“I’m sorry about that. Every life is valuable.”
Jasper looked up. Their eyes locked. “Yes. Yes, I believe that too.” He smiled. “Merinda, I wish that Tipton and the police saw everyone as valuable. That there weren’t tiers: layers where some are valuable because of status or situation and others commodities and others just the result of collateral damage. It can save lives when we take time to look at one person and not just see him as the bottom rung. Men like David Ross… if they felt valued. If they had been shown compassion and worth, we wouldn’t be standing here mourning what has been.”
“We do what we can, Jasper.” Merinda exhaled, spread her arms. “And how wonderful that we are on the same side.”
For Toronto was not far from them. Even now. All that they had seen in this strange new city still took them back home. Merinda knew that the greatest fight of her life would see her pitted against the very infrastructure of the city she loved. Her home. It made her tick. It made her strong. How could it feed such dissension with tentacles that stretched beyond the boundaries of its own corruption?
Jasper was thoughtfully nodding and smiling and then nodding again. This time with a dash more exuberance. “And there are others who want to protect this. That want to see our city as an open door for everyone. Every life as something special and to be treasured.”
“You’re on the brink of something aren’t you?” Merinda gave a slow, Cheshire cat grin.
Amid the half-packed suitcases and in the middle of the grandest hotel room Jasper Forth would ever set foot in, he had an epiphany that was destined to change the course of their lives forever.* “Of a discovery. Like a great old explorer you read about in history books. Like, like Cartier!”
Merinda chuckled. “Well aye, aye then, Cartier!” She looped her arm with his and they stared at a horizon that was not sea melded with sky, rather ornate wallpaper and polished gold wall sconces. “Let’s change our world!”
Jem begged to go with him, but Ray told her she had been through enough for one day and he didn’t want her upset. He took the last of the money Hedgehog had given him and used it to put Jemima in a cab back to the Palmer House. His conscience nicked at him. Dirty money from a dirty cause and even dirtier greed. Greed that saw two men dead. Dead for no reason.
Ray knew Viola would be waiting. Waiting for word. That she’d keep checking the clock and chewing her fingernails and hoping. That she’d wring her lovely hands and take a moment to ensure that Luca hadn’t roused in his sleep.
She’d rub each bead on her rosary again and again. Maybe look to an old photograph of their mother with a rueful smile. Say several prayers.
Ray couldn’t keep his hand from shaking. He shoved it deep in his pocket to no avail. Then he clenched it and unclenched it. The first streaks of sunset ribboned the sky as he slowly took the last weighty steps to Viola’s door.
He knew he looked terrible: ashen face, bloodstained trousers, matted hair, bleary eyes. But he was tired. And numb somehow. He walked through to her small kitchen table.
“Is he in jail then? Is he? How long, Ray, how long?” Viola’s hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Sit down, Vi,” he said softly.
She shook her head, paced some more. “No. I can’t. Not until I know.” She looked him over, and then she knelt in front of him. “You’re hurt. Ray, what is this?” She felt at a stain on his shirt he hadn’t noticed. “Is this blood?”
Ray nodded. He couldn’t meet her eyes. Tears pricked at them, and the room, already stifling and small, smothered him even more.
“I was too late. When I got there, Tony had already murdered a man, Viola.”
Viola shook her head. “N-no. It can’t be. Tony doesn’t kill. Tony… ”
“But he did, Viola. He killed a man. For money. Then… ”
“You come here to tell me that they will hang him!” She went from kneeling to sitting on the floor. “Ray, you… ”
“No. It’s too late for that.” Ray’s voice was dead as he watched her heart break in her eyes.
“Y-you mean… ”
Ray couldn’t look directly at her, so he focused on a crack in the wall just above her shoulder. Focused, even though his eyes kept drifting back to the ribbon at the end of her carefully tied braid. Yet one more token of home. A gift from Nona.