by Alison Bruce
CHAPTER 8
“I have a plan,” Zeke announced. “But first I have to share my dark secret.”
I almost laughed. The idea of Zeke keeping a dark secret was mind-boggling. I didn’t count keeping job-related secrets.
Merrick, Zeke, and I were sitting around the dining room table in Ottawa a couple of days after the kids and I got back. I’d been brought up to date on the state of my house and they got to check out my fading bruises. Although I couldn’t be told much, I knew their investigation wasn’t going well. Merrick was stoic, as always. Investigations like this could take years to break. Zeke was less patient and, since hanging around Merrick was getting painful, I was ready for any plan he might come up with.
“I’m a silent partner in Charlie’s publishing business.”
I didn’t like where this was going. Charles Croft, of CC Books, was my publisher.
“I have nothing to do with acquisitions,” he said, apparently reading my mind. “Charlie and I grew up together and when he needed an investor, I bought in. But as soon as I knew your book was finished, I did pull a few strings to get the publishing date moved up. Fortunately, we’re strictly print-on-demand and e-books.”
“Why?” I asked. “And what does Charlie have to say about this?”
He might have been shuffling his feet under the table —he looked sheepish enough.
“He thinks it’s great. He figures we can promote the book this summer and leak a story to the press about the murder and the missing chip. It’ll really help sales.”
My head whipped around to stare at Merrick. I thought the idea was to keep me out of this.
He shrugged before doing his unconscious impression of Spock. “Aside from exploiting you, Zeke’s idea makes sense. You and your family will continue to be at risk while the murderer is at large.”
“Or not. If I were the spymaster I’d cut my losses. Why hang around and risk getting caught?”
“An excellent point that has been made by my supervisor. I’m not willing to take that risk yet.” Merrick gave me one of those Vulcan looks. “Criminals do not always behave logically. This may draw them out into the open. If it doesn’t work, we’ll cut our losses.”
I sat in relative silence and considered this.
The kids were watching a movie. Nate was out. Merrick, Zeke, and I were sitting around the dining room table drinking tea and nibbling on the home-baked cookies Zeke’s mother had made for her favourite son. I helped myself to another cookie.
“How would it work?”
Zeke leaned forward. “In the guise of cashing in on the publicity, you’ll tell your story. We’ll put out the word that the case involved contraband—keeping it vague—and mention that the material has yet to be recovered. Merrick and I can work out the details on how much you should feed the press and how much we should let reporters discover on their own.”
“When?”
“Charlie and I are thinking a late June release with a summer book tour.”
“And my kids? Will they be safe with their father? I’m not sure they’ll be safe with me.”
“I’ve been presumptuous,” Merrick said. “I’ve enrolled Hope and Boone in the Army Cadets. By pulling a few strings, I’ve managed to get them into the basic training camp, timed for when you launch your book. Although I’m not expecting a direct assault on you, I want them to be safely out of the way in case anything happens.”
I stared at him.
“You, the man who is worried his own son will re-enlist, enrolled my children in the military without asking me . . . or them?”
Merrick paled.
“I wanted to keep your children safe.”
“And this was the best plan you could come up with?”
“Actually, Nate came up with the plan. He loved Cadets when he was a kid. He said it was a lot better than other summer camps, and he got to do activities year round.”
“And then he joined the reserves in high school and the regular forces when he graduated and he was wounded five times in two tours of duty. You want that for Hope and Boone too? And what happens if they come home in a body bag? Is that okay too?”
I was losing it and I knew it. I had spiralled out from righteous indignation to worst-case scenarios of a future that might not happen. The worst part was that Merrick just sat there and took it.
I took a gulp of tea. I looked down and my hands were shaking. I looked over and saw that Merrick had a death grip on the edge of the table. He was either really tense, or he was ready in case I decided to flip the table over in the heat of my rant. Zeke wisely decided to excuse himself at this point.
For all they knew, we were out of danger now and they were putting us back into the fire to solve their case. Except that, even when he wasn’t forthcoming about it, Merrick had gone above and beyond to keep us safe. “You should have asked,” I said, deflated. “Maybe it is the best idea. Maybe the kids will love it. Probably it won’t lead to a body bag at Borden. But you should have asked.”
He nodded.
“I should have asked,” he agreed. He stared down at his hands as if he hadn’t realized they were gripping the table. “I wanted to make things easier for you. I was out of line. Do you want me to undo the plans?”
I shook my head.
“Let’s see how the kids feel about cadets first. I’ve got a feeling Boone is going to jump at the chance. Hope might balk. She was planning on writing her first movie script this summer.”
The tiniest of smiles flickered on Merrick’s face.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind when she finds out Nate has leveraged his reserve status to get a job at the camp. He’ll be teaching self-defence.”
I sat back in my chair, cradling my mug in my hands.
“Your son is way too old for my daughter.”
Merrick went from pale to beet red and started sputtering disconnected sentences regarding Nate’s trustworthiness and Hope’s safety.
I smiled. I’d got a little of my own back.
“It’s all right,” I soothed. “Not only do I trust Nate, but I know he’ll make sure Hope doesn’t let her crush get out of hand. No doubt he’ll also make sure no one else steps out of line with her.”
And that was all right with me. My little girl was starting to look like a young woman, even though she had just turned twelve.
“Merrick,” I said, leaning forward so I could lower my voice and still be heard. “I’ll make you a deal. If you promise not to go behind my back again . . .”
He gave me a pained look. In certain areas, that was a promise he couldn’t keep.
“That is,” I amended, “if you promise not to go behind my back with plans that directly concern the kids and I—” This was as bad as drafting a legal letter. “I promise to try not to freak out—or try to freak you out.”
I held out my hand.
“Deal?”
He took my hand in both of his.
“Deal.”
“Thank you.”
It took a moment or two, but he released my hand. I sighed and leaned back in my chair again.
“You confuse the hell out of me, Merrick. I feel like the kids and I are more than a job to you, but then . . .”
“Are you asking why I don’t make a move on you?”
That was exactly what I wanted to know—but didn’t want to ask.
“No, not exactly,” I waffled. “I thought maybe there was something between us but your job . . .”
“You are a beautiful, strong, and brave woman,” he said, in the same tone he might use to describe me as blue-eyed, blond and on the short side. “I felt something between us, but it would have been unprofessional for me to act on it. While you are living in my home, it would be worse than unprofessional.”
“I suppose so.”
He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I told you I made a lousy husband once, and I’m not sure that I’d do any better now. You deserve better. That doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy you finding someone else eventually.”
A half-smile twisted his lips. “But it would be illogical for me to complain.”
I laughed. “Merrick, I positively and absolutely never want to lose you as a friend.”
“You won’t.”
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have edits to finish for a book that is coming out three months earlier than I expected. Since Zeke put me in this position, you can tell him he gets to take my turn at doing dishes tonight.”
I wasn’t going to say anything. Not now. Maybe never. I had lived with Seth for years without expectations of a wedding. My mother held a grudge against him for marrying someone other than the mother of his children, but I didn’t. If I cut Seth that kind of slack, I could cut some for Merrick.
I didn’t need marriage but I wanted to keep Merrick in my life, and I wanted more than friendship. For the first time since I gave up on my romantic fantasies, I felt we had a chance.
All we had to do was catch a ring of spies first.
CHAPTER 9
It was a cold, dark, damp summer.
According to The Weather Network, we were close to historical averages for sunshine and rain for this time of year, and only a little below average in temperature. The sun shone. The bees buzzed. The butterflies fluttered by. But not for me.
It started out wonderful. Zeke staged a reveal of my freshly painted and refinished house that would have done any decorating show proud. As much as they had enjoyed making new friends, the kids were happy to be home. So was I.
Then cadet camp started. Merrick managed to get them into Blackdown Cadet Training Centre for their six-week program. On weekends, when Hope and Boone weren’t at camp, they were at their father’s. Sure, they called regularly, but it wasn’t the same.
I learned something those first two weeks my kids were gone. They were a buffer between me and our neighbour Walter. I felt horribly ungrateful for feeling this way, but a little bit of Walter went a long way. When the kids were around, I always had an excuse to push him out the door so I could pick them up, take them some place, or help them with homework. In fact, we had a system by which Hope would interrupt us, saying I was needed, whether it was true or not.
Being needed by my children was unassailable. My needing to get back to work didn’t cut it nearly as well.
Then there was the garden.
I should have been more grateful. Walter always cut our lawn out front because it adjoined his. It was Boone’s job to mow the lawn in the back and Hope’s job to weed. Obviously they couldn’t do that while they were away and it had to be taken care of while we were in Ottawa. I assumed Zeke had made arrangements. No. Walter took care of everything, including planting the backyard beds with flowers that apparently needed constant care. It was lovely to look at, but if I worked on the deck or kitchen table where I could enjoy the view, I could guarantee being interrupted by Walter. So, I holed myself up in my bedroom and worked there.
On the flip side, I was very grateful to Kallas for her services. I found out from Zeke that she had volunteered to discretely keep an eye on the house when he was out of town. She was the one that made sure there was milk, butter, eggs, and bread in the house when I returned. When she found out I was more of a croissant and café type, she dropped by on her days off with baked goods and lattes, giving me a nice half-hour break from work. Then she’d tell me to get back to writing. So she wouldn’t go broke, treating me all the time, I invested in an espresso machine and a couple of bottles of syrup so we could experiment as baristas. Okay, so maybe an hour break some days.
Otherwise, I was tied to my keyboard writing the outline for my second book, or keeping up with work for clients, or I was appearing with Zeke at bookstores, libraries, and conventions all over Ontario, Quebec, and upstate New York.
We had a better than average turnout at our appearances—relative to other new authors, that is—because Zeke kept me in the news, arranging interviews with local newspapers and radio stations. Mostly the interviews were about my experiences since finding a body in my living room, but it brought people to the stores. They came out of curiosity, but some actually bought the book. It didn’t hurt that Zeke managed to get friends and relations to come out to each appearance. They acted as the seeds to grow a crowd.
I had plenty of friends and friends of friends in town and in the Greater Toronto Area. Kallas and Geoff were great at finding people to fill out the ranks in Guelph and the GTA respectively. As we moved east, Zeke had his own family and friends to call on. In Kingston, an army buddy of Nate’s showed up with a posse. In Buffalo, I appeared with another CC Books author who lived in the area. I think she rounded up all of her high school graduating class.
At Chapters in Belleville the crowd came and went quickly. While it was quiet, Zeke and I discussed sales figures, the topic of my next blog post and the other reason we were there. Bottom line, I was doing well as a new author, but we weren’t getting anywhere as spy catchers. We’d been at it for almost six weeks without any significant leads.
At the beginning of this circus, Merrick briefed me on my role.
“We’re looking for lurkers who show up repeatedly,” he said. “Engage them if you can. Thank them for their support. Chances are they’ll be genuine fans—or common garden variety creeps. Don’t worry about getting information from them. That’s Zeke’s job.”
I couldn’t imagine having any real fans so soon, but I got one right off the bat, my neighbour Walter. He came to all my book signings within a hundred klick radius, usually bringing a fellow member of one of the many associations he belonged to. Unfortunately, none of the associations included a book club. Still, he was doing his best for me.
This made me feel doubly guilty that I had been ducking the man as much as possible. That’s why, when I took a break from the table, Zeke found me looking for a coffee table book of famous gardens or heritage plants —something Walter would like, but wouldn’t buy for himself.
“We’re packing up,” he said.
“So soon?”
I wasn’t heartbroken at the news. This was our last event for a while. Next stop was the cadet camp to see my kids graduate from their program before their father took them on holiday.
“We’ve got to get to Borden right away.”
My heart stopped.
“Boone has broken his arm and they can’t get hold of his father.”
My heart started again. This was something I could handle.
“Is he okay? Other than the broken arm, of course.”
“I think so. I’ve got a number for the hospital. You can check on him once we get on the road. I’ve just got to call Merrick first.”
Merrick proved that once again he was my hero. He arranged for a helicopter to take me from Trenton to Borden. CFB Trenton was less than a half hour away from the bookstore. Zeke packed up while I bought the coffee table book and half-a-dozen comic books for Boone. I was in the air in under an hour.
Now here is the weird thing. Although I was concerned about my son, I was also excited. Taking my first helicopter ride was only the smallest part of it—though it was pretty cool. I was going to see my kids. Suddenly I noticed it was a sunny day. Between the anticipation of seeing my kids and my attempt to identify landmarks from the air, the flight to Borden seemed short. Any anxiety I felt for Boone was set aside until we landed and I saw Nate waiting for me by an SUV.
I bypassed hellos and went straight to my most pressing question.
“Boone isn’t on his own at the hospital, is he?”
Nate rolled his eyes at my motherly concern.
“Hope insisted on staying with him and Merrick is with them.”
“How did he get up here so fast?”
“In the neighbourhood,” said Nate. “Business.”
That curtailed any further questions. I was getting adept at knowing what I could and could not ask.
Boone opened sleepy eyes to greet me when I arrived. His good arm reached out to me and I gave him a careful hug.
“He’s been am
azing,” Merrick reported. “Just like his mother. He cooperated with all the medical personnel and suffered patiently until they could give him something for the pain.”
I kissed my little boy on the forehead. Okay, now he was as tall as me, but in my heart, Boone was my little boy and Hope—now taller than me by half an inch— was, and would always be, my little girl.
Speaking of my little girl, I reached for Hope and drew her into a hug. It was so odd seeing her in her uniform and dusty combat boots. Despite its relative shapelessness, she looked more grown up in uniform. It was a little unsettling.
“Gosh, I’ve missed you guys.”
“We missed you too, Mom,” said Hope. “I’m glad you’re here, but really sorry about the circumstances.”
“She didn’t push me on purpose,” mumbled Boone, lids heavy and voice a little slurred.
“Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” I asked Hope.
My daughter’s face now ranged from delicate pink to beet red at the apples of her cheeks.
Hope was saved from reporting by the entrance of the doctor who shooed everyone but Merrick and I out of the room.
“Your son has a simple fracture of the ulnar. Apparently, he and his sister were competing for best time on the obstacle course and they collided. He fell.”
She shrugged, conveying the message that kids will be kids. I didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t my first visit to the hospital for Boone.
“I want to keep him in overnight. Unless he develops a fever, he can go home tomorrow morning. From what I understand, he was going to be going home tomorrow anyway.”
I nodded but I thought, not home, to his father’s.
“Can he come home?” I asked Merrick, when the doctor had left. “With me?”
He nodded and I felt a rush of warmth and relief flow through me.
“I’ll make arrangements,” he said. “They’ve got a family room for you so you can be on hand if he wakes up. He’ll probably sleep for a few hours now, however. Let me take you and Hope out to dinner. Then you can get her side of the story before she goes back to the base.”