Without checking his wing mirrors, he pulled over onto the hard shoulder, ignoring the horns and name-calling from the other drivers on the road. He laid his head on the steering wheel and groaned. "He made me promise not to tell!"
My breathing grew laboured. "Tell me what?" I screamed, shaking Tink's arm.
"Look, he didn't go into detail but when we were away, Tatey flew back to Calgary and something was going down with Tudor and his family."
"What was it?" I pushed, my heart now moving from a steady canter to a full-blown Seabiscuit gallop.
"I don't know but I think it's bad, my boy was so scared," he whimpered.
"Of what?”
"I don't know what of. Look, Wil, Tate takes his job very seriously and he signed a confidentiality agreement when he took the position, so I have no details. Believe me, I’ve tried but he won’t crack, he’s like the freakin’ Enigma Code!"
Was this what Tudor had been keeping from me? It had to be. What else could it be? What the hell was going on? I had to go and find out once and for all. I needed it to move on.
I looked to Tink and he began preemptively shaking his head. "Tink…” I threatened. “Take me to the Aspen/Spring Valley area, at the end on Seventeenth Ave South West. I know that’s the area he lives in, and, by the sounds if it, if we follow the sirens and flashing lights we'll figure out which is his house pretty damn quick."
Tink stared at me like I was crazy. "Wil, I don't thi–"
I cut him off. "Just do it, Tink, for f**ks sake!" I screamed, and he quickly pulled back onto the highway and floored it all the way to the commotion at the exclusive and wealthy neighbourhood.
It didn’t take us long to find the right place.
When we got there, emergency service vehicles were spread out along the long driveway of a house situated on its own in about four acres of land, completely segregated from other properties nearby. I could only assume was the residence of the Norths.
At the sight of police cars and ambulances, my fear kicked into overdrive and before the Camaro had even stopped, I was out of the door and running towards the scene. I could hear raised voices in the house from the driveway and I could make out crying, it was full of pain and anguish. My eyes began to fill up with tears in fear of what I would find.
I reached the end of the long graveled road and began sprinting up the brick stairs only to see Tate, head in hands, hunched over and crying against the side of the huge white-with-black-beams mansion – Tudor-period style (go figure).
He saw me running his way, eyes wide, and he rushed over to meet me. "Tash, what the hell? You can't be here right now," he cried, trying to usher me away.
I stood stock-still. "Where is he? What's happening?" I could hear Tudor’s voice. I had to get to him, check he was okay.
"Tash, now is not a good time. You need to go." He tried to physically turn me around.
"No! I won't leave. Tell me what’s going on," I bellowed.
Tate's face crumpled. He broke down and began to cry. He laid his head on my shoulder, unable to stop his torrent of emotions.
I kissed his head. "Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetie, what happened?"
He let out a painful groan. "He got to her just in time, it was awful. He just lost it, and I called the police. I was in my study working on the other side of the house. It was… it was awful!" he sobbed and sobbed, drenching the shoulder of my coat.
I heard Tink running up from behind me and Tate looked up, unwrapped himself from my embrace and took off in the direction of his boyfriend. I watched him throw himself into Tink’s shocked and worried arms. Unshackled, I set off in the direction of the front of the house. I turned the corner and my path was immediately blocked by an ambulance. I moved to the open doors, and inside was a young girl, bloodied and clearly shaken, clothes ripped and crying.
No! It was Boleyn.
Pamela North was hovering over her, fussing and petting her outstretched hand, clearly in emotional pieces. The paramedics worked on Boleyn’s injuries and one of them was injecting something into her arm. I was frozen in place, I couldn’t move or speak.
Catching sight of me, Pamela let out a large cry and stepped outside of the vehicle, shocked beyond measure. I suddenly realised coming here was a terrible mistake. This was clearly a very personal family matter and I was intruding, trying to involve myself in something I should never have done, all because of my own insecurities.
I opened my mouth to apologise and leave when she spoke, eyes glazed over and replaying some horror in her head. "He must have snuck in through her window and I didn't hear. What kind of mother doesn’t hear? And Tudor, oh God, Tudor… just wouldn't stop. Please go see him, he needs you... please, do something... it’s too much for him to cope with on his own."