To Keep a Secret (7 page)

“Vine is after Henry,” I said. “I need you to call Shaw and Jimmy. Henry texted me from the Rideau Centre. He’s heading into the Byward Market.”

“That’s near me,” Nick said. “I’ll make the calls and head that way too.”

“I’ll keep you in the loop when Henry texts me again with his location.” The light turned green. I set my phone on the seat next to me and pressed my foot down on the gas. Luckily, traffic was moving quickly and I made several green lights in a row.

I turned right onto Wellington and drove past the Parliament Buildings. The road swooped left onto Sussex Drive. The Byward Market was a rabbit warren of streets off to my right. I took the next right onto York Street and glanced at my phone. No text message from Henry.

A car was backing out from an angled parking space directly in front of me. I waited for it to drive away and pulled in. If I didn’t take this spot, I could be driving around a long time. Parking was hard to come by in the Market. I’d take the spot and wait to hear from Henry.

I sent him a message.

In Market on York. Where are you?

I waited, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. A group of smokers stood in front of the bar across the street, huddled into their coats. The snow had stopped but it was a cold night.
Come on, Henry.
My phone beeped.

On Clarence. Turning onto William & heading your way. Vine on tail. Like he’s planted tracking device.

Vine was as smart as they come. He very well might have planted a device. He’d been in Jada and Henry’s apartment. What was it Jimmy had said? 
Vine hates being crossed. He goes to great lengths to get even.
I typed another message.

Check your bag, pockets. I’m on my way to meet you.

My phone rang as I started down York at a dead run. I slowed and put the phone to my ear. “Where are you, Nick?”

“I’m on George, just entering the Market. Where are you?”

“On foot heading east on York to meet Henry on William Street. Vine is close behind him.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll let Shaw know where you are.

I reached the intersection just as Henry skidded around the corner. He was wearing a blue jacket and carried a knapsack. I grabbed onto his arm and steadied him. He started to pull his arm away until he saw it was me. His eyes went from scared to relieved.

We ducked into the shadows. “Where’s Vine?” I asked.

Henry fought to catch his breath. “He dropped back. I couldn’t find anything in my pockets. I never had a chance to look in my bag.”

“Let’s head back to my car. Once we start driving, he won’t be able to keep up on foot.”

We started running. I checked behind but there was no sign of Vine. “I think we’ve lost him,” I said. I slowed, and Henry did too. No point drawing attention to ourselves. We passed a pub named The Brig and stopped in front of a clothing store. “Let’s cross the street,” I said, pointing toward the line of parked cars. I did another shoulder check and waited for a car to pass by. I stepped onto the street and ran at an angle to my car.

It took me a moment to realize that Henry wasn’t behind me. I stopped on the other side of the road and looked where we’d been standing. I was just in time to see Henry being dragged through an iron gate. The gate was hardly visible, tucked between two buildings. “Henry!” I screamed.

Two cars sped toward me and I had to wait for them to go by. The second stopped in front of me. Two young men leaned out of the open back window. One whistled and the other asked if I wanted a ride.

Yeah right.
I shook my head and raced around the back of the car. I would have kicked their back fender if I’d had more time.

I stepped through the open gate and ran down a narrow brick passageway, which opened into a small courtyard. The space was flanked on all sides by buildings and another entrance was directly ahead of me. The corners were dark but I didn’t have time to worry about my own safety. I headed across the courtyard, trying to see into the black spaces. There was no sign of them.

I ran through the narrow entrance on the other side of the courtyard onto Clarence Street. People were walking on both sides of the street, but I didn’t spot Henry and Vine. The Black Thorn restaurant was in front of me with another courtyard beside it. I dodged more cars and slipped into the courtyard. This one was a larger rectangle with trees at the far end. I kept running, not even sure if they’d gone the same way.

When I reached the sidewalk on Murray Street, I stopped to look in both directions. I thought I saw two men far ahead, crossing Sussex. It looked like Henry’s blue jacket. I started running, fear and adrenaline keeping me going.

They were moving quickly, skirting past the art gallery. My lungs were burning in my chest and I stopped to catch my breath. I hunched over, gasping for air. When I lifted my head I caught a glimpse of them a good distance ahead of me. My eyes widened in horror as I realized where they were headed.

Vine was forcing Henry toward Nepean Point— the flat circle of land that ended in a fifty-foot cliff above the Ottawa River. The limestone cliff from which more than one person had fallen or been pushed to their death.

N
ick rang me as I started to give chase again. I told him Vine and Henry’s location and where they were headed, and that I was afraid I wouldn’t get there in time.

“Hang on, Anna. I’ll turn around and cut behind the art gallery. Ten minutes, tops.”

I raced past the statue of the explorer Champlain looking out over the Ottawa River. I’d been to more than one music concert at this site. Now, in the dark November night, the figure seemed ominous. The fifty-foot drop was directly ahead. A rim of fence was all that stood in Vine’s way. A cold wind was coming off the river. I searched the area ahead of me until I saw them. Henry was struggling to get away, his knapsack tossed some distance away on the ground. He must have known what lay in store if they kept going.

I screamed Vine’s name. He stopped dragging Henry and looked in my direction. I pushed myself forward.

“Who’s there?” Vine yelled. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You don’t want to do this, Vine.” My words came out between pants as I sucked in air. “We know about the video.”

I heard cars screeching to a stop close by. I was several feet from Henry and Vine. Almost close enough. Vine grabbed Henry around the neck with his burly arm and pulled him against his chest.

“Kid needs to be taught a lesson,” Vine said. “You must see that. He’s a punk blackmailer. I’m just letting him know what happens when anyone messes with me.”

Vine turned his back on me and started marching Henry closer to the edge. I had no idea if Vine would throw Henry over or not. But I didn’t want to take the chance. I flung myself the last distance and hurled myself onto Vine’s back. It felt as if I’d hit a wall. He was like a bull, with a wide chest of solid muscle. He reached back and grabbed my face with his hand. Pain shot through my cheeks and jaw as he shoved me backward.

I scrambled forward on my hands and knees and grabbed onto his leg. He half turned and kicked at me with his free foot, once, twice . . . I was sure he’d broken some ribs. Another kick landed in the middle of my stomach. Then Henry wrestled free. He turned and pounded Vine in the face. The impact sent Vine reeling backward and I let go of his leg.

Suddenly, Jimmy, Shaw, and Nick emerged from the darkness at a dead run. They landed on Vine like a pack of dogs. I rolled into a ball, clutching my stomach. Tears of pain streamed down my swollen face. I felt Henry’s hands on my back.

“Help,” he yelled. “Over here. Anna’s hurt.”

Feet pounded on the ground and more hands patted over my back and head. Nick knelt beside my head and rubbed his fingers softly across my wet cheek. “Hang in there, Anna,” he said. “Help is coming. You and Henry are going to be okay. You’ve done good.”

Those were the last words I heard before my world went black.

J
ust over a month later and two weeks before Christmas, Evan and I spent the Saturday afternoon wandering from store to store in the Westboro neighbourhood. My ribs still hurt now and then, but the bruises on my face had healed without scarring. I had trouble digesting food, though. The doctor assured me that problem would also go away, given more time.

Snow had been falling all day. The stores were filled with shoppers and Christmas carols played like a running soundtrack.

“Time for some hot chocolate,” I said after I placed the last of our packages into the trunk of my car.

“Yippee!” Evan spun in a circle and held his face up to the sky. He opened his mouth and captured snowflakes on his tongue.

I took his mittened hand in mine and we stomped through the snow to the Bridgehead café on the corner. We got our drinks at the counter and I looked around the busy room. Luckily, right then a couple stood up to leave. We nabbed their table near the window and shrugged out of our heavy coats. I was more tired than I’d let on to Evan. We sipped our hot chocolate and I thought I might never want to leave this warm, comfortable spot.

“May I have a cookie?” Evan asked. “I could get you one too, Aunt Anna.”

“Now what was I thinking? Of course we need cookies.” I reached down for my purse, groaning at the sudden pain in my side.

“This one is on me,” Evan said with a smile. “Grandpa gave me some money to treat you.” He leapt up and joined the long line at the counter. I watched him with a bittersweet happiness in my heart. Cheri was missing out on so much, but at least she’d be home from China for two weeks at Christmas.

I glanced to my right at three young girls waiting for their order. I looked more closely. “Hi Frannie,” I said.

All three of them looked at me. It took Frannie Blair a few seconds before she remembered who I was. She moved closer to my table and smiled. “Hi Anna.” Her friends pulled out their iPhones.

“How are you?” I asked.

Frannie leaned toward me. “Mom and I are moving to Stratford after Christmas. She grew up there. My father moved to Kingston. He . . . moved in with his girlfriend.”

I’m sorry.

“It’s okay. He was hardly around. Mom and I are going to start a new life. She’s been getting treatment, you know, for depression. She’s been depressed as long as I can remember.”

“I’m glad things are working out for you, Frannie. You and your mom deserve a fresh start.”

“Yeah. Thanks for everything you did to help us. I wish Mandy could have met you.”

“I wish that too.”

Evan came back with our cookies. I helped him get settled at our table and made a big deal over my oatmeal treat. Evan puffed up like a little duck. Frannie and her friends were gone when I looked their way again. Seeing her felt like a good omen. Like an early Christmas present.

After we finished our snack, I drove Evan to his grandma Wilson’s house a few blocks away. Jimmy would meet him there for supper after his shift. I walked Evan to the door and hugged him goodbye. And I promised to hide the presents he picked out at my dad’s house.

Jimmy pulled into the driveway as I was heading for where I was parked. I stopped and waited for him to get out of his car.

“Hey, Anna,” he said. “You’re looking better.”

“The question is, better than what?”

“Better than that sad specimen we hauled on a stretcher off Nepean Point.” He smiled. “You’ll be happy to hear that Sergeant Rudy Vine is now officially off the force. He resigned this morning.”

“Took him long enough.”

“Like all men with gigantic egos, he believed he could talk his way out of being charged. His lawyers have finally convinced him to plead guilty and avoid a trial for kidnapping and attempted murder.”

“Getting that ego-maniac off the force feels good.”

Jimmy grinned. “Want to come in for supper? My mom would enjoy your company.” He left unsaid that he would, too.

I thought about it for all of five seconds. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got plans.” The disappointment in his eyes almost made me have second thoughts. I pulled open my car door before I could act on them. “See you around,” I said, and climbed in. He was still leaning on the trunk of his car as I pulled away.

I drove slowly through Westboro and Wellington West until I reached my PI office in Hintonburg. The snow and Christmas lights lifted something in my heart. I’d missed this season in Ottawa when I was hitching around the U.S.

Gino Roma was leaning on the counter in his pizza restaurant. I entered and accepted his hug before taking a seat at the counter. I took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of tomato, basil, and garlic.

“You just missed Nickie,” he said. “He was here for supper.”

“Too bad.” I accepted a menu and pretended to read it. I put it down and said, “Gino, just what did your son Nick do before he started working for us?” I tried to look like I wasn’t fishing for information.

“Nick? I thought you knew.” Gino set a full glass of red wine in front of me. He poured a second glass for himself.

“Nope.”

“My Nick was a famous actor in Italy. He made several films and had all the ladies lining up. He was like that Brad Pitt person, only bigger.”

The surprise made me cling onto the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling off the chair. Movie star wasn’t even close to the gangster life I’d imagined. I blinked a couple of times. “Has Nick made any English films?”

“Why would he? He had all the work he could handle in Italian movies. Then his girlfriend broke his heart and he got tired of fame. I’m not sure how long he will stay in Canada. But he is happy here for now.” Gino winked and raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Anna Sweet. Merry Christmas to my favourite PI.”

I gave my head a small shake before clinking my glass with his. “To you, Gino. And to the end of a bumpy year filled with surprises.”

Gino laughed. “I’m quite sure there will be many more bumps in the years to come. May our lives never be dull.”

I wasn’t sure this was the best wish, with all we’d just been through. But I raised my glass anyway and saluted Gino before taking a good, long drink.