“Babe, I believe you. Absolutely. You’re honest, a good man.” I tried to lighten my tone. “A little hotheaded but never a cheater. Plus you’re obsessed with getting your goals-against down. You want that NAPH spot. You wouldn’t risk that for money. Certainly not for a measly two thousand dollars.” A little shadow crossed his face, and I hurried to add, “Not even for a million dollars. You just wouldn’t.”
“Right. Thank you.” He pulled at his hair, closing his eyes. “But you told me a lot of minor crime isn’t worth the time totrack down. Smith said he’d get my uncle to fuck with Grandpa and the store if I defied him. Shit. I don’t know what to do.”
“Can you trust me?” I asked. “Let me get in touch with the GREC folks. The Gaming Commission. They investigate and enforce gambling wrongdoing. Someone in my chain of command must know someone there. The personal touch never hurts.”
“I don’t know.” He squeezed his eyes tighter. “I don’t know! Fuck. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to be part of playing pro. I don’t want Grandpa to get hurt.”
“Hug while you figure it out?” I pulled gently on his shoulders in offer.
“Oh my God, yes.” Callum leaned into me.
The hug was awkward, sitting in our chairs, but I got my arms around him, and he grabbed on to me like a drowning man grabs a life raft. I could barely breathe, but that was fine. I supported him, holding him tight through the shudders and the way he dug his face into my neck. He was halfway to crying, his face dry but his shoulders heaving. All I could do was hang on and wait.
After a minute, he began taking easier breaths, then he huffed a squeezed laugh against my shoulder and pulled away. I let him go. He rubbed a big hand down his face. “So that was useful.”
“You’re allowed a minute to fall apart. I’m just glad I was here for you.”
“Me too.”
I didn’t push. This was a tough decision for him. He tipped his head back and blinked up at the ceiling lights. Then said, “Can you find out who might help?”
“I’ll try.” I got out my phone, checked the time. It was after four. “Might not happen till tomorrow morning. No one’s dying, and the investigation folks tend to work early days. But I can getthe ball rolling.” I scrolled through my contacts. No doubt GREC had a reporting hotline, but I needed to be of more personal use to Callum than that.
There were some names in my contact list with no addresses, just brief codes. I pulled up Vic’s number and tried him.
At the last moment before voicemail, he picked up. “Hey, who is this?”
“Zeke Evans,” I said, though I had no doubt he had my contact identified. “Unger.” I gave him my undercover ID, which I was sure he’d remember.
“Evans. What can I do for you?”
“You said you’d worked with the gaming boys in a gang takedown a couple years back, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a personal friend in a bind, threatened with getting forced into illegal gambling and blackmail. He needs to report it before they strike first. I need to contact someone who will listen to the whole story and not blow us off. Any suggestions?”
“What part of the province?”
“Vancouver greater metro.”
“Give me a minute.” The line went silent as he put me on hold. I nodded to Callum, trying to convey reassurance. After a long pause, Vic came back on. “Right, I have someone for you. Vancouver PD seconded to the GREC. I called in a favour, since she just got off duty, so you owe me one.”
“Anytime.”
“Grace Valencia. Take down this number.” He recited it fast while I popped to my feet and grabbed a piece of junk mail off the counter.
“Say that again?”
Callum thrust the marker off the fridge dry-erase board into my hand.
Vic repeated himself, then added, “Good luck. See you when the trials begin.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I wasn’t looking forward to that at all, liked to pretend it wasn’t in my future.
Maybe he heard the reluctance in my tone, because he added, “Hey, Evans, you did good work. Right?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
