"Edie! Get down!" Kev bellowed.
She dove, bounced, slid. Boom, a muzzle blast flashed in the dark as Kev returned fire. "Stay down!" he yelled. "Crawl like a snake! Move!"
Bullets sang over her head, a whizbang thunderstorm. She wriggled, snakelike, over the shard covered floor.
Bam. Kev grabbed her arm and yanked her through the doorway. They plunged into the stairwell. Two other man crouched there with him. She dove into space. The staircase slammed into her stumbling feet when gravity caught up with her. Kev steadied her, pulled her on.
She glanced at the two men. Unfamiliar. One was murmuring into a cell phone. "...got her. We'll be around to meet you, ten seconds."
"Is he still...did you get him?" she asked Kev.
He glanced back. "Don't know. I thought so, but he--"
Bam. Bam. The stairwell rang with shots. The thudding of feet.
"That answers that," Kev muttered. "He must have a vest."
The back door was wide open, glass smashed. A gray van idled there, back doors yawning. Bruno ran toward them, grabbed her other arm, pitched her inside like a sack of grain. The guys dove in after.
Bruno leaped into the drivers' seat. The van surged before the doors were closed. They braked moments later, and another guy jumped in the front, another into the back. The van took off, tires squealing around curves as they headed back for the turn-off to Highett Avenue,
Lights, flashing. The red, pulsing strobe of cop cars approaching.
"For the love of God," Bruno moaned. "Who the fuck called them?"
"I did," Edie admitted, through stiff, numb lips. "Sorry."
Bruno hissed something savagely through his teeth. "Is there a road on the other side of the park grounds?"
"Ah...I think so," she said. "There's a new subdivision over there, but I think there's a--"
Bump, bump, whump. The Chevy Astro lurched and corrected as Bruno drove over the curb and thudded through the ornamental hedges. They bumped and thudded over the landscaped garden, wooded greensward, swerving around trees. The tires wallowed in drifts of woodchips, thudded over rocks and walking paths. With no headlights they narrowly missed an ornamental fountain in the dark.
In the back, they bounced and rocked, slamming into each other. There was a grinding crunch and lurch, throwing them all against one side. Bruno switched on the headlights, cursing.
"Oh, Christ, please. Don't kill my van!" one of the guys begged.
"You Ranieris are freaking maniacs at the wheel," another one commented.
"It's genetic. He learned to drive from his wacko aunt."
Edie cleared her throat. "As I was saying," she called out, more loudly, "I think there's a subdivision over there, but there's a creek at the other end of the--"
Splash. The van plunged into the creek, spewing great fans to the side as it wavered...tipped...righted. Moved forward. The water rose, gurgling. The bank ahead was horribly steep, shiny with mossy mud.
The tires wallowed desperately, digging, fighting. The motor roared, whined, roared again--and they found traction, lifted up. Out.
They bumped and rocked over the rise, and thudded down onto asphalt. The street soon opened out into a loop of orderly new single-wide and double-wide manufactured homes. Pebble or woodchipped lawns. Bruno swept around the loop, and found the road that led back to Montrose Highway. A snarl of cop cars blinked at the Helix complex.
They turned onto Montrose Highway, merged with traffic. Out-back Steakhouse. Shari's. Target. Hampton Inn. No one could speak, for a few minutes. Edie couldn't believe they'd really gotten away.
Kev had really come for her. Somehow.
One of the men flipped on a light. A van full of battered, exhausted men all stared at her so intently, it made her cringe.
Kev stared, in particular. He looked awful. Bruised, pale.
"Edie," he said wearily. "Meet some more of my brothers."
Des leaned against the stairwell. He pressed his bleeding shoulder to the wall and slid down, leaving a dramatic strip of crimson. He ripped open his shirt, staring at the bullet holes in the vest. Between Edie and Larsen, they'd gotten him nine times--seven of them caught by the vest, but he was going to have some ugly bruising under there. One had dug into his deltoid. Another had trimmed his thigh.
One of the dimples in the vest was a scant inch from the top. It had almost gone through his throat. It hurt like hell, and he was so angry. Emotions are hormonal squirts, he reminded himself. Use them. Don't be used. A direct Dr. O quote. She wouldn't get far, the stupid, dirty whore. Not with that smartphone she'd been yapping into. The service provider would give the GPS coordinates to Parrish's head of security in a heartbeat, after what had happened today. And if they didn't, he'd just start making phone calls. His father, to start with, who had given piles of money to the current senator's election campaign. The Governer. The Attorney General. It wouldn't take long.
He dialed Houghtaling's number. "Hello, Mr. Marr," she said.
"Detective, you were just on the phone with Edie Parrish?"
She paused, startled. "Yes? And?"
"She just shot me, Detective. Larsen shot me, too. Would you...send an ambulance to the Parrish Foundation building, as soon as possible? South stairway. Fourth floor landing. I'm not sure...that I'll have the strength to make another phone call. But I had to...to tell you...about..." He made his voice fainter, slurring. "About Edie."
"Mr. Marr? Are they still there?" Houghtaling yelled. "Mr. Marr!"
"I knew Edie would come here," he muttered hoarsely. "She'd prepared that scene in the library, probably days ago. I was hoping..." he paused, panted for a few beats, "that I could get her back. Before he took her again." He coughed, choked pathetically. "But I failed."
"Send an ambulance to the Parrish Building asap!" Houghtaling bawled out to someone. "Mr. Marr?" she spoke into the phone again. "Mr. Marr? Are you still there? How badly are you wounded?"
"Sorry," he whispered. "I go...in and out. I had to...tell you. That they had her. Before it's too...late. Find her. Please. Find her."
"Yes, of course, Mr. Marr. I'll get right on it."
"Hurry," he begged. "I can't...I..." He let his voice trail off, left the line open. Listening to her shout his name.
He relaxed on the stairs, dabbing blood onto his face, for effect. Psyching himself up for the next act.
BJ Meyers was nervous, bored, and scared. Fear did not make the boredom any easier to bear. Surveillance sucked. He fidgeted in the car seat. He kept thinking about all his dead colleagues. Blown up, shot up.
Christ, he'd thought he was done with that, after those tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Right on the streets of Portland, Oregon. He hadn't expected that in a stateside gig. Bixby Enterprises was supposed to be an interim job. The pay was frickin' great. Eight months of this, and he'd have a stake for his own business. If he didn't get killed first.
His fingers drummed the steering wheel. His feet tapped at the plastic floor mat. He stared up at the third-floor window--
Holy shit. There was a beam of light moving up there. It disappeared, but he was sure he'd seen it. Shifting shadows. But no way could someone have gone in the main entryway without him seeing. Whoever it was hadn't turned on lights. So he was alert for surveillance. Which meant he was dangerous.
Yeah. Whoever could wipe out over half of a ten man team from Bixby Enterprises was plenty dangerous.
BJ steeled his nerve, and darted across the street to the diner's awning. He sidled along the building, into the alley, where the Dumpsters festered. Someone had pulled the ladder of the fire escape down. There was a hook, rope. Son of a bitch. He'd gone in the window.
As he watched, a man crawled out again. Short, wide. The older guy. He had a duffel. He'd returned for weapons, money, documents.
BJ shrank back behind the Dumpster as the guy climbed down, surprisingly nimble for an old fart loaded with a heavy bag. He dangled off the bottom of the sliding ladder, dropped to the ground with a grunt, a
nd loped toward an aging Taurus sedan, registered to his sister Rosa Ranieri, the crazy bitch who had smashed Jarold's pelvis and hip.
BJ dove down into the garbage just before headlights sliced through the night and revealed him. The car roared past the Dumpster and sped away. BJ brushed garbage off himself and bolted for his car, pulling up the boss's number. Tom picked up promptly. "What?"
"Tony Ranieri just came home and got his stuff and his sister's car." BJ's voice shook with excitement. He fired up the ignition, booted up the laptop.
"There's an RF tag on the car?"
"Of course." BJ checked the monitor as he pulled out into the street. "I'm about eight hundred meters behind him."
"Stay on him," Tom said. "Stay tight. He might ditch the car."
BJ laid on the gas. "I'm on it, boss."
CHAPTER 36
"Detective, I'm not asking you to believe me. I know that you won't. All I'm asking is for you to protect Ronnie." Edie pleaded. "Get her out of there. I'm begging you. Get her someplace safe, someplace secret, with police protection. She's not safe with those--"
"Not safe?" Houghtaling snorted. "With her aunt, her cousin and a four-man security team? Ronnie is fine. It's you we're worried about."
"She's with Des Marr and Ava Cheung," Edie said again. "They are killers! Cheung tried to kill Kev before he got away! She's killed before, and so has Des Marr! They killed both my parents! And there's that cold room full of cadavers at that warehouse in Hillsboro--"
"I'll have someone check out this alleged room of cadavers," Houghtaling said. "But so far, I've seen no evidence that Ava Cheung or Desmond Marr are anything but law-abiding citizens. Mr. Marr's lucky to be alive. You're lucky he's alive, too, Ms. Parrish."
Edie shuddered, remembering that empty glow in Des's eyes. "He was sexually assaulting me. I have a right to defend myself."
Another harrumph. "Who put that gun into your hand, Ms. Parrish?"
Edie fought for control of her voice. "Someone who cares about me," she said. "Someone who gives a shit."
"Huh. The hole you're digging for yourself keeps getting deeper. Please, put down the shovel. Before it's too late to help you."
Edie hung up. Alex Aaro tapped on his computer, doing something to the signal that made it impossible to trace. He was a big guy, muscular and craggy. Dark hair, pale, grim mouth.
They were hiding out at Alex Aaro's place, a few miles out of the little town of Sandy. Hidden deep in a huge, hushed evergreen forest.
She stared down at the phone in her hand. It wasn't the one Ronnie had given her. Kev had taken hers back in the van, pried out the SIM card, and thrown it out into the gutter. This one belonged to one of the McClouds. She didn't know which. Tired as she was, it was hard to keep multiple big blond guys straight. Sean had arrived an hour or so after they got to Aaro's place, so there were three new exhausted, grim McCloud guys staring at her with intense curiosity. Plus Bruno. Even Tony was there. He'd arrived shortly after Sean. She glanced at Aaro. "One more call? To see if I can get my sister? I have to try to warn her."
He nodded. "Go for it."
She dialed her sister's old cell phone number, the one she'd promised to keep turned on for Edie's call, and crossed her fingers.
"Parrish residence," said a man's voice. "Who is this?"
Great. Paul Ditillo, of all the luck. He'd taken Ronnie's phone. "Paul, it's Edie," she said, resigned. "Can I talk to Ronnie?"
"Not in this lifetime. Where's my fucking car?" Paul asked.
"Parked at the Target on Montrose Highway," she said, heart sinking. This was futile, but she had to try. "Paul, that woman Des brought to the house, Ava Cheung, is a killer. She shouldn't be around Ronnie. Neither should Des. Please, find a way to get rid of them."
Paul made derisive sound. "Des is asleep on the couch, zonked out on pain meds from getting shot up by you and your sniper boyfriend. And Cheung, this deadly killer who must weigh, oh, maybe a hundred and ten pounds, tops? She's sitting on the floor, holding his hand crying into her chamomile tea. Spare me."
"Paul, I know it seems--"
"Do yourself a favor, Edie. Take your fucking meds."
She hung up and pressed her knuckles against her mouth. "I struck out," she whispered. "Bigtime."
Kev took her hand. "You've done everything you can for tonight."
"But I can't just leave her there with those horrible people!" she burst out. "That asshole Des is asleep on the couch! And Ava's with him! Drinking...goddamn chamomile tea! It's so screwed!"
"That's good news." It was Tam, the McCloud brothers' mysterious, shockingly beautiful female friend, who had also shown up shortly after they arrived at Aaro's lair. "They're taking a break from slaughtering and mind-rape. A nap, some tea. Everybody needs a breather."
Edie rounded on her in outrage. "How can you joke about this?"
The woman's slender black-clad shoulders lifted in an indifferent shrug. "Coping mechanisms differ."
"Take your coping mechanisms and shove them up your ass!" Edie snarled. "This is my little sister! You don't know what it's like!"
"Yes, I do, actually," Tam said. "I had a sister once."
Edie turned to stare into the woman's fathomless amber eyes. She was afraid to say it, but she'd been neatly maneuvered into it. "Once?"
A tiny nod. Then Tam made her wait. And wait.
"And?" Edie prompted, her voice getting sharper.
"I was not able to protect her." Tam's low, smoky voice went crystal hard. "She died."
Edie closed her eyes. Sick nausea rolled in her belly.
"It happens," Tam went on mercilessly. "You deal with it."
"What the fuck is this shit?" Kev demanded. "Is this supposed to help? Is this useful? Shut up, lady! Back off! We don't need this!"
"Excuse me for being a walking worst case scenario," she said. "But I survived. "She poked Edie's shoulder. "You're a survivor, too. "Maybe your little sister is a survivor, too. We can only hope."
"But she's only thirteen!" Edie wailed.
"Thirteen. That's old enough. Is she smart? Tough?" Edie swallowed, and nodded, and Tam went on briskly. "Well, good, then. She's got a shot. A long one, but that's better than nothing."
"Jesus!" Kev glared at her. "That's supposed to comfort her?"
Tam looked blank. "Certainly not. Why on earth would I do that? Stop coddling her. It's irritating me, and it doesn't help her."
Kev turned to his brothers. "Where did you find this crazy bitch?"
Davy and Con looked uncomfortable. "It's a long sto--"
"Say that once more and I rip out somebody's throat," Kev said.
Everyone in the room but Kev and Edie exchanged quick, nervous glances. Tam just chuckled to herself. Her own little private joke.
"Try not to let her bug you," Sean offered. "She's just that way. We're so used to it, we don't even notice anymore. We just hear blah, blah, blah when she comes out with her spurts of vitriol."
Con jumped in. "She makes up for her horrible manners and her bitchy remarks and her piss poor attitude--"
"It's called blunt honesty," Tam interjected. "Be refreshed by it."
"...by saving your ass from a horrible fate from time to time," Con concluded doggedly. "She saved mine once. And Erin's."
"Yours, too, indirectly," Davy said. "Those guys at your apartment were hammering us. If Con hadn't blown up their armored SUVs with Tam's jewelry bombs, we'd all be meat."
"About that." Tam crossed slender legs and swung a high-heeled foot. "Let's discuss my lovely diamond bomblets, which you were charged to deliver before you exploded them for your own selfish--"
"Selfish?" Con snapped back, defensive. "They were killing us!"
Tam laughed. "So easy to bait. Be cool, Con. We'll work out a payment plan. Little Kevvie and Maddie will have to give up their college funds, maybe, but higher education is overrated, you know? I never had any, after all. I had, well...lower education, I guess you might call it." She lit a cigarette, winking at Ed
ie. "Very, very low."
"Everybody ignore her," Davy said. "Tam, shut up and behave."
Tam made a kissy-face at him, and puffed out a smoke ring.
But Edie kept looking at Tam. Tam gazed back, cool and direct.
She couldn't stop wondering how it felt to be a walking worst case scenario. And if she was about to find out. She folded herself in half, hugging her knees to her face. The fear made her feel so sick.
"Edie? Won't you at least try to eat something?" Kev pleaded.
Edie looked at the trestle table, heaped with fruit, deli salads and sandwiches, and shook her head. "System's down," she said.
Kev looked exhausted. His eyes looked almost bruised, the shadows were so deep. They were crowded into the big, drafty future basement of the house that Alex Aaro was in the process of building for himself. There was only an outer frame for the upper stories so far, though he was starting to work on the floor of the level above.
Aaro was camped out in what was clearly going to be a huge storage basement and work space, but he'd set it up with the basic essentials of living; a table, one battered recliner facing a flat-screen sixty-inch TV mounted on the wall, a few kitchen essentials, gas range, microwave, sink. A sleeping space and bathroom were out back, in a separate cabin. The fragrance of the trees blew in through the open door. One of Aaro's cats slid in like a shadow through the open door, and hopped onto Edie's lap, rubbing its ears against her hands.
"Shouldn't you close the doors?" she asked, hesitantly.
"The cold helps keep me awake," Aaro told her. "And a locked door won't make us any safer." He pointed at the monitors mounted over the desk where he sat. "I set up thermal imagers, so we'll see anything warm blooded that gets within a hundred meters of us. There are motion detectors, too. Anything taller than a rabbit or a squirrel will set off the sensors. We're covered. You can relax."
Relax. As if. The place felt lost, like Kev's cabin. A narrow, winding dirt road led from the highway through the Cascades to this place. No light penetrated the heavy roof of spreading pine and fir branches. No sounds of civilization, just the enormous rustling of wind in the trees.
Fade to Midnight Page 50
