"Of course he was."
"He lands in Kelowna at three. Driver will have him up here by six."
"So he's going to stand in this cabin and tell me I'm going into some apartment with bars on the windows in a city I hate."
"Something like that."
I put the coffee down. Rub my hands over my face.
"I'm not going into witness protection, Gray."
"Nobody said witness protection. They said safe."
"Safe is a verb in my line of work. It's what I do for my sources. It's not what's done to me."
"It is today."
I look at him.
He holds my eyes and does not back down.
That's the thing about this man. He doesn't perform power. He just has it and he keeps it on a tight leash and it shows up when it matters, and every time it shows up I get a little more in trouble with myself.
I cross to the fireplace because I need to move. Stand with my back to him, hands out to the heat. He does not follow.
"What did they find."
"Tremblay had a go-bag in the truck. Zip ties. Duct tape. A handgun. A sedative I don't want to tell you the name of."
My stomach drops.
"Okay."
"He was coming in to take you, not to kill you on site. They want you somewhere they can make you talk about your sources first."
"Okay."
"Simone."
"I heard you."
He crosses the room then. Stops about two feet behind me. I can feel him there the way you feel a body of water you haven't turned around to look at yet.
"We got him."
"I know."
"The people he works for are getting rolled up by the paper and the Mounties as we speak. Your editor has the story. It's going to be ugly and it's going to be huge and it's going to take about seventy-two more hours for everyone named in your notes to be in a box."
"And in the meantime I sit in a safe apartment."
"In the meantime you sit somewhere safe."
I turn.
He's closer than I thought.
"Define safe."
