The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 4-6 Page 26

  What happened to Drake?

  She only hoped it had nothing to do with her. It couldn’t be. Together they had silenced Drake’s enemies. She’d helped free him of the target on his back. If the target had been replaced because of her help, it would be as ironic as getting hit by an ambulance.

  She had to change her way of thinking. Negative thoughts were cancerous. Making herself accountable for actions that were meant as good, with no ill-intent, was wrong. Thoughts like that would make her judge herself and cause her to slow down what progress she had made. It would be counterproductive. She had to stay strong and always move forward without thinking about repercussions, as long as she meant to do what was right. As long as she came from the right place.

  Even if that meant she had to walk in front of a car in an intersection as Vivian told her to do.

  She pulled Vivian’s note out and reread it.

  “This sucks sometimes.”

  She put the note away and watched the people of Toronto walk by on the sidewalk a few feet away, relishing their diversity. Members of almost every culture came and went. A living, breathing melting pot. Maybe Toronto would be a good place to hide out, spend a few years. No one in the States needed her. She’d miss her parents and friends from the now-defunct psychic fair, but maybe she could make a life for herself in the Great White North.

  A siren blared from her left. She stepped out to see if it was Waller arriving. A black and white drove by, stopping to deal with the Buick. The cop got out of his cruiser, placed a hat on his head and walked up to the driver, who still stood by the hood of his car. Southbound traffic had started moving again, but it was slow going. Northbound was eking by around the trunk of the Buick.

  As Sarah watched, the driver pointed at her. The cop glanced over his shoulder. She edged back into the shadows.

  Now what?

  After a couple of breaths, she peeked around the corner again. The cop was halfway to her. She would have to tell him about the teenage boys. They were at least five minutes away by now. It wouldn’t sound good, but she couldn’t leave her spot as Waller would show any moment. If she wasn’t here when he arrived, it wouldn’t bode well.

  The cop stepped in front of her.

  “Please step away from the wall,” the cop ordered.

  Sarah moved out of the shadows.

  “Why did you try to run into traffic when that car was going by?”

  “I didn’t try to run into traffic.”

  “That’s not what the driver claims. Just before his tire blew, he said he saw you running at his car, bending down, and then his tire went.”

  “It was a blade—”

  “A what?” the cop cut her off.

  She met his gaze. “A group of teenage boys set a blade in the sewer grate over there and then stepped back. When I realized what they were doing, I ran to the street to remove the blade but was too late.”

  The cop nodded in an over-exaggerated fashion. “Right. Okay. And where are these teenage boys now?”

  She could tell he wasn’t buying her brand of truth but felt compelled to answer his question.

  “They ran that way,” she said, pointing north.

  “Okay, normally a flat tire doesn’t bother me,” the cop said. “But when it looks like deliberate sabotage, on such a busy street, that gets under my collar. You’re going to have to come with me and give me statement …”

  “I can’t.” She glared at him.

  He pushed his chest out subtly, his alpha-male complex genuinely surprised.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I can’t. I’m not leaving with you.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I’m waiting for the police to pick me up.” She looked around his shoulder on each side, but no Waller yet. She hoped he showed up soon because trouble was brewing.

  “Oh, this just keeps on getting better. And why would the police be picking you up?”

  She gave a quick smile for his benefit and then looked away.

  “Did you hear what happened earlier today at the Allandale Centre?” he asked.

  She nodded, afraid her answer would upset him more.

  “Police officers were slaughtered.”

  “I’m sorry …”

  “You’re sorry,” he said. His voice raised a notch. “You’re sorry. Understandably, that incident this morning makes the rest of us police officers a little uneasy on the job today.”

  “I would be.”

  She tried to move around him as he blocked her view of the street. Waller could park and walk into the hotel without her even seeing him. He countered her move. This was getting annoying.

  “Is that a threat, Miss?”

  “Look,” Sarah said. “I told you what happened. A group of teenagers set it up as a prank. They fled north on this street. I tried to help but got there too late. Now, if you would, allow me to see the street better as I’m waiting for Detective Waller to show up—”

  “Detective Waller?”

  “You know him?”

  “Know him? He’s one of the only cops to walk out of the Allandale Centre alive today,” he paused. “Hey, wait a second.”

  He fumbled with his breast pocket button. He yanked out a notebook and flipped it up. Then he looked from Sarah to the notebook and back again.

  Slowly, he replaced his notebook and unclipped his holster. People had gathered in a semi-circle around them. When he touched his holster, a collective gasp came from a few of the female gawkers.

  Oh, shit.

  “Identify yourself,” he said.

  She really didn’t want to say her name but knew she had to or things would go from bad to worse.

  “Sarah.”

  “Sarah what?”

  She met his gaze. “Sarah Roberts.”

  He yanked his sidearm out, stepped back and said, “Sarah Roberts, get on the ground. Hands on the back of your head. Do it now.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  People stepped farther away from them.

  “I will shoot if you resist arrest. If your hands come anywhere near me, I will shoot. Get on the ground, now.”

  Sarah had no option but to listen to him. He would take her to the police station and Waller would have to talk to her there. The problem was how she would be handled by regular cops who thought she had something to do with their colleagues’ deaths.

  What now, Vivian? How does this fit into your plan?

  “Step away, Officer,” Waller’s deep voice ordered.

  Waller pushed through the onlookers and moved up behind the cop. They looked at each other.

  “Afraid I can’t do that, Detective. I just caught her in the act of mischief with that Buick over there and then I identified her from the bulletin earlier. She’s wanted for questioning.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m here for. I’m taking her in. Now, lower your weapon and place it back in your holster.”

  “No.”

  “What?” Waller asked. “I’m a superior officer and I’m ordering you to put your service revolver away.”

  “Friends of mine died today. This bitch was on camera running from the scene with her black-coated friends helping her escape. I got the collar. She’s coming with me.”

  The cop stepped inside her personal space. Before she could react, he dropped to his knees, his firearm aimed at the sky as Waller used some kind of Chuck Norris move in less than a second.

  Waller moved his hands so fast Sarah didn’t see exactly what he did, but the cop’s gun was taken from his grip and snapped apart, the magazine flying in the air where Waller’s free hand caught it. He tossed the empty weapon on the sidewalk a few feet away. Then he lifted his foot off the back of the cop’s knee.

  The cop had tears in his eyes. It wasn’t because of any pain Waller inflicted in those couple of seconds.

  “But we lost good men …” he hiccupped, “men we served alongside.”

  “I know. But this isn’t the way to handle it. Sarah is
coming with me. Collect your weapon and collect yourself. Then get back in your cruiser and finish your shift. When you’re done, go home, take a couple of days off. Rest. Don’t come back until you remember to earn and honor rank. We work as a team out here. Anything less and people die. Got it.”

  The defeated cop lowered his shoulders and nodded. He picked up his sidearm and its pieces and shuffled to his car, only looking back at Sarah one more time.

  “Come on,” Waller said. “Let’s go.”

  Waller led her through the throng of onlookers that were starting to disperse. He opened the passenger door of a Ford F-150 and waited until she hopped in, then closed the door behind her. Once behind the wheel, he flipped off his hazards and turned into the northbound traffic to go around the Buick.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  Sarah pegged him for late twenties, early thirties. No wedding ring, and no wrinkles. A flat stomach. She admired discipline. Not many people had it.

  “Just a bunch of teenagers fooling around.”

  “Tell me.”

  Waller maneuvered his pickup around the trunk of the Buick. The driver was on his cell phone, probably calling a tow truck, while the cop stood beside him and watched Sarah as they passed. She kept her eye on him in case he tried something foolish.

  “They stuck a knife in the sewer grate’s little hole where water runs down. I saw what they did and ran to yank the knife out, but got there too late. The driver saw me, thought I had something to do with it.”

  Waller glanced sideways at her, then back at the road.

  “You always try to play the hero?”

  “No. Shit just happens in front of me. I’m like a shit magnet.”

  Waller chuckled. “You remind me of the Trailer Park Boys.”

  She turned to him. “Trailer Park Boys? Should I be taking that as an insult?”

  “No, no, it’s a Canadian TV show. They film it in the Maritimes. You just reminded me of one of the characters when you said shit magnet.”

  “Hmm,” she mumbled. “Lovely.”

  They drove in silence for a moment. Sarah broke out in a clammy sweat as she remembered what Vivian had said. She was to step into the middle of an intersection after the accident. What accident? Could it have been the Buick? Did she miss her chance?

  What now?

  “You okay?” Waller asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” she tried to sound normal as she rubbed her hands up and down the legs of her pants.

  “We haven’t got far to go,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  That sounded weird to her. What could he mean? Was Waller taking her to the police station, or somewhere else?

  “What did you do back there to that cop?” Sarah asked. “You were fast.”

  “Shotokan.”

  “Shotokan,” she said, hearing the word for the first time. “What’s that?”

  “A little known martial art. Only a few practice it. It’s great for people like you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s designed for street fighting too. All you need is the strength of your thumb to bring down some big guys. Women fare better with Shotokan.”

  They approached a red light at a busy intersection. Bloor Street.

  “I’ll have to look that up—”

  A loud ping cut her off. The truck swerved hard right. Waller yanked on the wheel, pulling the pickup off the edge of the sidewalk and back onto the road. The truck moved left and for all the effort Waller exerted on the steering wheel, he couldn’t turn it back.

  Sarah braced for impact. A black H2 Hummer had just turned right off of Bloor, heading south on Yonge, when Waller’s pickup crossed all the lanes of Yonge Street and headed right at it.

  They hit the grill of the Hummer, shoved it onto the sidewalk and nose first into the front window of a nail salon hard enough just to break the glass window in the front.

  Waller lay in his seat, his head resting on the back. Blood trickled from his forehead where he had hit the steering wheel. Sarah checked his pulse. Strong and steady.

  She turned the pickup’s engine off, pulled the keys and tossed them on the carpet by his feet. She grabbed his weapon and opened the pickup’s door.

  The Hummer driver was just getting out.

  Sarah ignored him as she slipped the gun in the back waistband of her jeans and continued walking.

  The teenage boys stood by the corner, watching what they had done this time, mouths open.

  Sarah pulled the gun out as she headed for the intersection. She fired above their heads, making them think she was aiming at them. They ran away like their asses were on fire.

  She replaced the weapon in her waistband, stepped into the middle of the intersection at Yonge and Bloor, and ignored the shouts of passersby as a vehicle from each side came at her. The light changed to yellow. Both cars revved their engines to make the light.

  “You better be right about this, Vivian, or I’ll be seeing you in a few seconds.”

  Chapter 14

  The couple in the backseat couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  Mike had picked up the fare on Blue Jay Way by the Roger’s Centre and was taking them to an office party at the Xerox Centre on Bloor. The woman was hot, dressed in a tight red miniskirt. Her low-cut blouse left nothing to the imagination, the bottom of the V-neck just above her belly button.

  As far as Mike could tell, she enjoyed the attention her partner lavished on her. Numerous possibilities ran through his mind on the ride. Was she an escort or his new girlfriend? Whatever she was, she was hot and Mike didn’t get a lot of fares as pretty as her, unless he got the calls for the strip clubs in town after they closed. Seemed like he was always one of the last ones to the clubs though, missing the better looking girls. He always ended up with the dancers who were drunk or high.

  He tried to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to give them privacy in his cab, but movement in his rearview mirror pulled his gaze toward the backseat time and again. Two blocks back, as the man leaned across her stomach and lowered below the seat, the woman had met Mike’s gaze in the mirror. Her top had sat open, both perky breasts completely exposed, sitting up at attention.

  Mike had yanked his eyes away fast. He’d expected to be chastised, screamed at for being a pervert. But none of that happened. Instead, when he looked back in the mirror, the woman smiled at him, moaned, licked her lips and rolled a finger around her nipple.

  Mike’s erection pushed to be released from his tight jeans. For the last two blocks, all he could do was stare in the mirror at the half-naked woman in the backseat of his cab while her male partner did something to her lower region. She stared back at Mike, teasing him, tempting him, asking him to join her with the look in her eyes.

  It was all he could do to watch the road. The intersection of Yonge and Bloor was coming up. He had a green light. As soon as he was through the light he would have to pull over and let his fare out. This was his last chance to memorize the beauty in the back seat of his cab for later.

  He looked in his mirror. She had both hands up, rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, moaning even louder. She smiled and blew him a kiss. Mike smiled back.

  The light at Yonge changed to yellow. Even though he didn’t want to end this ride too soon, he could still make the light. Either that or jam the brakes on and knock the guy in the backseat around.

  He hit the gas. Just as he was about to enter the intersection, he looked in his mirror at the woman again.

  That was when she screamed.

  Not in ecstasy.

  In fear.

  Justin Flannagan was sick and tired of doing what he was told. Anna could go screw herself. She had cheated on him. Three years together, and all she ever wanted to do was control him and sleep around behind his back.

  “Change this, change that,” he said out loud to the empty car. “Why do you say it like that?” he said, mimicking her voice in a high nasal
pitch. “Why can’t you be normal like other guys? Fuck normal and fuck you, Anna. I’m so done.”

  Three years and all he got was control, nagging, and bitching. Then he came home early and she had two guys in their bed. She chased him out to his run-down pickup truck in her bathrobe shouting something about how it wasn’t what he thought. She could explain everything.