"She can take a number and wait in line," Con said testily. "Val's going to the island, with Nick and Becca. To cover the kids and wives."
Davy rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered, sourly. "Awesome."
"Val? Who's he?" Kev wanted to know everything all at once.
"An ex-spy. Tam's boy toy. Guy looks like a fucking cover model." Con looked as disgruntled as Davy. "Not the kind of man you put on top of the list to guard your wife while you're away, but everybody else is busy. So what the fuck. He's damn good with a gun. At least."
"Tell Erin to have him change Maddy's projectile-crap diapers," Davy suggested. "Make him babysit Jeannie when she hasn't napped."
"Ex-spy? Who's this Tam?" Kev asked. "She sounds interesting."
There was a burst of nervous laughter, quickly smothered.
"Tam can't be described in words," Con said. "She can only be experienced. And she cannot wait to meet you. Oh, boy."
This cagey, evasive bullshit was starting to get on his nerves. "This is another one of these stories that's too long to start?"
"Right on," Davy said.
Kev sighed, and addressed his next question to Bruno, who had been muttering into his cell. He reached up to pluck at his brother's sleeve. "You talked to Zia? How are Liv and Sean?"
"Better, they think," Bruno said. "The ultrasound looked OK. She had some spotting, though. They shot her full of anti-spasmodics. She's asleep, now. Limp as a noodle. Sean's awake, though. Zia says he's torturing the nurses, yanking out his IV. He wants to come join us. She's working him over but good. Nobody messes with Zia Rosa."
"I'll feel better when Seth gets down there," Con muttered.
"Marr's car's coming out the entrance, and he's not alone," Davy rapped out. "There's a woman in the car."
Kev lunged to look. His guts twitched as he recognized the delicate profile of the woman in the passenger's seat. "It's Ava."
He'd explained the X-Cog events as they had put the surveillance of the warehouse in place, and it had been a blessed relief to find them all hip to the bizarre situation. Sean's wild adventures with Dr. Osterman and Gordon three years ago had made long explanations unnecessary.
Aaro moved the van to follow at a discreet distance. They got onto the main strip, and it became clear that Aaro was an old pro at tailing, so Kev sagged back and left him to it, trying to ignore how exhausted he was. The lights of the strip malls flashed by. It had started to drizzle.
Bruno turned his head after a few minutes. "They're turning onto Cedar. I think they're headed to the Parrish place."
Kev's tired body jolted straight up into the air. "With Ava?" he yelled. "He's taking that psycho bitch to Edie's family's house?"
"Relax," Davy soothed. "Come on. Realistically. What can he or the psycho bitch do to her there, in front of her family?"
"You don't know that family," he said. "Or that psycho bitch."
Bruno's guess was dead on. Marr's car turned at the private drive that led to the Parrish home. Aaro pulled over and killed the engine.
"I cannot let him take that woman into the house where Edie is." Kev muscled his way toward the door. "I'm going in."
His brothers dragged him back down.
"To do what?" Con's harsh voice jolted his raw nerves. "Don't be a fucking idiot. If you get anywhere near that place, they will grab you, and fuck you up. Let this be your mantra, buddy. Repeat after me. I cannot help her from behind bars. Come on. Say it. Know it."
Kev groaned. "Oh, God," he muttered. "This is killing me."
And it kept killing him, second by bone-grinding second. They ticked by, with agonizing, silent slowness. No one had the heart to speak under that crunch of fear and constraint.
Then headlights cut through the night once again. The streetlights gleamed on the silver Jag as it paused outside the gate.
"Just the driver," Aaro said. "He left Psycho Bitch at the house."
Everybody looked at Kev. "Your call, buddy," Aaro said. "Do we follow him? Or do we stay with her?"
Kev stared at the taillights. He felt pulled tight, part of him following the car as Marr pulled away. Stretching like a rubber band.
It was the tug that did it. He was afraid to let the cord snap.
"Follow him," he said. "We can learn something from him. We won't learn anything staring at a street sign."
The van surged to follow. They followed the distant taillights, and landmarks came in and out of focus. He knew this road. He'd seen it this morning. Eons ago. Montrose Highway. "He's going to the Helix complex," he said. "He's going to turn left, here. On Highett Drive."
Des's left turn signal began to wink. Kev rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, Davy was holding his cell phone out.
"Try her again," he said.
Kev stared at the thing, dispirited. "I've tried twenty times."
"Try again," Davy urged. "You know you want to."
Oh, what the fuck. He took it, punched in the number.
It rang. His heart flipped. The thing had finally been turned on.
"Hello? Ronnie?" Edie asked. "Is that you? Is everything OK?"
Her sweet voice made tears of competing relief and fury spurt out of his eyes. "Edie? It's Kev."
"Oh, my God, Kev! Where have you been?"
"Later for that. What about you?"
"I'm OK. Did you hear about my dad?"
"Yes," he said, thickly. "I'm so sorry."
She cleared her throat. "I know. Well. Um. Later for that, too. Look, Kev. This thing is a huge set-up. They think you killed Dad. You have to run. And I mean now. I mean, right now."
"Edie, never mind that. Listen to me. I just--"
"Never mind?" Her voice rose. "Do the words 'death row' mean anything to you? Does 'life in prison if you're really lucky' ring a goddamn bell?"
"Calm down," he begged. "I'm just trying to tell you about--"
"Don't tell me to calm down! I have had the shitty day to end all shitty days, and I am not calm!"
"If you can't calm down, just shut up! Listen to me!" he bellowed.
The guys in the car shrank back instinctively.
There was a startled pause from Edie. "I'm listening," she said.
"The short version is, there's a woman in the house with you who is extremely dangerous. She--"
"I'm not in the house right now."
"What?" he yelled. "What do you mean, not at the house? Where the fuck are you? Where did you go?"
The other guys made frantic calm down, cool it gestures, but he was freaking out as he watched Marr park in the lot where he had parked this very morning. It looked deserted, but a single light was on, on the fifth floor. Maybe some forensics types were still working.
"Please, don't scream," Edie said. "It flusters me. I'll tell you everything, OK?"
Davy leaned forward with his binoculars, peering out the windshield. "He's out of the car," he announced grimly. "He's going in."
"Just tell me where you are," Kev begged.
"Well, I sneaked out of my dad's house, which was harder than you might think. Now I'm at the Parrish Foundation building--"
"What? You're where?" He sprang up, knocked his head against the van's ceiling, hard enough to make his vision darken.
"The Parrish Foundation building," she repeated. "I'm in the library. I wanted to show the detective the boxes that Des--"
"She's inside the Parrish building," he said to the van at large.
Aaro floored the accelerator. The van leaped ahead. Kev lost his footing, fell headlong across Con's and Miles's laps.
"Run!" he yelled into the phone. "Christ, Edie, run out of that place, right now! Des Marr is in there, looking for you!"
"Des? Here?" Her voice was uncertain. "No! You're kidding."
"Yes, and he's a sociopathic killer! And so's his crazy girlfriend! So shut up and run! Is there an exit out the back of the building?"
"Yes, but I--"
"We'll be there in a few seconds! Run! Look for a gray van!"
"Oh, God," she whispered. "I love you, Kev."
She hung up. Kev pounded his fists against his knees. "Faster!" he yelled. "Can't you get any more speed out of this piece of shit?"
The tires squealed, fishtailing. They took the curve on two wheels. Centrifugal force tumbled everyone into a struggling tangle of limbs.
The van jerked to a stop. Kev dove out the back, stumbling to his hands and knees. He got up and sprinted for the door. Serious door. Made of thick, solid metal. Pushbar on the inside. Just a small window which showed exactly nothing in the darkness.
Of course, it was locked.
CHAPTER 35
Edie's legs felt hollow as she flipped off the light. She wondered which stairwell Des would take, and peered out into the hallway--
Whack. Something slammed her to the ground, on her back.
"Gotcha." It was Des, breathing hard. There was just enough light filtering from the two stairwells to make out his gloating expression.
She sucked in a desperate teaspoonful of oxygen. "Des?"
His expression morphed into concern. The transformation was bizarre. "Edie, what are you doing here?"
Edie coughed. "What are you doing on top of me?" she croaked.
She struggled, but he was big, heavy. Shock was replaced by fear, which grew sharper every second that passed. God, how she needed air.
"Protecting you!" His voice was self-righteous. "You're a danger to yourself, Edie. You need to be back home, where you're safe."
The lecturing tone was dissonant with the nasty, breathless intimacy of his body. She struggled. He rolled his weight more squarely on top of her. His chest was so rigid. Like he was encased in steel.
Body armor? Oh, God. The fear ratcheted up.
"Let's try this again," he said, as if he were talking to a stubborn child. "What are you doing here, Edie?"
He knew. No point in lying. "I wanted to see if the boxes were here," she rasped out, breathless.
"So? You see that they're not. Satisfied now? Can we go home now, and have cookies and tea?"
What the hell? She doubted, for one horrible instant, that she actually had seen them. Wondering if she really was wrong in the head.
But that quiet voice whispered, stand firm. He's fucking with you.
"The boxes are there, you lying bastard," she said. "Get off me. I took pictures of them, and sent them to Houghtaling. The game is up."
His first reaction was to look hurt, but as they stared at each other, she felt that eye open up. The one that opened when she drew.
For the first time, she used it, instead of letting it use her. She had no idea how. The wild intensity of the last few days had taught her.
She let that eye open deliberately, and looked at him with it. And oh, God. If she'd been scared before, it was nothing compared to now.
There was no one in there. Nothing that she even recognized as human. That spark, the heart. He didn't have it. No one was home.
He knew, the second she realized what he truly was. His smile widened grotesquely as all pretense of normalcy fell away. He shifted, pressing against her, and his penis swelled against her belly.
She stiffened in revulsion. And he liked that. Her disgust actually turned him on even more. His pulsing and grinding intensified.
"Edie, Edie. What am I going to do with you now?" he mused. He pinned her hands above her head, yanked the neckline of her stretch T-shirt until her breast was exposed and clicked his tongue. "Bruises! Your lover's so rough. That mean, nasty brute. But don't worry...Des will make it better." He slid down her body, and licked her breast.
She fought not to scream at the horrible wet swipe, sensing that would make things worse. She had to be cold, indifferent. Hurry, Kev. Hurry. "What did Dr. O do to you?" she asked.
Des lifted his face from her breasts, distracted by the question. "Exactly what he tried to do to you," he said. "It's just that in me, it worked. In you, it didn't. Simple as that. You weren't strong enough."
Delay, delay. "I wasn't?" she squeaked. "Strong how?"
Des chuckled. "If you have to ask, there's no point explaining, but I'll indulge you. Dr. O set me free. Before the program, all my instincts, impulses, desires..." He emphasized the last word with a hard pulse of his hips. "...were blocked. By fear, guilt. Stupid inhibitions. Dr. O took the fear and guilt away. And I took off. Like a rocket."
Memories of those horrible sessions strapped into Dr. O's special chair swirled up. "You mean, the electroshock treatments?"
Des looked offended. "It was much more sophisticated than that."
She was so appalled, she forgot to be diplomatic. "You mean he burned the part of your brain that can tell right from wrong? Morality, ethics? He made you into a...a sociopath?"
"Oh, please." Des rolled his eyes. "Your slavery to unconscious programming is showing. He altered the part of our brains programmed to believe that X is right, and Y is wrong, but who's to say? It's relative. It's random. Once you understand that and really experience it, you're free. The world has no limits, except for those you make yourself. You're free to do anything...if you can get away with it. And I always can."
He appeared to be so utterly convinced of what he said. It was surreal. "What about love? Loyalty?" She was afraid to know the answer, but she couldn't help asking.
He looked vaguely baffled. "What about them?"
"You don't care about them? You don't feel them?"
He shrugged. "Feelings are just hormonal squirts, brought on by unconscious programming. They don't last. They're good for nothing except for momentary physical satisfaction." He licked her breast again, and grinned. "We don't worry about feelings. We're past all that."
"We? Who's we?" Her teeth were starting to chatter. Hurry Kev.
"The successful ones," he explained. "Club O. Dr. O's army."
That sparked a fresh, brand new stab of pure horror. "Oh, God. You mean, Dr. O did this to other people? Not just to you?"
"The strong ones," he repeated, emphasizing the words. "Every brain responds differently. He tried to do it to all of us, but some of his subjects weren't, well, you know." He sniggered a little. "Worthy."
"Like me," she whispered.
"Like you," he agreed. "Although you've managed better than most of Dr. O's duds. At least you're still alive, and not in a padded cell." He paused, significantly. "So far, anyway."
She struggled to shove him off again, but he was horribly strong, and held her in place with his weight. "We're everywhere," he said, his face gloating. "Our abilities are expressed in different ways, but we all like power. Doctors, scientists, business people, politicians, military. But all of us have something in common. Freedom." He leaned, until his hot breath filled the air between them. "Too bad it didn't work on you."
"I'm glad," she said. "I'd rather be dead than like you."
He jerked her face toward his. "You're tougher than I thought. I wasn't expecting this kind of resistance. It's sexy." He kicked her legs open, settled himself against her. "This is all for you. Lucky girl."
Her gorge rose. "Don't, Des."
"Why not? I can do anything I like. All I have to do is find a way to spin it. And sell it. I'm so good at that. Like with your mother."
"My mother? What does she have to do with--"
"You never asked yourself why a woman in such perfect health would drop dead on a sunny September day, hmm? It was so easy."
She gaped at him, so shocked she didn't even try to raise his bulk to drag air into her chest. "You killed my moth--"
He cut her off with a smothering, bruising kiss. His muscular tongue thrust deep, making her gag. She fought for air. Her vision dimmed. Her feet drummed. Des had murdered her mother. He'd murdered both her parents. The weight of the Ruger banged the floor.
The Ruger. She pulled her face away, with huge effort. "L-l-let's go into the library, at least," she gasped out. "There's a rug in there."
"The princess likes her comforts? Works for me. Easier on my knees. I like to
fuck from behind." He got up, yanked her to her feet.
She yelped with pain, and stumbled, sagging. Groping desperately at her ankle for the gun. Des roared at her, tried to drag her upright.
She lolled, as limp as a doll, swinging by her arm. Des kicked the side of her thigh. She screamed with pain, but by then she'd loosened the gun snapped into the holster, swung it up, squeezed the trigg--
Bam.
The force of the shot knocked her right back down onto the floor. Des stumbled back, arms pinwheeling. He thudded to the floor, but rolled instantly up to his knees, pulling out a gun.
She shot again, from the floor. He flipped backward.
She staggered up onto her knees. Shot again, again, aiming for his head, but her hands shook, and the shots went wild. She felt no righteous satisfaction, just horror that it should fall to her to put that subhuman thing out of its misery. Someone was screaming, high and thin. Bam. Bam. Her eyes blurred with tears. She squeezed the trigger--
Click. Click. Empty. All six shots, gone.
She backed away, wobbling on rubbery legs, brandishing the useless gun as if it could still protect her somehow. She heard sobbing, hiccupping. Huge, rasping gasps for breath. That was her. She ignored herself, focused on that monstrous, inhuman thing on the floor.
Des moved, sat up, clutching his arm. His hand was red. Blood dripped down onto the pale floor tiles. He grinned, his teeth amazingly white in the gloom. His gun swung up. "Is that all you've got?" He jumped to his feet, without much effort. "You bad girl. You winged me. You'll pay. Nasty little bitch."
Bam. She screamed, stumbling back against the wall.
It took a couple of shocked, confused seconds to realize that she hadn't been shot. It was Des who'd been slammed backward and off his feet again. Someone was yelling, but she was deafened by the gunshots. Des crawled up, onto his knees--
Bam, again. Des flipped over sideways, howling with fury.
"...all right? Edie? Edie! Can you hear me?"
Oh, dear God. Kev, shouting from the end of the dark hallway.
"Kev!" she wailed, and took off toward him.
Bam, a bullet clipped the wall beside her head, gouging into naked drywall. Dust and particles flew in a stinging cloud.
Fade to Midnight Page 49
