Chapter 10
Carol buttered the toast, filled both plates, and carried them to the table.
Paul inhaled deeply. “M-m-m.” He built a bacon and egg sandwich with his toast. “Sorry I was too tired to talk when I got in last night. How’d your picnic go?”
“It started fine, and the park is beautiful. I’d like to go back.”
“Started? What happened?” Paul took a huge bite of his sandwich.
“This kid grabbed my bag and ran off. My friend Joey chased him down and caught him, but it kind of spoiled the day. Still, you should have seen his tackle.” And his skill talking the second kid into cutting out Carol’s part of the video.
Paul wiped a dribble of yolk from the corner of his mouth. “Wow. This guy’s a hero. You meet him at work?”
“No, he’s a deejay with City Classics FM. He does the overnight request show, and we’ve talked a few times. Then I met him when I got the car fixed.”
Paul’s lip curled. “And you worry about me getting in trouble? That’s like dating a guy you met in a chat room.”
“No, it’s not. For starters, I knew he was male. You don’t know who someone is on the Internet. And we’re friends, not dating.”
“And you just happened to meet him at the garage?”
Carol pushed back from the table and carried her empty mug to the counter. She pulled the tea cozy off the pot. No, Joey shouldn’t have set that up, but her instincts said she could trust him. “Joey’s a nice guy. Besides, he doesn’t know where we live, and our number’s unlisted.”
“If you say so.” Paul attacked his hash browns.
The phone rang. Carol set down the teapot and checked the caller ID. No name, but it looked like a local cell number. Probably one of Paul’s friends. “Hello?”
“Ms. Daniels.” A male voice, light, casual. Deadly.
Carol’s fingers froze to the phone.
“Welcome to Toronto. I trust you received my card in the mail.”
Card? Carol didn’t dare breathe.
The caller chuckled. “Good luck. Treasure map. I thought you’d appreciate it. About yesterday — I hope your experiences at the ferry terminal and on the island haven’t damaged your appreciation for my city. And I ask you not to disappear again. The more effort it takes to find you, the less pleasant it will be when I do.”
The letter writer from Calgary. Carol’s lungs emptied. She pressed her free hand flat on the counter-top to keep from falling. Brave. Be brave. How dare this creep threaten her son? She cleared her throat, pushed the words out. Angry. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet. Your brother did some work for me before his, ah, disgrace. Now that you’re here, it’s only right that I personally oversee your quest.”
Brother. Work. The rest of the caller’s words didn’t stick. The band around Carol’s lungs eased. She brought her palm to her forehead. Not the Calgary sicko. Harry’s drug lord. Little shivers slithered down her spine. Still bad enough. But not her worst fear.
This was the sort of bottom-dweller responsible for Keith’s death. Carol bit her lips to keep back a tide of hatred.
“Remember, Ms. Daniels, I have eyes everywhere. I’ll be in touch.” Click.
The dial tone droned in her ear. Carol blinked, swallowed hard. She hung up and braced both hands against the edge of the counter. Her mind tingled with cold, the cold of decay, of evil. Of fear.
“Mom?” Paul’s chair scraped and he touched her shoulder. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” She groped for her tea and shuffled to the table.
Paul sat opposite her. “Who called?”
Carol shrugged. Her first swallow of tea burned all the way down. So did the second. “He said he’d be watching me, and he’ll call again.” Another swallow of tea. “It sounded like a threat.”
Paul leaned forward. “Who?”
“It must be that drug lord the detective warned me about.”
She jumped up and ran to the phone. “Would you get my purse? It’s by my bureau.” Shaky fingers grabbed a pen from the cup and jotted the number off the call display.
Paul set her purse on the counter. “It’ll take more cash than this to buy him off.” His wry grin twisted Carol’s heart. She flipped through her wallet and pulled out the detective’s card.
Garraway answered on the second ring. Carol set her shoulders and willed her voice not to shake. “This is Carol Daniels. I think that drug lord just called.”
It sounded silly, like a little girl crying she’d had a nightmare. Carol braced for a parent-like admonition to calm down and forget about it.
“Are you in danger, Ms. Daniels?”
“Not yet.” She shouldn’t have called.
“Tell me everything. Take as much time as you need.”
Carol’s muscles loosened a bit. “It looked like a cell number. He didn’t give a name.”
Paul put his arm around her and she blinked back tears. Carol let herself rest against her son as she gave the phone number. The caller’s words burned in her mind and she repeated them verbatim. Describing the voice was harder.
Detective Garraway asked, “Do you know what he meant by this quest?”
“I have no idea, Detective. What do I do now?”
“Try not to worry, and don’t take any chances. When he calls again, we’ll have a better idea what we’re dealing with.”
“I’m not answering any more calls I don’t recognize.”
“For now you’re best to answer, Ms. Daniels. You don’t want him knocking on your door.”
~~~
Joey’s feet drummed a steady rhythm as he jogged in the small park near his apartment. Fresh air and motion always cleared his thoughts, made him feel more balanced.
Yesterday, with Carol, was great. The walking, the company. Until that kid grabbed her bag and the other guy took that video. Joey wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He’d never seen anyone look so terrified. He’d had to help. But did he have to lie?
He started another lap around the park. It wasn’t the lying. He’d already confessed it, knew God had forgiven him. Again.
It was how fast he’d done it, this instinctive need to protect Carol at any cost. Joey gulped a lungful of air. Good thing he hadn’t seen his buddy Ron at church this morning. Ron from the repair shop, who’d warned him about getting into a relationship with a woman who didn’t share his faith.
Joey increased his speed despite the burn in his legs. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not yet, not until he’d figured out who he was in this new life. Carol wasn’t looking either. But she needed a friend, and even without this über-protective streak he could hardly cut her off.
One foot skidded on the gravel path. Joey took three quick steps to keep from falling.
His phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he slowed to a walk and tried to control his breathing. “Hello?”
“My dear Mr. Hill. I saw you on the news last night. It seems you’re a hero.”
Joey took the phone from his ear and read the call display. Unknown. He usually checked first and didn’t answer those. “Who is this?”
“You did business with some associates of mine on the Coast, before you ran afoul of the law. I opened a file on you when you moved into my territory.” Amusement laced the stranger’s tone.
Joey’s lungs seized. He hunched over and braced a hand on one thigh, trying to coax his airways to work. “How did you get this number?”
“That’s not important.”
“Well, add me to your do-not-call list. I’m clean now. You don’t have anything I want.”
“My silence, perhaps.”
Sweat trickled from Joey’s forehead along the bridge of his nose and dropped off the end. He stared at the damp spot on the gravel for a ten-count before he straightened up. He was breathing again, but his brain wasn’t kicking in.
The other man chuckled. “Does the lovely Ms. Daniels know your dark secret?”
Joey’s heart clenched. “Does she need to?”
“My thoughts exactly. You did such a fine job building her trust yesterday. I arranged that little incident to unsettle her, and your heroics played very nicely into my plans. Who better than you to keep an eye on her for me now? Which of course you couldn’t do if she knew all.”
A young couple walked toward Joey with a German Shepherd on a leash. Joey lowered his voice. “What do you want with Carol?”
“That needn’t concern you at this point. Continue to gain her trust. Should she confide in you, encourage her to cooperate with me. I’ll be in touch.” Click.
Joey stared around the park. The couple with the dog strolled hand in hand. A mother and two children sat on a bench, the children’s feet swinging in the air. Another jogger circled the perimeter. A typical Sunday afternoon.
Except for the words he’d just heard. The sweat from his run flash-chilled against Joey’s skin.
~~~
Paul went to school Monday morning over Carol’s protests, but she knew he was right. They couldn’t hide in the apartment waiting for another threatening call.
Carol welcomed the illusion of security in the café kitchen, and threw herself into the day’s baking. By late afternoon everything was finished except for sticky cinnamon buns and carrot cakes waiting to be iced. At a tap on her shoulder, she shut off the mixer.
Lily, the café owner, had the tiny vertical frown line between her eyebrows that meant someone had crossed her boundary. “Can you take the phone? He says it’s urgent.”
Heat washed Carol’s body, followed by cold. The wall clock said four thirty. Paul was out of school, but he wouldn’t call except for an emergency. What now? Or was it Detective Garraway? Or the man from yesterday?
She made herself follow Lily’s rapid march to the counter phone, half wanting to run ahead, half to drag her feet. “Hello?”
“Carol? It’s Joey. Hey, are you okay?”
She sagged against the counter. “I’m not supposed to take personal calls. Can we talk later?”
“I don’t have your home number. Can I see you tonight? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
A wizened elderly lady came to the counter. While Lily boxed some butter tarts, the lady stared at Carol. She lowered her voice. “I’ve got to go.”
“What about tonight?”
“Where?” Not my apartment. But yesterday’s caller had Carol’s unlisted number, probably knew where she lived. And Joey wasn’t a threat.
“How about my place? Visitor parking’s in front of the building. I’m in 617. Let me give you my phone number.”
She’d picked him up for the picnic. She could find the place again. Carol grabbed a paper napkin from the counter dispenser and pulled a pen from her pocket. “Shoot.”
When she hung up and turned back to the kitchen, Lily touched her arm. “Is everything okay?”
“I think so. I need to get back to my icing.”
Lily’s blend of practical businesswoman and motherly hostess always left Carol unsure of how much guard to let down. The café owner would sympathize about the threatening phone call, but how much patience would she spare for Carol’s jumpy after-effects?
Carol ducked through the swinging kitchen doors. On the way home from the park on Saturday, Joey had been upset about lying to convince the boy to cut out her part of that video. He’d told her he couldn’t do it again. What if one of the reporters from wherever the boy sent the video identified Joey and asked for more details? Would his conscience make him talk?