by Sheena Kamal
Lynn explained how Bonnie’s birth father had been able to find her using underground chat forums for adoptees. The woman nodded. She knew all about them. She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Be careful of what your friends post about you, as well. If there’s someone who’s known to be your friend and their profile is public, you can also be in trouble. Don’t let people tag you in photos. Best not to get photographed at all.”
Both Bonnie and Lynn thought that was a bit much at the time, but now it seems maybe the woman was right.
Bonnie feels uneasy. It’s just one lame pic of her in Whistler! Doing what thousands of other teens do on the daily. A selfie with duck face. One photo and she’s upset with Alix and her mom all at once. Fuck. She thinks of Nora, who she feels would somehow understand.
But Nora’s disappeared again, just when Bonnie needs her the most. Just when that video of Dao turns up. Just when Bonnie could use a little extra protection in her life.
Part 6
59
Simone comes in the door with groceries. She likes to shop late at night because of her disdain for queues. According to her, life is too short to wait around for people to rummage through their personal belongings for cash, credit cards, and coupons. She has more important things to do with her spare time. Like fill me in about the goings-on of the world.
“Brazuca was at the meeting tonight,” she tells me. I nod and wait for her to continue. Which she does, as I help her pack away the groceries.
“He did not look good. I told him what you asked me to. That you’re gone and to forget about you.” She catches my look of relief. “I’m not sure it was the right thing to do, Nora. It’s supposed to be for his safety, but that man cares about you. He’s hurting.”
“At least he’s alive.”
“If he comes to me again, I’m not going to be able to lie. It felt awful to do it this time.”
She hands me a candy cane. I give it back. She shrugs, unwraps it, and pops an end into her mouth.
“Did you share? At the meeting?”
“Nope. But I went for coffee with Angela afterward. You don’t know her, she’s new. Just got through her first month sober.”
I nod. It’s an accomplishment we both understand.
We make dinner in silence. Simone gets through half the candy cane and tosses the rest into the trash. Her stint at rehab went well, she said. At the facility they had cooking workshops and she’s developed a love for tortilla soup. We make some more now, even though we haven’t finished the last batch Simone started on, before I showed up at her door. One of us will get tired of this soup eventually, I’m sure, but it won’t be today.
“Any luck on your end?” she asks. “With your guy?”
“Not yet. But I have high hopes for tonight.”
She sighs. “One day, having high hopes for a guy tonight is going to mean something different for you and I’ll be so proud.”
A laugh escapes me. “You sound like Leo.”
“Your dog sitter seems like a sensible person.”
She notices the look that crosses my face at the mention of my dog and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring Whisper up. I know how much you miss her. You’ll see her when this is over. And Bonnie, too. Dao can’t hide forever, and I’m shocked that he’s made it this far. Everyone is looking for him. I’m still monitoring all the news outlets and social media. The forums are lit with speculation about him. I’m going to know as soon as the fucker turns up. I’ve got that Fugitive Task Force number on speed dial.”
“Thank you.”
“What are friends for?”
Ever since she found me standing at her door with my wrists bandaged from the zip-tie abuse, she has been gentle with me. I explained that I didn’t try to kill myself and, after a while, she believed me. Her hair, nails, and lips are as brightly colored as ever, and she seems alright. Not great, but alright. She’s getting more vibrant by the day, which means rehab gave her back some of her spark. She has spent hours in her office catching up on her work contracts and monitoring the net. Like me, Simone prefers to be alone, but she leaves her door slightly ajar to let me know she’s there for me.
I want to ask about Brazuca, to have her describe him. I can’t think about him without picturing what he looked like bleeding in his car. Which reminds me of the car, and what happened.
Sitting there in the darkness with my wrists bloody and raw, it took me a split second to realize the man in the basement with me wasn’t Brazuca. It wasn’t Dao, either.
“I waited as long as I could,” Edison Lam’s man said. “Had to make sure no one else was in here. Had to make sure, also, that no one was going to show up anytime soon.”
He led me up the stairs and to a sliding door out back. I stumbled to the car and climbed into the rear seat. I put my hand over my heart to slow it down. I was nothing but a heartbeat in a rigid skeleton. If it wasn’t for that thump threatening to pound right out of my chest, I would have thought I was dead.
“I don’t think you were honest with us, Ms. Watts, when Mr. Lam asked you about his son’s death,” the bodyguard said, from behind the wheel.
“How did you find me?”
“I followed you to the apartment. Saw them take you. Then followed you from there.”
Of course that’s how it happened.
“They had me for a long fucking time!”
I caught his nod in the rearview mirror. “Yes, well. I wanted to see how it played out. Thought maybe David Tao would show up, but I realized the house was empty. There are cameras, but they’re not hooked up, and though there’s a security company sign on the lawn, there was no alarm.”
“Yes,” I said. “This is a property Nguyen owns, but he doesn’t live here.” Then I asked him about what’s been on my mind since I got taken. “What happened to Brazuca?”
“My colleague stayed behind to make sure he got to the hospital. He did. He’ll make it.” He glanced at me in the mirror. “There’s a bottle of water beside you.”
I drank the whole thing. The bodyguard who was now so obviously more than a bodyguard said nothing. We were on what appeared to be a dark country road with houses scattered at intervals. “I guess we’re going to see your boss,” I said.
Looking back, I’m not sure if a smile crossed his face or if I simply imagined it.
We didn’t go see his boss, Edison Lam. We went to the building where Leo was crashing, but he wasn’t there. So he took me to Simone’s place. In that car ride I told him everything I knew about Dao. He explained that Brazuca tipped him to the biker connection and that since the video of Bernard Lam’s murder had surfaced, Mr. Lam had been cooperating with the authorities.
“But they don’t know about your private investigation,” I said.
He shook his head.
I must have told him what I did because I was too tired to raise my normal defenses. There was no need to keep up with the innocent girlfriend act, which didn’t come naturally to me anyway. Plus, it’s easier to share your secrets with a stranger. I never asked him what his name was and he didn’t bother to tell me.
“Do you know where Dao is?” I asked.
“David Tao is likely in British Columbia, but we don’t know where. Van Nguyen is a new angle.”
“Is it safe to assume that Mr. Lam is continuing to investigate this privately? He’s not going to sit back and let the authorities in on this, is he?”
He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. “We’ll be in touch,” he said, before I got out of the car.
I’m guessing he wasn’t using the royal we. He’s not the queen. He was letting me know that he and Edison Lam will be wanting answers to their questions, but not that day. Out of deference to the time of night, my obvious state of distress, or for some other mysterious reason of his own.
60
I’m left standing on the promenade with my hood pulled close, watching the harbor. T
here are no stars out tonight, no moon.
But there’s a light on in Peter Vidal’s yacht.
A man in a long navy jacket approaches. His head is bare, even though he’s been standing here watching Vidal’s boat as long as I have.
“You’re not cold?” I ask.
“This is not cold compared to where I grew up.”
“And where is that?” Because his accent betrays nothing.
He ignores the question. My savior could say he’s from any northern clime and I wouldn’t be surprised. Or maybe his origin story is as unimportant as his name.
“It’s time for our chat now,” Edison Lam’s bodyguard says to me.
“Mr. Lam is back in town,” I say.
He’s not surprised at the conclusion I draw. “Yes.”
“It was nice of him to ask you to keep an eye on me.”
He nods. Yes, it was nice. “We should get going.”
A man of few words. I like that.
I also appreciate the fact that he was honest about surveilling my movements. His teams are very good, and it has been fun to see if I can slip by them. But they’re top-notch, Edison Lam’s guys. The best that money can buy. I can’t shake them, despite my best efforts. It would be a nuisance if I didn’t know that no one else can get through their defenses, either. I’m safe, while they’re watching. It’s a more comforting thought than it should be.
Following behind him I feel a transference of tenderness, the sort I’d begun to feel for Brazuca. Now, I only think of Brazuca—because I’ve never called him Jon; even our intimacy has never allowed for it—lying in a hospital bed. Every once in a while, his face is replaced with Nate Marlowe’s, then Leo’s. Sometimes it’s Seb Crow, my dead friend. I wasn’t responsible for Seb’s death, but if I had been around during his final days, maybe I could have eased his passing somehow. Spared him a little pain. These men, the three who are still alive, of blood and fragile bones . . . I can’t do anything more for them. Except maybe stay away.
For now.
We go to a sprawling mansion in Point Grey. The house seems empty as the bodyguard leads me down a long hallway. There are family photos along the walls, of Bernard Lam and a woman I’ve never seen before. His wife, probably. Some of his father and mother.
We go into a study at the end of the hall, where Edison Lam waits. He looks up from his papers when we enter. “Hello again,” he says to me. “Kristof told me you got into some trouble while I’ve been away.”
His glance passes from me to the bodyguard, who closes the study door and stands just inside of it.
I nod. “You could say that.”
“Your friend, the man you were with when we visited your apartment—”
“Brazuca?”
“Odd, I thought he was your romantic partner. I was not aware that people are referring to their significant others by their surnames these days.”
“I can’t keep up with the trends, either.” I decide not to tell him about smashing.
“Before he got into that unfortunate car accident, your Brazuca informed me of two potential lines of inquiry for the man who murdered my son.”
“And you saw the video of the murder.”
He looks away for a moment. If this man has a nervous tic, he would display it now. But of course he doesn’t. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t kill him. But you were there. And you were kidnapped by those bikers who are associated with Dao. Not your friend Brazuca. You. Why is that?”
Kristof doesn’t move, but I can feel his energy shift. Become laser-focused.
I unzip my jacket and slump on the couch. There’s a moment of tension as I debate whether or not to put my feet up, but I don’t want to push my luck, which I can feel wearing thin.
Now that I’m comfortable, I tell them the truth, because I may not have liked Bernard Lam, but he didn’t deserve to die the way he did. I’m in this mess because I’m trying to protect my child. Edison Lam is involved to understand the death of his own. Some people say children are a joy. Others believe them to be a burden, one that will suck the life right out of you. Whatever it is, there’s no doubt that they steer the direction of your life.
Mr. Lam mulls over what I’ve just told him. “What you’re saying is my son planned to give you over to Dao as an incentive to reveal information about these Three Phoenix people.”
“He thought he might need me to get Dao’s attention. A little trick up his sleeve. He thought Dao could be paid off.”
“He underestimated Dao’s hatred for you.”
“Yes.”
“I have a proposal for you, Ms. Watts.”
I have a feeling I know what’s coming. Since Bernard Lam’s death, this has been inevitable.
“My son wanted to use you without your knowledge, which is why he insisted you weren’t part of that meeting.”
“Yes.”
“And you went along that morning and tried to find Dao on your own because you didn’t trust my son.”
“No, I didn’t. My purpose for being there was always to dig up some dirt on Dao. Maybe get him to admit that he ordered my assassination. Find a way to put him in jail.”
“He will go to jail,” says Edison Lam. Then he sighs. “My son defied me at every turn. He was impossible to deal with. His mother spoiled him too much, I think. He was her only child. He wasn’t good at reading situations, or people, properly. Some things you can’t teach.”
He lapses into a thoughtful silence. I’m ready to fall asleep on this couch. “We both want David Tao to face justice. We want him off the streets. He seems to be obsessed with you and, like my son, I want to use that. But we don’t have time to waste with lies and deception. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You want to use me as bait.”
“Yes. Will you consider it?”
“No need,” I say. “You’re right. He needs to face justice for what he’s done. Let’s finish this.”
There’s movement by the door as Kristof comes closer. “Jon Brazuca told us to look into those bikers and WIN Security.”
I nod. “WIN had a connection to Ray Zhang, Dao’s previous employer.”
“WIN Security is a big operation in the Pacific Northwest. They’ve worked with almost all the major players in this region. Including Michael Acosta’s Nebula Corporation.”
“Who Dao used to work for—at least until he murdered your son,” I say, looking at him.
“Yes,” says Mr. Lam. “After the Indonesia video surfaced and authorities identified the same man in both that video and the report of violence against that mining protester, Michael Acosta is suddenly unavailable for comment. Neither he nor WIN will go anywhere near Dao. It’s too dangerous. They’ll disavow all knowledge of him moving forward and will hide behind carefully worded public statements.”
“The bikers, then.”
“No.” Kristof shakes his head. “That pickup truck was set on fire. There were human remains found inside. They have just identified Curtis Parnell as the deceased. That was the man who rammed Brazuca’s car and pulled you from the passenger seat.”
“When I escaped, I shot him,” I say. “I killed him.”
“You grazed his thigh,” says Kristof. “It was nothing serious. My people were watching and saw someone come by and pick Parnell up. He was later seen at that clubhouse walking on crutches.”
“But someone killed him. Put him in that truck.”
They exchange glances. “We think Dao must have.”
I shake my head, let my hair down to ease the tightness of my scalp. “But that doesn’t make any sense. He leaned on them because of their Three Phoenix connection. He needed them.”
Edison Lam looks at me. “If you’re right, and he’s not in his right mind, it’s possible his emotions got the better of him. From what you say, and from what I saw in that video, he’s unstable. He didn’t have to kill my son, but he did. He didn’t have to kill this Parnell man—”
“If he did,” I add.
Lam nods. “If he did, he didn’t have to.”
“But you think he flew into a rage? Where the hell is he, then?”
Nobody answers me. “What about Van Nguyen? We need to find him.”
“We lost track of him,” says Kristof. “He never went back to the house he kept you in. I think there must have been a camera setup that I missed.”
I think about it for a moment. “Then we get to him through Peter Vidal.” I tell them about Vidal’s connection to Nguyen. “Problem is, he’s a hard man to get ahold of.”
Edison Lam rises from behind his son’s desk. “We’ll take care of that. If we find Nguyen, we’ll find Dao.”
I had said the same thing about Jimmy Fang. But this feels closer. The Fang case led us to Nguyen, which is more than we’d had before.
He nods to Kristof. Kristof nods back. I feel no pity for Peter Vidal.
But Vidal is one step ahead of us.
When we return to the marina, me and Kristof, and two other men from Kristof’s team who have joined us in a separate vehicle, we find the yacht empty. Vidal isn’t at his house in Point Grey, either. He’s long gone.
61
Kristof brings me back to Simone’s apartment. I don’t invite him up, but he follows anyway. Simone is still awake, still tapping away at one of the computers in her office. When she hears me enter the apartment, she walks into the kitchen wearing a man’s oversize button-down shirt that skims her thighs. There’s a hint of black boxers peeking out from underneath the shirt.
