Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ulysses
He looks so damn peaceful. I don’t want to wake him.
That said, my stomach rumbled at the smell emanating from the fragrant bags of food. I’d barely eaten anything in the last two days.
The live interview in CNC’s studio in downtown Vancouver had capped off the insane ride. I hadn’t wanted to do something so publicly—on camera, no less—but Spring talked to me about it. Said I’d bring attention to Mission City, the newspaper, and the hardworking but under-resourced RCMP force.
Sure. Yeah. All that.
And the interview had been likely to drag up my past.
I’d lucked out.
Jake McGrath, a recent Mission City arrival himself, had taken the interview. He was covering for the regular host of a show that ran across Canada. Personally, I wasn't sure this little town deserved that much of a spotlight.
Judging by the way my phone blew up after the interview, I’d been wrong.
Despite my worries, Jake had been fair, open, and hadn’t brought up the Vancouver debacle. He’d even teased me about small-town living being far more interesting than most city folk thought.
I’d laughed.
That laughter hadn’t even been forced.
“Are you feeding me or just going to stand there staring at me?” Finn cracked an eye.
Then winced.
“How’s the head? Are you due for more painkillers?”
“Not taking them. Pain’s manageable. I’m going to live.” He eyed me. “You can take off your jacket, you know.”
“I know.” I held up the bags. “Soup, chili, or burger?”
“What are you having?”
“Well, I brought two servings of everything so you don’t have to be a polite host and take my preferences into consideration.”
He grinned. “That’s planning.”
“And we have enough food to last several days.”
“So you don’t have to go anywhere?”
“So I don’t have to go anywhere.” I shifted my messenger bag on my shoulder. “Even brought my laptop. Spring’s holding down the fort. I will warn you that I might have to do some interviews with other media outlets. I can do them from your mom’s room.”
“With the frilly flowers?”
I laughed. “I don’t give a shit about that. I just—” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to leave you. I should’ve been here.”
“Hey.” He extended his hand.
I hotfooted to the kitchen. After dropping the food onto the counter and putting my messenger bag on the dining room table, I made my way back to Finn.
With gratitude, I grasped his hand. I knelt by the side of the recliner so our faces were mere inches apart.
“I wanted to tell you. But the police asked me not to speak to anyone. And yeah, you’re not just anyone, and I trust you with my life—”
“But you couldn’t take the risk. I don’t blame you. I’ll never fault you for that.” He stroked his fingers down my cheek. “Now, what did I miss?”
“You read the article?”
“Several times, yeah.”
“Has anyone called you?”
He shook his head. “Well, Mom. I figured the fire hall is probably up in arms about the entire thing.”
“I’m sure. I did a live interview with Jake McGrath at CNC.”
“Marnie’s husband?” His smile was a little dreamy.
I cocked my head. “Yes, they’re married.”
He grinned. “Don’t tell Loriana—Marnie’s my favorite librarian. Loriana’s—”
“Intrusive?”
“Yeah. That.”
“You warned me.”
“Did I?” He frowned.
“Pretty sure you were the one. The matchmaking librarian.”
“Who’s terrible at it. Yep, that’s her. Marnie’s shyer. Quieter. But just as kind. Very different women.” He tried to sit up. “I’ve only met Jake in passing. Good-looking guy.”
I chuckled. “Yes, he’s made for television. He’s covering the national show tonight.” I gently laid my hand on Finn’s chest.
“Oh?” He frowned. “I can sit up.”
“Chili, burger, or soup?”
“Burger.”
“Great. Stay put.” I pressed a kiss to his lips, rose, and then headed to the kitchen. “Root beer?”
“Yes, please. God, I’m so tired.”
“You’re barely out of the hospital.” I washed my hands. “And you almost died.”
“I didn’t almost die.”
I removed the lettuce and tomato from our burgers before nuking them.
“Uh…yeah. If Miriam hadn’t found you then you would have died.
So that’s almost died. Nice try, though.
” The microwave beeped. I yanked out the burgers and put in the plate full of fries and onion rings.
“You want fries, onion rings, or a mix?”
“A man after my heart. God, I love you. Combination would be amazing. I’m completely salivating at the smell.”
He sighed—so loudly I heard it over the buzzing of the microwave.
God, I love you.
That was just a figure of speech. An expression. Nothing more than a throwaway line.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
The microwave beeped. I removed the plate and set about organizing two meals. Once I finished, I grabbed a root beer and headed to the living room where he sat—still reclined, but straighter.
He offered a broad smile. “You’re the best.”
“Right. I bought a burger.”
“Sure.” He accepted the plate. “But you remembered I love onion rings and that I like root beer with my onion rings. Those are very important things.”
To that, I chuckled. “You’re an easy man to please, Finnegan O’Sullivan.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
I held his gaze. “I won’t. I promise—I won’t.” I headed back to the kitchen.
“Hey, do you think you can find that interview with Jake McGrath?”
“Sure. Their producer sent me a private link.”
“May I watch it?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Cool. I’m not certain I taped the news. It didn’t occur to me. That Vancouver would pick it up—let alone the show that runs across Canada.”
“Mission City’s profile just went up.” After putting the containers of chili and soup in the fridge, I grabbed my plate and can of diet cola and headed back to the living room.
“Hopefully in a good way. That our profile went up. I mean, the bad guys were caught, right?” Finn pointed to his plate. “This is amazing.”
“Make certain you tell your mother that I’m feeding you.”
“Oh, she’s back from her cruise. She met a nice couple from Hope, and they’re driving her home. She says they want to introduce her to a professor who teaches over in Abbotsford.”
“Introduce her?” I put my plate on the dining room table and dug my laptop out of my messenger bag. “Like, romantically?”
“That’s what she implied. Hey, what are you doing? You need to eat.”
“Yes, Finnegan.” I opened the laptop and connected to his WiFi.
“I’m serious. Whatever you’re doing—” He cut off.
I turned to face him. “What?”
“Is that your phone buzzing?”
“Yeah.”
“Ulysses, it’s pretty much buzzing nonstop.”
“Yeah.” I turned back to the laptop, located the email from the producer, and pulled it up.
Finn cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, checking to see who’s messaging you?”
“I will.” I carried the laptop over to him and put it on the coffee table.
He’d have to squint, but he didn’t really need to see my mug up close—and he knew what Jake looked like.
I pressed play, and then I headed back to the dining room table to grab my rapidly cooling burger, fries, and onion rings.
With only half an ear, I listened to the interview. As I devoured my burger, I scrolled through the hundreds of texts, DMs, and comments to my post on social media.
Spring’s newest message popped up.
—You better be driving or getting laid or something important. Shit’s blowing up.—
I blinked. Probably the clearest indication of why I had so damn many texts. Three more came in even as I took another bite of burger.
Surreal.
For years, I’d wanted this level of attention.
To be noticed. Writing for the Vancouver Sun had been a feather in my cap—but I’d wanted more recognition.
To be seen by a wider audience. Judging by the interest I was garnering now, my interview with Jake was even bigger than I’d realized it was going to be.
“Ulysses?”
“Hmm?” I turned my attention to Finn.
He pointed to the dark computer screen.
“Oh, did it turn off? I can—”
“I watched the entire interview. And ate my entire meal. Your food must be cold by now. And your phone is still buzzing.”
Offering a sheepish grin, I nudged a French fry. “I should nuke these again.”
My phone screen flashed.
—The rot in Mission City goes deeper than you know. Meet me on Friesen Road. Two miles past the dump. Come alone. —
I stared at the phone.
This made no sense. Not that I was hubristic enough to believe I’d figured everything out. But I’d put all the pieces together—and they’d fit. Not a single loose thread.
What if you’re wrong? What if Gerard and Marlon aren’t at the top of the food chain? What if they’re acting on someone else’s behalf? What if—
I tried to shut down that line of thinking.
Everything. I’d turned over every single thing I could to the cops.
Well, everything that wouldn’t reveal sources and methods.
The cop who’d sat with me yesterday, Corporal Colton Pritchard, hadn’t been all that impressed.
But he’d also reluctantly admitted they didn’t have what I had.
I’d given him eighteen hours to arrest whoever he wanted—but that I was going public at noon today. And, as promised, I had.
I shot a text off to Spring.
—You know who’s been arrested yet? —
—Colton won’t say. Seth and Dorrie aren’t answering my calls either. —
Seth was a constable and so maybe not read in? Corporal Dorrie Duhamel was Colton’s partner. So maybe she was too read in?
—Doesn’t help that Colton’s your ex-brother-in-law. —
—You think? —
I was trying to think of something clever when her next message arrived.
—RCMP Mission just announced a press conference at ten am. —
I urgently needed to be sure they’d done their part. —We’ll both be there. —
—Bet your ass. I’m going home. —
I checked the time. After eight.
—Shit. Sorry. Yes—go. —
—Later. Good job. —
I rubbed my forehead.
“Ulysses?”
“What? Shit. Sorry. I was texting Spring.”
“You look exhausted.”
The rot in Mission City goes deeper than you know. I sighed. “I am. Look, I have to run back to the city for a few things. I’ll only be gone an hour or two.” Damn. I need to text Spring to let her know what I’m doing. Because I can’t tell Finn.
“You don’t have to come back.” Finn’s voice was soft.
“Do you not want me to come back?” Mine was a little sharper than I intended.
“Of course I want you to come back. But if you’re too tired to make the drive, I’ll understand.”
I waved him off. “All good. I promise I’ll be back.” I rose and headed his way. I took his empty plate and my still mostly full one to the kitchen. “I’ll eat this when I get back.”
“And this can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Uh, no. I’ve got a press conference first thing in the morning. This needs to be settled before that.”
“Okay.” He sighed.
Do you really have to leave him? Isn’t there another way?
I pondered that.
What? Ask the sender of the text to drop by here for a beer? Nope. I have to go.
I wrapped the food in cling wrap and put it in the fridge. Then I headed back to the living room. “You going to be okay? You need something?”
Finn shook his head. “All good. I might be in bed when you come back. Just come to bed, okay?”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here with the door unlocked.”
“So take the spare key. In the junk drawer.”
Cute how I already knew which drawer was the one he used for…junk. I grabbed the key and made my way back over to him. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
“I am too.” He offered me an endearing smile. Then handed me my phone.
I frowned.
“You handed it to me when you took my plate. Are you sure you should be driving? You’re really distracted. Something you need to talk about?”
I shook my head. “All good. I promise.” I pressed a kiss to his lips.
Words of endearment were on the tip of my tongue—but they wouldn’t come. Or, rather, I couldn’t force them.
“Go to bed. Call your mom. Just…take care.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” I plastered a bright smile on my face and turned to leave. I forced myself to leave without turning around.
Because I had a sinking feeling things were about to go to shit.