Prologue
Saturday, One Week Later, Mid-September
Kate Morgan wokeup early in the morning, still at the penthouse apartment of Simon St. Laurant. She rolled over and tried to sneak out from the covers. Almost instantly an arm came around and pulled her back down.
“It’s Saturday.”
She froze. “It is?”
He nodded. “It is. You’re off work.”
“Jesus, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”
“Well, if you would take some of the time off that you have coming and rest a little bit,” he said, “I wouldn’t have to worry about you quite so much.”
“You worry too much,” she replied instantly. The arm around her tightened, and she cuddled in closer. “In that case,” she decided, yawning, “I’ll just stay here a bit. Maybe we can have breakfast for a change.”
“Normally, you’re up and out of here before breakfast is even possible.”
“And normally, you’re up and out of here, buying and selling the world,” she replied.
“Foreign markets and stock exchanges open up early,” he explained.
“So, why the hell are you still here now?”
“It’s Saturday. They can go screw themselves.”
She laughed. Just then her phone rang.
He froze, tucked her up closer, and said, “Don’t answer it.”
She rolled over and looked at him. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I know.” He sighed, then kissed her gently. “Go ahead, answer it then.”
She reached over and grabbed her phone to see the Caller ID. “What’s up, Rodney?”
“We got a new case,” he said, his voice grim.
“Yeah, what kind of a case?”
“You mean, outside of dead bodies?”
“Bodies?”
“Yeah, two, on the Stanley Park jogging trails.”
“Runners?”
“Yeah, both women, both late twenties.”
“Shit. Shot or what?”
“No, we’re not exactly sure what happened. But it sounds like something might have been sprayed in their faces. Gassed maybe, but Smidge’ll have to tell us what it was,” he noted. “Anyway, I got the first call. I’m here, and I’m tagging you.”
“Great,” she mumbled. “Simon just told me that I needed to take a few days off.”
“And he’s right. You do. But you didn’t set that up.”