A Bodyguard to Remember (7 page)

I gave them the thumbnail version of the murder. I knew I wasn’t allowed to talk about specifics, but since Merrick hadn’t given me many, this wasn’t too difficult. Then I told them about the hotel invasion. I tried to keep it light. We were in a public place, after all, but when I got to the part about getting shot, I choked up.

I could have been killed. I might never have seen Hope and Boone again.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” said Paula, patting my hand. “That’s really awful. But you broke the bastard’s arm, that’s good.”

She was perfectly serious. I had to laugh. Geoff found me a clean napkin to blow my nose on and I finished the story. Paula’s curiosity was satisfied and our men in blue seemed to view me with new respect.

*    *    *

Sunday I was on my own for the morning. No escort. Not sure what to do, I called Merrick and got no answer. I left a message saying that I was going to hang out in the hotel coffee shop with my laptop.

Two hours later, Geoff showed up.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, sitting down across from me.

He was smiling, but it was a Pan Am smile, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked quietly.

“You and me both,” he said. “I should have set a time to pick you up. What do you want to do today?” He nodded towards my laptop. “Or are you doing it?”

“I just got another coffee, do you mind hanging out a while?”

“I’ll get a coffee and the paper. After lunch we could go to a matinee.”

“Sounds good to me.”

It was good. Geoff was pleasant, courteous, and playful in his role as bodyguard. I could deal with this. I wasn’t so sure about dealing with constant surveillance in the long term, but today I felt like I had a bit of control over my life.

After the movie, my body reminded me that I was still convalescing. I must have looked as tired as I felt because Geoff fussed over me and insisted getting me settled in my room. Since I wasn’t actually sleepy, I invited him to hang out. We raided the room fridge for cold drinks and played gin on my bed, me tucked up and bolstered with extra pillows.

I heard the door rattle and nearly jumped out of my skin, sending cards skittering across the bed as I yanked the covers off me. Geoff patted the air in a calming gesture.

“Could just be someone trying to get into the wrong room,” he said.

Then came a couple of sharp raps. I got out of bed and found my shoes—just in case I had to run. Geoff went to the door and called back to me a moment later.

“It’s Merrick and your kids.”

Boone pushed past him and ran over to hug me and Hope followed. Seth was there too, carrying a box. He set it down on the dresser and removed two fish bowls with one iridescent, multi-coloured Siamese Fighting Fish in each.

“Hey guys! I was wondering when you’d show up.” I sounded pretty calm considering I just had a minor panic attack.

“Careful with your mother,” Seth warned Boone, putting the box down on the dresser top. “How’s your side?” he asked me.

“Better, thanks.”

I made introductions.

Seth asked if Geoff knew his cousin, who was also with Toronto Police Services. Boone bounced on the other bed. Hope arranged the fish so they couldn’t see each other and start butting the glass. I sidled up to Merrick and forestalled any comments he had ready with a quiet warning.

“Next time call ahead. Leave me some illusion of privacy. Besides, you scared the shit out of me.”

The eyebrow shot up, but he nodded.

Soon after that, Geoff excused himself, reminding me to give him a call when I was back in town.

“Good luck,” he said, bending to give my cheek a peck, “and stay safe.”

Seth gave me a theatrical wink and Hope rolled her eyes. Boone asked if I had a boyfriend and was relieved to hear that Geoff was just a friend. I think Merrick looked relieved too, but it was just a flicker of expression that could easily have been imagined.

In the middle of the night, I woke up in a cold sweat. Alone in the hotel room, I hadn’t been bothered by nightmares. Knowing my kids were with me, I relived the night of the attack over and over in my dreams. It was as if I was part of a video game—a level to conquer. I had to be lucky every time, the player only had to be lucky once. Waking, even in a cold sweat, was a relief.

“Hartley?”

As soon as Seth had left for the night, Merrick announced his intention of sleeping in the room with us. He used the cot brought in for Hope and she bunked in with me.

Now Merrick was crouching beside my bed.

“Did you hear anything?” I whispered. “I thought I heard something.”

“They pushed the checkout envelope under the door.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’ve been restless.”

I shrugged. What could I say? I felt bad enough that I was disturbing his sleep without making him worry about me and my night terrors.

“I think I’ll go to the bathroom,” I announced, finding my voice.

He nodded, stood, and backed up to let me get up. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. No flannel. He was carrying his sidearm in its holster. The cot was in line with the door. If someone tried to get through, we’d all hear and Merrick would have a clear shot as they entered.

On my way to and from the bathroom, I checked the deadbolt and safety bar on the door.

“I just had to be sure,” I explained.

He nodded. He understood.

“Want some tea?” I whispered. I didn’t want to go back to sleep right away in case the nightmares took up where they left off.

He nodded and took a seat at the edge of Boone’s bed. He was backlit by the city lights shining through the half-open blinds. I made tea by the light of the bathroom fixtures. The rest of the room was in shadow and neither of us broke the silence until I sat opposite him.

“Hartley,” he started, both hands wrapped around his cup.

“Merrick,” I replied. Now that I knew I hadn’t insulted him, I was having fun with this new form of address.

His mouth twitched with a micro-smile before resuming its habitual solemn mien. “I know this has been difficult for you . . .”

“And I know you’re trying to keep me safe,” I interjected.

“I’m trying to keep you and your children safe with as little anxiety as possible. I think I might be succeeding with Hope and Boone.”

I sighed. “I’m glad.”

“But not you.”

“You’ve got an uphill battle with me,” I admitted. “The cloak and dagger stuff, not being able to go anywhere unattended . . . you know, I thought I was keeping to the rules today. I didn’t leave the hotel. I called you—not my fault you weren’t there—and I had the cell phone you gave me.”

“I should have returned your call.”

“Yes, you should have. Well, it would have helped. But that’s not the real problem. I don’t want to be so protected that I don’t know what is going on. I have an excellent imagination. Chances are I can imagine worse than the truth.”

“Worse than you’ve already been through?” He sounded skeptical.

“Much worse. You should have seen the dreams I was having.” I shuddered. “Much better to keep me in the loop as much as possible. Either my imagination will run away with me or I’ll forget to be cautious. Neither option is good.”

“I will endeavour to keep you in the loop, but you need to realize I can’t tell you everything.”

I let out a sigh that turned into a yawn.

“Where are we going tomorrow?” I asked.

“Disneyland.”

“You’re kidding.”

He lifted an eyebrow and that micro-smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe exaggerating a little. You’ll see. This time, I believe I have a pleasant surprise.”

I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have to admit I was wary it might turn out to be a Trojan horse. Merrick played everything so close to the chest, who knew what his ultimate motives might be.

“Sergeant Merrick,” I started.

“Yes, Hartley.”

It hit me. He wasn’t just dropping the honorific. The way he said my name was subtly different. The almost smile was his own, but the conscious way he raised one eyebrow gave it away.

“You’ve read my
Star Trek
novel,” I accused, fighting to keep my voice down. “You’re mimicking the Vulcan sergeant in the Starfleet Marines.”

He chuckled softly, totally blowing the Vulcan mystique thing he had going.

“It was irresistible,” he said. “This situation, you have to admit, is similar—though at least I don’t have to look forward to battling shape-shifters and berserker soldiers.”

“You like
Star Trek
?” I asked.

“Don’t sound so incredulous. Many people like
Star Trek
. I have to admit, I don’t read a lot of science fiction, but I watched
Star Trek
as a kid and I’ve enjoyed reading your stories.”

I picked up my teacup and took a sip. It was almost drinking temperature. Maybe when the cup was empty I’d be ready to take a chance at sleep. In the meantime . . . “What do you like to read?”

His face screwed up in a wince. “You’ll laugh at me,” he said, in a perfectly serious tone. “Your image of me as a tough cop will be shattered.”

“What?”

“I read mysteries—but not true crimes and I try to stay away from procedurals. Either they get it wrong or it’s too much like reality.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “I take it you read cozies.”

He bit his lower lip and nodded. “It’s my guilty pleasure. Cozies and capers. I like the ones where the police detective gets the girl. It started with an Alisa Craig novel someone left in a hotel room—the story featured an RCMP detective.”

“Who got the girl. I have the series and all the books she wrote as Charlotte Macleod.”

“I noticed. We also share an interest in Janet Evanovich, but I stay away from cozies that feature food or hobbies.”

“I can’t help it. I love the puns in the titles. So,” I waggled my brows since, due to a physical deficiency, I couldn’t raise a single eyebrow, “is there a girl-who-got-the-detective in your life?”

He shook his head.

“I told you I used to be married.”

I nodded. “And that you have a son.”

He gave a deflated sigh. “Yes, well, I hope I’ve been a good father, but I know I was a lousy husband. I’ve never taken the chance again. Don’t ever plan to.” With a slight tilt of his head he recovered his Vulcan-like cool. “For the moment, I think I identify with your Sergeant Valdok.”

“Who dies saving the woman he can’t admit he loves. I might rewrite that part.” I finished my tea. “I’ll consider it while I try to get some more sleep.”

*    *    *

Thanks to auto checkout and valet parking, we were ready to go right after breakfast. Merrick was driving a minivan now and I noticed boxes in the back—two were marked with my name, the other two were marked for Hope and Boone. I looked at him questioningly.

“Zeke managed to clear a few items.”

I felt tears well up and busied myself with making sure the kids had everything to hide the fact that I was bowled over by Zeke’s consideration. I fussed about, until Merrick’s hand guided me into the passenger seat.

As soon as we pulled away from the hotel, the questions started.

“Where are we going?” asked Hope.

“When will we get there?” asked Boone.

“Can we put some music on?”

“When are we stopping for lunch?”

I had nothing to offer. I didn’t know where we were going, when we’d get there . . . but I did remind Boone that we’d only just had breakfast. Merrick just maintained an amused silence. I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled off the expressway about fifteen minutes later.

Disneyland turned out to be the Disney Store in one of the big malls outside the city core. Also in the mall was a store that catered to private schools. Hope and Boone were going to a school with a strict dress code. They needed black pants, socks and shoes, and white shirts. For gym class, they needed black shorts, white t-shirts, and white socks and trainers. New backpacks and extra school supplies were bought. It was exciting. As Boone observed, the mall became their ‘Diagon Alley’ and the new school was like going to ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’.

At the Disney Store, I bought belated birthday gifts for the twins and we all picked out pyjamas. Boone chose hockey-playing Tigger. Hope got a nightshirt with the Shepherd illustration of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet playing Pooh-sticks. I found an over-sized, plaid flannel nightshirt with Minnie Mouse embroidered on the pocket. Hope pointed out the matching set of men’s pyjamas with Mickey Mouse.

“We could buy them for Dad,” she suggested.

“Or not,” I replied. The image of Seth in Mickey Mouse pyjamas was only slightly less horrifying than imagining the look on his wife’s face.

Merrick started searching through the stack. “If they come in extra-large, I’ll take them.”

Hope looked from Merrick to me, and back again. I think I blushed. Merrick just took the pyjamas and ushered us towards the cash.

By the time we re-crossed Toronto, stopped for lunch, and got caught in a construction slow down, it was late afternoon. We were headed east on Highway 401. I didn’t know where we were going, but I hoped we wouldn’t be driving much longer. My wound wasn’t happy with all the sitting. I was sore and the kids needed to use the washroom.

“Can we stop?” Boone asked.

“Can you hold on a little longer?” Merrick countered. “I’m hoping to check into our hotel in time to go swimming.”

“Hotel?” asked Hope, rousing from her bored stupor.

“Swimming?” asked Boone.

“We’re stopping in Belleville for the night and the hotel has a pool.”

“And tomorrow?” I asked.

“Ottawa.”

Good. Presumably, there was lots of security in the nation’s capital. Theoretically, it should be a safe place to stay—since we weren’t politicians.

“We could visit Max,” Boone said, bouncing on his seat in excitement. “Max is my best friend. He moved to Ottawa last year when his father changed jobs. We chat online but I haven’t seen him since forever.”

“No,” Merrick said gently. “It isn’t safe enough. You can’t even tell Max that you’re in Ottawa.”