Chapter 18 #2
The hug was awkward, sitting in our chairs, but I got my arms around him, and he grabbed on to me like a drowning man grabs a life raft.
I could barely breathe, but that was fine.
I supported him, holding him tight through the shudders and the way he dug his face into my neck.
He was halfway to crying, his face dry but his shoulders heaving. All I could do was hang on and wait.
After a minute, he began taking easier breaths, then he huffed a squeezed laugh against my shoulder and pulled away. I let him go. He rubbed a big hand down his face. “So that was useful.”
“You’re allowed a minute to fall apart. I’m just glad I was here for you.”
“Me too.”
I didn’t push. This was a tough decision for him. He tipped his head back and blinked up at the ceiling lights. Then said, “Can you find out who might help?”
“I’ll try.” I got out my phone, checked the time.
It was after four. “Might not happen till tomorrow morning. No one’s dying, and the investigation folks tend to work early days.
But I can get the ball rolling.” I scrolled through my contacts.
No doubt GREC had a reporting hotline, but I needed to be of more personal use to Callum than that.
There were some names in my contact list with no addresses, just brief codes. I pulled up Vic’s number and tried him.
At the last moment before voicemail, he picked up. “Hey, who is this?”
“Zeke Evans,” I said, though I had no doubt he had my contact identified. “Unger.” I gave him my undercover ID, which I was sure he’d remember.
“Evans. What can I do for you?”
“You said you’d worked with the gaming boys in a gang takedown a couple years back, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a personal friend in a bind, threatened with getting forced into illegal gambling and blackmail. He needs to report it before they strike first. I need to contact someone who will listen to the whole story and not blow us off. Any suggestions?”
“What part of the province?”
“Vancouver greater metro.”
“Give me a minute.” The line went silent as he put me on hold. I nodded to Callum, trying to convey reassurance. After a long pause, Vic came back on. “Right, I have someone for you. Vancouver PD seconded to the GREC. I called in a favour, since she just got off duty, so you owe me one.”
“Anytime.”
“Grace Valencia. Take down this number.” He recited it fast while I popped to my feet and grabbed a piece of junk mail off the counter.
“Say that again?”
Callum thrust the marker off the fridge dry-erase board into my hand.
Vic repeated himself, then added, “Good luck. See you when the trials begin.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I wasn’t looking forward to that at all, liked to pretend it wasn’t in my future.
Maybe he heard the reluctance in my tone, because he added, “Hey, Evans, you did good work. Right?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
He cut the call.
I looked at Callum. “Yes? No?”
“Fuck. Do it.”
“Now or tomorrow?”
He waved at my phone. “Go for it.”
I called the number Vic had given me and put my phone on speaker. A rich, female voice answered, “Valencia.”
“This is Officer Evans of the Vancouver PD.”
“I figured. Vic gave me your contacts. What’s up?”
“I have a friend who is a professional sports player, and they are being combo blackmailed and paid into throwing a game for gambling purposes. They want to stay safe, and to see the bastards taken down. Vic suggested you might point us in the right direction.”
“Okay, I’m interested, but I need more info.”
I glanced at Callum. “Can we meet up? It’s not my story to tell.”
“Next week—”
Callum cut in, “I’m supposed to throw the game on Sunday.”
“Ah. Hello. Who are you?”
For just a second, Callum’s frantic gaze met mine. I tried to give back my confidence in him, and in justice, however shaken the latter might be lately. He said, “Callum Fitzpatrick. Goalie for the Surrey Foxes.”
“Goalie, huh? I can see the appeal for a sports bettor.”
“Right?” he said bitterly. “I’m between a rock and a hard place and I… need help.” He flicked another glance my way, his mouth pressed in a thin line as if that had been hard to say.
“Okay.” She paused. “There’s a pub in East Van called Smokey’s. Evans, you know it?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t explicitly a police hangout, but was one of the places cops could go to unwind, with a mellow atmosphere.
“I’ll be in a grey SUV parked in their lot in about an hour. The SUV has a ‘my border collie is smarter than your honour student’ bumper sticker. Park a couple of spaces over, come and join me. Both of you. I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“We’ll be there,” I told her. “Thank you.”
When she’d rung off, Callum paced a few steps. “An hour. So about five-thirty.”
“We have time,” I said. “It’s maybe a thirty-minute drive, tops. Let me text Sully that we’re going out. Want to eat something first?”
“I can’t eat.” Callum pressed his hand to his stomach. “What if they don’t believe me?”
“I’ll back you up. If they get a subpoena, they’ll see it wasn’t you at the ATM.”
“If they bother. What if my little drama’s too small-time for them? What if—”
“Hey.” I reached for him. “No borrowing trouble, okay? You took the first step. You’re opening a case. Whatever happens later, you’re covering your ass so the team will know it’s not your fault.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“C’mere,” I coaxed. “I haven’t kissed you in four days and we have half an hour to kill.”
He moved into my arms, but said, “I’m not up for sex. Sadly. Never thought I’d say that.”
I laughed and nipped his chin. “Some other time. Right now, let me kiss you till you quit catastrophizing.” I caught his lips with mine.
His mouth tasted of weak coffee, and he kissed me like he was drowning.
I met him, wild need for need, but then gentled things, broke away from his lips to kiss his jaw, his cheek, his temple.
Callum took a long, shaky breath, and wrapped his arms around me, laying his head on my shoulder. “You’re a good person to have around, y’know?”
“Don’t turn my head with too much praise or anything.” I smiled, but inside I was frantically hoping this wouldn’t turn out to be a big mistake.