Later as she drove her Ford Focus hatchback home, Sophie thought about Bob’s remarks. She glanced at the envelope on the seat beside her. She had written to her mom and dad, telling them about her first week on the job and had tucked the note inside a Father’s Day card. She felt guilty that the card was already a week late, but told herself that at least she had found the time to call.
Sophie scanned the street corners for a mailbox. Bob’s right about me not knowing the area. I don’t even know where a mailbox is. No wonder the kids made a fool out of me tonight! She checked her watch. Only nine o’clock. Not tired yet. With a determined look she drove back to the industrial area. One thing is for certain … within an hour or so, I’ll know every alley, road, exit, building, and damned gate within that area!
Sophie was about to learn that nothing about life is certain. Not even survival.
***
Melvin stood between two parked vans. With his hand inside his jacket, he stared at the front of the medical clinic, situated in the heart of Vancouver. It was twenty past nine and the sun was setting, but at the bottom of the skyscrapers, the shadows had already converged. Soon it will be night. He felt comforted. Darkness is my friend.
Melvin continued to stare through the glass. Is she working tonight? Just then he saw Dr. Natasha Taggart enter into the waiting room. He took a step forward, but stopped when she disappeared down a hall.
Natasha saw the slight lull in the waiting room as an opportunity to call her husband on his cellphone. He was also working that evening. Come to think of it, thought Natasha, he actually started work at eight o’clock this morning.
Jack answered, but immediately asked her to hold. She could hear him talking to someone in the background. Female voice, probably Laura.
Natasha hadn’t bothered to ask Jack what was going on when he called her that afternoon to say he would be working late. He worked on the RCMP Intelligence Unit in Vancouver. Constable Laura Secord worked for him, but was also his partner. Their work was secret. At least Jack tried not to bring it home but sometimes it followed him.
Natasha felt herself tremble when she recalled how close she had once come to being murdered by some gangsters who intended to trap her husband. She intentionally pushed the memory from her mind.
She heard the female voice again and smiled. It is Laura. Jack was very fond of Laura, but she wasn’t worried. She had also taken an instant liking to Laura, who was married to another Mountie.
She trusted Laura and knew that Jack thought of her like a sister. Most men wouldn’t. Laura had long curly hair with a natural mixture of reds and gold that reminded Natasha of the leaves in autumn. She also had a body that would make any Hollywood starlet jealous. The important factor to Natasha, however, was that Laura was both intuitive and intelligent. For that, Natasha was thankful. Both Jack and Laura were seasoned undercover operatives whose lives often depended upon each other. There was no room for stupidity.
“Sorry, hon, I’m back,” said Jack.
“Just called to say hi,” replied Natasha. “You sound busy.”
“Very. How about you?”
“It’s quiet. Stuck my head in the waiting room and it’s actually empty for the moment. Think I’ll run out and bring a muffin back from the deli. You going to be home tonight? Should I wait up?”
“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Call me when you get home. If I don’t pick up, leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you. I have to go. Love ya.”
***
Constable Sophie White slowly drove past the graffiti on the side of the warehouse. For Sophie, it wasn’t only graffiti. It was a sign of her failure to catch the kids responsible. Next time I will be ready. Next …
For the next hour, Sophie drove through a maze of roads and lanes that dissected the industrial area. Not having seen another person or vehicle during the entire time, she was curious when she spotted headlights of another vehicle reflecting off the glass windows of a nearby building. Hmm, kind of late for traffic to be here now. She quickly parked her car and shut it off as she watched. Have I been seen? Hope not. She saw it was actually two cars, one immediately behind the other as they slowly meandered through the maze of warehouses. They’re back to finish the job!
It appeared to Sophie that they may be checking to make sure they were alone. She felt her adrenalin surge as the cars drove toward her. She ducked down but peeked out over the dash as they continued past. She saw two figures in the lead car and the silhouette of one person in the car following. The cars slowed and turned down a side road.
Her view was blocked by a large warehouse, but when the cars did not reappear, she knew they had stopped. She smiled. They had parked within a two-minute walk of where she was. Okay, kids. You’re about to be caught red-handed. She thought of the colour of paint the kids had used and snickered. And I do mean red-handed!
Briefly, she thought about her gun back in her locker … But these are just kids. She was still in uniform, but decided to take out her leather wallet containing her shiny new badge and identification card. She couldn’t resist flipping it open and the leather emitted a small creak. I think I’ll have the desired effect! Still, mental note. Buy myself a cellphone. She smiled at the image she would soon present to her colleagues when she returned to the office in her car, followed by two cars with what were sure to be red-faced kids.
She got out of her car and quietly closed the door before creeping toward the warehouse. She kept to the shadows, her journey to hell coming closer with each step.
2
Natasha hurried from the clinic, stopping briefly at the employee parking lot to get a sweater from her car before going to the deli. Her silver Nissan Altima was parked next to a van and she consciously looked around before approaching her car. The clinic was located in a high-crime area and being cautious was second nature. She didn’t see anyone, so she retrieved her sweater before locking and closing her car door. The light scrape of grit from a man’s shoe behind her told her she was not alone.
She spun around and saw a man step out from behind the van. It was difficult to see his face, silhouetted by neon lights from behind, but she could see he had long hair and a beard. His hand was tucked inside his dark nylon raincoat. Raincoat? Hot for this time of year. And it hasn’t rained in over a week.
“Who are you?” demanded Natasha, hoping the authoritative tone of her voice would hide her fear.
The response was an unintelligible whimper and he scurried out of sight behind the van. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief and she recalled a patient she had last treated months earlier.
“Melvin, is that you?” she asked.
There was no response but Natasha could hear him panting as his fright level increased. She made a wide arc around her car and came around the side of the van so that the lights were behind her and she could see his face.
“Melvin Montgomery! It is you! What is it? What’s wrong?”
Melvin glanced furtively about.
Natasha knew that Melvin was neither an alcoholic nor a drug addict. His many illnesses were psychological. Among them, anthropophobia, also known as fear of people and fear of society.
With some people, anthropophobia would come and go, but with Melvin, it was a constant presence. He had a morbid aversion to human contact. It caused him panic attacks, shortness of breath, rapid breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, nausea, and an intense feeling of dread.
By nature, Melvin was gentle and much too afraid to seek help or remain in any environment where people were nearby. It was not an easy life. A life that forced him to live in a doorway in an alley, his existence dependent upon a few select Dumpsters behind the area restaurants.
Natasha had encountered and befriended him before. The first time she had helped him, he had made it as far as the entrance to