Page 95 of A Breath of Life
I closed my eyes, envisioning the room and details, turning my focus to the walls, ceiling, and floor. I noted the nuances that might give me a clue about where I’d been. It was as futile an exercise as the first time I’d tried. Apart from the carved wooden door and a musty-smelling hallway, I had nothing concrete.
Without warning, the vague impression of something else crossed my mind. A tiny worm of a thought slipped through the cracks of my broken memory into the light. I bolted upright, opening my eyes. “Beige brickwork. The wooden door was surrounded by beige bricks. The intricate kind with beveled edges.”
I couldn’t see them clearly since I had been more focused on the contrail cutting a line across the sky, but my brain had snapped a picture. The picture included the building in my periphery vision.
“Beige bricks.”
I scanned the street and put the Jeep in gear, trusting that Tallus would text when he was finished. I drove, studying the neighboring architecture and slowing at every building that matched the half-remembered impression of bricks. At a stoplight, I stared at a Presbyterian church across the way, drawn by its masonry and ancient door. Not the same, but…
“St. Michael’s,” I muttered under my breath. I inhaled sharply as another forgotten memory hit me in the face. “A sweet smell. Something burning. Incense? The Bishop. A church?” I pictured the basement, my heart rate increasing tenfold.
Someone behind me honked, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The light was green.
I drove but remained stuck on the idea of a church. Was that it? Could I have been held in a historic church building somewhere in Old Toronto? It made sense. The atmosphere was correct. The feeling under my skin, in my mind. It fit.
A church.
I pulled over and revisited the Google search I’d done on St. Michael’s, paying strict attention to locations. “Fuck me.” Old Toronto was home to a St. Michael’s school, the freaking St. Michael’s Basilica—which was a hugely prominent building—a hospital, several smaller parishes, and the St. Michael’s foundation building.
I clicked each, studying images of their exteriors, dismissing the ones that didn’t share a likeness with the one inside my head. The basilica stood out, but it was the foundation building that raised goose bumps along my spine and triggered something within me. I zoomed in on the door, but it wasn’t what I remembered. Was I off base? Could this be it? Without visiting the building directly and walking its perimeter to examine all points of entry, I wouldn’t be able to eliminate it.
But I couldn’t do that. If I went anywhere near these buildings and my theory was right, Ace and his people would know. I didn’t want to imagine what they might do if they thought I’d discovered their nest.
I pondered my predicament for a long time, toying with several ideas, when my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Tallus,letting me know he was ready. I scanned the busy street as a loose plan formed.
Could I risk it? The likelihood of locating Clarence on time grew slimmer by the hour. If he ran, he could be anywhere, and I might never find him. Or I could try to nail Ace, take down his entire operation, and free myself, Tallus, and Nana from his clutches.
I didn’t like it, but I had to do something.
First, I texted Tallus.Stay inside the building.I’m coming to you.
I expected a snarky objection but didn’t get one. Maybe he finally understood.
Something in Tallus’s earlier rant stood out. Ace’s spies weren’t meant to interfere. He’d planted them to confirm I didn’t do anything stupid. They reported my movements. They ensured I followed the rules. I was meant to continue life as usual while using the resources available to me as a PI to find Clarence. I knew all about fear tactics. The point was to make your victim believe something valuable was at risk. Acewouldfollow through. I had no doubt. But he was counting on the fact that I was adequately shaken enough to walk a tight line of compliance.
Since he tracked me with the card, his street spies wouldn’t be as apt to ride my ass from fear of losing sight of me. If they thought they might be discovered or I took off at random, they would pull back, let me go, get a ping on my location, and resume tracking me. It also meant they could be easily shaken.
Tallus had also made a good point about the courthouse building. It was too secure. Too public. If I went inside, Ace’s guy would likely wait outside until the tracker told them I left. He would locate me and tail behind.
But if the tracker never left the building…
The theory wasn’t foolproof. Tallus had been followed the entire night I was missing, but he hadn’t diligently watched for a tail, nor had he been carrying a tracking device. That night, Tallus had been Ace’s pawn.
Two could play this game.
I parked the Jeep several blocks from the courthouse, unstrapped the knife from my ankle, and tucked it beneath the seat. The last thing I needed was to be apprehended for carrying a weapon into a federal building. From the backseat, I tugged the grab-and-go gym bag I kept handy and located a pair of tearaway sports pants, tattered runners, an old tee, and a beat-up ballcap.
How to get the items inside without raising suspicion took another minute of pondering. A paper takeout bag on the floor in the back seat solved the problem. I emptied it of trash and stuffed the clothing and shoes inside before rolling the top so it looked like I carried a delivery of food. Even if the guards checked the contents and found clothing, they would likely think me odd, but I wouldn’t be stopped.
Immediately recognizing a flaw in my plan, I paused. At no time did my potential tail witness me picking up takeout. Did it matter? Was it a deal breaker? I decided Ace’s guy might not notice.
On final contemplation, I recovered the knife under the seat, deciding to tuck it somewhere outside the building so I could retrieve it on my way back out. The last thing I wanted was to be unarmed, and I didn’t want to go near the vehicle again once in disguise.
I exited the Jeep, takeout bag cradled to my chest, and jogged toward the courthouse. At a garbage bin along the sidewalk, I purposefully dropped my keys and slipped the knife underneath and out of sight.
At the main entrance, I went through the mandatory security check and found Tallus waiting on a bench in the lobby, attention seeminglyon his phone. It was a ruse. He surreptitiously scanned the vast foyer in a way that made me proud.
I sat beside him, keeping my voice low. “Anyone around?”
