White hot pain exploded in his testicles. He pitched into the dark.
CHAPTER 24
You're sure this is the address?" Liv gazed at the unprepossessing building on NE Helmut Street, the chain-link fence, all the more dingy for the drizzling rain. An overloaded dumpster had a mattress propped up next to it. Bags of garbage were being nosed through by a knuckle-assed dog. "Charles Parrish's daughter lives in this place?"
Sean referred once again to the sheaf of printouts Davy had given him. "That's what it says here."
"But didn't you guys say Parrish was a billionaire?"
Sean shrugged. "Apartment Four F." He eyed her belly. "Fourth floor. I'd suggest you wait in the car, but not in this neighborhood. How about I take you back to the hotel?"
"Oh, shut up," Liv snapped. "Come on."
Sean stayed right behind her as they went through the gate and started to climb, matching his pace to her slow one. She was breathless by the end of the second flight, and he tried to grab her arm, to give her support, but she snatched her arm back, shooting him one of those blazing Amazon goddess looks. "Do not hover. I am fine."
"I'm not hovering," he said, hurt. "I'm being a gallant, attentive, caring, sensitive guy."
Liv snorted eloquently.
"Would you rather have a grunting Neanderthal pig? Pick up the pace, babe, and carry this case of beer while you're at it, OK?"
"You were hovering," she said, snippily.
"No. This is hovering." He swept her into his arms, and held her while she wriggled and squawked. "Worked for Scarlett and Rhett."
"Scarlett had a sixteen-inch waist!" Liv yelled. "Scarlett was not seven months pregnant! Put me down, before you throw your back out!"
"Sure," he promised, striding up the stairs. "Just as soon as I get to the fourth floor. And here we are. Madame, if you please." He set her on her feet. "Just trying to make myself useful. Earn my perks."
"Perks? Hah! What perks? Don't even get me started!"
He grabbed her, and kissed her, putting his hands under the taut swell of her belly. "Shhh. I just want to carry this weight for you, when I can," he crooned. "I wish I could do it all. The hard stuff, the scary stuff. I wish I could bear it all for you. But I can't. Biology is cruel."
She was still stiff, so he pulled her closer, petting the curve of her back. "Please, don't be mad. I love you so much. I can't even stand it."
That did the trick. The steel in her spine softened, and she bent her head to let him nuzzle her neck. He sighed. Disaster averted.
Marriage was complicated. The emotional equivalent of a game of pro basketball. Lots of sweat, lots of effort. But when he sank that ball into the hoop, oh, man. The payoff was so sweet. He lived for that.
Sean paused to stare at the scarred, flimsy looking door of Apartment 4F for a moment, and reached out to knock.
The door yielded to the pressure of his knuckles, and drifted open with a creaking sigh more suited to a gothic mansion. Sean shoved Liv behind him, and peered into the room. It had been destroyed.
"This place has been tossed," he said. "Wait one moment. I'll make sure no one's home."
"Sean!" she hissed fiercely. She grabbed at the back of his jacket, but he slipped through her fingers, already inside.
It looked like someone had torn the dingy little apartment apart in a killing rage. He peered into the bathroom, scattered with broken glass and crockery, mirror shattered, shower curtain slashed. In the living room, furniture had been overturned, the place was littered with paper. Red paint was sprayed over the walls, which were covered with pictures, photos, sketches. It formed a word, he realized, in bleeding, dripping letters. FREAK. He tugged Liv inside. "No one's here," he said.
Liv made a distressed sound in the back of her throat as she stared around at the wrecked room. "Do you think she was hurt?"
He stared at the dripping scrawl. "They wouldn't write insults on the wall if she was there for them to deliver them in person," he said. "I hope, anyway. We must be the first ones to see this. No crime scene tape. Door not locked. She hasn't been home since it happened."
Liv looked pained. "She's in for a shock. We should call the cops."
"In a minute. Let me look around. I won't touch anything."
Liv made an exasperated sound. He tiptoed around the wreckage, peering at the scraps of paper tacked to the wall. The chill that fluttered over the surface of his skin was just like the chill breeze that swept in, fluttering all the scraps of paper attached to the wall.
Kev was everywhere in those sketches. One in three, maybe more. Portraits, line sketches, studies. Fully developed action scenes from the graphic novel, complete with dialog balloons. But it was his brother. He'd bet his life on it. "This woman is obsessed with Kev," he said.
"Maybe she's simply in love with him," Liv said with a haughty sniff. "It's a fine line, when you're dealing with McCloud guys."
Sean evaluated that remark, and concluded that it was a trap. He kept his big mouth shut, so as not to risk a tempest of pregnancy hormones. They blew up with no warning, downing trees, knocking out communication lines. He hated that. The marital disaster area. He unleashed it often. It was his special talent.
The door was slapped open. He leaped to get in front of Liv.
"Edie! You're back!" A kid burst in, a huge grin on his skinny brown face. The smile blanked out when he saw them, and the apartment. He spun, took off like a bolt from a crossbow.
Sean caught the kid's thin, trembling arm before he cleared the door. "Stop," he said. "You know Edie?"
"Who the fuck are you, man?" The kid struggled with desperate strength, kicking savagely at Sean's shins. "Let me go!"
Sean blocked an admirably quick uppercut, wrenching the kid into a clinch under his arm. "Calm down. Just a couple of questions."
"Fuck you!" The kid flopped, kicked, squawked.
Liv looked horrified. "Jesus, Sean! Let him be!"
"You fuckers hurt Edie!" the kid shrieked. "You messed up her place! I'll kill you. Fucking bastards!"
"No, that wasn't us," Sean said. "But we're going to find out the guys who did it. And you can help us do that."
The kid twisted around to peer up into Sean's face. He went limp in Sean's grasp. His jaw sagged. His eyes popped. Sean knew that look. Excitement surged inside him. He clamped a careful lid on it. "What?" he demanded. "Do I look like somebody you know?"
"F-f-f-fade," the kid stammered. "Holy shit. You look exactly like Fade! Except you don't have the scars!"
Disappointment sank the swelling excitement. Of course. The fucking comic book. Who could blame the kid. "You mean, the character in the Shadowseeker book series? I look like him?"
"No, I mean the real guy! I met him the other day. He came home with Edie! I think they had sex." He frowned, disapproving. "Gross. And she was mad at me about saying that Fade was real, 'cause people see Fade all the time! He gave money to the runaway shelter, and the homeless shelter, and the soup kitchen!"
"You saw him?" Sean interruped the kid's babbling. "You saw a real guy who looks like me, except with scars? Not a guy in a story?"
"Yeah! I told Edie he was real! And she gave me all kinds of shit about it, but see? I was right." He scowled. "But she didn't have to have sex with him. That was gross. Hey, could you stop squeezing my neck?"
"If I let go, you won't hit me, or run, right? We can just talk?"
"Sure," the kid said. "So you know Fade?"
The sadness that swept over him was huge. Sean set the kid down. "Yeah, I know him," he said heavily. "He's my brother."
"Sean!" Liv's tone was nervous. "You can't know that, not until we meet him and talk to him!"
"I know." He let the weight of his words cut off her lecture. He watched it play across her expressive face. First the argument, just because she was Liv, opinionated and bossy and protective. Then guilt, as she remembered her big fat crusade to validate his instincts. Then stern self-control kicked in, when she wisely decided to shut up and let h
im do his thing in his own weird way.
God, he loved that woman. And he was such a trial to her. He resolved for the millionth time to be good. Not so hyper, so oversexed, such a relentless smart-ass. A guy could only try to fight his nature.
He held out his hand. "My name's Sean. That lady's my wife, Liv."
She gave the kid a smile. The boy smiled shyly back, eyes darting to her rounded belly. "That's our kid, inside Liv. And your name is?"
"Jamal." The boy shook Sean's hand, gingerly.
"You're Edie's friend?" Liv asked.
"Yeah. Edie's cool. She lets me use her computer. And sleep on her couch. She makes great scrambled eggs, but she always burns the hamburgers. She's not much of a cook. But she's still nice."
"She sounds nice," Liv murmured. "Points for Edie."
"This guy who looks like me, did you talk to him?"
"A little," Jamal said. "I told him he looked like Fade, and Edie got mad, said Fade didn't exist again." Jamal looked rebellious. "But he was right there! I mean, shit! Who's she trying to kid?"
"Did he say his name?" Liv asked gently.
Jamal pondered that. "Uh, yeah. I think she called him Kev."
That felled him. Convinced though he'd been, his belly hit the ground, and kept on going. Down, and farther down. Liv covered her mouth with her hands. Her face was bone white.
Son of a bitch. So he called himself Kev. He still used his own goddamn name. So he still knew who he was. Where he came from.
Did he ever think about his brothers? It would seem that he did not. Had he ever wondered how much his brothers had thought about him? Had it ever crossed his fucking pea brain? Now and again?
This was bad. Being angry and hurt at Kev was even worse than missing him, grieving his death. Being furious and vengeful.
And to think he'd thought he was hip to every kind of pain this could inflict upon him. There were always brand new depths to sink to. Fresh new agony buttons to push. He let a slow breath hiss out through his teeth, and forced his voice flatness. "Did he mention a surname?"
Jamal had sensed the weird pain vibe. His eyes were big. He shook his head, edged closer to the door.
"Or where he lives?" He tried to soften the drill sergeant tone, but it was involuntary. Dour old Eamon, speaking through him.
Another nervous, scared head shake from Jamal. Great. A lead that led nowhere, except for the mental ward.
"Jamal," Liv asked gently. "Do you know any other people who might know this man Kev?"
"You mean, besides Edie?"
She gave him an approving smile. "Right! Since Edie isn't here right now, and since we don't know where she is. Anybody else?"
Jamal considered it. "Well, Valerie met him, but she's in jail right now. Fade punched out this asshole john for her. The dickhead stiffs her, and starts hitting her! Fade kicked the living shit out of the guy." Jamal mimed kicks and punches. "Ka-pow, whack! Fucking asshole."
"How awful for poor Valerie," Liv said gently. "Anyone else?"
Jamal's face lit up. "Maybe the people at Any Port would know! It's the shelter down on Stark Street. He gave them lots of money. They might know. That's where he took Valerie, 'cause she needed stitches."
Sean and Liv looked at each other. "Where's this place?" he asked.
"I'll take you there," Jamal offered eagerly.
They closed the door of Edie Parrish's ravaged apartment, and followed the scampering Jamal down the stairs. Sean unlocked the car, and watched, bemused, as Jamal clambered into the backseat, chattering about live superheroes kicking the shit out of bad guys. Sean slid into the driver's seat. Liv got in. They looked at each other.
"Uh, Jamal?" he said. "You sure you want to climb into a car with strangers? It's not really a smart thing to do. You know that, right?"
"You guys aren't strangers! You're Fade's brother!"
"Could you run up and ask your mom?" Liv asked gently. "If I were her, I'd want you to ask. I'd want to know where you were."
"She doesn't care." Jamal's smile faded to a sullen mask. "She's asleep. She works nights."
"Ah." Sean drummed his fingers on the steering column. "All right, then. How about your dad?"
Jamal rolled his eyes, and yanked the door shut. "Get real."
Sean sighed. "Put on the seat belt, then. And swear to me, on the souls of all the greatest superheroes of all time, that you will never, ever climb into a car with a stranger again. Ever. Got that? Promise?"
"Sure, no problem," Jamal promised.
Jamal's breezy tone sparked a lecture from the two of them about stranger danger that lasted the whole short ride, leaving the kid sulky and defensive. His good spirits rebounded promptly when they got to the brickfront building with a rainbow painted sign.
Jamal bounced up the stairs and rang. "Yo, Tracee!" he yelled into the intercom. "It's Jamal! Some people need to talk to Dorothea!"
They were buzzed in, and followed Jamal up a narrow staircase and down a hall lined with small offices. A door at the end of the corridor opened, and a middle-aged woman with bushy salt-and-pepper hair leaned out, examining them as they approached. Jamal ran to her and gave her a hug. She touseled his hair as she studied them, her eyes flicking to Liv's belly. "What brings you folks here? You don't look like you need emergency shelter."
"No." Sean offered her his hand. "We're looking for information."
"He's looking for Fade Shadowseeker!" Jamal broke in, his voice shrill with excitement. "He's Fade's brother!"
Dorothea's eyelids flickered. She stared at Sean's face. Then she stepped back into her office, and gestured them in. "Let's talk."
Jamal tried to come in, too, but she grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck and scrubbed at his wild, curly mop with her knuckles. "You go find Tracee, and tell her to give you some of those brownies we got from the bakery this morning," she said. "Soft and fudgy."
Jamal was off like a shot. Dorothea closed the door, waved them into chairs, and studied them from across her desk, which was heaped with battered file folders and diverse rainbow tinted Post It notes, scribbled with numbers, reminders. "So?" Dorothea asked. "Ask your questions. I'll see if I can help you."
Sean stared down at this hands, refusing to let them clench into fists. "My brother disappeared eighteen years ago," he said. "We have reason to believe that he was abducted, and badly injured. We never found him again. A few days ago, we found this." Liv pulled the Fade Shadowseeker book out of her purse. Sean handed it to the woman.
Dorothea flicked her eye over it. "I'm familiar with it," she said. "Jamal has showed me. The resemblance is uncanny."
Excitement exploded inside him. "So you've seen him?"
She stared at him. "I mean, to you," she said stiffly.
Sean's throat tightened. "Have you seen him, or not?"
"If I had, I certainly wouldn't be doing him a service by advertising that fact, now, would I?" Dorothea replied. "A man like him, with those scars? It's clear he has enemies."
"We're not Kev's enemies," Liv said." She opened her purse, fished for the envelope, and pulled out the handful of battered photographs.
Kev and Sean together, at eight, at twelve, at sixteen, and nineteen, at Sean's high school graduation. The few pictures that existed. Crazy Eamon hadn't been big on capturing the memories.
Dorothea fanned the photos out, and stared at them. A very long couple of minutes ticked by. She sighed, sharply.
"Your brother is the most generous private financial donor that Any Port has ever had, since we opened our doors in '91," she said. "He's given us one hundred and fifty-one thousand dollars. Over the past three months alone. Manila envelopes stuffed with cash started showing up in the mail slot. I was worried that something strange was going on. Drug money, I don't know. So I had a camera installed, and I was just about to hire a private investigator to follow the man who left the envelopes when he rang the bell one morning, at five A.M."
"Valerie, right?" Liv said.
Dorothea blinked. "
Why, yes. He'd defended her from a customer who'd gotten violent. He wanted to make sure she got help. I recognized him, and confronted him about the money. He gave me an envelope then and there. Told me not to worry, that he'd won it at poker, but didn't need it. He wanted to spread it around." She hesitated. "He seemed like a very decent man."
"Huh," Sean muttered. "I'm glad he doesn't have financial problems, at least. That's something. But poker? Jesus."
"How was he?" Liv asked softly.
Dorothea face went cautious. "He did not seem very happy," she said. "And he did not look...well. He looked kind of lost."
"He is lost," Sean said. "But he's getting found. Once and for all."
The tone in his voice made Dorothea look alarmed, but Liv reached out across the desk, and took the older woman's hand. "We would never hurt him, in a million years. You remember his scars?"
Dorothea nodded.
"He got those scars saving my life," Liv said quietly. "We love him, and we miss him. That's all. I want my son to know his uncle."
Dorothea nodded. She rubbed at her eyes, and dug into her desk for a big address book. She flipped through it, grabbed a pink Post-It, scribbled. She held the note out to Liz, shooting worried looks at Sean. As if he might leap across the desk like a rabid dog.
Sean looked at it. There it was. His brother's surname. Larsen, of all things. Fucking bland. NW Lenox Street. His address. Check it out. Kev's location, in time and space. After all these years. Hot damn.
His stomach flipped, churned. His glands fired out bizarre conflicting messages, joy, terror, fury, hope. He barely made it through the chitchat, the thank-you's. He heard Liv asking Dorothea to make sure Jamal got home safely. Thank God for her presence of mind. He'd spaced that detail completely. Then Liv was towing him down the stairs, and out toward the vehicle. "Give me the keys," she said, sternly.
He looked at her belly as he pulled them out. "But you--"
"Can drive pregnant." She plucked them from his hand, and shoved him toward the passenger side. "Shut up. Get in."
They sat for a moment, locked in their own thoughts, but after she put the keys in the ignition, Liv reached for him, threading her fingers through his own. Squeezing. He squeezed back, gratefully. Warmth, support, love. It flooded into him from her in comforting waves. She set the GPS, asked it to lead her to Kev's address.
Fade to Midnight Page 35
