“Enough.” Edie whispered the word into her mug as she picked it up. Her hand was steadier.
Four minutes, and Edie shut her laptop. She scrolled through pictures on her phone. She drank her coffee, but she couldn’t eat the pastry. Too sweet right now. She wrapped it in napkins and tucked it away. That was normal, wasn’t it? She’d lost sight. She was evaluating her every movement. Breathe.
One minute, and her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of leaving this quiet, safe space. Slightly dizzy, she stood, her heart rate way too high. Full breath, down to her toes. Not a good time to pass out. Edie gathered her things and walked the seven steps to the door. She felt the warmth of the wood and metal under her palm. The sun was so bright she felt pierced by it. Edie tried to convince herself she had walked into a normal afternoon. A regular day.
She heard it. An engine idling, then gunning. It was approaching too quickly. It wasn’t stopping, there was no time, she had to run. If she jumped now, the car wouldn’t hit her, she could escape the pain of it all.
Breathe.
The scene resettled. A car drove slowly up the street, braking sluggishly at the stop sign. It wasn’t going to hit her. That was then, not now.
You’re being followed.
Danger shadowed Edie on the brightly lit street. She tried not to look for Skye in the street, instead tried to feel the pull of her in the air. Was that possible, after knowing someone for such a short period of time? After one kiss?
She was almost at Dalhousie Street. She could catch a cab there, no problem.
Someone was behind her. Steps in step with hers. Edie wanted to turn and look. Was this real? Was this her scrambled wiring, a fuse shorting in her brain, a connection gone awry? Every muscle in her back and neck tensed, but she kept walking. Eyes ahead on the street, half a block until the main intersection.
A man stepped out of an alley directly into her path. She stopped immediately, an awkward stutter-step. The steps behind her became a presence, a softly muttered curse, breath against the back of her head. The man walking toward her stepped to the side, then he held his arm up, as if showing her a picture on his phone. The screen pulsed a rapid explosion of white light, a hundred strobe lights in the millisecond before she could blink or turn away. Hijacked. Is this real? Edie was paralyzed. Did I close my eyes? Someone brushed by her right shoulder, and she shrank away from the touch, which pushed her toward the flashing light. I should blink. The thought was far away. Skye. That thought was even farther.
“What the fuck, man?”
Shouting, a flurry of activity and the light gone. Edie blinked. Someone on a bike came screaming up the sidewalk. Looked like a bike courier, spiked helmet, army pants tucked into socks. Beat-up saddlebags matching the beat-up bike.
“You’re a fucking hazard, get out of the way.”
Did she recognize that voice? Edie edged away from them all, even as she registered something familiar about the bike courier.
“You should not be on the sidewalk.”
Russian accent. Jesus. Like the other night. Last night? What was this? Edie stepped around the bike courier and the two men and kept walking. Almost at Dalhousie Street. Had there been lights? Real or imagined?
“You want your shit delivered? I get it delivered. Now move.”
Skye’s voice. This Skye was all angles and spikes and edges, no hint of reserve or shyness. Edie breathed. Skye was at her back. Skye was watching her. A cab idled at the intersection a few steps away. Edie flagged it down, such a casual, normal gesture. She got in, gave her address, and closed her eyes. Lights danced and she felt nauseous. Tears threatened but anger burned them away. Then, a deep relief. It wasn’t her imagination or her messed-up brain. Something was going on. And Skye believed her.
The cab took only minutes to get to Edie’s apartment. Edie paid the driver and hurried up the front steps, remembering how she’d stood here last night with Skye. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door, entered the quiet front hall, and relocked the door behind her. Edie took a breath. And another. The trembling wouldn’t stop. She took the stairs to her apartment, unlocked and relocked the door, dropped her bag on the coffee table, and sat on the couch. She didn’t move. Edie stared straight ahead, letting thoughts and images cycle in and out of her head. She began to line up events like she was investigating a story. No luck. She had to consider the source. She needed help.
Edie’s cell phone chimed. Skye.
I’m here. Buzz me in.
Edie stood and crossed the floor, pressing the old-fashioned buzzer next to her door. She leaned against the painted wood and waited until she heard Skye’s quick tread on the stairs. They stopped outside her door. She heard a knock.
“Edie, it’s Skye.”
Edie put her hand on the doorknob. Last chance for this to be all a misunderstanding. Last chance for Skye to see her as a whole, together being.
“Edie?”
Edie opened the door. Skye walked in, closed and locked the door, and stood at near attention. She was still sharp edges, controlled movement, evaluative stare. Her voice was a harsh whisper, her words demanding. Edie saw her Skye in her slightly wild and fiercely protective eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Edie nodded.
“I think you should come over to my place. Pack a bag.”
“No. I’m fine here.”
Skye’s eyes flashed and Edie caught a glimpse of the commanding officer. But she was not a subordinate.
“Edie…”
“Were you following me today?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was worried.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
Skye was unapologetic. Edie was resistant. This wasn’t going anywhere.
“I don’t want to do this here,” Skye said finally, softening her stance just slightly.
“We’re not doing anything,” Edie said. Her voice sounded robotic. That should have been a red flag, but Edie felt grounded in her stubbornness. It was familiar and safe in a world that suddenly wasn’t.
Skye looked around the front entrance and found an envelope and a pen and began to write. Edie watched curiously as Skye wrote quickly and passed the envelope over to Edie.
Your apartment might be bugged.
How can you tell? Edie wrote back.
Can’t. Need proper equipment. Have it at my place. Come over. We’ll talk.
Edie sighed. Skye was being so reasonable. And helpful. Right now she needed someone to share the load. She took the notepad back and scratched out a message.
I have an appointment in an hour with Dr. Wallace.
Skye nodded, and her eyes brightened.
I’ll take you.
Resistance rose up and disappeared just as quickly. Another sigh. “Okay,” she said out loud.
Edie turned and walked to her bedroom, thankful her legs were steady. She packed a bag without really thinking and walked back to the living room. Skye was busy tapping on her phone which vibrated every few seconds. Skye’s eyes would flick up to the screen then she’d keep typing. It looked like an intense text conversation.
“That about me?” Edie said.
Skye looked at the bag in Edie’s hand and kept typing before she pushed away from the wall and shoved her phone in her pocket. She crossed to the window and glanced out.
“Cab’s here.”
Outside, Skye was alert, maneuvering Edie with subtle gestures and a brisk pace. Edie allowed herself to be directed, though she was tired and irritated. As the cab made its way to Dr. Wallace’s office at the edge of downtown, where buildings met residential neighbourhoods and local grocers and public schools, Skye scanned the streets and occasionally tapped on her phone. Edie stared blankly out the window and tried halfheartedly to stop the anger mounting in her stomach.
They reversed the routine, getting out of the cab and into the building. Edie felt like a politician with her bodyguard hovering beside her. Sky
e had the sunglasses, the vaguely threatening presence, the intensity. This would be funny any other moment. Any other moment that didn’t mean an unnamed threat was lurking.
Edie wanted her life back. She wanted anonymity and she wanted the gentle, sweetly awkward Skye back. But that Skye seemed farther and farther away. They sat in Dr. Wallace’s small waiting room. Skye continued to tap at her phone. Edie closed her eyes and tried not to surrender to the fear hiding in her anger and irritation.
Edie heard voices approaching the treatment room door but kept her eyes closed as the previous patient left. She felt Skye stiffen and shift closer as the person brushed by in the small space.
Edie opened her eyes to see Dr. Wallace evaluating Edie and Skye sitting together. This would require some extensive explaining.
“Edie?” Dr. Wallace’s tone and expression asked a hundred questions.
“Yes, I’m ready,” Edie said as she stood without acknowledging Skye’s presence. She began to follow Dr. Wallace back into the therapy room when she heard Skye call her name. Edie paused without turning around.
“I’ll be out here,” Skye said. “I have some calls I need to make. I think you should tell Dr. Wallace everything.”
Edie did not want to admit Skye’s request made sense or that she was relieved to know Skye was waiting for her.
Dr. Wallace sat comfortably in her chair across from Edie with her eyebrows raised.
“I have some things to tell you. I’m not sure where to start,” Edie said.
“Start wherever you’d like. We can always fill in the blanks later.”
“I think the incident at the bar earlier this week is part of a bigger…issue.” Edie could not bring herself to say the word “plot.” It felt too dramatic. It felt too scary. “I’ve had the sense I was being followed for a few months now. And then it happened again the other night with Skye, and then she followed me, and another incident happened out on the street just now…”
Dr. Wallace held up her hand. Edie felt her heart beating inside her chest. It was too high, her blood pressure increasing with every confession.
“Take a breath, Edie. Let’s unpack this. When you’re ready, start with what happened most recently.”
Edie took a breath. And another. And then she started to speak. It took almost forty minutes for Edie to dump out all her fears and suspicions. Dr. Wallace asked a few clarifying questions but mostly she sat and listened, though Edie could sense her agitation with this strange therapy session. When she was done, Edie sat quietly.
“Have you taken this to the police?” Dr. Wallace said.
“No.” Edie shifted in her seat. “I’m not even sure what I’d say. I’m not sure it’s significant.” She knew in her heart that it was.
“If Skye thinks you need protecting, I’d say that’s significant.”
Edie didn’t respond.
“I’m not sure what you know of her history, she was in the—”
“Canadian Armed Forces. I know.” Edie could not explain why she was acting like a sullen teenager. Why she was still so resistant to seeing this as a real issue. A dangerous problem. A threat.
“She also works for a private security company. Surveillance and protection.”
“Still?” Edie said.
Dr. Wallace nodded. “I think we should suspend the therapy portion of our session and bring Skye in to talk about what happens next. What do you think?”
Edie’s shoulders slumped. She had no energy for this, but she went to the door to ask Skye to come in, stopping abruptly when she saw Skye was not alone. She sat next to a tall woman with short, straight brown hair. The woman was leaning in close to Skye, their heads bent together, talking rapidly in a low tone. When Edie stepped into the small waiting room, both women looked at her and immediately stood. Edie kept her eyes on Skye though she noted the other woman’s height, the broadness of her shoulders, and the blazer over her T-shirt and jeans. She smiled warmly at Edie.
“Edie,” Skye said, “this is Constable Jane Caldwell with the OPP.”
The constable stepped forward to shake Edie’s hand. “I’m off duty, so it’s JC.” Her grip was strong, her hand warm like her smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Edie said robotically. She looked back and forth between the two tall, muscled women who dominated the small waiting room with their energy. “I’m guessing Skye called you about what happened this morning.”
Behind the cop, Skye lifted her chin and set her shoulders, like she knew she might be in shit for this decision but refused to back down.
To her credit, JC didn’t once check in with Skye, she kept eye contact with Edie as she spoke.
“Yes, and some of the other incidents as well. I’d like to—”
“Why don’t you both come in,” Edie interrupted. “We can use Dr. Wallace’s office as a war room.” She turned abruptly and reentered the office, the two women following her. She sat woodenly and stared at the desk as Skye made the introductions. JC then sat beside her and Skye leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes on Edie, as if preparing to knock down her defenses. Edie stared at the lines and whorls in Dr. Wallace’s desk. The irritation and anger were back.
“Ms. Black?”
Edie tuned back in, unaware that she’d drifted until JC’s gentle voice called her back.
“Yes?”
“I’d like to verify what I’ve learned from Skye so far, and then I’d like you to think about anything else that could possibly be related to these incidents. Is that okay?”
Edie recognized the interrogation technique: the invitation to participate, the building of trust, and the reiteration of the value of her opinion. Edie nodded, and JC read from her phone point-by-point details of everything Edie had told Skye and what Skye had witnessed. Edie kept her eyes on JC’s hands as she listened, aware of Dr. Wallace on one side and Skye on the other. JC completed her list and looked up at Edie.
“Ms. Black, is there anything else you can think of to add to this list?”
“Edie,” Edie corrected absently.
“Edie. Anything at all?”
Edie thought about all the times in the last few weeks and months that she thought she was being paranoid. All the times she’d kicked herself for being unable to properly evaluate and react to her environment in a normal manner.
“No, that’s everything.”
“Okay. Can you think of any reason why someone might be after you? Why someone might want to scare you or threaten you?”
That gentle voice again, the gentle cop voice. Even knowing what she did about interrogation, Edie still wanted to trust that voice. But she looked past her to Skye. Her intense, yellow-green eyes gave her the courage to speak.
“I don’t know.”
JC waited, the silence oppressing the room. Edie felt stupid and vulnerable and so fucking tired. She clamped down hard on her threatening tears, tightening the muscles in her stomach as she gripped the upholstered arm of the chair and closed her eyes. No way was she going to cry in this room full of powerful women. She opened her eyes but would only look at JC.
“I’d like to take this to my superiors,” JC said. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure this is enough for us to launch a full-scale investigation. Right now we don’t have enough evidence to tie this all together. More significantly, there are no leads at all as to who might be behind any kind of systematic threat or attack.” JC paused as if reluctant to say what she needed to say next. Edie decided to rescue her. And to take some control back from this interrogation.
“And because of my highly publicized history with a head injury, it’s possible that whatever evidence you’ve gathered from me so far will be called into question.”
Edie did not want the sympathetic look from JC, but got it anyway.
“Come on, JC, that’s ridiculous.” Skye pushed off the wall and advanced on JC. Her shoulders were rigid with strain, and her expression was dark and dangerous.
“Skye,” Dr. Wallace
said evenly, holding up a forestalling hand. “Let me see if I can handle this.” Skye leaned back against the wall, clearly still pissed. “Constable Caldwell, if you need verification of Ms. Black’s current, exceptional level of cognitive functioning, I can obtain that for you.”
Edie relaxed just a little at her words as well as her tone.
JC shook her head, obviously frustrated at the multi-side attack. She took a breath before she spoke.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe her…” JC stopped and turned to Edie. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I do. I will take this to my superiors, and we will begin an investigation. I can guarantee that. What I can’t guarantee at this moment is any kind of security from the OPP. We don’t have enough evidence to warrant that kind of manpower at this point. Honestly, I think your best bet is to lay low and have Skye here be your protective detail.”
Constable Caldwell clearly did not expect the immediate and adamant reaction from both Skye and Edie. As Edie started protesting from one side and Skye launched herself away from the wall for a second time, JC sat back in surprise.
Dr. Wallace once again interrupted. “Maybe let’s all just take a moment with this suggestion, shall we?”
Edie bit back an angry retort and deliberately tried to calm her breathing. She did not need protection. The police could figure out what was happening and deal with it. If it even was anything. She didn’t need her movements monitored, didn’t need yet another major disruption just as she was getting her life back together.
“Edie? I’d like to check in.”
Great, a therapy session in front of Skye and JC. Fucking perfect. Edie took a breath and released it. Dr. Wallace used that phrase to bring Edie back when she was cycling through a non-productive spiral. Another breath. She looked at her psychologist.
“I don’t want a security detail.”
Dr. Wallace nodded. Edie felt Skye and JC stiffen from across the room. Dr. Wallace ignored them.
Repercussions Page 6
