After we had finished with the police, my mother said, “We’d better go and tell Mac what’s going on.” By the time we got there, Vern had already briefed my father. And there he was, grinning. Mom looked calm and pleased to see he was recovering. We were a pretty happy group.
“I’d sure like to talk to Trisha,” I said.
My father glanced at Vern.
“She was released from here an hour ago, but you’ll probably find her at St. Mary’s,” Vern said. “That’s where her mother is.”
St. Mary’s specializes in cancer treatments.
“I can drive you,” my mother said.
. . .
I bought some flowers in the hospital gift shop and took them with me upstairs to the room where Trisha’s mother was. Through the open door, I could see Trisha sitting by her mother’s bedside. She looked pale and tired. She got up when she saw me and thanked me for the flowers, which she set on a table near her mother’s bed. Then she came out into the hall.
“I wanted to apologize,” I said. “I’m sorry for what I said at school, and I’m really sorry for leading your stepfather to you.”
“It’s okay,” Trisha said. “You didn’t know. And the police said you saved my life.”
I glanced into the room behind her.
“How is your mother?”
Trisha moved away from the door. Her voice was quiet but strong when she said, “Not good. But you don’t know my mom. She’s a fighter. She’s not going to give up, and neither am I.”
For the first time, I actually admired Trisha. She seemed so determined.
“What happened that day, Trisha?” I said. “The day you left school.”
“I went home to get the work I had done. I really did do it, Robyn,” she said. “I know you think I didn’t, but I did. It’s just with my mom. . . .”
“I believe you,” I said.
“I let myself into the house and Carl was there. I heard him talking to a man he called Carmine. There was another man with him—he was really creepy. He was the guy who found me at Beej’s place.”
The man with the aviator sunglasses.
“The man, Carmine, was telling Carl that what had happened to the fire investigator could easily happen to him. The night before I was in my mom’s room with her. We were watching the news together. I like to keep her company, you know? There was an item about the fire investigator. It said he had committed suicide. Carl came into the room while it was on. You should have seen the look on his face when he heard that. He went white. The report mentioned the fire at Carmine Doig’s stable. And here was Carl, talking to a man named Carmine, and Carmine was threatening him.”
“Anyway,” Trish continued, “the guy with Carmine came out into the hall and saw me. He tried to grab me. So did Carl, but I got away from them. When I was running out the door, he said something about my mother. That something would happen to her. But I ran anyway. Afterward, I started to worry. What did he mean? Was he going to hurt her?”
“Is that why you tried to call home?”
She nodded. “I phoned from a shopping mall. Carl wouldn’t let me speak to her. He said if I didn’t come home, he couldn’t guarantee that those men wouldn’t hurt her. He said they would hurt her for sure if I went to the police. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want him to find me, but I didn’t want him to hurt my mother, either.”
“Is that when you contacted Kenny?”
She nodded.
“He said he knew someone who could help me.”
“Beej.”
“Yeah. And I tried to call home again. But Carl still wouldn’t let me talk to my mother. He told me to come home. He said, ‘You don’t know what kind of people these are, Trisha. But if you come home, I think I could convince them not to hurt you.’ I didn’t believe him, so I made a recording, just in case anything happened to me or my mother. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it.”
“Where is the recording?”
“Kenny has it. I told him that if anything happened, he should give it to the police.”
“I heard that your stepfather is blaming it all on Carmine Doig and his people,” I said. “He says Doig was blackmailing him, that it was Doig’s idea to make it look like you ran away for good. They were going to say you took off because you thought your mother. . . .” I couldn’t make myself say the words. “I’m glad it worked out, Trisha,” I said. “I hope your mother gets better.”
“Thanks, Robyn,” she said. “Me too.”
. . .
When I went to see my father again, he was looking a lot better. He sat up as I told him what Trisha had told me. But there was one thing I didn’t understand.
“Who attacked you, Dad? Did it have anything to do with Carmine Doig?”
My father nodded. He said he’d received a call promising him information. He had been able to pick one of the men who’d attacked him out of a photo array. The man my father had identified worked for Carmine Doig. I went pale when I realized how close my father had come to—
“It’s okay, Robbie,” my father said. He squeezed my hand. “I’m fine.”
It took me a while to get rid of the scared, shaky feeling. But I had one more question. I almost didn’t want to ask it, but I needed to know.
“Dad, did you tell Mr. Hanover to trick me?”
The question seemed to hurt my father.
“You went outside in the hall to talk to him the last time he was at your place,” I reminded him. “The next thing I knew, he handed me a letter with a tracking device in it.”
“He told me he had the feeling you weren’t being completely honest,” my father said. He paused to look at me, until I felt my cheeks flush. “He said Denise was frantic to get a message to Trisha. I told him I trusted you, Robbie. I didn’t like the way he approached you with that letter, and I told him so. He apologized. I should have thought more about it at the time.”
“I should have told you about Kenny,” I said.
He looked hard at me. “I’m sure you had your reasons not to,” he said. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. You’re also old enough to live with the consequences.”
He was right about that.
Isat in my mother’s car at the curb outside of my father’s building.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I said.
“Robyn, for heaven’s sake, you’ve asked me that a dozen times today. The answer is still the same. No, I don’t mind.”
“But we’ve always spent my birthday together,” I said.
“Well, maybe it’s time for a change,” she said.
“You want to come upstairs and say hi to Dad?”
“I don’t think so.” She looked at me for a few moments. “When you and Nick go out tonight,” she said, “your father’s going to tell you, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ But that doesn’t cover much territory. So do me a favor: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I laughed, and then, because she was serious, I promised.
“What are you going to do, Mom?”
“I’m going to go and see Ted.”
“And?”
“And we’re going to talk.”
“Are you going to say yes?”
She shook her head slowly. “But I don’t think I’m going to say no, either. I need time, Robyn.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “I really like Ted. But I really love you.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”
When I let myself into my father’s loft, Nick was sitting on the couch looking nervous. My father looked amused. He engulfed me in as big a daddy bear hug as he could under the circumstances and said, “Happy birthday, Robbie.” When he finally let me go, he pressed a small box into my hand. I opened it. It was my birthstone, set in gold on a gold chain, with matching earrings. I hugged him again.
Nick stood in the background. He was out of Somerset and staying with my father temporarily. He’d finally talked to someone
at Somerset, and he and his aunt were going to counseling. My father had offered to set Nick up in a space below his apartment if it came to that. Nick had looked so relieved. He didn’t get breaks like that too often.
He looked great in black pants, a purple-blue shirt that complemented his eyes, and a black jacket. It all looked brand new.
“I took him shopping,” my father said. “You know, so Fred won’t have a fit.”
“Fred? Fred Smith?” The owner of La Folie.
“The other part of your present,” my father said. “Anything on the menu. It’s all taken care of.”
I hugged him again. Then I turned to Nick, who smiled shyly at me.
“You okay?” I said.
“It’s just that the place is so fancy,” he said. “What if I used the wrong fork or something?”
“Just watch me,” I said. I took his hand in mine.
“Have a good time, you two,” my father said. “And Robbie? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked at me.
CHECK OUT THE NEXT BOOK IN THE
ROBYN HUNTER MYSTERIES SERIES:
NOTHING
TO LOSE
A hand clamped itself firmly over my mouth and nose. I panicked and started to kick frantically. I felt hot breath on my face. Lips pressed up against my ears. “Be quiet, please,” a voice said. “I have a gun pointed at your friend.”
ROBYN HUNTER MYSTERIES
#1 Last Chance
Robyn’s scared of dogs—like, really scared. But she agrees to spend her summer working at an animal shelter anyway. (It’s a long story.) Robyn soon discovers that many juvenile offenders also volunteer at the shelter—including Nick D’Angelo, a boy from Robyn’s past. A boy she hoped to never see again.
Nick has a talent for getting into trouble, but after his latest arrest, Robyn suspects that he just might be innocent. And she sets out to prove it. . . .
#2 You Can Run
Trisha Hanover has run away from home before. But this time, she hasn’t come back. To make matters worse, Robyn blew up at Trisha the same morning she disappeared. Now Robyn feels responsible, and she sets out to track Trisha down.
As Robyn follows Trisha’s path, she learns some harsh truths about the runaway’s life. And when she finally locates Trisha, Robyn also finds herself in danger.
#3 Nothing to Lose
Robyn is excited to hang out with her sorta-boyfriend Nick after weeks apart. Nick has a dark history, but Robyn’s sure he has reformed—until she notices suspicious behavior during their trip to Chinatown.
Turns out Nick’s been doing favors for dangerous people. Robyn urges him to stop, but the situation might be out of her control—and Nick’s. . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Norah McClintock is the author of several mystery series for teenagers and a five-time winner of the Crime Writers of Canada’s Arthur Ellis Award for Best Juvenile Crime Novel. McClintock was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. She lives in Toronto with her husband and children.
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