First Do No Evil: Blood Secrets, Book 1

by Carey Baldwin

  “That’s too bad, because I ain’t gonna explain anything to you.” He cracked the chain again. This time landing a warning blow below Danny’s knees.

  Danny steeled his jaw but didn’t flinch away. “Where the fuck am I?”

  “With me.”

  “And who might you be?”

  “I’m your worst nightmare, buddy. And you got no need to know more than that.”

  Ah. But he did. He needed to know a great deal more than that. Maybe he could bargain with the guy for information. “Look. Let’s just stop fucking with each other. You must want something from me, or you would’ve killed me already. I’m prepared to cooperate. I only need you to give me confirmation that the girl is okay first. Then you tell me what you need, and I’ll play ball.”

  “I can’t confirm that she’s okay, because the one who’s got her is as cold as any man I’ve ever known. And make no mistake, I’ve known some cold dudes.”

  “But you know where he’s holding her, so maybe we can work something out.”

  “I don’t know anything about her, but here’s what we’re gonna work out. You’re gonna do just exactly what I say.”

  Danny drew in a long frosty breath. This guy had him by the balls, and he had nothing to bargain with, not really. If he was going to get out of this alive, he was going to have to wing it.

  Danny relaxed.

  He was good at winging it.

  Two seconds later he had a plan: Clear his head. Buy time. Kick ass.

  That was the extent of his plan. But it wasn’t such a bad one under the circumstances, and his head had already un-fogged. From here on out it was survival of the fittest. Him against the creepy goon. And his money was not on the goon. “Where did you say we are again?”

  Dragging the chain behind him, the man continued to pace. “Somewhere they ain’t never gonna find you. And if they don’t find the body, there’s no crime. That’s how it works.” He stopped and squatted in front of Danny. His jaw thrust forward, and his lips curled away to reveal some pretty appalling dentition. Leaning in, he asked, “Wanna know what you’re gonna do now?”

  The creep had halitosis. No surprise there. “All right.”

  “You’re gonna dig your own grave. Shallow one will do just peachy.”

  “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

  “Because the only reason you’re still breathing is I don’t want to shovel this ass-cold ground.”

  Laziness and stupidity did indeed go hand in hand. For the sake of his sloth, the goon would have to untie him. And the grave digging would buy Danny time. He couldn’t have come up with a sweeter idea himself. But he didn’t want to appear eager.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Danny spit in the goon’s face.

  The goon wiped his cheek and drew a pistol from his belt. “You’ll do just exactly as I say, or I’ll shoot you now.”

  So far, so good. “So you shoot me now, or five seconds after I dig myself a shallow grave, what’s the difference?”

  “Difference is you get to live longer, and I get less work to do. It’s what they call a win-win.”

  Danny grunted.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” With his free hand, the man pulled a hunting knife. He circled Danny, and then stuck his gun’s muzzle against Danny’s temple. From behind him, Danny heard sawing. The noise went on a long time, and the guy cursed under his breath as he worked, but eventually the ropes around Danny’s hands dropped away completely, and those that bound his chest slackened.

  The man came around front again, pointing his pistol at Danny. “Go ahead, you can get yourself loose the rest of the way from here. But no monkey business or the deal’s off.” With his gun, the man gestured at a shiny object a few feet away. “Shovel’s right over there. Since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you choose your own spot.” When he grinned, his teeth glowed in the moonlight like Tahitian pearls strung one tooth shy of a necklace.

  Danny got to his feet and wobbled to the shovel. His captor was providing for all his needs. Could be a trick, or could be the guy simply wasn’t that bright.

  “Put your back into it. And don’t dawdle, or…”

  “I know. The deal’s off. This spot looks as good as any.” Danny broke ground.

  “Take your time and get it right. Because once this grave is dug, I’m gonna put a bullet in your head and kick your filthy cop-ass into the hole. I’m just sorry I can’t make you shovel the dirt on top of yourself too.”

  Danny didn’t get mad, and he didn’t quibble. He just worked, and kept working. Not until he had a good-sized hole underway, did he speak again. “Listen, we’ve got ourselves a deal here. I’m saving you the trouble of digging this grave. Seems like the least you could do is grant me a last request.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have a chicken dinner on me at the moment.”

  Danny managed a laugh. “Good one. Not what I want though. What I want is to understand what’s happening to me. I was just wondering, since you and I have never met and all, what beef do you have with me? I mean if I did something worth getting killed for, I’d like to know what it was.”

  The Tahitian pearl smile disappeared.

  “Or maybe you don’t have a beef with me at all. Maybe the guy—the one who’s not your boss—has you digging your own grave.”

  “Say again?”

  “Just like you got me doing your dirty work, he’s got you doing his.”

  By the light of the moon, Danny could make out the angry glint in his captor’s eyes. “I ain’t doing this for him. It may be what he wants me to do, but it suits me just fine to blow your brains out. I’m doing it for me.”

  “Admit it. You have no beef with me. You’re doing the heavy lifting for someone who doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

  “I got a beef all right. And I ain’t the hired help. I’m a full partner. He’s got his hands full with that girl tonight. That’s why I gotta do you.”

  “So he takes the girl and sends you off to kill a cop. I’d say you got the raw end of the deal. What’s this asshole got on you?”

  “On me? Nada.” He waved the gun in the air. “Like I told you, I may not want to dig your grave, but I sure as hell want to see you in it. It’s me that’s got dirt on Mr. Big-shot, upstanding citizen, not the other way round. If people knew what that devil had done he wouldn’t be going to no more fancy suppers with the mayor, and that’s for damn sure.”

  Concealing his surprise, Danny turned his head and filed away the conversation for later reflection. Something had clicked in his head. Maybe a hunch, or instinct or just facts starting to assemble themselves. But he couldn’t sort things out now. Now was a time to act, not analyze.

  “Put your back into it, buddy. I don’t have the whole damn night.”

  Danny hefted the shovel to his shoulders, testing its weight, getting the goon accustomed to watching him raise his arms high. Then did as he’d been told. He put his back into it. Shovelful after shovelful.

  Tonight was about survival. About getting out of this mess alive. Still, he knew his captor had information that could lead him to the man behind the curtain. If only Danny could get himself and the goon out alive, there’d be time for questions later. Then maybe he’d get the answers he needed to find Nevaeh and keep Sky safe.

  But he couldn’t do either of those things if he didn’t survive the night. And if he had to use deadly force to preserve his own life, all the information he might’ve gleaned from his captor would be lost forever. He decided to scratch his itch to interrogate the goon. “So your boss thinks he’s a big shot? How’d you get messed up with a guy like him anyway?”

  “Me and him go way back. He ain’t no better than me. We’re both cut from the same bolt, only his cloth got sent to the cleaners, so nobody can spot the blood stains.”

  “You go way back. You’ve done his dirty work before.”

  “Not me. I never done nothing for that bag of shit before. But this time, like I said, killing you suits me fine. So don’t try
getting friendly and trying to sway me to your side, fuckhole.”

  Fuckhole. Danny could hear a puzzle piece snap into place. “Have we met? You’re starting to sound kind of familiar.”

  “We haven’t met.”

  Danny stopped shoveling. The man’s voice had soured to rotten. He really did have his own axe to grind with Danny.

  Fuckhole.

  Holy mother. Danny took a stab, but not in the dark. “You knew Jack Spurlock.”

  “Well, well. Look who’s finally figured it out. Jack and me was like brothers, and now I’m gonna kill you, just like you killed him that morning in the diner.” The goon cocked his pistol. “Hole’s plenty deep.”

  “No, it’s not. The wolves will dig up my carcass.”

  “Ain’t no wolves gonna dig that deep, and we both know it.”

  The goon leveled his pistol at Danny’s chest. And then time did that funny thing it does when you and death are having a staring match. It stretched out like a lazy summer day. The goon stepped forward in slow motion. Danny swung his shovel above his head like a batter in the box, and then thwacked the goon in the face.

  The goon’s head snapped back, but he didn’t go down. Instead his arm jerked into the air, and one shot rang out.

  Danny jumped him.

  Growling, the goon bit his ear.

  Adrenaline pumped through Danny’s body, transformed his fist into a wrecking ball. When he knocked the goon to the ground, he fell on top of him, and the impact jarred his teeth halfway up his eyeballs. The goon flipped him, and now he had the earth below him and the goon above.

  Bucking his legs, he managed to get air between his shoulders and the ground. Somehow, he got his body sideways, and then reached around for the goon’s foot. He pulled hard and twisted. The goon flipped under him, and another shot rang out. Thunder and mud and blood exploded through the air.

  Panting, Danny catapulted himself to a stand, but the earth was no longer solid beneath his feet. Disoriented he looked around, and then down at the man lying on the ground. His head reeled from confusion and pain, but one thing he knew for certain: those were brains dripping out of the spot where the goon’s ear was supposed to be.

  The goon had shot himself in the head.

  Danny spat blood. His thighs shook until his knees gave way. He collapsed alongside the corpse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “So what’s this big news? What’s so important I had to charge out to Doney Park at ten o’clock on a Monday night?” Garth’s cheerful tone mitigated his complaint.

  As Sky closed her front door behind him, sealing out gusts of sleet and snow, and sealing in the toasty warmth and spice of burning juniper, curiosity drew her eyes to the object he carried at his side. A black leather doctor bag. Since Garth didn’t have a clinical practice, he had no need to carry one, and since she didn’t recognize this one, she figured it must be left over from his med school days. “Why did you bring a black bag?”

  He winked playfully at her. Removing his overcoat, he shook the weather from it and lovingly smoothed the fabric with his hands, then arched a dismayed eyebrow at the coat-hook in her entry-hall before bypassing it for the closet and a cloth hanger.

  Ignoring her query, as she’d ignored his, he said, “Not that I mind the summons. I’d come at midnight in a blizzard if you called. It’s only that you’ve got me worried.”

  Dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans, and his favorite oxfords, Garth didn’t look worried in the least. She cocked her head and surveyed him carefully. She would’ve sworn her brother didn’t even own a sweatshirt, but seeing was believing.

  “Let’s sit.” She motioned for him to follow her into the living room.

  Tonight Garth looked for all the world like a regular Joe who’d been hanging out on the couch watching the game. She knew better of course. That couldn’t possibly be what her brother had been up to when she’d called and asked him to come over to her place—Garth disdained televised sports almost as much as he disdained off-the-rack suits. Besides which she was quite certain he had not been at home when she’d called. It’d taken him twice the time it should have to get here, and he’d apparently been somewhere he needed that bag. Unless…he’d brought it along thinking he might persuade her to take Bella.

  Her hand went to her throat, then drifted back to her side. No. That wasn’t right. He’d already left a syringe containing the vaccine in her refrigerator, and as far as he knew, it was still there. So that couldn’t be the reason he’d brought the bag with him. She hadn’t told him she’d given that syringe of Bella to Mrs. Porter. Glancing down, she saw Garth’s knuckles blanch around the handle. Following her gaze, he loosened his grip, let the bag slide from his hand. It hit the floorboards with a thunk.

  “I’m actually glad you called,” he said. “Because I also have something to say to you: I’ve got a good feeling about things. I know it seems like the world is crashing down on you right now, what with the lawsuit and all. But you and I are going to get through everything together. Just wait and see.”

  Garth’s grin was so broad it was heartbreaking. How was she going to tell him what she’d found in those files? Twisting her hair around her index finger, she forced the edges of her lips into a smile that felt all wrong. This wasn’t going to be easy, but better her than a stranger. Better her than the FDA.

  She sighed and let her rigid smile relax into a more natural expression. Rising on her toes, she gave her brother a hug, and he squeezed her in return, holding the embrace longer than usual.

  “Garth…”

  “Yes?”

  He still hadn’t let go, so she broke the hug and sat down on the couch, patted the spot beside her. Smiling paternally, he sat down next to her. How to break this to him? All at once or just ease into it? She’d never been one for easing into things. “Garth, I found the missing files.”

  His lips parted. She heard a soft wheeze. The color drained from his face, and he raised a shaky hand, raked it through his hair. Lowering his eyes, he whispered, “Where?”

  “I don’t think that’s important. I’ll explain how and where I found the files later if you like. But right now, I just need you to listen. I have to tell you what was in those medical records, and I really think it would be best if you just hear me out. Let me get through it.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he gave a curt nod of consent. Tension thickened the air between them, as if he knew what she was about to say. But he couldn’t know. She’d asked Garth directly if Edmond had discussed his patients with him, and he’d said no. There was no way her brother could already know what she’d discovered in those files, yet his demeanor had altered dramatically. Perhaps he was ill. “Are you feeling well?”

  Clearing his throat, he stuck a hand out in front. “Quite. I’m simply surprised. Please, go ahead. I promise not to interrupt. Only before you begin, I just want to say to you, that I have always treasured you, and I am grateful that fate brought you into my life. I hope you know that, Sky, no matter what happens.”

  Her chest rose with a deep inhale, and she fought to keep the tears from welling up. She and Garth had been through so much. And in all their time together, never had he let her down; not once had he failed to protect her. She hated to hurt him. But there was no use running from the truth. If Bella was unsafe, he had to face it, and she had to report it.

  “I love you very much. And I know that you love me too. No sister ever had a better brother.”

  He leaned forward.

  As often as she’d had to do it, she’d never been good at delivering bad news. The words stuck in her throat, but she pushed them out as matter-of-factly as she could. “I think there might be a problem with Bella.”

  Then she waited. Even though she’d asked him to let her make her speech without interruption, she gave him a chance to react.

  Nothing.

  Aside from a ripple in his throat, he didn’t move a muscle. Wetting her lips, she pressed on, “Tonight, I searched through all the exam no
tes, family histories and med sheets for Amanda Cavanaugh, Livy Petersen and Henrietta Trueblood. It seems they had been in relatively good health prior to…” First her voice dropped, then her eyes. “Prior to taking the Bella vaccine. I realize that doesn’t prove a connection between Bella and the deaths of these three women, but I thought I should give you a heads up before I pass the information on to the FDA.”

  Now Garth reacted. Jumping to his feet, he yanked her up with him. His face reddened. A vein bisected his forehead, and a muscle vibrated in his jaw. Squeezing her hands so tight she thought her bones might snap, he said, “You can’t, and you won’t report anything about Bella to the FDA.”

  Releasing her, he whirled around and bent to his medical bag. He jerked something out, and keeping his hands behind him, turned back to her. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Bella. So you see, there’s no need to report anything to the FDA.”

  She cocked her head to the side, but she couldn’t see what he held. His strange behavior puzzled her. Garth didn’t seem himself tonight. “You can’t know that for certain.”

  “Of course I can.” His jaw relaxed, and his complexion returned to its usual cream. “I’ve seen the clinical trials. I know every nuance of every study. I’m telling you, Sky, Bella is safe.”

  “I have a duty to report.”

  “Yes. If there’s a problem, then you have a duty to report. But I’m telling you there’s not a problem. And, Sky…” Easing his hands from behind his back he showed her what he held: A syringe.

  Her breath caught in surprise. Did he think she would take Bella now, under these circumstances? Shaking her head, she stepped back.

  He closed the distance between them. “What about your duty to me? After all we’ve been through, don’t you owe it to me not to rush to judgment, not to knee-jerk a report without taking the time to investigate matters further?”

  Conflicting emotions battered her heart, while a flurry of thoughts swirled in her head. Garth made a legitimate point. She’d only had the files a few hours, and she hadn’t had time to dissect them in their entirety. Perhaps there was something else in them that would explain the women’s deaths and clear Bella.