A Bodyguard to Remember (5 page)

“Is Zeke okay?” I asked, grateful to be relieved of the extra weight.

“I’m fine,” said Zeke, voice shaking. He came within my view. His upper left sleeve had a blossoming red stain.

“You’re bleeding!”

“A nick, that’s all.”

“Get the cuffs, Zeke,” Merrick told him. “We need to call an ambulance.”

“I’ve got the 9-1-1 dispatcher here,” I said, bending for my cell phone. I almost passed out. I sat down because that was a better choice than falling. “Still there?” I asked the operator. “We need an ambulance.”

“Two ambulances and the police,” Merrick said calmly.

“Two ambulances and the police,” I repeated.

She told me the police were on the way. Big surprise.

“Where are Hope and Boone?” asked Merrick.

I pointed towards the bathroom.

Zeke had returned with two sets of handcuffs.

“Don’t let them come out yet,” Merrick told me, keeping his eyes on Zeke and the intruders. “Stand by the door and talk to them. Tell them we’ll get you another room soon.”

I nodded. Feeling cramped and sore, I pulled myself up. Oops. Had I peed myself? How embarrassing.

I grabbed a hand towel from the stack near the sink.

Good news, I didn’t pee myself. Bad news, we might need an extra ambulance. That was my last thought as the world spiralled into darkness.

M
aybe he was just doing his job, but Sergeant Merrick was my hero. He coordinated the paramedics, police, ambulance attendants, and an intrepid reporter who came running when three ambulances, an EMT truck from the fire department and half a dozen police cruisers congregated at the hotel. More importantly, at least to me, he calmed Hope and Boone, assuring them that their mother was fine, even if she was sitting with her head between her knees, holding a bloody towel. He got them clear of the chaos and made sure they got safely to their father’s with a police escort.

“I’ll have a uniformed officer stay with them overnight.” he assured.

Once they were away, Merrick signalled the next set of ambulance attendants to help me onto a stretcher.

“We meet again.”

I focussed on the speaker. It took me a moment, but I connected the dots. He checked on us the night before.

“Bob,” he said, in case I forgot.

I nodded. “I remember.”

“It looks like you were wrong,” he said as he helped me onto the stretcher. “Bullet wounds are catching.”

Flashing his badge, Merrick managed to get to us shortly after we arrived at the hospital. He made sure Zeke and I were kept together and stayed with us, even after repeatedly being told by the attending nurses to leave. Then, when we were alone, Merrick asked the big question. “What happened?”

I knew what he was really asking.

“Why didn’t I hide in the bathroom with Hope and Boone? You think I didn’t lock the door properly, but I put the security bar on and everything. I called you as soon as I could. What took you so long?”

I took a dive off the edge of rationality into the deep end of guilt and second-guessing. I burst into tears. I hate it when that happens.

“Give her a break, Sarge,” said Zeke, raising himself up on his good elbow. “She saved my life.”

Merrick, who had taken my outburst calmly, raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Zeke temporised, “she intended to save my life. She couldn’t know that I had moved out of the line of fire.” He tried to sit up. “I know, I never should have been in his line of fire in the first place . . . probably should stick to the backroom stuff . . .”

In the midst of my sobbing and Zeke’s self-flagellation, Merrick told us to calm down.

Big mistake. That might have worked on Zeke. Don’t know. Wasn’t paying attention. For me, it was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. All my fear and guilt transformed into anger directed at him. I grabbed him by the shirt-front and pulled myself up with the strength that comes with hysteria.

“I’m not a cop. I’m a mother,” I shouted, hopping bare footed onto the cold floor. “I didn’t hide with my children because I figured that whoever it was, they were looking for me. If they found me, they wouldn’t go looking for my kids too. I didn’t know if you’d get there in time to stop Hope and Boone from becoming hostages and I wasn’t going to risk it. I wasn’t going to risk Zeke dying either and I would have done the same for you.”

I spoke in a rush, losing volume and air as I went, losing momentum as I realized the attention I was drawing. Not one of my shining moments.

I started to collapse. I tried to steady myself using my handhold on Merrick’s shirt. He grabbed my shoulders to brace me. He didn’t lose his cool for an instant.

“Call a nurse,” he told Zeke. “She’s bleeding.”

I gave a choke of laughter. There were at least two nurses, an orderly, and three men in uniform ranged behind Merrick.

My vision got blurry. I blinked to clear it, refocused, and noticed that Merrick was wearing red and green plaid pyjamas. I let go of his top and smoothed out the soft material.

“Flannel,” I said, and passed out.

*    *    *

A uniformed officer peered down at me. I blinked up at her. “I remember you.”

“I remember you too, Ms. Hartley.”

She had been the first cop I talked to when this whole mess started. I did her resume. Why couldn’t I remember her name now?

“How am I?” I asked.

A nurse answered the question. I hadn’t noticed her at first. I saw she was changing my IV bag. From the look of it, I was getting saline, an antibiotic, and whole blood.

“You were a couple of quarts down,” said the nurse cheerfully, “but we almost have you topped up now.”

I spent a lot of time around medical equipment after my mother’s stroke. I became conversant with common medical procedures and terminology.

“Am I on a catheter?”

“No.”

“Then,” I said firmly, “I’ve really got to pee.”

The officer chuckled. Between the two women, I was helped up and supported to the washroom. I didn’t need much help getting back. My side hurt, but my head was clearing. Once I was back in bed, I tried to catch up.

“What happened since I passed out?”

The officer stepped back and let the nurse field that question.

“You’re lucky, the bullet went through your side without hitting anything vital on the way,” she said. “The surgery was minor, but you lost a lot of blood.”

“How’s Zeke?”

She shrugged.

“Constable Chan?” asked my guard.

“Yes.”

“His wound was dressed and he was released last night,” she replied.

“I have to go,” said the nurse. “Breakfast will be coming around soon. There’s water on your table. Do you need anything else?”

I shook my head. Once she was gone, I turned back to Constable . . . Kallas, that was it. Delia Kallas. I was still a bit dopey.

“What happened to the men who attacked us?”

She winced.

“One had compound fractures to the radius and ulna —those are the bones in the lower arm,” she said.

I knew that.

“Also, a dislocated shoulder and a couple of broken ribs. His whole right side is in a cast.”

“Eek!”

“Tell me about it. I just hope that the news doesn’t go on a rampage about police brutality.”

“More like civilian self-defence,” I muttered. “How about the guy who was shot?”

“He’s on so much morphine he doesn’t care that one bullet shattered his humerus and the other missed his lung by a hair’s-breadth. Which one shot you?”

“I think it happened when I was breaking the first guy’s arm. I felt something sting me then.”

She stared at me for a full minute. I could see the second hand go around on the clock over her shoulder.

Finally she said, “You did that?”

“I was defending my children.”

She nodded and let it go. I decided not to mention that I was responsible for either the shattered humerus or the shoulder wound. Time enough to explain to whoever took my statement.

Breakfast arrived. Cream of wheat—yecch! Weak coffee—double yecch! I ate the yogurt and drank the milk. I was wondering if I could talk Seth into bringing me real coffee when he brought the kids in for a visit, then Merrick walked through the door with three extra-large Tim Hortons cups in a tray. He handed one to Kallas and told her she could take a break for a half hour. Then he opened the tab on the lid of another one and handed it to me.

An English Toffee Cappuccino.

“You are my hero,” I said, inhaling the rich scent.

“I hope you’ll mean that sincerely one day, Ms. Hartley.”

I thought I was being sincere. I had to be apologetic next.

“About last night,” I started. “Sorry I lost it. I . . .” I floundered.

“You were overwrought,” he said. “Most people would have ‘lost it’ long before you did.”

“I had to hold it together in front of my kids. They were scared enough as it was.” I sighed. Truth be told, needing to be strong for my children was what kept me going through most of the crises I’ve had to face in my life. “Did Hope and Boone get to school today?”

Merrick shook his head. “Your ex-husband has cancelled his classes and is taking a couple of days off to be with your children while you’re in hospital. I believe they’ll be visiting this afternoon. While they’re with him, they’ll have police protection.”

“Seth is either enjoying the break or giving himself an ulcer worrying how he’ll catch up when he gets back.”

Merrick gave a quick smile, “A bit of both, I think.”

“I take it you’ve talked to him today.”

He nodded.

Considering the fact it was only just past eight, he must have gotten up early to have talked to Seth and then turn up with coffee. Or perhaps, he hadn’t been to bed yet. He was dressed in his crease-proof dark suit, wearing his habitual impassive face, but his eyes gave him away.

“You need to rest, Sergeant Merrick.”

“I will. I wanted to see how you were first. Also . . .” He hesitated, taking a sip of coffee to cover his reluctance to broach the subject—whatever that was. “I want to discuss putting you into protective custody.”

“I thought I was in protective custody already.”

He shook his head. “More protective. I want to get you and your children out of town. Even if we were finished, I don’t think it’s safe to return to your house and we’ve seen that a hotel isn’t safe enough.”

I frowned. I didn’t want to be unreasonable but something inside me balked at the idea of putting my kids through another upheaval.

“I want my family to be safe, but you’re talking about going into hiding, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “It would be more like relocation. It would only be temporary, but it might be for a few months. You’d have an apartment. Your children would go to school. You could do your work. You could even stay in touch with friends and family via email, so long as you didn’t mention where you were. Zeke will make sure your connection is routed so it can’t be traced back to you.”

I studied his face. I had the feeling he was going to do this whether I agreed or not, but he wanted me to buy into this.

“It wasn’t enough getting those guys last night?” I was grasping and knew it.

He shook his head. “They’re mercenaries. They aren’t talking. It wouldn’t be professional.”

“Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes. Can’t have unprofessional thugs, can we?

I considered the implications of Merrick’s offer. “Can you arrange visits between Seth and the kids? Not every week, of course, but maybe once a month?”

“If I can work out a way that doesn’t compromise their safety or yours, I will.”

I nodded. “Okay. We’ll do it. Will you go get some rest now?”

He laughed and it was as though a light came on, lifting the gloom hanging over me. It would be easy to forget we were a job to him.

“I’ll go have a nap as soon as Officer Kallas returns,” he promised. “They’ve let me have a respite room here, so I’ll be close at hand. Your nurse knows how to get me.”

“How about Zeke?” I asked. “I mean, how is he? Where is he?”

“He’s fine. A little sore. He’s camping out at your house. He has security set up, so don’t worry. He’s decided that since you saved his life by intent, if not in fact, he’ll pay you back by sorting things out there as soon as possible. No doubt he’ll drop by sometime today too.”

I reached out and touched his sleeve.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

His eyes widened. The rest of his face held the line, but his eyes went warm and liquid. Something in me went warm and liquid in response.

“You were understandably distressed, Ms. Hartley and I, obviously, didn’t express myself well. My tone led you to believe that I was critical of your actions. That wasn’t—isn’t the case.”

For a moment I gazed like a schoolgirl into those warm grey eyes. Then I reminded myself that I was a mother, not a teenager. I took a sip of my coffee, forcing myself to break eye contact.

“I don’t want you to go Sergeant, but you look dead on your feet.”

“There’s still almost fifteen minutes before Kallas is due back.” He gave me one of his almost smiles. “I’m tired, but it isn’t a chore to stay.”

I risked meeting his gaze and was relieved to find his eyes were back to their usual cool grey. The warmth I saw was probably just sympathy. I was just getting carried away because he remembered what coffee I liked.

“If you’re going to stay,” I said, trying for friendly but cool, “do me a favour and sit down so I can enjoy your company guilt-free.”

*    *    *

I was stuck in the hospital until the weekend. First, it was because I was running a fever and that had to go away before they’d release me. Then Merrick arranged for me to stay a day longer because security was easier.

Delia Kallas and Jennifer Campbell took turns watching over me along with a third woman constable named Rennee Sarcelle. I got quite friendly with Campbell and Kallas. Kallas, in particular, remembered me fondly for helping her get into the Police Academy. She’d seen me around town, especially at Starbucks, which she also frequented.

“No wonder you looked so familiar,” I said, feeling bad for not recognizing her.