Vigilant

by Sara Davison

  “You do that, sir.” The officer at the desk spoke mildly.

  The man was in no mood to be placated. He tossed a few choice words at the cop who didn’t flinch.

  The lawyer had walked to the doorway of his room, observing the scene like Daniel was.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart.” The man shoved the door open with one foot and yanked the woman outside. The girls slipped out behind them, like wraiths. The door slammed shut.

  The lawyer’s eyes met Daniel’s. “Ain’t love grand?”

  Daniel offered him a wry grin. “You handled that well.”

  The man sighed. “Best I could do. I know I got a little out of line at the end there,” he shot Daniel a sheepish look, “but at that point I really didn’t care.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Daniel stuck out his hand. “Detective Daniel Grey.”

  The man took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. “Gage Kelly.”

  “Crown attorney?”

  “Yep.” Gage walked back to the table and began stuffing papers into his briefcase.

  “Frustrating job, I’m sure.”

  “It definitely can be. Nights like this are the real perks. I get to drive all the way down here to facilitate the process of sending an animal back home to his two defenceless little girls. And now I’ll be stuck in the office half the night filling out the paperwork. And so will my brother Holden. He’s the social worker who got called to go to that home this afternoon.” He snapped the briefcase shut and picked it up. He rounded the table and came back to stand in the doorway. “He couldn’t get the woman to agree to press charges either, and neither he nor his partner could convince either of the girls to admit to being hit. They made up some story about how they were playing tag when the little one tripped and hit her face on the coffee table.” He nodded at the door where the family had disappeared. “It’s rough, seeing kids in situations like that and often not being able to do a lot about it.” Anger darkened his eyes, but his voice remained even. “I’m sure you can relate, with everything you see in your line of work.”

  Daniel stuck both hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “Yes, unfortunately I can.”

  “Well,” Gage clapped a hand on his shoulder, “back to the trenches. Good to meet you, Detective.”

  “You too.” Daniel watched him as he strode across the lobby and went out the door, pulling it shut behind him a little harder than necessary. Daniel didn’t blame him. Their jobs were frustrating sometimes. It certainly hadn’t taken long for the idealism—the belief that he could actually have a big enough impact through his work to make the world a better place—to fade away. He was able to help some people, to make a difference in a life or in a family once in a while, which he clung to when days like this had him questioning whether or not it was all worth it.

  Gage clearly struggled with the same thoughts, and his brother likely did too. Still, they all had to keep trying. Someone had to do something about all the evil in the world; beat it back, at least, like a pack of ravenous wolves kept at bay by a tiny torch. If not, they’d all soon be lost in the darkness.

  With a heavy sigh, Daniel tugged the door closed behind him and headed for the exit. The lawyer’s words about heading back into the trenches echoed in his head. The expression was apt. This was war, and all any of them could do was fight one small battle at a time.

  Fighting back nausea, the woman finished reading the boy’s account of what had happened that night then forced herself to read every word of the police report that followed before snapping the folder shut and tossing it across her desk. Prickles of disgust and horror crawled across her skin, and she rubbed her hands hard up and down both arms. No matter how many times she read the stories, how often the frightened little faces flashed, unbidden, across her mind, they never failed to sicken her.

  For ten seconds. That’s how long she allowed herself to wallow before she shoved what she had seen or heard back into a compartment deep inside her mind and slammed the door shut. She flipped her long gleaming black hair over one shoulder.

  Twisting her arm, the woman checked the silver watch clasped around her slender wrist. Twenty seconds. She exhaled loudly and reached across the desk for the folder again. Well, this story had been worse than most. She was entitled to a few extra seconds of grieving for the losses those two boys had suffered; loss of childhood, of innocence, of a normal, carefree existence. It was a terrible, terrible shame.

  And it was exactly what she needed.

  Clutching the file in her right hand, she stared down at it, absently pushing away a tall pile of similar, cream-colored folders with the back of her left hand. In her fingers she held the last piece of the puzzle. The final member of the team the board of their organization had assembled to carry out their rescue missions in the city. Now, after their recent setback, they could continue their work. All she had to do was convince him to join them. The image of two terrified boys pressed against the back of a closet wall, hands clasped together, dark eyes wide with terror, jolted through her mind. Dropping the folder, she yanked open the top right drawer of her desk and reached for her pack of cigarettes.

  Only after drawing in several deep, nicotine-laden breaths, did the fury that had gripped her body begin to ease. She blew out a puff of smoke and tapped the perfectly manicured fingers of her free hand on top of the folder.

  With a curt nod, she stubbed out the cigarette in the small glass bowl that she’d washed clean after the last time she’d indulged in one. Other than the pile of folders, the only items on the dark cherry surface were the bowl, a small black phone, a laptop computer, and a ceramic vase that held several blue and red pens. She believed in order. Clutter detracted from the control she held over herself, her circumstances, and, as often as possible, the circumstances of others.

  Which was where he would come in. Picking up the file again, the woman tapped it slowly on the desk. It would cost him, of course, everything he had and more. But he would agree. One of her greatest assets was her ability to make people see things her way. She flipped open the folder and focused her intense gaze on the boy’s haunted eyes, steeling herself for the task ahead. She’d spent years meticulously building up an arsenal of tactics she could use to bring someone over to her way of thinking, and the tiny spark of fire that still burned down deep in those dark eyes suggested that she might need every one of them to convince him he was the only one who could help them.

  With the sigh of resignation she could never quite repress when she was about to change the course of another human being’s life, she reached for the phone to let the rest of her team know they had found the one they’d been looking for.

  Desperate to get home after a long, infuriating day, he pounded on the computer keyboard, trying to finish his paperwork. When the phone rang, he grabbed it and pressed it between his chin and shoulder, continuing to type. “Kelly.”

  “Frustrating, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that?” He didn’t recognize the woman’s voice. A little lower and smoother than any of his female friends or colleagues, with the slightest hint of a foreign accent he couldn’t quite place. He tabbed ahead to the next question on the form. Only a few more sentences and he could leave.

  “The inability of the system to save everyone.”

  He stopped typing. “Who is this?”

  “Someone who cares about helping those kids as much as you do.”

  “What kids?”

  “All the kids whose parents think it’s okay to ease their own frustrations by taking them out on their children. Starting with those two adorable girls you saw today.”

  His head shot up, and he looked around the room as though he might see the lens of a camera sticking through the window blinds. “How do you know who I saw today? And what did you say your name was?”

  “My name doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I know how you feel. I understand that you are angry, and you feel helpless to do anything about it. But you’re not. There is something you can do
.”

  He swung his chair around and toed the door shut. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t tell you any more over the phone. We need to meet face to face. There’s a café on the corner of Yonge and Davenport. Annie’s. Do you know it?”

  He paused. He did know Annie’s. Whether or not he was ready to meet some sultry-voiced stranger there to hear about something that sounded a little cloak and dagger to him was another matter.

  Two pairs of blue eyes peering out of serious little faces flashed through his mind. He sighed. “Yes, I know it. When do you want to meet?”

  Chapter Ten

  She looked like her voice sounded. Dark. Beautiful. Slightly exotic. The man knew it was her as soon as he saw her. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, emphasizing a high-cheek-boned, porcelain face that appeared almost fragile until his eyes locked with her steel-gray ones from across the room, and the illusion was shattered. Long, graceful fingers resting on the table, she exuded a calm strength that seemed out of place somehow in the middle of the buzzing downtown coffee shop.

  He slid onto the bench across from her, drawing in deep breaths of air rich with the scent of brewing coffee to calm himself.

  For a long moment she looked at the man without speaking. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to shift in his seat under the intense scrutiny. Finally, the corners of her full, red lips turned up slightly. “You came.”

  Although he knew it was rude, he glanced down at his watch, hoping to give himself an out if this conversation was as bizarre as he expected it to be. “I don’t have a lot of time. It’s been a long day.”

  The sadness in her smile didn’t soften the steel in her gaze. “It must have been difficult for you, walking away from those two little girls.”

  It had been, more than she knew. He looked deep into the eyes that continued to watch him intently. Maybe she does know. He shrugged. “Just part of the job.”

  Her mouth evened to a straight line. “How would you feel if someone had said the same thing about you and your brother?”

  His head jerked. “How do you ...?” Narrowing his eyes, he studied her, a cold sense of foreboding settling in his stomach. “You’ve seen my file.”

  “It was necessary, unfortunately. Does that bother you?”

  “Of course not. I love the feeling of being stripped naked in front of strangers.”

  A glimmer of humor twitched the corners of her lips. “I suppose that might have been another way to go. Reviewing your file seemed more efficient, if less ...” Her gaze flicked over him, “... pleasant.”

  Her levity did nothing to ease his trepidation. “I think it’s time you tell me who you are and what you want from me.”

  She laced her fingers together. “I’d be happy to discuss what we want with you.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. There are others who want to help these children, like you do. Many others. And we are fully prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  “To rescue the children, like the sweet girls you met today. As you are aware, sometimes Children’s Aid is not able to pull these little ones out of their situations for one reason or another. The system is good and helps many, but it has limitations. That is where we come in.”

  “What does all of this have to do with me?”

  “We have a network in place to take the children and place them with families who will care for them and give them the safe and loving home they deserve. All we need now is the person to go into the homes and get the children out.”

  His first instinct was to laugh. The sound died in his throat though, when he met her eyes. “Is this some kind of a joke?” He clenched his hands together tightly in front of him.

  “I assure you I am dead serious.”

  He stared at her then slid to the end of the bench.

  Long, graceful fingers closed over his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Hear me out. Please. That’s all I ask.”

  He didn’t move for several seconds until, with a heavy sigh, he shifted back to his seat.

  Her hand dropped from his arm. “Thank you. As I was saying, the children—”

  Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “Are you sure Annie’s is the place to have this conversation?”

  Amusement flitted across her face. “What did you have in mind? A covert meeting down at the docks, perhaps? An abandoned warehouse at midnight?”

  His jaw tightened.

  The amusement faded. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Experience has taught me, however, that those types of meetings only tend to be more conspicuous and elicit more suspicion than meeting in the open. Here, in the busiest section of the biggest city in the country, no one will pay any attention to us. We can say or do anything we like, and no one will give us a second glance.”

  He hesitated, battling with himself, until curiosity narrowly edged out wariness and he leaned back in his seat, keeping his voice low. “All right then. So you’re looking for someone to help you get these children out?”

  “We’re not looking. We’ve found the man we want.”

  He struggled to find his footing, to not be swept away as confusion—and, down deep, a flicker of excitement—swirled around him. “And you think it’s me.”

  She rested both her hands, soft and warm, on his. “I know it is.”

  The breath that had made it halfway down his throat stuck there.

  She was drawing him in, like a spider into the web she was slowly spinning in front of his eyes. He could see her setting up the trap for him but, although his mind yelled at him to run from the danger, his feet refused to move.

  A light, heady perfume drifted in the air around her, mingling with the coffee. The enticing combination made his head spin. He struggled to keep the emotional turmoil off his face as he studied her. Eastern European, he decided, although time and distance had softened the accent to an alluring trace. A thousand questions flared across his mind, but he was having trouble latching on to any one of them. The scent of her, and the feel of her hands on his, wasn’t helping. He settled for a simple, “Why?”

  She pulled her hands back and intertwined her fingers again.

  He drew in a quivering breath and pulled his hands out of her reach, pressing both palms against the cool leather seat on either side of him. If she was about to make some crazy proposal, he was determined to stay clear-headed long enough to hear it.

  “You understand what those children are going through. You care about people, or you wouldn’t be doing the job you are doing. You’re smart and resourceful, and full of courage, or you would never have survived your own childhood. And you have access to the information we need.”

  “Information?”

  “About the children. You can get into the files, tell us who needs us the most so that the team can plan out the missions.”

  The quiet words extinguished the excitement that had sparked, against his will and reason, deep inside him. “You want me to get confidential information for you? You know that’s illegal.”

  She met his gaze steadily but didn’t speak.

  Everything she’s proposing to me is illegal. Passing along information appeared to be the least of the offences. A revelation struck him. “Did you have something to do with those four recent child abductions in Toronto?”

  She hesitated then straightened her shoulders. “Those rescues were the work of my organization, yes.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Then you already have someone to do this job.”

  “We did, yes. Unfortunately, he was compromised on his last mission and has been transported from the city to a safe location. He will no longer be able to work for us, not in Canada, anyway.”

  His shoulders slumped. “So the same thing could happen to me. What makes you think I would risk everything to help you?”

  As an answer, she pulled several file folders out of her briefcase and set them in front of him. He kept his eyes on her for a moment more before dropping them
to the pile. Slowly, he reached for the first one and lifted the cover. His eyes scanned the page. When he came across one particularly heart-wrenching story, he swore softly and slammed the file shut. He flipped quickly through the other ones.

  The fingers of her right hand twitched. If she wasn’t a smoker, she had been, and she clearly wanted a cigarette now. Maybe not as in control as she pretends to be.

  When he finished looking at each file, he lifted his head. His stomach churned. This was insane, but if there was any chance she wasn’t a psychopath and there really was something that could be done … “I’d go in alone?”

  Her fingers stilled. “Yes. Every extra person that goes in increases the risk of discovery exponentially. One man can move much more quickly and discreetly.”

  “How would I handle more than one child?”

  “We choose our cases very carefully. These would all be only children, with no siblings to comfort or help protect them. And they all live with just one parent, in order to decrease the chances of someone detecting your presence, or you being accosted by more than one adult at a time.”

  “Even so, how would I get the child out without him screaming and alerting his parent?”

  “There is a lot of money behind our operation. You should know that. A lot of planning and research has gone into preparing, and you will have many resources at your disposal. We have found the best drug to give to the children so they stay asleep until they arrive at their destination. It does them no harm, I assure you.”

  “And if I am confronted by an angry parent anyway?”

  “You will have everything you need to handle any situation.”

  He tilted his head. “You mean ...?”

  “You will have everything you need.”

  He chewed on his lower lip. “What would I do with the child when I bring him out?”

  “A car will be waiting to take him from you. You simply hand him over and then disappear. In the past we have used a getaway car for that, but with our recent close call, we have decided it would be better for you to make your own way home, less conspicuous.”