It All Falls Down
Page 23
So he doesn’t stop.
Knows that if he does, a troubled young woman might lose her mother. He has seen so much loss in his life that he can’t bear that thought.
He’s surprised to find out that the sun has set while he’d been in the hospital with Sanchez. The night sky is so heavy that not a single star can be seen. Which seems about right, but is ominous as hell. The sound of Nora’s footsteps pounding the pavement haunts him all the way back to Vancouver, where Bonnie had seen a tattoo that she wasn’t supposed to see, and where the Three Phoenix trail went cold.
53
Some of the details are fuzzy but I remember waking up on the ground, just before dawn. Was it yesterday? Seems like ages ago. In my jacket pocket, I found my passport and my wallet, with a brass key tucked inside it. It took me a full minute to recognize it. It belongs to a house, somewhere far away. Maybe it unlocks nothing—I don’t know.
I don’t want this key, but I know who to give it to. I crawled away from those ruins until I felt my strength returning, then I got to my feet and started walking. Left my identity back in a smoldering building. Nora who? That woman has enemies, some that still pursue her. Maybe those enemies will think that she has perished in that fire. Maybe they will give up now.
Even if they don’t, I can’t be bothered to care right now. They will have to catch me and I won’t make it easy for them—now that I know they’re still looking. Dao, the man I’m convinced is after me, has shown his weakness—and if he thinks revenge is anything but weakness, he should take a look at Ryan Russo.
For now, I keep moving, staying to the shadows. Staying low. Gathering my strength. Death is all around me here in Detroit, but I won’t be here for long. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I have a key to pass on.
I yearn for Whisper by my side, as I always do, but she’s with me in spirit. I’ll see her soon enough and we’ll sit by the rocks and look out at the ocean. We’ll think of Seb and I’ll eat pad thai while she gnaws on a fresh bone. We’ll get nice and fat, the two of us, and maybe there will be no more secrets between me and Leo.
In the burning warehouse I was ready for it to be done, but it’s not nearly over yet. I’m like the hero in an absurd war novel. Look at me, in a canoe. Paddling away. Except I’m on yet another filthy street in Detroit, and I can barely put one foot in front of the other.
There are no canoes in my future, but there’s a great big bridge. A few hours past it is a girl I have to see. To hand over a relic of the past, one that has crossed continents and come through fires. Someone should have it, but that someone isn’t me. I’ll tell the girl about my father, who was a good person, a decent human being who fell in love with the wrong woman. She’ll also hear about my mother, who was a cold bitch who walked away and never looked back. She’s got an aunt in Vancouver who hates me, but may not hate her. It’s not a perfect story, but it’s ours if she wants it.
The key is warm to the touch, so I hold it in my palm. I need as much heat as I can get for the road.
I have a bridge to cross.
Acknowledgments
I’m grateful for the support of Miriam Kriss, Lyssa Keusch, Kate Parkin, Katherine Armstrong, and the wonderful people at William Morrow and Bonnier Zaffre.
Many thanks to the generous individuals who gave me their time and expertise: Sunni Westbrook, David Pledger, Nadeen El-Kassem, Munir El-Kassem, Jim Compton, Linda L. Richards, Sarah Yu, Aysha Alkusayer, PH, Tiffany Morris, Debra Malandrino, and Andrew Mockler.
A great number of texts shored up my research, too many to list in full, but I wanted to acknowledge three in particular: Sabra and Shatila by Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout, Spy Handler: Memoir of a KGB Officer by Gregory Feifer and Victor Cherkashin, and Pity the Nation by Robert Fisk, which introduced me to The Plot, as it applies to Lebanon.
A special thank-you to my police consultant, Ira Todd, who pulled out all the stops for me in Detroit. My friend, this book wouldn’t have been the same without you.
About the Author
SHEENA KAMAL holds an HBA in political science from the University of Toronto, and was awarded a TD Canada Trust scholarship for community leadership and activism around the issue of homelessness. Kamal has also worked as a crime and investigative journalism researcher for the film and television industry. Her academic knowledge and experience inspired her debut novel, The Lost Ones. She lives in Vancouver, Canada.
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Also by Sheena Kamal
The Lost Ones
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
it all falls down. Copyright © 2018 by Sheena Kamal. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
first edition
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Print ISBN 978-0-06-256577-8 (hardcover)
Digital Edition July 2018 ISBN 978-0-06-256578-5
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