at the ball game today happened because you took me there.”
Drake moved to the corner to avoid anyone hearing his end of the conversation.
“You’re talking crazy. I’m still at the Rogers Centre. We’re trying to piece this thing together. American officials are here. That girl you ran away with is an international criminal and wanted by every agency they have down there, including the FBI.”
Drake snuck a glance at Sarah while he listened. She smiled back.
“If you can’t talk,” Spencer continued, “no problem, listen. Find a way to tell me where you are. I’ll bring everything I have and we’ll stop her together. She’s wanted on charges of killing her ex-boyfriend with a knife to the stomach. They only brought her here from Chicago this afternoon to help them identify someone. How you got mixed up with her no one knows. Help me bring her in, Drake.”
Drake gripped the phone tighter. He recalled something Sarah had said.
I’m dangerous. People have a habit of dying around me, or I end up having to kill them.
What did that really mean? Who was she and could any of what Spencer said be true?
He couldn’t hear anymore. He had to figure things out on his own. But who could he trust?
“Beware of a half-truth. You may have the wrong half,” Drake said and closed his phone without saying goodbye.
“What was that all about?” Sarah asked.
“It was Spencer. The cop that took me to the ball game.”
He felt her eyes on him, studying, scrutinizing. “Then why the long face?” she asked. “What did he say?”
Drake looked at her and wasn’t sure what he saw anymore: a traitor or his savior. “I just can’t believe I was had so easily. I hate being lied to. I’m finished with toxic people.”
Sarah nodded her head and stepped out into the hallway. Drake followed as she led him toward the elevators.
“It’s time to go,” Sarah said. “We need to get underground, find a cheap motel to discuss what to do next. I need to locate Parkman somehow. He’ll be able to help.”
“Who’s Parkman?”
“He’s a good friend and a cop. I’ll explain more later.”
Drake didn’t feel like talking anymore.
The line wrapped around away from the elevator. After a ten-minute wait, they’d moved far enough to be able to see the elevator doors. The tension thickened between them. Drake didn’t know what to believe. Should he ask her about the death of her ex-boyfriend? How would she take it? In the end, he knew she’d deny it.
Yeah, Drake, sorry, had to kill that guy. He was horrible.
The elevator arrived. As it emptied, the people in line ahead of them began to enter.
The last five people off the elevator all wore the same jackets. Drake noticed them right away. They scanned faces, dodged between people and attempted to get somewhere fast. Sarah ducked her head and leaned into the wall, moving toward the elevator.
“That’s Rod,” Sarah whispered to him. “How the fuck did he find us so fast?”
It was time to solve everything. If Sarah did hurt or kill someone, and they are looking for her, then I have to do the right thing. If she’s done nothing wrong, then what could it hurt?
He wondered how Rod’s tracking skills could be so good. Something unexplainable was happening here. Rod was never too far behind.
And what was that about Sarah wearing a tracking device and handcuffs? Could he really be on the run with a criminal? They didn’t use cuffs and tracking devices on innocent people.
If Sarah was guilty of something, then as much as he was attracted to her and would love to get to know her better, he couldn’t help her.
With his mind made up, Drake stepped out of line and walked away from Sarah.
“Rod Howley,” he shouted. “Sarah and I are right here.”
Rod turned from about twenty feet away and stared as he pointed toward where Sarah stood near the elevator’s door.
Chapter 15
Elmore ran from the Tim Horton’s and on his way back to his car, he dialed Beck Taxi’s dispatch.
“Beck Taxi?”
“My name is Staff Sergeant Mike King. I’m interested in a fare that got picked up near the corner of Adelaide and Spadina just over an hour ago. It was a young couple. According to the information we’ve received, the cab was flagged down. It wasn’t called in.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” the dispatcher asked.
“Mike King. I’m the lead detective investigating the shooting at the Rogers Centre. We have reason to believe the person of interest took one of your cabs.”
“Look, sir, I can’t give you that kind of information over the phone.”
He ran through traffic at the red light on King Street and continued toward his car, trying to formulate his response. He had to find out where Sarah was dropped off to get there before anyone else could.
“Ma’am, I know you’re aware of the Freedom of Information Act. I could go to any judge in the city and get him to sign a warrant to read your dispatch logs. The difference is, it would take until tomorrow or the day after before I could get the information and that would be a problem.”
He stopped talking to let the dispatcher respond. When she didn’t, Elmore continued, “If you tell me what I need to know now, you save us both a lot of trouble and time. While you decide, keep in mind that we’re hunting a killer on the streets of Toronto. Do you really want that on your conscience if they kill again when you could’ve done something to stop it?”
He heard no response. With all the traffic going by, Elmore wasn’t sure if he’d been disconnected.
Then the dispatcher spoke.
“I’ve only been here a few months. I don’t want to lose my job. I can’t do it.”
“Okay then, I’ll tell you what. Give me what I need and I will personally talk to your boss or whoever you want and tell them that the Toronto police force is indebted to you for your service to the community. I will make their life hell if they even think of firing you. But, on the other hand, go by the book on this one and make me get a warrant, I will tell your boss how difficult you were to work with regarding the location of a murder suspect. I will formally recommend you are fired immediately. Work with me and I will work for you. That’s how this goes. Get it?”
Elmore had made it to the building where his car sat parked in the underground. He had to wait until the call ended before heading down or he’d lose the signal.
“We’re running out of time here,” Elmore prodded. “Make a choice, but make the right one. Help me catch a murderer and I will help you. Decision time.”
Another pause that made him feel the dispatcher was going to disappoint him.
“The CN Tower,” she said.
“What? Really?”
“Yeah… I got it right here.”
Elmore slammed his phone shut and ran down the ramp for his car. The CN Tower sat only one city block away from him. He could be there in less than four minutes.
He jumped in his car and squealed the tires a few times as he raced out of the parking lot.
When he hit Front Street, he set his red police light on the dash of the vehicle and turned it on. As they do in the movies, he jammed on his brakes in front of the tower, opened his door, got out and slammed it shut.
His exposure was high, but with the fake mustache, the clothing and the proper ID, Elmore was confident he could pull it off.
He ran through the main doors, showed his badge and headed for the elevators where he stopped.
A group of seven men stood in a circle around one elevator door, their guns drawn, all watching, waiting as the lift rode down its cables from the top.
