed on the other side of the library door just as he opened it. The door banged me in the ass. I jumped out of the way with a start.
Sebastian scowled and looked me up and down before closing the door.
“Is something wrong?” I asked innocently.
“In future, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t drop by without my approval. Kimberley hasn’t been the same since Cairabrae. Unexpected visits aren’t welcome.”
Any unexpected visits? I wondered. Or just my unexpected visits? “I hope I didn’t upset her.”
Sebastian waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “You needed my help. What with?”
Oh yes. I’d almost forgotten. I pulled out my phone, opened Sam’s video attachment and handed the phone to Sebastian. He pushed play.
“A few hours ago, a newborn was kidnapped from St. Paul’s hospital. The woman in that footage is responsible.” I studied his face for signs of recognition and saw none. “Swipe forward and you’ll find a few more photos.”
Sebastian looked through them and returned my phone. “And?” he said.
“Detective Jordan would like to know if we recognize her.”
“Why would he think we’d recognize her?”
I wrapped my lips around my teeth and took a breath before answering. “The police are operating on the assumption that the glitch in the video footage was a camera malfunction. Detective Jordan isn’t.”
“Apparently the detective doesn’t think very highly of us.”
As usual, Sebastian had missed the human element. “A child is missing and the first few hours are critical. He’s willing to risk insulting us if it means getting the child back.”
“I see.” Sebastian straightened and turned toward the door. “You can tell the detective she’s not one of us.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Really? You’re absolutely certain?”
Sebastian stilled and slowly turned back around. “Yes. Really,” he said, the how dare you question me clear. “She is not one of us.”
“You know every Ghost?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as an accusation.
Sebastian hollowed his cheeks and lifted his chin. “There is always the possibility of a rogue, but it’s unlikely. Are you sure you weren’t followed here?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Why?”
“That footage is weak. Jordan could have set you up. It would be quite a coup if General Cain got the identities of a few more of us. We don’t need to give ICO any more leverage.”
That was a stab at me—I’d given them their current leverage. I chose to ignore it. “Detective Jordan would never do that. He wouldn’t break my trust.”
“Maybe not knowingly. But Cain would without hesitation.” Sebastian frowned and shook his head. “He’ll be looking for a crack to exploit in our next contract negotiation.” He grasped the doorknob. “Now, if there’s nothing else?” When I didn’t respond, he opened the library door. “Let me walk you out.”
He closed the front door behind me and watched my retreat through the glass side panel. The intensity of his glare burned my back all the way to the street.