Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Forty-Five: Agnes, Saturday

Agnes was still up when her phone rang. Later, she considered it fortunate that she was the only one up, that her parents were asleep in their room and her children were asleep in her room, that she'd been still too wound up from her shift to sleep and wanted an hour or two for herself after everyone had gone to bed. Whenever she was alone in Al and Rachel's townhouse, she tended to stay up later than she would at her parents', either reading or listening to an audiobook on her phone that she'd downloaded free from VPL, a luxury of free time she'd gotten used to and wanted to take advantage of when she was back from fantasy land, which was what she'd gotten to calling the townhouse, because it was a rare trip to a place where no one bothered her for a while. 

She'd been sitting and listening to her audiobook out on the front porch, bundled up in a heavy coat and ear muffs over the ear buds in her ears, enjoying the crisp winter air, so much warmer in the rainforest that was the Lower Mainland than it was in the Okanagan, watching her breath curl into steam whenever it left her mouth, when the audiobook cut out and her phone rang. Luckily the ringing could only be heard through her ear buds, so no one would be disturbed inside.

To her surprise, she saw that it was Al calling. The two of them had exchanged phone numbers as soon as he'd gotten his replacement phone and come back to work; they'd met for lunch whenever Agnes had a shift at Central Branch around that time, and they often texted to arrange it. Why he was calling now, late on a Saturday night, she couldn't guess, but part of her thrilled at the possibility that he was making an illicit call to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

She tapped to accept the call and said in a low voice, "Al?"

"Agnes." His voice had none of his usual warmth. It had nothing to it, actually, and already she was on alert for something wrong.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Uh... yeah, I'm okay, but... shit, I'm sorry, I don't know how to tell you this..."

"Tell me what?" she asked, sitting straighter in her chair.

He sighed, and it sounded almost like a death rattle. "I just received some terrible news, Agnes, and I don't know if anyone's told you yet--"

"Me? What's going on? Is it your wife, or another loved one?"

"No. Agnes, it's your husband."

"My ex-husband, and what's he done?" she asked, preparing herself to go on the defensive.

"Agnes..." Al trailed off.

"What?!" she demanded, getting annoyed now, and she never thought she'd ever be annoyed with Al.

"Patrick is dead, Agnes."

She sat absolutely still for what seemed like an eternity.

"Agnes?" Al asked. "Are you all right?"

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice vibrating with the shudders that began wracking her body. She didn't know if it was the cold of the night or the shock of his revelation that was causing her to shake, but she was glad she didn't need to hold her phone to her ear right now, because she was sure she would have dropped it.

"Joe got a call from Joanie," Al explained. "She said Patrick was leaving her house tonight when his truck exploded."

"Oh my God!" she squeaked, hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. "They got him! They fucking got him!"

"What?" Al asked. "Who got him?"

"The Mercers, they put a hit on him!"

"Who are the Mercers?"

She'd already slipped up mentioning the name at all, so she might as well tell him everything. There was no point maintaining confidentiality now, because Patrick was beyond the arm of the law and he couldn't retaliate against her anymore.