As Rupinder Dhillon, the manager of Living Hope Shelter, refilled his mug of tea, Remo wondered if he should feel out of place. After Celia’s pink-cheeked introduction of him as her new “friend”—with the quotation marks as obvious as day—the Indian woman had made a point of telling him twice that the building was generally open to women only. She’d emphasized that exceptions were few and far between. Even male children were permitted only if they were under the age of sixteen. But for some reason, in spite of all that, he felt right at home.
Maybe his comfort stemmed from the fact that it had quickly become obvious that the outspoken woman had saved Celia’s life six years earlier. Or maybe because the shelter was the exact kind of place he would’ve loved for him and his mother to have found when they made their escape two decades earlier. Either way, he found himself relaxing, enjoying the tea and the company in spite of the circumstances. Xavier was happily reading a book in an overstuffed chair in the corner, while Rupinder and Celia reminisced about the good and the bad of the time she’d spent there.
From their conversation, Remo learned that Celia had met Rupinder by chance. After Teller shot her, she’d run straight out into the street and into the Indian woman’s car. Both women agreed that it was fate. Rupinder—who was a retired nurse and an abuse survivor herself—had nursed Celia back to health, and also delivered Xavier into the world. She’d also helped Celia establish a contact up north, in Prince George. At one point, Celia turned a pleased smile his way and told him she could remember all of it with fantastic clarity.
But a mug and a half of tea, plus one entire plate of cookies later, the building manager turned a shrewd eye toward Celia.
“Let’s not waste any more time with the bull c-r-a-p, shall we?” she said, her lightly accented English somehow managing to make the suggestion sound like a pleasant one. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
Remo set down his tea and watched as Celia licked her top lip nervously. One hand was tight on her own mug of hot steaming liquid; the other held the envelope she’d been carrying since they climbed into the taxi. Remo glanced toward the yellow item. She hadn’t yet said a word about what it contained, but the way she’d been gripping it made him sure it held something significant in spite of its innocuous appearance. She squeezed it once more, then set it on the counter and slid it toward Rupinder.
“This is my insurance,” she said softly.
The other woman didn’t blink before answering. “The photos.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t burn them like you said.”
Celia shook her head. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Rupi. But how could I burn them?”
The gray-haired woman reached across the counter and placed her fingers on the back of Celia’s hand. “I always told you that you shouldn’t. It was your ticket out.”
“Only if I wanted to risk losing Xavier.”
“I would’ve helped keep you safe.”
“But I would’ve been under the microscope. It would’ve put you at risk, too. And all of the other women here.”
“That’s true enough,” Rupinder said with a sigh. “I don’t worry about myself so much, but I would hate to see any harm come to the shelter. So what will you do now?”
“Find a way to use it, I guess,” Celia replied, not sounding sure at all.
“So Neil has found you.”
“Yes. Or I found him for some reason that I don’t really understand.”
Remo cleared his throat. “Okay, not to be that guy...but does anyone want to tell me what’s in the envelope?”
Both women turned his way like they’d forgotten his presence altogether. Then Celia moved to pull the envelope closer again, but Rupinder stopped her.
“Why don’t you two take a breather in the apartment next door?” suggested the Indian woman. “It’s empty at the moment, and where Mr. Price is concerned, I have a feeling it’s better for me to know less rather than more. I can keep an eye on your son, if you and he both like.”
“I’m game if you are,” Remo offered.
“And I want to keep reading!” Xavier called out.
“I guess that settles it,” Celia said.
Rupinder stood and quickly retrieved a key ring from inside a cabinet beside the fridge, then ushered them out to the hall.
“Take as much time as you need,” she said, as she unlocked the door directly next to her own. “I’ve got plenty more books and plenty more cookies, too.”
Celia thanked the older woman, then stepped into the apartment. Remo followed, letting the door close softly behind them, taking a quick look around as they made their way from the small foyer into the living room. The space was small. Sparsely and impersonally decorated. It could’ve been sad or disheartening, but it mostly felt like a hopeful place. A chance at a new beginning. He could picture Celia—pregnant and scared, injured and traumatized—arriving here. Making it her own while she waited for her son to be born. The image unexpectedly overwhelmed Remo, and it compelled him to put his arms around Celia so he could draw her into a tight embrace. Her arms came up to circle around his waist, too, and she held him just as hard.
“So this was home when you made your break?” he murmured into her hair.
“It really feels like a lifetime ago,” she told him.
“But you remember it.”
“Every detail. It actually seems kind of bizarre to me that I would forget it at all.” She sighed and pulled away enough to look around, and her eyes hung on the closed door.
“What’re you thinking?” Remo asked, pushing back a loose lock of blond hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Trying to make another escape?”
She swung her gaze back to him, a smile brightening her eyes. “From you? Never. You’re stuck with me. I was just considering that in the last day, I’ve left my son alone more times than I have in the last five years. Aside from school, that is.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a more normal thing?”
Remo lifted an eyebrow. “Normal?”
“It’s a relative term,” she said.
“It would have to be,” he teased.
She made a face, then dropped her arms, wriggled free, and held out the envelope. “Are you ready to look?”
Her tone was light, but there was a telltale tremor in her voice, and Remo replied, “I am. Are you?”
She met his eyes. “I guess I have to be. I mean... I already know what’s in here. I’m just afraid that when I look at it, everything bad will hit me all over again.”
He took her hand and led her to the couch. “In the unlikely event that you can’t handle it, you can lean on me. I promise.”
She exhaled. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
He watched as she slid a finger under one corner of the envelope’s unsealed flap and lifted it open. He could see that her hands were shaking as she dumped out the contents—four standard-sized photographs.
“These are them,” she said, her voice laced with obvious nerves as she adjusted them on the table.
Remo leaned over to have a look. Each shot was of the same group of men—Neil Price, and three others. One of the three looked vaguely familiar, but the two others were complete unknowns. The pictures were all taken from a funny angle, and it was pretty clear that the men didn’t know they were being photographed.
“I took them with my cell phone,” Celia explained, reading his thoughts. “I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. In fact, we’d split up about two weeks before. Neil had gotten rough with me a couple of times, and I wasn’t interested in sticking around. But I’d just found out I was pregnant. I knew he wouldn’t be happy, but I also knew I had to tell him right away. I wasn’t expecting to walk in on the meeting. Neil shoved me into the room next door, and I don’t think he realized I could see and hear.”
“What was it about?” Remo asked.
Celia tapped the picture. “You already know who Neil is, obviously. The other three men are city officials. Gary White and Lewis Dieberman are the first two. And the other is—was—Raj Singh.”
Then the recognition hit him. “Raj Singh. He died during an overpass inspection.”
She swallowed. “Yes. It wasn’t an accident. Before Neil was on the city council, he worked in municipal planning. And there was something wrong with that overpass they were building. They knew it, and they argued about it on the night that I took those pictures.”
Remo snapped his fingers. “Right. There was a structural compromise. A piece of it collapsed last year. A dump truck driver was paralyzed. I think they actually blamed Singh for it.”
“They did. But it wasn’t him. Neil took bribes all over the place. Contractors, subcontractors, architects. The fight went on so long that I think Neil forgot I was there. I left. And I managed to avoid him for a good week. I saw the news about Raj Singh and I just knew that it was Neil.”
Her hands pulled away from the pictures and clenched into fists in her lap. Remo reached out and placed his fingers on top of hers.
“At the time, I thought I could’ve stopped it somehow. If I’d gone to the police or told someone else what I knew...” She shook her head. “But it wouldn’t have mattered, because Detective Teller would’ve intercepted anyway, just like he did later. So I just ran.”
“But Neil caught up to you,” he said.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “It was a nightmare. I was just about to run. Literally getting into a taxi, when one of his thugs grabbed me and dragged me back to my apartment. I think the only reason he didn’t just kill me then was because I screamed out that I was pregnant.”
“He told Neil,” he filled in.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Yes. And things got worse. Neil came to the apartment. He ordered me to terminate the pregnancy, and when I said I wouldn’t, he got violent. I was terrified—for me and for my baby—and I said I had evidence of what he’d done, and that it would come out if I died. Like I said, he’d gotten a little rough a few times. But I had no idea who he really was until that moment. He said he’d find the evidence and make sure I never took another breath. After that, I did try to go to the police. Which put me in contact with Teller. And you know the rest.”
Remo tightened his grip. “I’m sorry he put you through that. But at least now you remember everything. And knowledge is power.”
“But there’s still one thing I don’t know—why I came back.” She sighed. “I’m ridiculously glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
He leaned over and brushed her mouth with a kiss. He meant it to be gentle. A bit of loving agreement. And it did start that way. But her lips were soft, warm, and tinged with a pleasant bit of residual spiced-tea flavor. Remo couldn’t help but linger for another second, enjoying it. Enjoying her. When he started to pull away, Celia’s fingers came up to the back of his neck, twining in his hair and deepening the kiss.
The fervor in her contact immediately ignited his own need. Want coursed through him. His body took over, the envelope and its contents momentarily forgotten.
His hands slid down her shoulders and down her back. They paused briefly at the curve of her hips, then slipped around to cup her rear end so he could lift her into his lap. A little moan escaped her lips, and a responding growl built up in Remo’s chest. His finger moved to the bottom of her shirt, then under it. Her skin was as soft as her lips, and just as inviting. He was losing control in the most pleasant way possible.
He pulled away. “Celia.”
“Yes, Remo?” She pushed his shoulders back against the couch to trail kisses down his jaw and throat.
He groaned. “I don’t know if this is what Rupinder had in mind when she gave us the space.”
“Two birds, one stone,” she breathed.
Her lips came back to his, and there was no way he could fight it. Even if he’d wanted to.
She arched against him, and the memory of how she’d felt lying underneath him the day before leaped to mind. He wanted her like that again. He kissed her harder, then grabbed hold of her waist and flipped her to her back. But he overshot a little, and together, they rolled off the couch. His spine hit the ground, and her side hit the coffee table. The impact sent the photos flying.
“Leave them,” Celia ordered, rolling over so that she was on top of him again.
“Had no intention of retrieving them,” Remo growled.
“Thank God for that.” But as she dipped her face toward his, a solid knock on the door stopped her, just shy of another kiss. “That’s probably Rupinder, checking to see if we fell down and cracked our heads open. And there are about a dozen curse words jumping around in my head right now.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ditto. But we should answer it.”
“I know. But I don’t have to like it.”
She sighed, kissed him far too quickly, then rolled off and stood up. He followed suit, but before they could make it to the door, Celia spun back.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“Anything,” he replied.
“As soon as we’re done with all this, we’ll go away for a weekend together. I don’t care if it’s just to a nice hotel here in town, or if you want to head up to Sechelt or over to Victoria.” Her words came out faster, her enthusiasm audible. “Or across the border? But maybe we can leave Xavier with your mom and ignore everything.”
Remo felt a grin build up, and she caught it—and herself—at the same time.
“What are you smiling ab—oh, God,” she groaned, pink creeping up under her freckles. “That was a complete runaway train of a suggestion, wasn’t it? I’m blaming the head injury.”
“I think it sounds good. Better than good. And my mom would love it.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her in, but the kiss was once again cut short by a knock, this one more forceful than the first. Laughing, she tugged him along to the door, then flung it open, speaking as she did.
“Don’t worry, Rupi,” she said. “We’re—”
Her words cut off, and Remo knew exactly why. The Indian woman’s face was pinched with worry, and when she spoke, her tone matched her expression. “Come on. I think the two of you need to know something, and it’s better to just show you.”
Celia’s heart fluttered as she and Remo followed Rupinder back to her apartment. She was sure the other woman would’ve immediately said if something was wrong with Xavier. In fact, Celia was certain Rupinder would’ve explained just about anything dire. But knowing that did nothing to ease her nerves. The ten-second walk was still enough to make sweat break out on her upper lip, and by the time they got as far as the kitchen, her stomach was fully knotted up. She actually had to silently tell her feet not to go running for Xavier—who was still immersed in his stack of books—and to pay attention to the laptop Rupinder swung toward them.
“I keep the news feed going,” the older woman explained. “Paused and rewound the relevant bit for you. Subtitles on for the sake of little ears.”
Her fingers tapped the keyboard, and a moment later, Remo’s picture became the dominant thing on the screen.
Under the photo, words flickered, recapping the story they’d heard earlier. Of Celia’s accident and subsequent death in the hospital. No mention of her son. The so-called road rage incident. The manhunt for Remo.
“No need to tell me the how and why,” Rupinder murmured. “The first bit is obviously untrue, so I assume the rest is, too.”
Then, right near the end of the summary, the news feed was interrupted with a breaking bulletin. A red warning flashed an apology for the interruption, and the camera view cut from the static image of Remo to a podium. Celia’s stomach—which had barely come untwisted—became a hard, aching mass. Neil Price and Detective Teller stood together, the former speaking into a microphone, the latter looking like a sentinel.
Celia shivered involuntarily, but Remo’s hand landed on the small of her back, steadying her body and mind. It was still hard to see Neil’s sincere expression and the accompanying words on the screen, and it was downright impossible not to imagine him saying them. She was just glad she couldn’t hear his voice. It would’ve made things so much worse.
She drew in a breath and focused on the subtitles. The first part of his speech made her bristle. He talked about how sorry he was for anyone who knew and loved Ms. Celia Poller, and added that she appeared to have no next of kin. He spoke of the injustice. He pleaded with Remo to turn himself in. And the fact that he seemed like he meant it made Celia want to shove the laptop straight off the counter. Anyone watching would believe him. But that wasn’t all. When Neil stepped away from the microphone and Teller moved forward, Celia tensed.
“Something’s not right,” Remo stated, his voice low.
She felt it, too. And a second later, the unpleasant sense of foreboding came to fruition. The subtitles announced that Mrs. Wendy DeLuca was missing. That the police had come by her house to discuss her son with her, and found the door unlocked, and the woman herself nowhere to be found. A picture of Wendy appeared in the bottom corner of the screen, and Teller reeled off a number for people to call if they’d seen her.
Remo’s fingers flexed on Celia’s back, and she knew his worry was as thick as hers.
“There’s just a tiny bit more,” Rupinder said.
And sure enough, the two men switched spots again. This time, Neil’s speech became a campaign spiel. He announced that he was taking the situation personally, adding that his city didn’t have room for these games, and that he wouldn’t rest until DeLuca was taken care of. There was no denying the ominous undertone of his words. He paused for a moment, as if to let them sink in. Then he looked directly at the camera, his gaze making Celia want to squirm, as he made another statement, this one an odd-sounding comment about how he would offer Mrs. DeLuca shelter at his own home, if necessary. In closing, he announced that he would be at the VPD’s main detachment around the clock. As soon as he’d said it, the screen cut back to the news studio, and the anchor there moved on to something else.
“He has her,” Remo announced, his voice grim and angry and concerned all at the same time.
Celia turned to face him, and repeated, “Has her?”
He gestured toward the laptop, his expression dark. “What do you think that nonsense was at the end? It was meant for us. He’s taken my mom hostage, and he wants us to know it.”
“I have to say that I concur,” Rupinder added.
“So he’s baiting us?” Celia said.
Remo nodded. “He knows I’ll come.”
Celia’s heart dropped, and she spoke before she could stop herself. “You can’t go!”
Across the room, Xavier dropped his book, drawing attention from all three adults. His little face was pinched with worry, and Celia immediately felt bad.
“It’s okay, buddy,” she said quickly. “You can keep reading.”
“Or I can take him back out to the playground?” Rupinder suggested.
Celia nodded gratefully, and her son jumped up. She waited until the two of them were gone before addressing Remo as calmly as she could manage.
“You aren’t seriously thinking about going there,” she said.
“I can’t just let her go when there’s a chance I could save her,” he replied, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “And I’m not planning on sacrificing myself.”
“Not planning it doesn’t stop it from happening.”
“Celia.”
“You know they aren’t going to let you come out alive. If they were, they wouldn’t have done anything that could leave them publicly exposed. They probably have people watching for you to come. Neil is smart and devious and ruthless, Remo.” Tears stung her eyes, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as they overflowed. “How we can even be sure that—”
She stopped short, but it was too late; Remo had already picked up on the end of her question. He ceased his pacing and faced her.
“I know she’s alive,” he told her, “because if Neil is as smart as you think, then he knows that with one, single shred of doubt on my part, I won’t come. He has to keep her alive, because otherwise I won’t show up.”
Celia exhaled, seeing the logic in his response. “There still has to be a better way.”
“Then give it to me. But in under five minutes, because that’s about all I’m willing to spare before I go.”
“Me.”
“What?”
“It’s not really you he’s after. It’s me he’s been chasing.”
“That’s true. But it’s my mother he’s got.”
“Then I’ll call the local news instead,” she said. “I’ll show them that I’m alive. The whole story will fall apart. It’s like Rupinder said. The first part is a lie, so the rest has to be, too. I can out myself publicly, and show everyone who Neil really is. I’ve got the pictures, and...” She trailed off as she realized there was a flaw in her plan. “And he has your mom. And if I expose him, then he has no reason to keep her alive.”
“Which is exactly why I need to do this. Would you do any less, if it were Xavier?”
“No. Of course not.”
Remo put his hands on her shoulders, then pulled her in close and pressed his chin to the top of her head. “My mom is my only living relative, sweetheart. I have to go. And I need to do it quickly.”
“I know,” she conceded, unable to keep the words from cracking as she said them.
“We’ve made it this far,” he added.
“I know,” she repeated.
“And I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“I know.”
“And I’m probably going to use you as a bargaining chip.”
“I—What?” She pulled away, startled.
He smiled. “Just working through my options in my head.”
“Not funny, Remo.”
“I know.” He bent to kiss her, but she pulled back, suddenly thoughtful, and he paused, clearly sensing the change. “What?”
“It’s not actually the worst idea ever.”
“What?” he repeated.
“Using me and Xavier as fake bait.”
“It’s a terrible idea,” he replied.
But Celia could tell that he was thinking about it, too.