Authors: Martin Crosbie
“Sorenson, wait.” He used her name. He knew it wasn’t her real name, and he was sure he was on a secure line, but he still shouldn’t have said it.
“No, you wait. I knew this cop thing was a mistake – too high profile.”
Drake held the small phone to his ear and watched some leaves blowing around outside the window. They blew down the road and into a driveway across the street.
“If it really was them we wouldn’t be having this call.”
He thought he could hear a breath being sucked in. He pictured Sorenson in an office somewhere, shaking her head, ready to alert a team to pick him up and transport him to another town – somewhere else off everyone’s radar.
She spoke slowly, quietly. “If they know where you are – you’re done. You know how it works.”
“If they were going to do it, I’d be dead. I’m not.”
“Not yet.”
It was a pointless argument.
Another silence.
Somewhere between seeing the arrows on the board that went nowhere and telling Ryberg a little bit about who he really was, he had decided. “I’m not leaving. If they’re going to come, let them come.”
He quickly hung up the phone before she could reply, and pulled out the battery. There was nothing left to say. For a moment he considered driving down to the Fraser River and throwing the phone out into the water as far as he could. He stared at it for a moment, then rewrapped it with the battery in the plastic bag and covered it with insulation once again. Then he replaced it behind the grate in the wall.
The wind rattled against the window and startled him. When he looked out, the same leaves were blowing around in the street. They moved in a circular motion as though they were part of a miniature whirlwind. The first snowfall was over. Rain began to fall on the road and quickly splattered against the window. It was starting slow, but that wouldn’t last. This was Hope, and there was only one type of rain here. Within the next few minutes those raindrops would get bigger and they’d pound down on the street, washing away what had been left behind. He turned the wall thermostat up a couple of degrees, and then took a glass from a shelf on the wall. From the back of the cupboard, he pulled out a bottle of the familiar golden liquid. From the dusty bottle of The Balvenie he poured one large shot. He sipped the scotch slowly, the way it was meant to be enjoyed, and continued watching the rain, waiting.
I’ve never been very good at accepting help, but I’ve found that when writing a book you need it. You absolutely need it. Without the efforts of the following folks this book would not be readable. Their time and work helped turn my story into a book. Saying thank you is not enough.
Rachel Albang spent hours helping make sure the story read and flowed the way I had intended.
Mallory Eaglewood encouraged me more than she’ll ever know. Her input was essential in helping me complete this project.
Cindi Jackson made sure the key elements were believable and told the way they should be told. Her expertise was greatly appreciated.
Melissa Bowersock sorted the work out and was kind enough to tell me the truth. She gave me far more than I expected.
My extremely patient editor is Laurie Boris. You can connect with her at
[email protected]
.
My talented and speedy formatter is Rich Meyer. Rich can be reached here
[email protected]
.
The errors relating to police terminology and procedures are mine – all mine. Any of the stuff I got right is due to the hard work and insight of these dedicated RCMP members.
Cst. Ian MacDonald and Special Cst. Holly Ross sent me an incredibly valuable email listing the errors that I made. Their “but we did very much enjoy the book” was also extremely reassuring to this sometimes insecure scribe.
Michelle Alton assisted with some research and terminology.
Sgt. Jean Hamm took the time to go through this work line by line and suggest corrections. Then, he was kind enough to talk me through many of the mistakes I’d made. His enthusiasm helped me cross the finish line.
Again, the errors are mine and are sometimes by design in order to forward the story. And, as the majority of my audience is in the US, the book was written in US English as opposed to Canadian.
Pamela Tagle is my oldest friend and secret weapon. She checks every word I write. I’m not sure I could complete a book without her assistance. And if I did I’m not sure it would be readable.
My sincere thanks to Gus Hardy for telling me who the murderer was. After years of hearing the premise for this story, he furnished me with the information I was missing. I’m very grateful to him.
And as always, thank you to Jacquie, the freckle-faced girl.
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The story of John Drake continues in
One Minute Past Midnight (Book Two in the John Drake Mystery series)
. This book will be released in 2016.
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