A Bodyguard to Remember (23 page)

“Hello? I need to talk to my son or daughter. I need to know they’re safe.”

I took a breath and waited.

“Hey, honey, it’s Mommy. You okay . . . Yeah, I’m okay. Look I know you’re probably scared, but Kallas and I are going to see you soon . . . We’re leaving the house right now.”

Kallas raised the gun level with my face, “I think I’d like to talk to your children too.”

“You don’t think they’re scared enough already?” I snapped.

She held out her free hand for my phone. I gave it up.

“Hello? Boone? Hope? This is Constable Kallas.”

Her brows furrowed then cleared. As she relaxed, so did her aim. The barrel had dipped from my face to my left shoulder, but even if I took her off guard, she was blocking my exit, so I waited.

“Hi Hope. I know things seem a little scary right now, but you’ll see your mother soon . . . I can’t tell you that, but I think you’ll find it very exciting . . . Okay, but just to say good bye.”

She handed me back the phone, mouthing, “We have to go now.”

“We have to go now,” I said. “I’ll see you soon . . . Okay.”

I hung up and automatically pocketed my phone.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go. I want to see my kids.”

Kallas backed out of the bathroom and gestured me to precede her downstairs. She waved me toward the front door. I started toward the kitchen.

“I need to get my pack,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere without my laptop. My stories are there.”

I felt the draft from the open back door just before crossing the threshold. Kallas must have felt it too because she grabbed hold of me and pressed the gun to my temple.

“The gun she’s holding isn’t loaded,” I shouted—not for Kallas’s benefit—but to inform Zeke and the two uniformed officers pointing guns at us.

After a dull click that proved my statement, Kallas tossed the gun aside and reached for the one in her waistband.

“No way,” I shrieked, throwing myself backwards, knocking us both over.

There was a muffled shot followed by a deafening scream. I might have screamed too. I rolled off Kallas, letting the two uniformed officers secure her and assess the damage. I fought down the urge to giggle. All I could think of was, good thing she wasn’t a man.

I heard Zeke’s voice cut through the confusion.

“Merrick, she’s bleeding.”

No shit, I thought. Then I looked down and realized he meant me.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, wondering where Merrick was. Kallas’s hand grabbed my jeans, twisting the fabric in her fist, painfully knuckling my shin.

“You’ve just killed your children,” she rasped, obviously in a lot of pain.

Merrick crouched beside me and pried her fingers off me.

Zeke stayed with Kallas, while Merrick helped me to my feet and led me to the kitchen table so I could sit. I was a bloody mess, but only because my fistula wound had torn open and was seeping blood and pus. I had a powder burn across my butt, but it mostly hurt my jeans.

Someone put a blanket around my shoulders. Evidently, there was a medic in the group because Merrick requisitioned a compress and bandages so he could fix my dressing. His hands were steady and he seemed to know what he was doing. I, on the other hand, coming down from yet another adrenalin rush, was shaking like a washing machine on the spin cycle.

“Y-you’d think I’d b-be used to this,” I stuttered, holding my head up with my elbow braced on the table.

Then I thought about my kids and it was as if an electric shock went through me. I dropped my hand from my head to clutch Merrick’s sleeve.

“Hope and Boone.”

“Hope and Boone are fine,” he said in a low voice, gently easing my grip so he could finish my dressing. After a minute or so he continued. “Your daughter was brilliant—as brilliant as her mother. I only had time to give her a few instructions before I patched her through to you.”

“She’s probably thrilled she got to help in a real case. But does she know?”

He pulled my shirt down over the bandage and took my hands in his. His eyes held mine. A calming wave washed over me.

“She only knew that she was helping to trap a criminal, not that you were in danger,” he said. “I didn’t tell her and she was smart enough not to waste time asking.”

When I used the phone, I called Merrick, not my kids. When Kallas wanted to talk to one of them, I was afraid I’d be caught out. Either Merrick was very fast off the mark, or he had my bathroom bugged. Or maybe he just heard us—we were loud enough. Merrick and his officers were already on the scene, having been alerted by Kallas entering my home.

“I told her we’d call back when the dust settled,” he continued.

I squeezed his hands.

“Thank you.”

It was a woefully inadequate expression of gratitude. Thanks to Merrick, Hope and Boone had been spending the last month or so in Ottawa, living at his home, under the guardianship and protection of his son, back at the school they had attended last spring. Their presence there was on a need to know basis. Even Seth thought the kids were with his grandmother.

“Nana Morgan!” Tension flowed back into me, overwhelming the peaceful calm Merrick had established.

“Probably disappointed that she missed the action,” Merrick said, his tone matter of fact, but his eyes smiling. “Her brother reported trespassers while she was at a Women’s Federation meeting. The OPP picked them up and reported to me minutes before you called.”

A paramedic in the familiar uniform of our city ambulance service appeared beside me. I blinked, suddenly realizing that Kallas, Zeke and that almost everyone else had left. My attention had been so focussed, I hadn’t noticed.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure yet.

Merrick explained that I had a pre-existing wound and that I was suffering from adrenalin shock, but it seemed to be subsiding. Naturally, the paramedic, who introduced himself as Gray, wasn’t going to take Merrick’s word. Gray produced a blood-pressure cuff and politely suggested that Merrick might be needed elsewhere.

“No, I’m not,” Merrick asserted.

He eased himself up out of his crouching position, keeping hold of my hands. I’m pretty sure I heard his knees creak. He let go of one hand just long enough to snag a chair so he could sit.

“I’ll be okay if you need to take care of business,” I assured him, not sounding at all convincing.

He shook his head.

“I decided to recuse myself from the investigation. I’ve turned over control to Zeke and the forensic team.”

Probably just as well. Now he wouldn’t find out until later that I shot a hole in my bathroom door, and someone else would find the ejected shells hidden under spent tissues and sanitary products in my bathroom garbage. I wasn’t sure if he’d be appalled that I shot at Kallas or disappointed I didn’t try harder to hit her or maybe he’d just be as thankful as I was that Kallas hadn’t noticed I handed back an unloaded weapon.

“No offense, sir, but you’re in the way,” the paramedic insisted, stepping back to usher Merrick away.

Merrick didn’t move. He didn’t take his eyes off me. He freed up one of my hands, holding the other in both of his and gave an affirmative nod.

“Deal with it.”

Gray worked around Merrick and quickly came to the conclusion that my wound needed the attention of a doctor. That meant another trip to the hospital. Not given any other choice, he let Merrick ride in the back with me.

They kept me in the hospital overnight. Seth took the next morning off to take me home. Rick was already there, making mac and cheese for our lunch. The three of us sat at the kitchen table and I brought them up to date. Seth laughed when he heard about the iron bar up my sleeve, but blanched when I mentioned shooting a hole in the bathroom door. Neither of them was happy with me for lying about the whereabouts of the twins.

“You should have told me,” Seth said.

“You could have told me,” said Rick.

I shrugged.

“Not my decision. You were still suspects, as far as the RCMP was concerned. Anyway, with any luck this is the end of it. They have enough on Kallas to convict her of murder, attempted murder, espionage and treason. If we still had the death penalty, she’d be executed. Instead, they hope to milk her for more information.”

“They won’t let her plea bargain, will they?” Rick asked.

I shook my head. “As far as I know, her cooperation will only buy her a better and safer class of incarceration. Some inmates think treason is going too far and none will be happy having a cop in their midst.”

“Her fellow cops aren’t going to be happy either,” said Rick.

“Maybe not, but CSIS is very cheerful, according to Merrick.”

“CSIS?” asked Seth.

“Canadian Security Intelligence Service,” said Rick.

Seth grunted. “I know what CSIS stands for.”

I answered the question Seth meant to ask. “Merrick brought them on board early on, but they were in the background of the investigation.”

Seth nodded. “Have you told the kids? Hope is going to be especially disappointed. Delia Kallas was something of a hero to her.”

“Not quite that,” I said. “She was good about answering Hope’s questions though. I told her it’s like Kallas was the highly respected Vulcan ambassador who turned out to be a Romulan spy. Like Captain Picard, we can all feel like fools for not suspecting her earlier.”

“And CSIS and the RCMP didn’t suspect her either?”

“They suspected everyone. When we realized that I wasn’t just any asset, that there was a personal connection, everyone I knew was checked out. You two especially.”

Seth nodded. “That makes sense.”

Rick nodded too, but I’d bet dollars to a snack pack of Timbits that he hadn’t realized how closely he’d been watched and that must have irked him.

“I’ve got to go,” Seth announced.

I walked him to the front door.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about the kids.”

“That’s okay. I understand.” He surprised me with a tight hug. “Just don’t let it happen again, okay, Pru? None of it. Especially the part with you being in danger. Sarah’s self-esteem suffers when I worry about you too much.”

“She should know she has nothing to be concerned about. Whatever our problems have ever been, disloyalty has never been one of them. You’re a good friend and a good husband . . . to Sarah.”

Seth left smiling. I doubted things would go so smoothly back in the kitchen.

“Rick—”

“Pru—”

We spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time, waiting for the other to continue. Rick spoke first.

“I know I’ve been pushing you lately. I guess I don’t like being alone much. Living with you and the twins has been great. The chemistry between us . . . but,” he added, “I realize now that I tried to move in too quickly —that you weren’t ready.”

“Rick . . .”

“No wait, Pru. Let me get this out. You are a very special lady and it would be difficult for me not to fall for you.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Especially since you saved my neck. The thing is, maybe I was rushing myself too.”

I took a sip of my coffee, holding onto the cup as I leaned against the counter. “Did you know it was your ex trying to run you down outside the café?”

Rick shook his head. “She wouldn’t really. Lorraine is—”

“Mentally unstable. As soon as Merrick interviewed her, the likelihood of you running a spy ring while involved with her went down to practically zero probability.”

“Who knew Lorraine could be so useful.”

I didn’t blame him for feeling bitter, but I did blame him for not trying to get her help while he was with her.

He squinted at me, for all the world like I was a page of print that he couldn’t quite read.

“I don’t get it. I know you find me attractive. There’s been something building between us since we first met.” He closed the space between us. “Why won’t you admit it?”

Using my coffee as a shield, I tried to deflect his declarations. “You’ve been wonderful to me and the kids while we dealt with all the craziness.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. We’ve been wonderful together. I love Hope and Boone. They love me. Nana has already told me not to make the same mistake Seth made.” He grinned. “I called her this afternoon to chew her out about not keeping me in the loop and got an earful. You’re not going to tell me that you’re willing to fly in the face of Nana Morgan.”

I wasn’t going to get to tell him anything. He wasn’t going to let me get a word in edgewise. Too tired to stop him, I waited until he wound down. Even then, I didn’t say a word. He finally read my face and his face fell.

“Why won’t you give us a chance, Pru?”

It was like a play. Even as Rick asked the question, the answer walked through the front door.

“Hartley?”

“Kitchen,” I called back.

My face lit up. Rick’s face shut down.

“Oh . . .” he said.

Merrick appeared in the doorway. Instead of his ubiquitous dark suit, he wore jeans and a V-neck sweater. He gave me a half smile. Then he held out a hand to Rick.

“Court. Thanks for taking care of Prudence today.”

Rick accepted the hand.

“That’s what family is for.”

Merrick nodded.

“Well,” Rick said, assuming a brisk tone, “I guess I’ll go home. Got a paper to write.”

“Thank you, Rick.”

He gave me a forced smile and left as quickly as he could.

As soon as he was gone, Merrick wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a full-body contact hug.

“How bad?” he asked, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

“I’ll live,” I murmured. “Even with the painkillers, driving to Ottawa is going to be a bitch.”

“I didn’t mean your wound.”

I pulled away just enough to be able to look up at his face. With a sideways nod, he indicated the direction of the front door, Rick’s exit.

“Bad,” I said. “I tried to say something earlier, but until last night . . .”

*    *    *

Last night. After months of being on tenterhooks, I finally knew where I stood with Merrick. He never left my side, regardless of the orders, requests, and pleas from medical and law enforcement personnel. He didn’t let go of my hand unless he absolutely had to, and then he reclaimed it as soon as possible.