Trail of Secrets (14 page)

“Where's she meeting him?”

“Toronto Airport. Air Canada. Three o'clock.” I realized that I was spitting out words in groups of two.

“I'll get my jacket. I have some money saved, and I'll go get it. Write your dad a note, and let's get going.”

“What'll I say?”

“Say we've gone out for the evening with Ambie. We'll probably be back before he reads it.”

“Okay,” I said to Roxie's disappearing back, wondering why I was listening to a thirteen-year-old. Still, a big part of me was extremely pleased not to have to find my way around Toronto alone. Roxie'd grown up in the city and had spent a lot of time running the streets when she'd been skipping school. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and my purse and heavier jacket from the coat hook by the back door. I met Roxie at the front door.

“What are you doing home from school this time of day?” I asked as I swung the door open.

Roxie pulled a red toque over her pink hair. “Spare,” she said, racing past me and down the front steps.

“I don't remember getting spares in Grade Eight,” I called as I hurried to catch up.

Roxie pretended she didn't hear me. “Let's get going!” she yelled. “We might just make it there by the time the plane lands.”

It took me a few minutes to convince Roxie that there was no way I was going to hitchhike to Toronto. I guess Mom's lectures had sunk in, because I'd long ago decided the dangers of getting into a stranger's car far outweighed any possible benefits. Even saving money on a bus ride wasn't enough to make me put out my thumb or agree to let Roxie stick out hers.

“You're just a big
fraidy
cat,” Roxie finally said, exasperated, scowling at me as if I was the one being unreasonable.

“Yeah . . . well . . . I say I'm just a big
smarty
cat,” I said and was rewarded with her lopsided grin. “Come on. Let's go make the next bus,” I added.

Roxie and I were double-timing down Armstrong Street towards the bus terminal when I heard a car slowing behind us. When it didn't pass us, I turned and pulled Roxie by the arm towards the curb. “Look out,” I said.

We watched a silver-grey car edge past us and pull over several yards ahead with the turn signal flashing. The driver's window lowered. Roxie and I looked at each other, deciding which way to run. I tried to angle myself in front of her.

“Jennifer!” I heard, and we took a step closer. A blond head and wide smile peered out at us.

“What are you doing here, Evan?” I asked.

“Looking for you. Want a lift?”

“Only if you're going to Toronto Airport,” I said.

“That's exactly where I'm heading,” Evan smiled. “Don't worry. I got the whole story out of Cindy after a bit of guilt-tripping.”

“Great,” I said and pulled Roxie with me around the back of the car toward the passenger door. Roxie scooted into the back seat, and I sat up front with Evan. “Where did this car come from?” I asked.

“This one's actually . . . uh . . . mine.”

“It's a Jaguar, isn't it?” I asked, and for the first time, I began to believe that Evan's family really could be into something illegal—something illegal that was worth a lot of money.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Roxie
was looking at Evan's reflection in the rearview mirror, and her eyes were as big as quarters. “Aren't you Evan Myers?” she asked, her voice rising into the higher range. I couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement I heard in her voice.

“Hi,” Evan said, turning to smile at Roxie. “Let's get moving.”

Traffic was heavy going into Toronto on the 401, and there was an accident that held us up on the airport parkway. I was getting pretty nervous and didn't want to talk with all the worried thoughts scrambling around in my head like bumblebees. Evan had the radio turned up loud, and the music filled in the empty spaces. When we finally started moving and the airport came into view, I checked my watch. It was almost three thirty. Ambie would probably be long gone from the arrivals area by the time we found a parking spot. Evan seemed to read my mind. He reached over and turned down the volume.

“I'll pull up to the front entrance, and you and Roxie can go find Ambie while I park.”

I looked across at him and nodded. “I hope we aren't too late,” I said and went back to checking cars going in the opposite direction to see if Ambie was in one of them. At last we pulled up in front, and I hopped out. Roxie scrambled out of the back seat, and we ran for the revolving door. I stopped and tried to read the signs. When I looked around, Roxie was standing under a screen suspended from the ceiling. “The flight was on time,” she said. “The arrivals area is this way.”

We walked quickly, following the signs that led the way to the arrivals. The noise level was high, and every so
often, a woman's voice made announcements over the sound system in English and French. I looked at the flight numbers above my head. The fear that we'd missed Ambie hit me like a sick feeling in my stomach. What if she'd been lured into a meeting with someone who wasn't her real father? What should we do next? Call her parents and try to explain? Call the police?

I couldn't see Ambie anywhere. I turned and touched Roxie on the shoulder. “We should go find Evan.” My voice faltered. “I'm not sure where they've taken her.”

“It might be okay, Jennifer. Maybe her dad really does just want to meet her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, but it didn't feel right. I started leading Roxie back towards the exit.

We were out the door when I saw Ambie, alone—sitting on a bench, looking down at the floor with her hands clasped in front of her. She was wearing her good blue duffle coat, and she'd curled her hair so that it hung in tendrils around her face. A gift wrapped in silver paper with a red bow sat next to her on the bench. She looked so sad and dejected that I stopped and watched her for a second.

Roxie bumped into me from behind. “What are you . . .”

I reached around my hand to stop her. “Wait here,” I said. “It'll be okay. Just wait.” I walked across the carpet towards Ambie and sat down next to her so that our arms touched. She raised her head and looked at me, startled for a second before a smile flashed and was gone. Her eyes quickly filled with tears.

“Jen. He didn't come. My dad didn't come.”

I put my arm around Ambie's shoulders, and she leaned
into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “It's his loss, Amb,” I said. “He's got no idea what he's just thrown away.”

We sat like that for a minute until she was over the worst of it. I looked over her head and saw Evan and Roxie talking. Evan met my eyes, but they kept their distance until Ambie and I got to our feet. Then they rushed over and encircled Ambie, and we had a group hug as if she'd just arrived home after being away on a long trip.

Since Ambie had left a note saying she was with Rosemary Sharpe, and Roxie and I had left a note on our kitchen table saying we were with Ambie, it didn't seem like a bad idea to take Roxie to the hospital to visit Mr. Stoyko, seeing as we were so close by. It was actually Evan's idea, and since he was driving, we all agreed.

After getting directions from the hospital's front desk, we took the elevator up to the cardio floor on the fifteenth. We found the waiting room, which was decorated in blue and green, with a television tuned to the all-news channel in the centre of the room. Drops of cold rain had begun pattering on the windows.

“We'll wait here,” I said to Roxie. She'd taken off her toque, and her pink and red hair stood in spikes all over her head. With her dark eye make-up and pale face, she looked young and unsure.

“Won't you come with me, Jennifer?” she asked.

“Wouldn't you rather go alone?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, let's go see him then,” I said. It surprised me how tough and brave Roxie could be most of the time, but not always. I'd learned that she got hesitant and quiet when something meant a lot to her.

We walked past the nurses' station and counted the
door numbers until we found room 1507B. The door was closed. Roxie raised her hand as if to knock, then let it drop to her side.

“We could just look in and see if he's awake,” I said.

Roxie nodded and took a deep breath. She raised her hand again and pushed open the door. We entered and tiptoed around the corner. Mr. Stoyko was propped up in bed, holding a folded newspaper and looking at the rain running in streaks down the window. His snow white hair was combed back, and he wore blue striped pajamas. His face was lined and tired. When he saw Roxie, his eyes brightened, and he smiled. “Roxie, at last you come to see me,” he said with his Polish accent. “You are here to break me out, no?” He chuckled, and the tension seemed to leave Roxie's face. Still, she didn't say anything.

“How are you, Mr. Stoyko?” I asked to fill the silence.

“Good. Good. Nice to see you, Jennifer.” His soft grey eyes settled on Roxie again. He raised his hand. “Ah, my dear child, come let me look at you.”

Roxie leapt onto the chair beside his bed and perched on its edge, leaning close to him.

“I've missed you, little one,” I heard Mr. Stoyko say as I turned to leave. “You been keeping out of trouble for me?”

“Trying,” Roxie said, and Mr. Stoyko's chuckle followed me out of the room.

As I headed back towards the lounge and Ambie and Evan, I felt like crying. I don't know if it was from happiness for Roxie or sadness for Ambie, or maybe it was just relief that nothing bad had happened to anyone. It's funny how you can feel all different emotions at the
same time. It's like you're so filled up with feelings that it's all you can do to keep from bursting.

Evan looked up at me as I entered the lounge. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I think so. How you doing, Amb?” I went to sit next to her in the long row of blue seats.

“Better. I guess it's not good to want something too much. I'm sorry I kept it a secret from you, Jennifer. Stupid, I know.”

“It doesn't matter.”

Ambie stood up. “I'll never see my money. I feel like such a fool.”

“How much?” I asked, thinking it best she got it out in the open.

“It was my university savings.” Ambie's bottom lip trembled. “Almost eight thousand dollars. All my savings and money my parents had given me from the time I was little.”

“Oh, Ambie.”

“I have no idea how I'm going to tell my parents. They're going to be really, really disappointed.”

There didn't seem any way around what she'd just said, but I hoped she would finally talk to her mother about her real dad. It was something they probably should have done a long time ago.

We arrived home early in the evening. Evan dropped Ambie off first, then Roxie and me. Dad had left a phone message that he was at work, so we didn't have to explain our
absence. Roxie was in a good mood, and we shared some leftover casserole before we headed for our rooms. I checked my e-mail, and there was nothing of interest. Every time I opened my incoming messages, I felt a shiver of hope that Pete had sent me a message, but I had stopped expecting any. I shut down the mail program and stood to take a nightgown out of my drawer. It was then I heard knocking. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. I walked to the head of the stairs and looked down. I could hear music coming from Roxie's room and rain falling on the roof, but the knocking noise had stopped. I turned to go back to my room when I heard a sharp rap at the front door. Who would be visiting this time of night? I hurried down the stairs and turned on the porch light, moving the curtain to look outside. Whoever was standing there had their back to me, but my heart gave a leap. I flung open the door.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, reaching out to pull Pete inside out of the driving rain.

“I've come to see you. You didn't answer my e-mail, so I tried calling a few times, but you never called back. I thought something must be wrong.” Pete drew me closer into a hug. “How are you, Bannon?”

I'd never gotten any messages that he'd called. Then I remembered that I hadn't been checking the message pad by the phone. Dad normally told me when I had a phone call, so it was likely Roxie who'd taken the messages.

“Good now,” I said. I stood back and looked him over carefully. His black hair had grown longer, and he looked like he'd put on a bit of weight. It suited him. His dark eyes were looking me over too. We smiled at each other.
“Did you really come all this way to see me?”

“I worked late nights to get my assignments done so I could have this weekend. Whoever said first year university was party time couldn't have been in pre-med at McGill.”

“I've been working harder too,” I said as we walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. “No more marks in the fifties for me.”