Notorious D.O.C. (Hope Sze medical mystery) (28 page)

"Promise me, Hope. Promise me you
won't meet him alone."

"I wasn't planning to. But how are
we going to—"

"It's been eight years. You wait.
You think about this. We need to make a plan."

It sobered me, the fact that she, of all
people, was saying this. "All right. I promise. I'll put it together
before we talk to the police."

"Yes, that's good. You go outside
and take a walk. You need fresh air."

Sometimes, she was so much like my
mother. I knew better than to argue. "Okay, okay."

I didn't go for a walk, but I ventured
out on my balcony. It was on the north-east side of the building, behind a
giant, leafy tree, so it was in the shade instead of the sun. I took some deep
breaths, watching the leaves rustle. The metal rail was cool under my hand. I
watched a red Saturn trying to parallel park across the street in a space that
was about half a foot too small, while other cars zoomed around it. I drank a
tall glass of water.

Then I dialed Tucker's home number. I had
a great excuse. He was trying to find Michael Martinez, and I'd already tracked
him down. Tucker could help support my case with the police.

While the phone rang, I daydreamed about
facing down Michael Martinez while Tucker played back-up. Somehow, I imagined
Tucker shirtless and tanned while his muscles glistened with oil.

The phone rang for the forth time while
one of my neighbours started playing scales on the trombone.

My mind drifted to Ryan. We made a good
team too. I wouldn't mind trying again, but not if he was already playing with
Lisa. Yes. I know I'm a hypocrite.

The phone rang through to the answering
machine. "Hi, you've reached Tucker. Leave a message."

"Hi. It's Hope. Um, how'd it go last
night?" With any luck, I sounded chipper as opposed to insanely jealous of
Tori. "I have some contact information for the guy we're looking for. I
talked to Mrs. Lee. We need a plan. Call me, or I'll try your cell phone."
I paused. "Oh, right, you're drying out the battery. I may try your pager.
Okay, 'bye."

I made myself wait twenty minutes before
I paged him.

I paced around my apartment. I sat on my
balcony, listening to the trombonist tackle music from Star Wars. I even
cleaned, for God's sake.

I was trying not to think of Alex, the
previous dipwad, who specialized in disappearing acts.

Finally, I left the apartment again to
grab some groceries, just for something to do. Tucker knew my number. I had my
pager.

At 6 p.m., when I was drifting off to
exhausted sleep, the phone rang. Jolted, I grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Hope. Sorry I didn't call you
before."

Ryan. My heart sank for a second before
his mellow voice worked its magic. "Hey, Ryan."

"Did you have a good weekend?"

"Sort of. Did you?"

He paused. "Yeah, I guess. I'd
rather have seen you."

"How's Lisa?" I chirped. That
unreasonable jealousy had started gnawing at my colon again.

"I think she's all right. She said
she was going to call you."

"Really."

"She said she might ask you to join
her church."

Bully for her. I hadn't been crazy about
going with Ryan. Why would I cuddle up to his latest ex-girlfriend? Before I
could remind him that I was agnostic, he said, "I told her you might want
to join another church, since she's downtown and you're in
Côte-des-Neiges."

Despite myself, I was touched he was
thinking about my travel time.

"She asked where you lived. She
might send you some info about churches in your area, if that's okay."

I mumbled unenthusiastically.

"Or she might call you. She asked
all sorts of stuff about you, if you like to sing, what sort of hobbies. I
think there might be a sort of city choir you could join, even if you're not at
the same church. You'd probably have to be at United, though."

Lisa sounded annoying, even if I didn't
already hate her. "I probably won't have time."

"Yeah, I know. I told her about this
case we were investigating. She was pretty interested."

"What!" I sat bolt upright,
shocked out of my stupor.

"Well, she wanted to know why I was
hanging out with my computer so much, instead of her. She’s kind of jealous
that way."

I permitted myself a small smile, but it
was fleeting. "Ryan, c'mon. I thought you know we weren't going to talk a
whole lot about this to other people."

"Lisa's not just anyone. We're
really good friends, still."

Epic fail.

"But you're right. Mrs. Lee might
not feel comfortable with this. I should have thought. Sorry."

And the Lord giveth back. My cheeks
relaxed. "Okay. I mean, I know we didn't say anything officially, but
yeah, I don't feel like it's our story to tell."

"Mea culpa. Anyway, we've got better
stuff to talk about, right?"

"I thought so."

"I want to show you my computer
model. I think it proves she was run down. I'll come and demo it for you and
Mrs. Lee next Friday."

"I can't wait see it." I
paused. "You think it's something we could show the police? Like, is it
ready for prime time?"

"I think so. I've been kind of
obsessed."

"Awesome."

Ryan explained the specs while I rubbed
my eyes and tried to wake up. This was why I could never become an engineer.
Eventually, I broke in. "Strong work. So you're coming on Friday
night?"

"Definitely."

"Great. I'm on call, but we'll work
it out. Now, listen. You know Michael Martinez? I've got his phone
number."

"Yeah, did Tucker track him down? I
gave him some pointers."

"No, Mrs. Lee and I did." I
explained. He made suitably impressed noises. "Now the problem is, what
exactly to do with this information? I want to go to the police, but Mrs. Lee
doesn't trust them."

"Can you blame her? It's been eight
years. But you need to talk to them anyway. I'll bring my laptop and show them
the model. Okay. Enough shop talk. Have you been thinking about us?"

That woke me up in a hurry.
"Yeah."

"And?"

I parlayed, "You want to go
first?"

"Sure. I assume you're too paralyzed
by lust to speak."

I burst out laughing.

"I'm crazy about you, Hope. I really
want it to work out this time."

I sobered fast. "Ryan..."

"No. Listen to me. I let you get
away once. I don't want to make that mistake again. I know you haven't made up
your mind yet. I know Tucker is part of it. And I know I hurt you."

I buried my face in my pillow. This was
so unlike Ryan. He wasn't big on declaring his emotion even when we were
together. He said "I love you" and figured I should know the rest.

He paused. "Look, I know you're not
perfect. Neither am I. But I wanted you to know where I stood." He sighed.
"I wanted to see you this weekend. I had this thing all planned. But
Lisa...well, I kind of felt sorry for her."

My heart gave a double-thump. Pity. He
must be well and truly off her then. Right? Right?
 

But still, the other part of my brain
said, if he really liked you better, he would've given her the boot and driven
up to see you.

"I wrote a little computer program
for you."

I tried to process that. "Yeah, the
model for Mrs. Lee."

"No, that was for Mrs. Lee. This is
something else. It's nothing, but anyway, I'm e-mailing it to you."

I had to love the way these guys were
wooing me. Tucker sketched my portrait and Ryan wrote a computer program.
"Well, thanks."

"Tell me what you think. I love you,
Hope." And he hung up before I could say anything.

Slowly, I replaced the receiver. I wanted
to run to my computer. But I delayed it a little, enjoying the suspense as I
lifted the receiver one more time and finally heard the rapid beep that someone
had left a message.

Tucker.

I clicked over to Gmail with my right
hand, and pressed *98 to play back the voicemail with the left.

Sure enough, Ryan had emailed me a
message with an attachment. As it downloaded, I entered my phone password to
retrieve my message. C'mon, Tucker.

A man's muffled voice said, "You're
going down, bitch."

Chapter
29

That took the foam off my root beer in a
hurry.

My phantom caller was back.

As threats went, the gravestone one
scared me more. First, it implied death more explicitly. Second, that person
knew where I lived and what my name was. But I was able to laugh at the
tombstone pic a little with Ryan literally at my side.

Now that Ryan was in Ottawa, and Tucker
was incommunicado, it felt like a colony of mice had decided to bungee jump
into my stomach.

I pressed *57 before anyone else could
call me, and got the message that Bell Canada had traced the call. Chilly
comfort. God knows when I'd get that warrant. Maybe after I was already six
feet under.

Still, I followed the police's advice. I
listened to the message again, saved it and logged it manually. Five seconds
long, left at 6:09 p.m., number unknown.

It definitely sounded like a guy, nothing
like Wendy. She could have drafted a friend to harass me. But why would she
threaten me, especially if she wanted the reward money?

One man who might be gunning for me was
Michael Martinez. He could have figured out who was looking for him and tracked
me down first. But that was nuts. Wasn't it?

My next thought was that it was a random
call. Like a telemarketer, only crazy instead of someone enslaved by crap
wages. But I couldn't kid myself anymore. It was time to take these threats
seriously.

What could I do, though? I had nothing
concrete, no ID. Bell Canada sends the info to the police, not to the customer.

I tried Tucker again, both home and
pager. I hung up when there was no answer.

I called Tori and did leave a message.
"Did you guys have a good night? I got another phone call and I'm a little
freaked out. I know this sounds dumb, but could I come over? I don't feel like
hanging around here."

Then, like it was fate, I called Ryan. He
might be able to track the ID down in some techno-magic way. More importantly,
he cared about me and wanted me safe.

That calmed me down even before he picked
up the phone.

"This has nothing to do with what
you just said, but..." I told him.

He said, "Shit. I'm coming
over."

I managed a laugh. "No. What would
you do here?"

"Protect you."

"Ryan. It's Sunday. You have to work
tomorrow, right?
 
You just took a
vacation and had to beat it back to work."

"Yeah, but..." He sighed.

My heart sank. He wasn't coming. It was
the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, but still. I was alone.

He rallied. "I could come just for
tonight."

"It's a two-hour drive each way.
You'd just have to turn right around again."

"Yeah, but you could reward me
richly while I was there." His voice dipped seductively.

My body flickered in response, despite my
incipient panic. Or maybe because of it. They say the sympathetic nervous
system is fight or flight, but maybe it's fight, flight, or fuck.
"Ryan—"

"It's no big if I have to drive back
at two a.m. I'll see you in a couple hours. I love you, Hope." This time,
he paused for my response.

I started to cry and couldn't stifle it.
"I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'm crying."

"Because you're alone there, you
work around the clock, a maniac almost killed you, and another one's
threatening you. Do you think it's the same guy?"

"He's in custody." I yanked a
tissue out of the box and tried to blow my nose and sob more quietly. Get a
hold of yourself, girl.

"Can he send stuff from jail? Or get
someone to do it for him?"

I hadn't even considered that. Boy, did I
suck as a detective. "I could find out."

"Do it. I guess, in a way, that would
be better than someone on the loose who's out to get you."

"Unless he hired someone to come
after me?"

"Or just scare you."

Sometimes, Ryan and I thought in perfect
synchronicity, even on the bad stuff. I dabbed my face, and managed to get
myself more or less under control, except for the beginning of a headache and a
clogged nose. "Yeah. Maybe that would be best case. Only one enemy and
he's trying to intimidate me."