McLaren clearly didn't think that anymore, did he?
He'd sent the goon, as soon as the cop showed interest in me, to check. And I'd run. Of course now McLaren would move heaven and earth to get back what I took, what he would be certain I still had.
So, what were my options?
I glanced at Daisy and sucked in a shaky breath of air.
Could I do it? Could I run with a five year old girl? Could I make my daughter live her life looking over her shoulder?
Or could I do what Rick did in the end? Sacrifice myself for her, like he sacrificed himself for me.
Ah, fuck. I pulled the Yellow Pages phone directory towards me from the other side of the table and looked up Sweet Seduction Café. Having found my goal, I checked my wallet. I'd made sure to take out the largest sum of money the cash-point had allowed last night, so I had enough for a taxi fare, even if we were in South Auckland and Sweet Seduction was in High Street in the CBD.
I didn't allow myself to think too long on whether McLaren's men were watching the store. How much, realistically, could they have accomplished since yesterday? Since Pierce visited me at work? McLaren was under arrest, behind bars, so organising a stake-out of a café that was connected in some way to the cop who questioned me was pretty slim. Wasn't it?
I also had to hope that Detective Sergeant Pierce had thought of that. Why else would he offer me his card with details of some woman's shop on the back for me to use, instead of insisting I contact him through the Central Police Station where he was based?
I closed my eyes and prayed this was the right thing to do. How could I know for certain that going there would help? Where else did I have to go? Never in a million years, despite my history with the likes of Roan McLaren, did I think something like this would happen. That I would be fearful for my daughter's safety, to the point of trusting a stranger enough to help us out.
This wasn't what my head was telling me we should do, but one look at Daisy and my heart was pleading with me to do something, anything, to get her off the street and keep her safe.
I had no choice anymore, after yesterday's close call, and admitting that was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do.
I let Daisy watch the last of her cartoon, then bundled her out the door. I'd ordered a taxi earlier which arrived five minutes after we checked out, making it possible to hide my nerves from both the motel receptionist and Daisy. Any longer and they would have been eyeing me up strangely like the woman at Daisy's school.
I took a deep breath and then gave Sweet Seduction's address to the driver, all the while trying not to vomit in my mouth out of sheer terror.
Daisy could tell I was upset. Kids know, don't they? She sat silently, and unusually non-inquisitively, staring out her side window as Auckland city grew bigger and bigger as the CBD grew closer. The music on the taxi's stereo grated. The static on his communications radio made me jump. And the ride took the last of my confidence and left me feeling decidedly raw by the time the car pulled up at the kerb outside the store.
Moulded glass and English pub-style wooden framed windows met my eyes as we stepped out of the vehicle and stared at the welcoming glow of what had to be the singularly most delightful looking premises on this stretch of road. Everything either side was steel and straight lines, not an ounce of character in sight. But this store, this place, it stood out, it shouted, "Hello!" It made you long to go inside.
I'm not sure I could have done it, if it hadn't have appeared to be so quaint, so welcoming. So non-threatening. Even having made it thus far, I'm sure I would have backed out, so jangled were my nerves. Every sound on the street made my body shake. Every flash of colourful clothing caught my fearful eyes. Every sharp bark of laughter made me cringe.
But the decadent smell of coffee mixed with chocolate somehow soothed, and the warm, muted yellow-gold glow of lights, behind those magical rounded panes of glass, beckoned.
Clutching Daisy's hand tightly in mine, I pushed the swing door open and walked into a different world.
Black overstuffed sofas with hot pink piping and a mixture of hot pink and white throw pillows, dotted the dark polished wooden floor. Interspersed with tables and chairs in a similarly dark colour, haphazardly placed as though creating a maze for the customers to traverse. In one corner was a lowered section of flooring inundated with copious amounts of oversized floor pillows. People were actually lounging in the space in their high street fashion clothes. Steam rose from a behemoth coffee machine over by two large counters, the sound of beans grinding and the loud bang of the porta filter being emptied by the barista made my heart leap into my throat. Chocolate permeated the air from a chilled, glass fronted cabinet under the main counter, various shades and shapes of cocoa morsels were displayed on identical sized white trays.