― Cormac McCarthy
Dead Centre
There seems to be no end to stuff raining down on me.
It's pouring again and there's no let up by my stalkers.
In the last 24 hours I've been followed, had my landline tapped and finally, my privacy invaded by a conveniently placed spy camera. In response to the foregoing, I have only one question―why me?
I'm no major player in these events―more an innocent bystander. I'm left with a ton of questions and a continual sense of frustration...
What the hell is going on here?
Wren and I were sitting in Tim Hortons sipping our morning coffee and morosely watching rain sheeting down the windows.
"Don't the weather gods know it's mid-May and not still April?" Wren groused.
"Maybe they're deep in thought," I teased, "or busy, or traveling. Maybe they're sleeping and have to be awakened."
She grinned cynically, "Well, we don't need a wake-up call to know when someone's pissed at us."
"Yeah," I commiserated, "being followed and tapping my phone is one thing, but don't hang a bloody spy cam in my front yard―that makes me mad."
We both burst out laughing and that broke the ice. We knew then nothing was going to deter us―no dirty tricks, not even foul weather.
Wren's cell buzzed and she checked her texts.
"Kate and Sam want us to drop by the precinct so they can update us," she frowned.
"That's not bad news," I encouraged her, "See? Things are looking up."
"Curb your enthusiasm, Guy," she smirked, "they never tell me good news."
"Well, way I see it, even bad news is progress. It's better than nothing."
She shook her head skeptically. "Anybody ever tell you you're such a positive guy?"
"Famous for it," I smiled, but she just nodded and headed out into the storm.
I must admit I wasn't feeling as confident as I outwardly presented―all the way to the police station I kept stealing furtive glances in the rear-view mirror, on the lookout for someone tailing us.
But we arrived without incident, although dripping wet, by the time we entered the station.
"Dirty weather, " Sam grumbled, eyeing our wet coats and shoes.
I shrugged. "Hey, it's Ontario in the spring―just wait a few hours and the weather will change."
"Change is good," Kate smiled bleakly, "Although sometimes it brings its challenges."
"Sounds like we're about to hear some bad news," Wren chimed in.
Kate sighed, "that's relative. Turns out the cop that planted the tracker on your car has gone rogue―he's in the wind and we have no idea where he is at the moment."
Wren shot me a pointed glance and I took it she wanted me to keep quiet.
"I thought this was an over-zealous rookie," she growled at Kate. "You're telling me all this time you knew it was an experienced cop and that Jude here was in danger?"
"We did know it was an experienced cop," Kate replied, patiently, "but Jude was never in danger―we've had a security detail watching him 24/7. We needed to keep this under wraps so this traitor wouldn't know we were on to him and that meant, not telling anyone in the station and certainly not disclosing it to civilians."
"Okay, " Wren relented, "good to know―can I assume the security detail will remain in place until this cop is apprehended?"
Of course," Kate nodded, "but any investigative work you're doing has to be cleared through me because we need to do a risk assessment to make sure you're not inadvertently putting yourselves in danger."
"Look," Wren protested, "we can't run everything by you―hell, I'm an experienced investigative reporter. I will. however, run anything risky by you , but that's the best I can promise."
Kate shook her head resignedly, "I figured you'd say that, but just be careful, Wren―this cop is ex-special forces. He's been trained to kill and he is dangerous."
Wren stood up, "We'll take that under advisement," she said icily.
She was pretty courageous, I thought, but as we walked out of the room I tried not to telegraph that I was shaking.