station called it a seventies porn ’stache. Tim couldn’t help but look at it when Niles talked. It was like a small rodent had died and now lay under Niles’ nose.
“Just run the plate number,” Tim said. “If we get a hit, we can find the girl and get my gun back.”
“I called it in when we got here.” Marina cleared her throat and wiped something off her lips. “Certain people upstairs are going to be pissed you had your piece stolen. That kinda shit goes on your record.”
Tim winced as the paramedic pushed at another sensitive spot.
“You almost done?” he asked.
“You’re fine,” the medic said. “Nothing new broken. Pain’ll subside soon. You have something for the pain?”
“Yeah,” Tim said as he pushed off the back of the ambulance and walked away.
Officers were taking statements from the waitress and the two women who watched the whole thing. People stood outside businesses across the street; others watched from windows. It was a regular peep show happening on John Street.
John Street.
The irony of the name never hit him before. Imagine a hooker walking John Street.
He laughed to himself.
“Something funny?” Marina asked from behind him. “After burying your daughter this morning, you’re down here having a covert meeting and then—”
He stopped and spun around to look at her as a phone rang. She turned away from him, her cell up to her ear. She appeared to be listening. She nodded, then dropped her phone in a pocket.
“Plates came back. A rental. Enterprise.”
“I knew it,” Tim said.
Marina frowned and put a hand on her hip. “How did you know?”
“Instinct. Can you get the name off the rental agreement?”
Marina nodded. “Already got it. But it can’t be right.”
Now it was Tim’s turn to frown. “Why not?”
“It doesn’t add up. Someone’s using a fake name.”
Tim stepped toward her, eager to hear the name. “Tell me. Who rented the car?”
“You might remember her. Saved a lot of people in this city a few years in a row.”
“Huh?”
“That American psychic girl, Sarah Roberts. Any chance you screwed the number up?”
Tim mumbled, “No chance,” as he stumbled away.
“It fits with the shooting,” Marina said to her partner Niles. “At least that’s what we’re working with.”
Sarah Roberts?
Not Erzabet. Of course. That’s why he recognized her. The braids threw him off. She even used a name that he would match with the braids. She knew his past. His name. She knew about the consortium. She spoke with Vanessa. All because she was psychic or something.
His stomach rolled as his legs weakened for the umpteenth time today. He leaned against a car, panting, his heart smacking against his rib cage.
“You okay?” Marina asked.
“Yeah. The hand’s throbbing. Just give me a sec.”
If Sarah was here and she knew everything, then he was done. She brought down The Rapturites. She attacked a street gang even the cops were afraid of. The MS-13 or something. Cops retired because of Sarah. He remembered her having friends. Tough guys. Friends on the force and the FBI.
But what was she doing in Toronto? Didn’t her boyfriend live here? He couldn’t remember everything as he hadn’t worked on those cases, but he knew a few cops who worked close with Sarah. She was an enigmatic vigilante who lived by her own rules. Of course she would know what to say to him. She would know where he had stashed his gun. Sarah would know everything, and he figured his life was about to change for the worse.
Marina’s phone rang. She grabbed it without taking her eyes off Tim.
“Speak.” She nodded and smiled. “They sure?” She nodded again. “How did they know about it?” Her eyes moved to Tim. “Scanner. Makes sense. We’re on our way. Make sure they stay where they are. Don’t let that car leave their
“Just run the plate number,” Tim said. “If we get a hit, we can find the girl and get my gun back.”
“I called it in when we got here.” Marina cleared her throat and wiped something off her lips. “Certain people upstairs are going to be pissed you had your piece stolen. That kinda shit goes on your record.”
Tim winced as the paramedic pushed at another sensitive spot.
“You almost done?” he asked.
“You’re fine,” the medic said. “Nothing new broken. Pain’ll subside soon. You have something for the pain?”
“Yeah,” Tim said as he pushed off the back of the ambulance and walked away.
Officers were taking statements from the waitress and the two women who watched the whole thing. People stood outside businesses across the street; others watched from windows. It was a regular peep show happening on John Street.
John Street.
The irony of the name never hit him before. Imagine a hooker walking John Street.
He laughed to himself.
“Something funny?” Marina asked from behind him. “After burying your daughter this morning, you’re down here having a covert meeting and then—”
He stopped and spun around to look at her as a phone rang. She turned away from him, her cell up to her ear. She appeared to be listening. She nodded, then dropped her phone in a pocket.
“Plates came back. A rental. Enterprise.”
“I knew it,” Tim said.
Marina frowned and put a hand on her hip. “How did you know?”
“Instinct. Can you get the name off the rental agreement?”
Marina nodded. “Already got it. But it can’t be right.”
Now it was Tim’s turn to frown. “Why not?”
“It doesn’t add up. Someone’s using a fake name.”
Tim stepped toward her, eager to hear the name. “Tell me. Who rented the car?”
“You might remember her. Saved a lot of people in this city a few years in a row.”
“Huh?”
“That American psychic girl, Sarah Roberts. Any chance you screwed the number up?”
Tim mumbled, “No chance,” as he stumbled away.
“It fits with the shooting,” Marina said to her partner Niles. “At least that’s what we’re working with.”
Sarah Roberts?
Not Erzabet. Of course. That’s why he recognized her. The braids threw him off. She even used a name that he would match with the braids. She knew his past. His name. She knew about the consortium. She spoke with Vanessa. All because she was psychic or something.
His stomach rolled as his legs weakened for the umpteenth time today. He leaned against a car, panting, his heart smacking against his rib cage.
“You okay?” Marina asked.
“Yeah. The hand’s throbbing. Just give me a sec.”
If Sarah was here and she knew everything, then he was done. She brought down The Rapturites. She attacked a street gang even the cops were afraid of. The MS-13 or something. Cops retired because of Sarah. He remembered her having friends. Tough guys. Friends on the force and the FBI.
But what was she doing in Toronto? Didn’t her boyfriend live here? He couldn’t remember everything as he hadn’t worked on those cases, but he knew a few cops who worked close with Sarah. She was an enigmatic vigilante who lived by her own rules. Of course she would know what to say to him. She would know where he had stashed his gun. Sarah would know everything, and he figured his life was about to change for the worse.
Marina’s phone rang. She grabbed it without taking her eyes off Tim.
“Speak.” She nodded and smiled. “They sure?” She nodded again. “How did they know about it?” Her eyes moved to Tim. “Scanner. Makes sense. We’re on our way. Make sure they stay where they are. Don’t let that car leave their
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