by Jonas Saul
She stared up at the dark ceiling, listening for her sister. The old man outside on the porch had blocked them again. Soon he would leave and Vivian would return. With everything coming together so fast, she needed her sister close.
What Sarah really needed was to learn if Parkman ever got his suitcase back from the airport. If he did, everything would work out. The note she left him would save his life. She didn’t want to think about the consequences if he didn’t get his luggage.
After three slow, deep breaths, she rose from her crouch and advanced along the edge of the wall toward the main corridor. After several floor squeaks, she made it to the door that led down to the basement.
Like a hunter in a blind, she stood soundlessly and waited. If the person downstairs had heard her advance, they would be waiting, too. The first person to make a noise would lose and Sarah was prepared not to budge until morning.
Under a minute later, something thunked below her loud enough to be heard on the front porch. Thirio certainly wasn’t concerned for noise.
She eased the basement door open just far enough to squeeze through and gently stepped down onto the first stair. Her heart was the loudest noise in the house now. It beat a rapid pulse throughout her body, drilling her ears with an incessant thrumming. She breathed quietly through her mouth and thought about her future. How long could someone handle this lifestyle, providing they lived long enough to examine the answer to that question?
She touched the second stair with the softness of a feather, her weight easing onto the wooden step, pound by grueling pound. She held the gun in front of her, the handle covered in sweat. On the third stair, she changed hands, wiped her sweaty palm on her pants, then changed hands again. The fourth stair was low enough to bend over and glance into the basement but there was no need at this point—the basement was pitch dark. She descended by feel alone. As much as the blackness was unnerving, it also settled her. If she couldn’t see the perp in the basement, then he couldn’t see her.
She moved to the fifth step. What if Thirio had infrared googles? Slightly bent at the waist, Sarah felt the wall beside her until her hand rounded the edge where the wall became the basement ceiling. She had descended the stairs far enough to be able to see the expanse of the basement with the benefit of light. Since the dark was impenetrable and the moonlight had no reign down here, she would have to continue down the stairs, move to a side wall, prepare her weapon, and turn on her cell’s flashlight option.
It occurred to her she hadn’t heard the person in the basement since that last sound several minutes ago. Waiting on the stairs to hear something from him would be ridiculous as she was too vulnerable. She needed to get to the bottom of the steps and move to relative safety until she could get a grasp of what she was dealing with.
She eased down another step. Then another.
Someone moved close by. She froze, the grip on her weapon tightening, all her senses on alert. Was it a shuffle of clothing? Or maybe it was a footstep momentarily brushing the basement floor? How close was he to her?
Too vulnerable to remain where she was, Sarah moved to the next step, then the next. But there was nothing there. The stair wasn’t where she expected it to be. Her balance lost, ankle twisted under her weight, Sarah spun sideways as she pinwheeled her arms for balance. Emitting no noise while clenching her hands to avoid dropping the gun or the phone, she clenched her eyes closed in the seconds it took to smash onto the basement floor.
Pain flared in her shoulder upon impact as the air was thrust from her lungs. If her approach to the basement could be considered mouse-like, then her fall was a lion’s roar. Anyone would’ve easily heard the expelled air and the heavy thud on the cement floor, even from upstairs. Some kind of film, probably dust, had billowed up and was descending back earthward to land on her face. She blinked her eyes in the dark, then closed them to keep the offending particles out. She rolled onto her back, slipped the gun away, and waited until her breathing got under control.
Something moved close by again. That same scuffling sound. Rodents? An animal?
She rolled to her good side, got a knee under her, and then got to her feet. She needed light. She needed to know what was down there with her. After one more deep breath to help manage the pain in her throbbing shoulder, Sarah flipped on her cell phone’s flashlight.
When she glanced upward and raised the cell to illuminate her surroundings, Thirio stood beside her.
She let out a small yip.
“Good evening, Miss Roberts.”
Thirio dove forward and like a professional striker on any FIFA team, kicked Sarah in the side of the face. A flash of lightning entered her head, then all the light dimmed and the darkness of the basement enveloped her.
Chapter 38
Parkman waited in front of the police station, leaning against Lee’s car. He’d had two coffees—wishing he’d had a small flask of whiskey to help with the stress of being away from Sarah for so long—while constantly checking his watch. Would Lee go to the Campbell Winery without him? Parkman was a civilian and this was police work. Maybe Lee felt things had gone to the place where he couldn’t keep Parkman on the case with him.
He pushed off Lee’s car and started for the front door of the RCMP building just as the door opened and Lee ran outside holding a bullet-proof vest.
“If you’re coming with me, you’re going to have to put this on,” Lee said as he ran up to Parkman.
“What took you so long?” Parkman donned the vest over his collar shirt. The toothpick in his mouth nicked the edge of the vest and was ripped from his lips, falling end over end to the dirty cracked sidewalk. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.
Lee was already at his door. “Organizing this response team takes time. These guys are the best of the best.”
“How many?” Parkman asked, already feeling naked without his pick. His last one lay on the sidewalk.
“Including you and me, six.”
Parkman dropped into the passenger seat, waited a heartbeat, then turned to Lee who remained outside standing by his door. “You coming?”
Lee looked at Parkman through his open window. “Yeah. Just waiting on a guy.”
“Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Already en route. They’ll meet us there.”
Parkman waited—it seemed he was always waiting for Lee. They should have left an hour ago. The delay might put Sarah’s life at risk.
“You coming?” Parkman shouted, agitation setting in. “We have to go. Don’t wait for this guy any longer.”
Lee leaned down again to look in at Parkman. “We have to. He was the one who retrieved your bag from the airport. Once he gets here, we go. When we have Sarah, I’m dropping both of you back at the airport and personally sending you both back home to Toronto. This ends tonight.” He shook his head. “I can’t have her death on my conscience.”
“Your conscience? What about mine?”
Lee motioned with his finger. “Get in the back, Parkman. You’re not here officially. We’re calling this a ride-along, even though we stopped doing ride-alongs a while ago.”
Parkman opened the door, left it open, and got in the back, leaving that door open as well.
Finally, after about a five-minute wait, a man in a jean jacket that barely fit him exited the building toting Parkman’s and Sarah’s bags as if they were small toys. The guy was a monster in denim. He was so large, his pants probably had to be tailored because no men’s store could clothe this guy off the rack.
“The brown one’s mine,” he shouted out the door.
“Put the red one in the trunk,” Lee said. “Give Parkman the brown one.”
Parkman grabbed his case from the monster of a man, placed it on the seat next to him, and closed the door. Once the cop was inside the car, Lee introduced him as Officer Mark Gossett. The guy’s shoulders were so broad they were the width of the front seat he rested his back against. How long in the gym did it take to get that big?
Le
e raced along Lakeshore Road, passing slow moving vehicles when he could. A dash light strobed through the dark streets, but he kept the siren off.
Parkman opened his suitcase and rummaged around inside to locate the note Sarah told him to look for. He hoped the note wasn’t time sensitive and it wasn’t too late to do what she might have asked of him. The backseat was lit only by passing streetlights, but it was enough for him to find the small note.
“What’s that?” Lee asked.
Parkman met Lee’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “A note from Sarah.”
“What’d she say? Anything about tonight?”
“It’s all about tonight. Thirio has one more explosive device and he’s planning his final act tonight.”
“Did she say where?”
The monster in the front passenger seat twisted around to look at Parkman, his face deadpan.
“Yeah. The Campbell Winery.”
Lee smashed the steering wheel with his right hand. “Oh my shit.”
“What?” Officer Gossett said, his voice deeper than Parkman thought it would be. “We’re heading to the bomb?”
“The Campbell family are rich,” Lee said. “They’ve been in the Kelowna area since the 1800s.” He met Parkman’s eyes in the rearview again. “The Campbells own The Fast Way grocery store chain.”
“So Thirio, whoever that is, has a thing for the Campbells.”
“There’s a group of people who hate the Campbells more than anyone else.”
“Who?”
“The Martins. They own a winery next door to the Campbells. Those two families have been feuding for a century.”
“If this is a family feud, then why use bombs on strangers?” Parkman didn’t buy it. “Why kill innocents?”
“As soon as we get there, we’ll ask.”
Lee got on the radio and ordered two available units to attend the Martin Winery and detain all persons at their home until he could arrive to question them.
“This ends tonight, Parkman,” Lee shouted to be heard over the dispatcher’s voice on the car’s radio. “All of it.”
Parkman looked down at the note. He reread the rest of what Sarah had written for him—the part that he didn’t tell Lee. The part about locating the blue spruce tree and how vital that was. He also read the part about Officer Mason’s and Officer Calder’s death, just like Sarah predicted back at the airport, which seemed a lifetime ago.
Why didn’t people ever listen to Sarah?
Chapter 39
Mason ordered Calder to stop a hundred yards from the front driveway of the Campbell Winery’s main house. Calder pulled over, killed the lights and the engine.
“Why stop here?” Calder asked.
Mason stared out the windshield at the large family residence up ahead on the hill. The Campbells were one of the richest families in the city. They owned grocery store chains, two booths at the Kelowna farmer’s market, and sold wines known around the world. That didn’t include their philanthropy and the charity work they performed.
“We have to assume Sarah’s already here. I’ll work my way to the side of the house and cover you while you go to the front door and knock. We explain who Sarah is and that we have reason to believe this fugitive is coming to their home.”
“This approach makes me think we’re afraid.”
“Fuck you,” Mason said. “This approach is sane and keeps us alive. Sarah’s fuckin’ nuts.”
“Okay. We’ll do it your way. But just look at all those windows.”
Mason stared up past the large circular fountain in the middle of the driveway. The front of the house had at least twenty windows. At least half of them were lit up with the large window in the middle illuminated by a huge chandelier.
“You think Sarah’s in there with all those lights on?” Calder asked. “And what would she be doing here, anyway?”
“You’re not paying attention, Calder.” Mason tapped the side of his head with his knuckles. “Sarah’s a fraud. She shows up in Kelowna and kills Barry Ashford way back when. She comes back to Kelowna and does this to me.” He raised his cast, then set it back down gently. “She’s after the Campbells for one reason and that has got to be money. She’s a crook and she’s here to steal from them. Somehow, she’s here for money, I just know it.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’s offering some sort of psychic bullshit reading or something and because she can leverage the fact that she works with the police she’s making a killing. Who knows?” He wiped his nose gingerly, making sure not to bump it. “All I know is that the Campbells are a great target for someone like Sarah.” He turned to Calder. “How do we know? She was probably behind this whole thing from the start. She could’ve set these plans in motion when she was here the last time. All she has to do is show up and the bombings stop. Sarah looks like a hero.” He snapped his fingers. “How else does she know where the bombs are going to go off if this isn’t her doing?” He raised his voice. “She’s the criminal here. This terror assault on our city is her doing. When we break this case, they’ll give us fucking medals.”
“Medals?” Calder asked, the skeptical look on his face told Mason everything he needed to know about how Calder understood how things worked.
“Fuck you. Twice.” He cracked open his door, then shut it. “Kill the interior light, you ass.”
Calder adjusted the dial on the dash.
Mason opened the door, twisted in his seat to place his legs on the ground, then pushed up and out of the car.
“Let’s go,” he said. “You knock on the door. I’ll be watching your back.”
Calder got out and started up the street toward the house without saying a word. In another world, at another time, Mason would have drawn his weapon and shot Calder. He couldn’t believe the asshole had no imagination and couldn’t figure these things out on his own. Questioning Mason’s brilliant logic wasn’t just disrespectful, it was revealing. It revealed who Calder really was, how much he trusted and believed in Mason, and to what length he was willing to go for Mason.
In other words, Calder was just here because he didn’t want to deal with Mason if he chose the alternative. Calder wasn’t here because he was after Sarah Roberts or trying to right a wrong. However tonight played out, Mason understood Calder’s heart wasn’t in it.
He was dead weight, and Mason wouldn’t carry him after tonight. In fact, Mason had grown to hate Calder. If bullets started to fly and people started to die, Mason would make sure Calder went first and not the other way around. There was no way Mason was dying for that piece of shit. Not with that attitude.
As Mason traversed the lawn toward the side of the house, he whispered under his breath, “This is the big time, baby. We stand side by side or not at all.”
When he got in position, he signaled for Calder to knock on the front door. Calder raised his hand but before he could knock, the door opened. Calder stepped back. “Mr. Campbell,” he muttered in surprise.
“What are you two cops doing running around my property?” James, the Campbell Patriarch, asked Calder.
“Two cops?” Calder said. He sounded surprised.
James stepped out past Calder and pointed at Mason. “You there. Hiding in the shrubs at the side of the house. Come on out. I watched you both on camera since you left your car down the road.” James Campbell moved to the edge of the porch. From his position by the side of the house, Mason could barely make out the brown corduroy pants and the checked shirt in the porch light. “You want to come up to the front porch here to join your partner and explain to me what’s going on?”
Mason stepped out from behind the bush and started for the porch. It was likely Sarah wasn’t here yet. But it also presented great possibilities. If Mr. Campbell had that kind of security detail, they’d be able to watch from the inside of the house as Sarah approached. The arrest would be simple. They could drive away and be done with her before morning.
Mason grinned as he ascended the Campbell’s front steps. It was going to be fine evening af
ter all.
Chapter 40
Something bit into her side. Something pulled her arm. She was being dragged. The rough cement floor scraped her skin near her right hip. Her shoulder, the one that took the brunt of the hit on the basement floor when she stumbled from the stairs, felt like it had been set on fire.
She tried to pull away from her captor, but the effort was weak. The man mumbled something like meddling or bitch to himself as he tightened his grip. She twisted to the side just enough to stop the floor from scraping her hip.