She looked out the side window once more. If she were lucky, Mike would put the brightness in her eyes down to the glare of the sun on the snow. Richard had been prepared to ruin her life, and if he ever found her, he would follow through on it.
“I’m sorry,” Mike said.
She waved her hand in dismissal. “No, you’re right. I guess I just wanted to think there was something good about the man. I’m getting hungry, and that makes me cranky.”
“We’ll be in Brockville in about ten minutes. How do you feel about English-style fish and chips?”
“Wrapped in newspaper?”
“They were the last time I had some, but I was thinking we’d eat in. The place isn’t big, but the food’s good.”
“Sounds great. And while we eat, no shop talk. We can discuss movies, music, food preferences, anything but Richard and this case.”
“You’re on.”
She smiled. Maybe it was cowardly, but for a little while, she wanted to pretend they were just a normal couple out for lunch. Was that really too much to ask?
Chapter Nineteen
Later that evening, Mike put down his fork and picked up his glass of merlot.
In Brockville, they’d purchased two burner phones, a tablet, an e-reader, and a faux fur throw. The fish and chips had been every bit as good as he remembered. As promised, they’d shelved the shoptalk for the rest of the day, getting to know one another. Alexa gabbed about her students, teaching, and her days at boarding school. From some of the anecdotes she told about playing pranks and sneaking out of the dorm at night, she must’ve been a hellion. The more she talked, the more his attraction grew.
For his part, he told her about his job with Canadian Border Services before joining the SQ, and his summers with Andy and Colette. Today hadn’t been the time to bring up Thea, but he would do it soon. The only blot on the day had been his inability to shake the feeling they were being watched.
“That’s got to be one of the best damn steaks I’ve had in years. How was your salmon?” he asked.
“It melted in my mouth,” Alexa said, reaching for her glass of sauvignon blanc. “When you said this place served gourmet cuisine, you weren’t kidding.”
The waiter came over, refilled their water glasses, and removed their empty plates. “Would you care for dessert?” he asked, placing the menu on the table. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide. Tea or coffee?”
“Not for me, thanks,” Alexa said. “I’ll finish my wine.”
“I’m good,” Mike answered absently, looking over Alexa’s shoulder.
He’d opted for this table because it gave him a clear view of patrons coming and going. Two men had entered the bar portion of the restaurant about half an hour ago. There was something vaguely familiar about them, but he’d dismissed the sensation. He’d been jumping at shadows all day, imagining every black van was the one he’d seen earlier.
Unable to shake the feeling he was being watched, Mike looked up. The short man he recognized was staring at him and then looked away. Mike frowned. Had he been made? Maybe it was time to get out of here. He didn’t want to worry Alexa, but his gut was screaming danger. While it hadn’t been too reliable lately, this time he trusted it.
“Lucien, is everything okay?” Alexa asked. “What are you looking at?” She turned to gaze over her shoulder.
“Nothing.” He emptied the glass in one gulp. “Unless you want dessert, I think we should get back.”
She frowned. “I’m good, but are you sure everything’s fine?”
“I’ve got a slight headache.” Mike signaled the waiter. “Check, please.”
Ten minutes later, he unlocked the door to their suite and set Alexa down in her wheelchair. He turned on the fireplace and the television.
“I’m going to go get something from the soda machine. Can I bring you anything?’
“I’ll have ginger ale if they have some.” She frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Cola usually helps. I shouldn’t be long. Come put the night lock on. Don’t open the door without the password. Better safe than sorry, right?’
She nodded, her brow furrowed. “Il fait chaud?” she asked, her accent making him smile.
“Mais oui. Il fait chaud.”
Mike left the room, making sure the door was closed firmly. He waited until he heard Alexa put the additional lock on and then hurried down the hall. He’d taken a closer look at those two men when they’d left the restaurant, and he was positive he knew the one who’d stared at him. Raymond Pipette was a low-level dealer, not one of Zabat’s crew, but the guy would do anything for the right price. What worried him most was the fact he’d been on his cell phone.
Letting himself out by the side door, Mike headed back to the restaurant, jumping behind a parked truck just as the men came out.
“I tell you that son of a bitch was Delorme, the cop who shot my brother four years ago when he raided the warehouse.”
“You’re drunk and seeing things, Ray.”
“Calice de Tabarnacle. I’m not, and if it had been your brother that bastard shot, you would recognize him, too.”
“Delorme’s dead. It was all over the papers. He burned to death in some chalet in the Laurentians. Apparently, he hadn’t been right in the head since his wife died.”
“Yeah. He blamed the boss for that. You going back to the island? I’ve got a room here for the night,” Ray said. “I’ll head back to Montreal in the morning. Maybe I’ll take a ride uptown and mention what I saw. I managed to get a couple of pictures. That was a hot chick with him, lucky bastard.”
“You want to mess with Zabat, it’s your funeral, but if you waste his time . . . I’ve got a hot date of my own waiting at the casino.” A car door opened. “I’ll be in touch when the next shipment’s ready.” The car door slammed. Seconds later, the engine started and the vehicle left the parking lot.
So. Pipette had graduated to the big leagues and was working for Zabat now. He would mention that to Henri the next time they talked. Mike waited for the other man to move out of the parking lot toward the stairs leading to the hotel, but he took his time, lighting a cigarette and taking a few drags.
Slowly pulling his Glock out of its holster, Mike waited, heart pounding, until Pipette was directly across from him. As a rule, he didn’t jump people, not even suspects despite what Doucet had implied, but this was an emergency.
“What the—”
Before the guy could finish his statement, Mike coldcocked him with the gun. He dropped like a stone. Quickly, before anyone else came along, Mike searched the man, removed his money and his wallet as well as his cell phone, and took the guy’s watch. Whoever found him would assume he’d been mugged.
Leaving the body next to the truck, Mike hurried back to the hotel. He stopped in the lobby, got a can of cola and another of ginger ale, and then walked leisurely back to the room. Pipette might not have followed him, but if a chance encounter could lead to him being identified, Andy’s disguise might not be as good as they thought.
• • •
Alexa fidgeted in her wheelchair. Mike had been gone more than twenty minutes, and the acid in her stomach roiled. Something was wrong. She started when someone knocked on the door, relaxing when she heard Mike’s voice.
“Il fait chaud.”
Hurrying to the door, she opened it. “You were gone a long time. And don’t tell me everything’s fine. Your knee is wet and your clothes are rumpled. What happened?”
“I thought I saw someone I recognized,” he admitted. “Here’s your ginger ale.”
“To hell with the ginger ale. Who did you see? And don’t you dare lie to me. My life’s at stake here as well as yours.” She was so angry she shook.
Mike took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. “A drug dealer from my time undercover. He was with another man I didn’t know. The other guy drove off. I heard them talking. He recognized me, Lex. They mentioned Zabat. I had to do something.”
/> She covered her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t kill him, did you?” she asked, unable to hide the shock in her voice.
He shook his head. “You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you? Contrary to what you may think,” he said, his mouth compressed and eyebrows slightly furrowed, “I’m not a cold-blooded killer. He’s going to have one hell of a headache.” He removed the cell phone, watch, and wallet from his pocket. “I took these because he took those.”
He opened the phone’s camera function and showed her the two pictures the man had taken.
Alexa’s stomach roiled. How had someone photographed them without them noticing? In one picture, she was laughing at something Mike had said. In the other, he was smiling down at her. They looked like a couple enjoying one another’s company.
She swallowed. “Did he send these to anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got to contact Andy and tell him about this and what we learned from Henri.” While he wasn’t going to tell her about it, he would mention the black van, too. There was a similar one in the parking lot, and although the license plate was different, changing tags was easy. “Why don’t you go and lie down? We may be leaving sooner than we expected.”
Ignoring his suggestion, she stayed put. “What are you going to do with that?” She indicated the cell phone.
“Flush it. It can probably be traced, and that’s the last thing we need. If we’ve picked up a tail, we have to shake it fast.”
She rubbed her hands together nervously. “What are we going to do?”
He moved close to her wheelchair and pulled her up into his arms. She was trembling.
“Lex, I’ve neutralized this threat, but I don’t think it’s the only one. He mentioned Zabat, probably because every punk in the city knew I was after him. I blamed him for Thea’s death. That guy tonight had been drinking. He recognized me, but it won’t matter. No one will believe him. All the local LEOS will see is a drunk who got rolled.” He looked down at her. “Now, do you want the ginger ale?”
She shook her head. “I want to know about Zabat and Thea. You said you got your wife murdered, and yet you blame him. That makes no sense.”
Mike frowned. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but in the end, she’s still dead because of me. It’s important to me that you know the truth, so that you understand what makes me tick, why you can count on me to keep you safe no matter what. Let me send that message to Andy first. Why don’t you go pack? Once you’re finished, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Alexa nodded. This might not be the best time for this, but before she entrusted him with her life, she needed to know it all.
• • •
Mike went back into the sitting room. Talking about Thea was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but Alexa had to understand he would keep her safe. He’d failed once, and he wouldn’t do it again. He sat down at the computer. Messaging Uncle Paul, he encrypted the information he’d received from Henri, added the fact he believed they might’ve been followed, and finished with his handling of Ray.
Andy’s reply was short and sweet: “Plan C.” That meant cut and run, and that’s what they would have to do. He would have to make a few minor alterations to their transportation and get out of here unseen.
Alexa rolled into the room. “What did Andy say?”
“We need to leave, but since we don’t want anyone to see us, we’ll wait a few hours. Are you packed?”
“Yes. If you’re going to tell me to lay down and rest until we’re ready to go, forget it. I’m too damn scared to just do nothing.”
“I know. Well, we’ve got an hour to kill. I suppose it’s as good a time as any to tell you about Thea and how she died because of me.
She pursed her lips. “No matter what you say, I don’t think it’s as cut and dry as you make it sound. I may not be the world’s best judge of character, but you’ve got integrity, Mike. You wouldn’t have done what you’ve done for me so far if you didn’t.”
He shrugged and sat on the sofa across from her. “When Thea and I met, we didn’t really hit it off. She was proud and independent, determined to go it alone—a lot like you as a matter of fact. She worked for one of the big pharmaceutical companies in Pointe Claire and wasn’t interested in dating a police officer. She wanted safety and security in her life. Eventually, she relented and accepted my invitation to dinner. When I made detective, I asked her to marry me. We had two great years, and then I got offered a shot at undercover work. She hated it.”
“I’m sure it was because she was worried about you,” Alexa said quietly.
“Probably,” he admitted. “I didn’t intend for her to worry. I took a few beatings, but getting bastards like Zabat’s henchmen and their poison off the streets made it all worthwhile. I tried to convince her it wasn’t as dangerous as she thought it was, but she could be stubborn. When she told me we were pregnant, I was the happiest man alive.”
“You have a child?”
“No.”
“Oh, Mike, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not your fault. It’s all on me. She laid down an ultimatum. I had to choose. It was either her and the baby or my undercover career. When I took her for the ultrasound appointment and saw my son, I put in for the transfer that afternoon. Thea was thrilled, and while I still had a few weeks in narcotics, I was off the street.”
“But you were happy, too.”
“Yes and no. I wasn’t looking forward to a desk job, but for her and the baby . . . The day before she died, she came to see me at the station. We’d had a flood of pharmaceuticals hit the market at the time, and we were working with all the companies in the area. It wasn’t Thea’s usual task to monitor the narcotics her company manufactured, but the person who did was on vacation, and she found a discrepancy in the vials present and those that should’ve been there. I was going to look into it when one of my informants came to me with a hot tip about Zabat’s crew raiding a warehouse. This was my last shot at getting the bastard, and I wanted to go out on a high note. I never made the connection between that warehouse and Cleville Pharmaceuticals since it wasn’t their main location. I called her and told her I’d be late. She said she’d put in some overtime and meet me at one of our favorite bistros for a late supper. Three hours later, based on the intel I was given, I suited up for the raid.
The snitch had the time wrong. When we got there, Zabat’s men had cleaned the place out, and there were three bodies bleeding out on the lab floor—Thea, Anselme, and a security guard we assumed was in on it whose services were no longer required. I held her, saw the fear and surprise in her eyes, and felt the life drain out of her, out of them, because of me.”
“Oh, Mike, I’m so very, very sorry.” Tears brimmed in Alexa’s eyes. “But it really wasn’t your fault—”
“Wasn’t it?” he snapped back. “She was there because I was working late, so she’d done the same. What I should’ve done with my hot tip was go to my captain and tell him. He would’ve staked the place out, but oh no. I wanted to be the hero. Go out on a high. She died, our son died, and my heart turned to stone that day.” Mike set the can of cola down on the table and got up. He grabbed his coat out of the closet and a towel from the bathroom. “I need to go get the SUV ready. Lock up behind me. Don’t open for anyone but me.”
He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Alexa sitting in the wheelchair, silent tears running down her cheeks. He was no hero, no knight in shining armor riding to the rescue. He was a man who’d put the chance at glory ahead of the woman he loved and had paid the price. He would never know what would’ve happened if he’d gone straight to Luc instead of trying to play hero one last time. Would Thea and his son be alive? Andy had said a man couldn’t live on what ifs, but this man could make damn sure another person he was supposed to protect didn’t die because of his incompetence.
Certain he couldn’t be seen, he tossed a towel over the outside surveillance camera. While he could probably cou
nt on Scott to edit their exit from the tape, his gut told him it might not be enough. He’d done a thorough check of the vehicle, assuring himself no one had put a tracking device on it. After that, he’d swapped their license plate with one from a minivan. People rarely noticed their plates other than to confirm there was one there.
An hour later, Mike placed Alexa’s suitcase on her lap and handed her the crutches. She hadn’t said much since he’d returned to the room, not that he’d given her the chance. What could she say? What was done was done.
“Ready for the next stage of the magical mystery tour?” he asked.
“At one-thirty in the morning, I’m not ready for anything.” She huffed out a breath and reached for his hand. “Mike, about Thea. I realize you blame yourself, and nothing anyone will ever say will ease your guilt, but her death wasn’t your fault. You were caught between a rock and a hard place. No one should ever be in that position. I trust you to have my back and keep me safe, and I’m still your backup, right? So, I’ve got yours. We’re in this together. You said so yourself. Joined at the hip.” She adjusted her beret. “This is the second time we’ve fled the scene in the middle of the night. Please tell me you aren’t planning to torch this place,” she scolded.
He chuckled at her effort to lighten the mood. She was right about one thing. He wouldn’t let her down. “There’s no chance of that. I just want to get out of here. I’m not anxious to move into ‘wormland’ yet.”
“Wormland?”
“Yeah. That’s what Uncle Paul called cemeteries. Letting people think we’re dead is one thing; actually being dead is another.”
She scrunched up her face. “I can understand that.”
“I’ll feel better when we’re back on the road. It’s ridiculous, but I hate not being in control, and if someone’s changing faces, the enemy could be anywhere.” Maybe that was why he’d been caught in that trap a week ago. Had one of the usual suspects gotten a new face? It was hard to recognize danger if it was dressed up differently.
No Good Deed Page 24
