"So what do we do? How can we make sure that Paul isn't –" I swallowed, unable to finish my sentence.
Rob searched my face, and a wave of reassurance washed over me as his piercing dark eyes read and calmed my worries.
"We're going to use the information you saw in your dream. It sounds like you experienced events at the same time they were happening for whatever reason. You knew where he was taken, and you found his phone. I want you to take it and close your eyes. Focus on Paul.”
To my surprise, he took the phone out of the bag and scanned the area again, making sure no one was watching before he handed it back to me.
"Don't ever tell anyone I let you do that. But you're a finder, boy. You need to touch the real thing. We all know how important cell phones are to an eighteen-year-old boy, so it’s the best way to track him. I want you to focus on Paul when you hold it, and nothing else."
I took the phone, but this time my hand felt strong. For the first time since waking up from the nightmare and asking my dad for help, I felt as if I was in the driver seat. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and concentrated.
In the past, whenever I’d caught glimpses of missing objects, something had come to me in a flash. Almost like the way I’d found the phone. A glint, or a color, nothing big. Most of the time I’d been able to chalk it up to intuition or even a buried memory.
But I’d never actively tried to find something, someone, before, and I wasn’t sure how to do it. So when the first thing I saw behind my closed eyelids was darkness, I assumed I wasn't seeing anything.
Then I heard the noises.
No, it wasn’t noise, it was...voices. Someone was talking behind a closed door, men. The voices became louder, angry. They were fighting about something. But what? Listening harder, I was able to catch a few words.
"Stupid. You blew it.”
“You’re the stupid… If you hadn't…”
“Well, if you hadn't…"
The voices faded into nothing as I opened my eyes and tried to make out the dim room. Turning my head from side to side, at first everything was black, except a faint gray line coming from somewhere above my head.
No, make that two lines. As my eyes adjusted, I followed one of the lines to where it intersected the other to make up the outline of a door. As I accommodated further to the darkness, I could discern the faint shape of stairs leading down from the door.
Wooden stairs.
I shifted, and felt my body pressed on something cold and hard. The floor. The movement shot pain through my body, and suddenly, everything hurt.
No, it wasn’t my body that hurt.
When I looked down, I saw that I had quite literally put myself in someone else’s shoes. On my feet were a pair of red high tops. The same red high tops Paul had worn on Friday. Dreading what I would see next, I slowly traveled up the shoes to the legs, which were covered in ripped jeans with disturbing dark patches, all the way to the chest, which was rising and falling.
I was seeing the world from Paul’s perspective.
It was super disorienting, but I made myself focus on the details, instead of the nausea which had risen at the realization of where I/he was. Scanning the room in an attempt to garner something useful, I noticed a window to my right, near the top of the wall. It had bars, but between them I could just make out a bus stop.
Squinting, I wondered if Paul was too far away for me to be able to read it. I could barely read Kensington, and was the number next to it a four? Or a forty? I was trying to decide which when the door flew open, blinding me with brilliant light.
"Ouch!"
My head was throbbing worse than it had the time Paul checked me into the boards in practice, and when I opened my eyes, it was to the sight of two concerned men staring down at me. I was on my knees, hands on my head. I hadn’t even felt myself fall down. My dad looked like he wanted to give me a hug, but Rob seemed pleased.
"You saw him, didn't you?"
His words were a statement, like he already knew the answer. With his powers, he probably did. But even so, I answered for the sheer need to get what I’d seen out of my head.
"I did and I think I may know where the building is. There was a bus stop beside it, somewhere in Kensington."
Rob pumped his fist in the air. "I knew it! Great job.”
He looked around, once again verifying we were alone before taking the phone back from me. He slid it back into the plastic bag, careful not to touch it any more than required, all while still wearing his gloves. I frowned, tilting my head to the side as I watched. Catching my gaze, he smiled.
"It's easier for me to explain you picking up your buddy’s phone without gloves when you found it than if my prints are on it. Not only would that be hugely amateur, it would make some doubt my ability to be on the case. Now we have both evidence and an explanation. Next stop? Kensington."
I wasn't sure how he was going to explain anything from what I’d said, but he didn’t volunteer any more information, and I wasn’t about to slow him down if he thought he knew something. If he believed my finding ability was accurate and Paul was in Kensington, the sooner we got to him, the better.
Chapter 7
It wasn't far between the convenience store and Kensington. I’d been here frequently in the past of course, more so since turning eighteen. It was a popular area for students near the University of Toronto, with fast, cheap food and a ton of hang out spots. Basically, a university student’s paradise.
But today as the sun rose high in the sky, I saw it from a different perspective than normal. Part of it was the time of day. At six-thirty on a Saturday, only a few of the small grocery stores were opening for the day with fresh fruit and vegetables in baskets. The foot traffic was almost nonexistent and the streets were otherwise empty, giving the entire area a deserted atmosphere.
Rob drove slowly, creeping around corners and side streets in a weird zig-zag. It took a moment before I realized he was waiting for me to recognize something from the vision.
Was it a vision? I’d have to decide what to call it if I kept seeing things like that.
"Is there something specific I should tell you about?"
Maybe he was hoping I would spot the bus stop sign. I still didn’t know if it was a four or forty though, so wasn't sure how helpful it was going to be.
He flashed a brief side grin at me in the passenger seat before looking ahead. "Waiting to see if something jogs your memory. Now, tell me again what you remember."
I sighed, then recounted the story again. When I got to the part of the dream where I’d watched Paul being carried into the building, Rob stopped me.
"Back up. I want you to try to describe the building. What did the side door look like? Could you see the front? The more information you can give me, no matter how small, the better."
Grimacing, I closed my eyes. Trying to envision the building as I spoke, I retraced my steps from that night’s dream.
"Well, I think the building was about two stories, maybe three. It wasn't right on the corner, maybe one or two buildings over? It had a wide sidewalk in front, and people were smoking and milling around a large roll-up door, almost like a garage at a service station would have. The music was loud and the whole place had a nineties-grungy feel to it.” I shook my head without opening my eyes. "The door wasn’t painted, just plain, corrugated steel."
I could hear Rob hum thoughtfully beside me so I stopped.
"No, keep going. I'm just thinking. It sounds familiar."
"The building was dark, so I couldn't make out the color. It may have been grey, or maybe dark brown. The side door was definitely dark blue though."
I opened my eyes, feeling drained. It was like I had emptied my brain out and now there was nothing left. Apparently, it was enough for Rob. He took one hand off the wheel and patted my shoulder.
"Excellent work. Okay, so we’re looking for a two-story building, just off a corner in Kensington that has a large, steel garage door. There’s a bus st
op visible from the building and you saw two large men with a dark-colored van."
He glanced at me for verification and I nodded.
"Any chance you remember the license plate?" My dad spoke up.
I shook my head. “No, I couldn't get it. Maybe if I’d seen it we’d already know who took him.”
I couldn’t help the note of defeat. The bits and pieces I’d been able to see paled in comparison to what I felt I should know. Maybe if I was better at this, the police would have found him already.
Rob turned the corner, his voice brusque as he scolded me. "I don’t want to hear you speak like that. There's another witness, remember? They didn’t see the license plate either.” I flinched, calming as he softened his tone. “If they’d been able to see even a few numbers, we could run them. They didn’t see anything either. Feeling guilty has no place in finding, and can make you doubt what you do see. You use what you get to find what you need to find. We’ve already learned far more from you than what we found on-scene, and those people are the experts.”
I nodded, trying to let myself believe him. But even as the logical part of my brain accepted his gentle reprimand, I still felt responsible. I should have done something. Maybe if Paul had come to hockey with me, he wouldn't be in this situation. Then again, it wasn’t like I could've kept him from getting a summer job.
"Can you tell us anything about the men who took Paul?" My dad put a hand on my shoulder.
I was grateful for the change in topic. It gave me something else to focus on. "They were both bigger than him and a lot older, maybe in their thirties? One guy was about six inches taller, the other one was about the same height. They had dark hair, and one guy had a long scar on his chin that I saw in the headlights. The shorter guy had a tattoo on the knuckles of his right hand.” I swallowed hard, remembering I’d seen it when he’d knocked Paul out. “Oh, and he’s right-handed.”
"That's good,” Rob said. “Did they say anything?"
When I shook my head, he caught my eye and smiled. Warmth filled me suddenly. It was nice to know he understood how I was feeling. I'd never realized it before, but one of the hardest things to do was to try and explain your thoughts to someone else.
With Rob though, he got it. I didn’t have to tell him I was worried for my friend or try to explain the guilt I felt. He already knew. And even with all the negative emotions swirling inside my head, he still looked at me exactly the same way he had from the beginning. Calm, without judgement, and with a wisdom that reminded me a little of Buddhist monks I’d seen in the movies.
At that moment, I knew there was nothing I could do or say that would change that and I relaxed. We drove up and down the streets for another twenty minutes just above a crawl. It was a good thing it was so early, or we would have backed up traffic and irritated other drivers. Hardly a great way to stay unnoticed.
The roads were quiet and the side streets empty except for the sound of birds in the trees and legions of squirrels. The sun was heating up, promising another warm day ahead, and I began to wonder if I’d been completely wrong about the bus stop as we turned down College Avenue.
A small grocery store looked almost abandoned on the corner until I spotted two bleary-eyed backpackers leaving a youth hostel heading toward it. I looked up, and the flag on the roof of the hostel caught my eye, drawing it toward the sign on the front. College Backpackers was spelled out in bright red.
Just behind the sign for the hostel was the building from my dream.
Chapter 8
"Stop! That's it!"
I felt my dad startle in the seat behind us, but Rob hardly moved. Other than to put on his blinker and head to the right, he was calm as he continued past the hostel and the next building, cruising about halfway down the block before pulling over to the curb under a shady oak tree.
He turned the car off, meeting my dad’s eyes through the rear view mirror, the same way they had done so many times already today, then turned to me.
"Here's where things are going to get a little dangerous."
He narrowed his eyes, assessing me with the penetrating gaze which had struck fear in me at the start. I knew he was reading me to see if I had what he thought it would take and held my breath, deciding I must've passed when he turned my dad.
"I think he's ready. Are you?"
My head whipped around as my dad rubbed the back of his neck.
"Is a father ever ready for something like this? But yeah. If you think he’s good, I'm not going stop him, especially given how important this is." Turning to me, he gave me a stern look. "Mark, I want you to do everything exactly as Rob tells you to. This isn't a game, and it isn't a movie. These guys have real bullets and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
"I know, Dad. I'll be careful." I looked at him, suddenly wondering if he needed as much support as I did right now.
"You're always careful.” He gave me a faint smile. “It's the other guys I'm worried about. People are unpredictable when backed into a corner." He turned to Rob. "What’s your plan?"
Rob handed him a radio. “I want you to keep this. Wait until we’ve reached the door to the building, then call dispatch."
When he nodded and clipped the radio to his belt without comment, I frowned. "You know how to work it?"
My dad wrinkled his nose then exhaled deeply. "I haven't been completely honest with you about some of what’s involved in my work. That conversation will have to wait until another time. Let’s just say I’ve got this and it isn't the first time I've been put into a tight situation."
With that, he leaned forward, pushed up his pant leg, and pulled a small silver handgun out of the holster on his ankle.
"Dad? What the hell? Isn't it illegal to –"
My eyes flicked between Rob and my dad again, only this time I caught a hint of a smile on the detective’s face before he hid it.
"I have a license." My dad said, quietly.
"For concealed carry? In Canada? I didn't think anybody could get that."
My dad bit his lip before giving me a sheepish smile. "You can...if you’re involved in law enforcement. Like I said, it's another thing we'll talk about later. I was hoping to keep it quiet until your brother was older, but looks like that cat’s out of the bag."
I could only nod dumbly. Things were occurring in my life I couldn't explain but my dad and Rob somehow seemed to understand them. And now the laid-back guy I’d trusted my whole life had just pulled a gun out of his sock.
I didn't know what surprised me more.
Until now, I’d thought my dad was IT. Apparently, I was going to have to revise my perceptions of him as well.
Rob cleared his throat. "I know it's a lot to take in, but we need to get on this now. Mark, you're coming with me. James, after you call it in, you’ve got our six?”
My dad nodded, checking his watch before gesturing to his door. "You’ve got thirty seconds before I call, then I’ll be right on your tail."
Rob got out, opening the back door for my dad and started back down the street. As if all hesitation melted away, whatever had frozen me to the spot vanished and I jerked open my door, trying to shut it quietly even though we were half a block away from the building.
If I wasn't mistaken, I was being allowed to accompany a detective of the Toronto PD to find and apprehend the kidnappers.
It was the absolute worst plan I'd ever heard, and I was the teenager in the group.
I had to jog to catch up with him. He walked with long strides, hands free of objects but with the faint bulge of a gun at his back visible underneath his jacket. He flashed me a smile as I slowed beside him, inclining his head.
"It's just like any other day, Mark. We're out for a walk in Kensington. I'm thinking I might need a coffee. How about you?"
I shrugged, not sure how I was supposed to answer. "Um, sure?"
Rob chuckled. "Don’t worry. Maybe after. Your dad didn't give us much of a head start. I’d like to be onsite before SWAT shows up."
; "What?" I could barely squeak the word out. More and more it felt like I was in a movie, no matter what my dad said. I could only stare at him as he narrowed his eyes and scanned the street ahead.
"Yeah. If these guys are who I think they are, based on the evidence we’d already found as well as the extra information from you, we’ll likely be needing a few extra bodies. You only saw the two men, so if we’re lucky, it's just them.”
“And if we’re not?”
I didn’t know what I wanted him to say, but I wasn’t expecting what I heard next.
“If we aren’t lucky, we might be entering an underground gambling den we’ve been looking for since before Christmas."
Before I could ask another question, Rob held up a hand and I fell silent. We approached the building without a sound. As we came up on the left it was exactly what I remembered from my dream.
The wide sidewalk was covered with trash and cigarette butts, the crowd from my dream vanished in the light of day. The garage door, which had been rolled open the night before, was now locked firmly to a latch near the ground.
A sign painted on the steel proudly proclaimed The Underground Dungeon.
I grimaced at the name, wondering if that was a clever way to hide a different business. According to what Rob had shared, probably. He looked at me, waiting for me to follow his lead. When I pointed to the side of the building I remembered watching Paul struggle with the men, he turned toward it and walked ahead of me.
The door was medium blue against a dark brown brick façade, a color like the blue in the mountains or clouds on a rainy day. Something about it struck me as out of place. Maybe it was because it was strangely pretty for such an otherwise grungy, dark building.
I looked up, seeing nothing above the door to indicate where it led. A plain steel handle stood between me and the last place I’d seen Paul. Was I ready to meet the men who’d taken him? I hesitated, then Rob motioned me to stand behind him. Grateful not to have to go first, I complied immediately.
He tried the door, but it didn't budge. I heard the unmistakable sound of a lock engaging, the steel sounding faint yet slightly hollow inside the building, quiet but echoing. He rolled his eyes but didn't appear surprised. Putting one finger up to his lips, he pulled out his gun and held it at the ready as he dropped his free hand to the handle and yanked, hard.
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 13
