Page 3 of Playoff (Toronto Blaze #4)

I’ll do my best

Alek

Canada was fucking cold.

I’d flown on a direct flight into Toronto, first class, losing three hours thanks to the time difference.

I wasn’t recognized by anyone, probably because of the drastic image change.

I’d had hair down to my shoulders since my first season in the NHL and grew the beard not long after.

Now, my head felt weird and I kept running my hand over my chin, not used to the smoothness.

I hadn’t had my hair this short since…high school, maybe?

My grade nine photos might have shown me with a short cut, but not shaved like this.

I shouldn’t have done it. I liked the flow and the versatility it provided. Fucking Weasel.

We landed after dark. Shockingly, the teams had managed to keep the trade news quiet.

Walking through Pearson Airport, TV screens flashed news headlines but none of them were about the Toronto Blaze.

I’d been through here before with the LA team—no longer my team—and hockey news got top billing.

I made it to customs before I was recognized.

The agent’s eyes went wide but she didn’t ask anything personal.

Still, this meant the clock was ticking—the news would be out soon.

My leather jacket, the heaviest one I owned, wasn’t enough to keep the bitter wind from biting as I stepped out of the airport to catch a cab to the downtown hotel the team was putting me up at.

Thanks to the hair and lack of trade news, I managed without any recognition at all.

It was freaky. In LA, no one cared much, but whenever we’d played in Toronto I was always recognized.

I’d played with guys who’d been traded in from Canadian markets, and they talked about how they were under the microscope up here in ways they weren’t in the southern states. Just playing for the Blaze should get me attention in Toronto. And that was without the other stuff.

I checked into a reserved room in a different hotel from where the visiting teams stayed.

The team had sprung for a suite, which was nice.

I had no idea how long I’d be here. The way they were playing, the season could be over in less than three months, when the playoffs started.

But if I provided the scoring the Blaze had been lacking, and the rest of the team played like they had last year, taking it all the way to the finals would keep me here through June.

I’d never been on a team that went that far.

In any case, with my contract expiring June thirtieth, I wasn’t staying here long-term.

There was no need to buy a place. But the thought of living in the hotel for a possible five months was depressing.

I unpacked the things I’d brought with me—toiletries and the warmest clothes I had.

The Blaze were playing a game tonight, and then were off until the day after tomorrow.

The teams would have arranged to get my gear shipped through, hopefully for morning skate, but it should definitely be here for the next game day.

I pulled out my phone and opened Angelina’s email.

She’d sent a list of rental agents I might want to consider, so I was clicking through their websites when there was a knock on the door.

I checked the time. I hadn’t bothered turning on the game, but the Blaze would be playing the third period so no one from the team would be visiting. I hadn’t ordered room service or extra pillows. That left one strong contender.

I stood and crossed to the door. A glance through the peephole confirmed my guess. I opened the door.

Agent Miller of the Ontario Provincial Police was standing in the hallway in a rumpled suit, hands in his pockets.

“What a surprise,” I greeted him.

“Mr. Denbrowski.”

“Agent Miller. You might as well come in.”

I stood back, letting him lead the way to the sitting room. He looked around the room, decorated in upscale hotel style, and nodded. “Nice.”

I shrugged and resumed my seat on the couch. Miller walked over to the bedroom, looking around, opening the door to the bathroom.

“No one hiding here,” I assured him.

He returned and settled in a chair. “I had to look. Just to say I did.”

“How did you know I was in town? The teams haven’t announced the trade yet.”

“Your passport is flagged. Someone should have talked to you at Pearson, but anyway, I got the information you were here. I called your agent, and he explained why you were in the country.”

I was a Canadian. Born in Toronto. But for the last ten years I’d only been in the country when my teams played here. Every time that happened, I had this same sit-down with law enforcement. Royal Canadian Mounted Police when it was a western team, S?reté du Québec in Montreal.

“I’m stuck here for a while.”

He looked out through the window, showing the lights of condos and hotels in the city. “Going to make things easier for the RCMP and the Quebec guys.”

“How so?”

“You won’t be coming through customs. They won’t have to talk to you when the Blaze are playing other Canadian teams. You’ll see more of me though.”

Every time the Blaze came back from an American away game. At least Miller wasn’t bad, compared to some. I think he was almost sorry for me. “Let’s get it done, then.” I waited for him.

He pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “When did you last hear from your parents?”

“Ten years ago, more or less. Before they took off.” Two days before, to be exact.

“And your sister?”

“The same.”

He looked up. “She’s turning eighteen soon. As an adult, she might want to reach out to you.”

She was eighteen now? Shit. My memories were of an eight-year-old. I wouldn’t recognize her, probably. “Not sure she’d know how to find me, since I’ve been moving around.”

He nodded and ticked something on his notepad. “Has anyone approached you on their behalf?”

“No.”

“Have you tried to make contact with them?”

“No.”

“Have you come across any information that could help us apprehend them?”

“No.” I wasn’t sure what I’d do with that if I did find any, but I’d never been tested. My family had vanished as completely as if they’d been abducted.

He sighed and shoved his notebook in his pocket again. He gave me a sympathetic glance. “We know where they are. There’s no extradition, so we can’t do anything about it, but if you were curious…”

I shook my head in a jerk. “I don’t want to know.” They’d ripped off a lot of people in a Ponzi scheme and fled the country, leaving me to answer questions. Why the hell would I want to know where they’d gone?

He stared at me for a moment. “You being here—that’s going to stir some people up.”

There was a reason I’d never signed with a Canadian team. “It wasn’t my choice to come back.”

He shoved to his feet. “If the press or some of the victims get out of line, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”

That was decent of him. But after ten years, he might even believe I knew nothing. I’d never known, not until the news was everywhere.

I followed him to the small entryway. He opened the door and paused to look at me again. “The team needs you, with Ducky out. Might make your last name popular up here.”

I wasn’t taking on the burden of the whole team. Hockey was my job. I was good at it and I made money playing it, but I didn’t expect more of the sport than that.

“I’ll do my best,” I told him.

He nodded and wandered down the hall to the elevators. Once he was gone, I closed the door and pulled in a long breath.

I should be used to these visits. After so many years, they were just a formality.

Some of the officers who talked to me, especially in the beginning, had been bristling with suspicion.

I was sure someone, somewhere, kept track of my calls and my online presence, such as it was.

I didn’t do social media, not anymore. Too many people wanted to use me, to vent their anger, or to recover what they’d lost. I changed phone numbers every few months and lived in buildings with security.

My parents had victimized Canadians, so in the US, the interest was minimal. But coming back here? I’d have to find someplace else to stay than the hotel. It was too easy for someone to gain access.

I still had a few hours, maybe till morning, before the trade was announced and those wronged people discovered I was in Toronto, where many of them lived. I picked up my jacket, insufficient as it was, and put my room key in my pocket. After a moment of consideration, I left my phone behind.

While I still could, I wanted to drink in anonymity. Enjoy the closest thing I would have to freedom for months. I’d need to find a bar without a television though. The trade news was coming out soon. I was surprised it wasn’t out now.