The Darkest Hour (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Jasmin Quinn

  “Is everything okay?” Ben Morrison, the owner of the grocery store, startled Kelsie out of her reverie.

  Kelsie grinned and patted her stomach. “Yes, thanks. I was just wondering if the little one would prefer apples or oranges.”

  Ben looked a little embarrassed to be talking to a pregnant woman about her baby. “Well, you know what they say, an apple a day…”

  Kelsie smiled as she reached for two apples. “They do say that, don’t they?”

  She paid for her groceries, slipped her mittens on her hands and carried the bags out of the store to her car. Nothing flashy like the Mercedes. Just a silver Nissan Altima, a couple of years old. She deposited the groceries in the trunk, then got in the car, shivering, and turned the heat on high. Fuck January in Saskatchewan. Someone should have warned her. Her thoughts drifted again as she waited for the car to defrost, to that night. To the last time she saw Dean. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she remembered how useless she had been. How hard she tried to save him, how no one would listen to her.

  After they left the precinct that night, her father took her back to his house. She was physically and mentally exhausted. She had nothing left in her, no one to turn to. And so, as her father took her elbow and led her into his house, up to her room, she didn’t fight him. He let her go at the door to her bedroom. She turned to him. “Dad,” her voice broke. “It’s not too late.”

  He looked at her, hard eyes shielding his thoughts. “Get out of those clothes and take a shower. It’s been a long night. Get some sleep.” He pushed her into the room. “I have some calls to make,” he said cryptically. He closed her door, leaving her alone. She listened to his footsteps as they faded, then looked around her room. It was always here, never changing. She never needed to pack for a visit. She could go to this room; everything she needed was here.

  She shook her head as she sat down on the bed and pulled the thrift store boots off her feet. Up until now, she never gave that practice a second thought, but really, who did that? Maintained a room for his child, always ready and waiting, in case she needed to come home, in case she needed to stay. She wondered if Owen’s room was like this too. She reached into the pocket of the leather jacket. The cop, McQueen, had put her bobby pins and her wedding ring back where he found them. They were her gifts from Dean, she thought sentimentally as she wrapped her hand around them and pulled them out along with Finn’s card. She dropped the leather jacket onto the boots, then the t-shirt and her jeans. She stood there naked, suddenly loathing the clothes in front of her. They were everything she was not, she thought. But then, who the hell was she anyway?

  She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water stream over her, remembering her first shower with Dean, how terrified she was. It was only a few days ago, but it seemed like a decade. She washed her hair, then soaped her body. She shivered as she ran the soap along her vulva, thinking of Dean again and feeling a wetness that was neither shower nor soap. Then she started crying, sobbing as she dropped down on her hands and knees. The warm water washed over her, soothing her while she wept until her tears were spent.

  She slept until noon and then wakened with a start, guilt washing over her that she should be safe in a warm bed while Dean was out there, alone and hurt. She crawled out from the covers, feeling her muscles pull, in her legs, in her stomach, in her shoulders. She looked in the mirror. A ghost looked back at her. Hair in disarray, a livid bruise on her cheek, against her sallow complexion. Dark circles under her eyes and a sad set to her mouth. But there were no more tears, she cried them last night. She had to think about today. She dressed quickly, in jeans and a soft sweater, warm socks on her feet, and running shoes. While she slept, someone had come into her room and removed the thrift store clothes; like everything that had happened to her, they no longer existed.

  She went down the stairs to her father’s study. That’s where he would be, that’s where he always was. As she walked in, he looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, but didn’t say anything. Kelsie sat down on the couch, and poured a coffee from a silver urn into a fragile china coffee cup. She picked up the cup and brought it to her nose, savouring the smell. Then she took a sip, held it in her mouth, and swallowed it down.

  Alana, her father’s housekeeper entered with a tray of scrambled eggs and toast and set them on the table. “Good morning, Miss Kelsie,” she said as she fussed. She looked into Kelsie’s face, then dropped her eyes. Whatever she thought remained unspoken – she turned and left the room. It seemed like days since Kelsie had eaten a decent meal as her stomach twisted in anticipation of expertly prepared food. Kelsie put her cup down on the coffee table and reached for a plate, taking a piece of buttered toast and a spoonful of eggs. She nibbled carefully, holding the toast in her mouth, savouring it before swallowing it down. She looked up then and met her father’s eyes. He was watching her carefully. She lost her appetite.

  She put the plate down on the table, then said, impassively. “Should we talk?” She waited then, for him to make the next move and was rewarded with a creak of his office chair as he stood up, walked over and sat down beside her on the couch. He refilled his coffee cup and took a sip. They both drank their coffee black, they both liked eggs without salt, they both had smiles that rarely reached their eyes. She shivered inwardly. She had his genes, she was his daughter, for better or worse.

  Then he spoke.

  “Kelsie, in my line of business, women and children are a weakness. I’ve shielded you all your life, kept you safe. I can’t do that anymore. The wrong people know about you, know that I would do anything for you.”

  Kelsie wanted to point out the irony in that statement, but decided to keep her mouth shut.

  Randall continued. “You have to leave Vancouver. You should leave BC.” She started to shake her head in protest, but he held up a hand, stopping her. “There’s nothing here for you. Never was, if we’re being honest. You have no friends, you have a shit job. And you’re a liability, now. Like Owen.”

  Kelsie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She understood, she thought bitterly. Should the bad guys, whoever they fuck they were, decide they needed leverage over The Judge, she would become a target. And he would have to make a choice. Last night, he chose her, but the stakes weren’t that high. Next time, she might not be so lucky.

  “Okay,” she said, looking up, into his chilly gaze with her own hard eyes. “I’ll go, wherever you want, however you want. But not without Dean.”

  “Dean’s gone,” Randall said bluntly.

  “What the hell do you mean, Dean’s gone?” Kelsie cried, feeling herself grow cold.

  “Kelsie, stop,” Randall snapped at her. “I said gone, not dead.”

  Kelsie banged her coffee cup on the table as she stood up. “What? What? Tell me what you’re talking about.” She knew she was almost yelling, but the panic in her was overwhelming her caution.

  “He killed one of the Russian’s last night. Wrapped a chain around his neck and choked the life out of him.” She knew Randall was trying to use his words to disparage Dean, to make Kelsie think that the man she was in love with was a monster.

  But she didn’t bite. Instead, as relief washed over her, she said bitterly, “I hope it was Anto.”

  Randall glowered at her. “It’s irrelevant who he killed. But he’s gone. He didn’t come to find you, he didn’t track you down. Kelsie, he used you. You were a means to an end. That’s all.”

  “You don’t know,” Kelsie said stubbornly.

  “Of course, I know.” Randall was irritated. “I’ve lived this world for most of my life, working my way up the political ladder, looking the other way when necessary, playing both sides to get where I am today. I bloody well know exactly what men do. I am one of those men.” And then he stopped. He had shared more than he wanted to, Kelsie realized.

  She took a deep breath, understanding what he was saying and why. But she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. “This conversation is irre
levant.” She threw his words back at him. “And since you no longer need to save Dean and you don’t know where he is, I have no further use of you.” She started for the door.

  “Kelsie, stop. If you leave this house, I can’t protect you.”

  She didn’t stop, she kept walking toward the door. The Judge followed her. “Kelsie, stop,” he said sharply, and then he said, “Please.” Softly.

  Kelsie stopped in her tracks, back still to him. He had never said please to her in his entire life. He ordered her around, pronounced his expectations, and derided her for all her inadequacies, perceived or otherwise.

  “Kelsie,” Randall pleaded with her. “They know who you are, they know where you live, they know who you work for. It’s not safe to go back to your house. He killed one of theirs, they’ll want revenge. He was willing to give up his life for yours, once. Do you think he wouldn’t do it again? They aren’t the least bit interested in you, you’re a pawn. But they will use you to get to him.”

  Kelsie turned then, towards him. “I don’t understand. They call you The Judge. Aren’t they loyal to you?”

  Randall barked out an embittered laugh. “Loyalty is won two ways, through fear and through money. No one is without enemies. And the people I deal with. They all want the same thing. Total control and dominance. We’re all psychopaths, Kelsie. Even this Dean.”

  “Not Dean.” She crossed her arms defensively, feeling doubt creep in.

  Randall ignored her. “What a funny state of affairs. Dean and I share the same weakness. If they take you, they’ll own me. And they’ll own Dean.”

  She looked at the man who had kept her at arms length her entire life. He never said he loved her, never showed any interest in her or Owen, treated them like unwanted houseguests that he had to tolerate. He shipped them off to private school, let them come home during the holidays, only ever included them in outings when he needed picture perfect family moments to somehow influence his career. And here he was, standing in front of her, telling her that she was his weakness. What bullshit! What manipulative, asinine, fucking bullshit!

  But he was right about one thing. The Russians knew about her. They had her ID, they had her laptop. She had no secrets. She had connections to powerful men in this city. Even if her father was manipulating her, the Russians didn’t know that. She wasn’t safe here. She was going to have to leave this city, this province. She was going to have to get lost, become nobody. “Okay,” she said to her father. “Okay, tell me how.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kelsie impatiently swiped at the frosty car window with her mitten. Then put the car in gear, and slowly backed it out of the parking stall. She ended up here, in a small town, in Saskatchewan. Her father transferred $5 million dollars into an untraceable account; a numbered account, he told her, so that no name was ever associated with it. She was the only one that had access. He put her in touch with a friend of a friend, who gave her a new identification. She kept the name Kelsie, why not? In fact, she reasoned, it would throw them off her trail if they cared enough to come looking for her. Who would think she would keep her name? But she changed her last name from Scott to Hudson. That didn’t break her heart. She no longer had a sentimental attachment to Scott, if she ever did.

  Her father didn’t want to know anything about the new life she was embarking on, not her new name, nor where she was headed. “I can’t tell them what I don’t know,” he told her. She never left her father’s house except to finalize arrangements, and then never alone. Her father arranged for a driver. A burly man name Karl, who barely spoke to her. That was okay, she had nothing to say to her father’s thugs.

  She was almost ready to go, she had the ID, had a plan in place. Where she was going, how she was going to get there. However, before she left, she had some unfinished business. She considered the business card Finn McQueen had given her, his cellphone number on the back. Kelsie bit at her lower lip, thoughtfully. Finn McQueen, the good guy, he had said. She dialled the number and waited. He didn’t pick up. It went to voicemail. Kelsie didn’t identify herself. She knew he would know it was her.

  She said, “The pawnshop in Richmond, I remember its name. Imperial pawnshop. The owner is Chinese. He has a prominent spider tattoo on his neck. He bought my engagement ring from me. It was a 1½ carat diamond in a platinum setting. It’ll be the biggest diamond in that case. Also, my Mercedes SUV is missing. Dean was driving it when he disappeared.” She rattled off the plate number. Then she hung up the phone.

  Six says later McQueen came calling. Randall had just left the house for a business meeting. Almost as soon as he was gone, the doorbell rang. Alana answered it. Kelsie was sitting in her father’s study, reading a newspaper, when Alana came to her. “Someone is here to see you, Miss Kelsie,” she said nervously, as if worried she’d been caught doing something wrong.

  Kelsie looked up in surprise. “Who?”

  “He says his name is Finn McQueen. Says he is a police officer. He showed his badge.”

  “Thanks Alana,” she said dismissively. “I’ll go to him.” She got up off the couch and walked out to the foyer, where Staff Sargent McQueen was standing, looking around him, not in awe, but with a hooded expression.

  “Hi,” Kelsie said simply as she walked up to him. It was better now, he was in her territory.

  He looked at her, assessing her. After two weeks, the bruise on her face was fading. She was wearing a little makeup, to help hide it, a little mascara, a light gloss on her lips. Her hair was clean, brushed and swept up loosely, small curls escaping and framing her face. She had on a light blue cashmere sweater and a pair of loose black pants. She knew what he saw. She was the perfect picture of entitlement. “You just missed my father.”

  “I know,” he said. “Want to talk?”

  “Sure,” she replied bitterly. “I’m completely stable now.”

  He didn’t rise to her bait. The consummate professional. “Somewhere private.”

  She motioned with her head and led him into the study. “Have a seat,” she said neutrally and watched as he slid his bulk into a leather armchair. She sat on the edge of the sofa, close enough, but also at a safe distance.

  He didn’t mince words, didn’t wait for her to offer him coffee. “I found your SUV.”

  Kelsie forgot her misguided anger at this man. She leaned forward intently. “Where?”

  He threw her a small smile. “In Surrey. It wasn’t easy to trace. Whoever had it was smart. He did a little bait and switch with the license plates. I finally connected the dots to a stolen pathfinder.”

  Kelsie looked confused. Finn enlightened her. “The pathfinder was found a few kilometres from the dockyards. Prints yes, nothing in the system. But the same prints were found in your car.”

  Kelsie nodded, that made sense.

  “I checked out the pawnshop too. Guy with a spider tat on his neck showed me some nice engagement rings I could buy for my girlfriend. The one she would’ve really liked, I couldn’t afford. Carat and a half, platinum setting.”

  Kelsie felt relief wash over her. There was a trail after all.

  “What does this mean?” She asked him.

  Finn leaned forward, almost touching Kelsie. “None of this ever felt right to me, Kelsie. But you know,” he shrugged. “I’m a little fish.” He looked around the study and then back at her. “Anything I do from here on forward is off the record. I don’t know who to trust, you don’t know who to trust.”

  Kelsie let out a little breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She finally had a friend. “So then, what?”

  “Tell me your story again, Kelsie, all of it. This time, don’t leave anything out.”

  Two weeks later, she was gone. Leaving her father’s house in the dead of night, travelling not by plane, but by train to Calgary, Alberta. She bought the car in Calgary, paying with her bright shiny new credit card. And then she drove to Saskatchewan, to the town she decided to live in, Rosetown, for no other reason than she like
d the name.

  She stayed in a hotel in nearby Saskatoon for a few weeks while she bought a house in Rosetown. It was déjà vu a little bit as she stipulated to the realtor that the house be vacant, so she could take possession the minute the deal was closed. She remembered her first night in the house. It was empty, no furniture, no pictures, not even a roll of toilet paper. It didn’t matter to her. She felt safe for the first time in weeks.

  Then the neighbours started knocking on her door, bringing her little welcome baskets of food. And she slipped on the wedding ring and a brave face as she told them about her husband, Dean, overseas on a mission. Military she said, and they were all very excited by the aura of mystery that surrounded the pretty new neighbour who had moved into their midst. And what it did for her was give her hope that one day he would come back to her.

  Then she started getting sick. At first it was just occasionally, when she overindulged in chocolate or ate eggs, but then more regularly. She took herself to the doctor, not in Rosetown, but back to Saskatoon. The doctor pronounced her pregnant. She remembered that moment with a smile. “Are you sure?” she asked him. He appeared affronted that she would question his judgement.

  “I’m sure you’re pregnant,” he said. “I’ve seen it before.” And then he smiled. “It’s not terminal.”

  She laughed at him, a wave of euphoria hitting her as the impossibility of it crashed down on her. Dean, wherever he was, was going to be a father. And for just a moment, it didn’t matter if he ever came back to her. She was carrying a little piece of him inside her.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dean watched her from the shadows as she walked into the house, groceries in hand. She set the two bags down on the hall table, dropping her mittens beside them, then kicking off her boots. Once of her socks came off with the boot, and she reached down and pulled off the other sock as well throwing it in the corner on top of the boot. She closed and locked the door against the cold winter weather. She slid another bolt in place and then reached up to reset the alarm.