The Bloodline Trilogy

by Adam Nicholls

  “Anyway, I’d get home, and he’d be waiting for me by the door with a big, smug grin on his fat face. I knew what he was waiting to do.”

  “Yeah? What?” Rachel spotted a lamp, which she figured she could use as a weapon, but it might be safer for her to throw it in his way. Every second would probably help her to escape. After all, she had no idea how fast he could run. She had no idea how fast she could run.

  “He’d find anything to call me up on. He was a total fucking control freak. He would dream up situations where he knew I would rebel and then use that rebellion as an excuse to beat me. So every day I would walk home, in no big hurry to get there. But every day, he would be standing there waiting, hoping to get in a quick slap before my mom could protest it. Only one day, I got there, and he wasn’t there. Do you know what I thought?”

  “That he was dead?” Rachel guessed. It made good sense to her.

  Greg turned. “That’s right.”

  She felt as though she’d been caught, like a spider who stops dead in its tracks. He looked at the position of her foot as if he’d figured out her plan. When he turned back to what he had been doing, she let out a small breath.

  “So, I started to dream of all the ways he could have died, you know? I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Not really. But he was a real bastard who deserved it. I began to picture the cops and my weeping mom inside, ready to tell me the news, and I was practicing how to not smile.” Greg gave a snort. “You know what happened when I got in there?”

  “What?” Rachel didn’t care. She wanted to go, right now, while he was distracted.

  “The prick had killed my mom while I was at school. Stabbed her seven times with a kitchen knife. Can you picture it, sitting in class, learning algebra while the woman who’d given you life was getting stabbed at home? That shit wasn’t right. Just wasn’t fair. When I got in the door, she was already dead, and he was sitting there with that same big smile on his face.”

  “Then what happened?” It was simply to keep him talking.

  Greg paused, got up and strolled over to the window, where he slid a finger behind the blind to take a peek. “Anything can be used as a weapon, kid. Even an umbrella. I was eleven years old when I tasted the sweet satisfaction of murder. But you can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”

  Rachel had heard enough. Desperate to escape him, she leapt to her feet and ran for the door. She grabbed the lamp and launched it behind her, nearly tripping over herself. When she reached the door and heard him behind her, she fidgeted with the lock, and to her surprise, she managed to get it open on time.

  Her head a mess of scattered thoughts, his angry footsteps close behind her, she didn’t look back. She took to the stairs, breaking into a downward sprint, ready to get out and get free. She would rather be in prison than stuck here with Greg.

  She was halfway down when she felt his heel connect with her spine. His foot drove her forward with a short, jolting pain, and she felt like she was flying. Her feet came off the ground as she tumbled down the stairs. The sharp edges of the steps dug into her, bumping and bruising her soft skin. The agony burned like fire, scorching her entire body.

  “What the hell, kiddo? We were getting along, weren’t we?” Greg cried, catching up to her as she lay helpless at the bottom of the stairs. “I told you—I warned you not to run. You stupid girl! Now I have to get rid of you!”

  The last thing Rachel felt was his tight grasp around her arms as he dragged her toward the front door of the building. Outside, the light stung her eyes like she’d imagined it would, only there was nobody around. All she could see was stone and grass for miles around, tainted by the harsh yellow of the sun.

  She’d done this to herself, she supposed. Or were they his words? Rachel didn’t know. All she could know for sure was that this was the end, and he would leave her to bleed out. She would die knowing that Blake—the one person she’d trusted to rescue her—had never come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Children ran, screamed, and played around him. Lights flashed up and down the sides of the attractions, forming patterns so bright they were visible even in the middle of the day. The air was filled with the overpowering scent of wood chippings and smoke from the machines. It wasn’t unpleasant, unlike the weather. Now wasn’t exactly the ideal time of year to visit a family theme park, but work had been so busy lately, and they needed the break more than ever.

  Detective Robbie Parker had been kept busy with the Salinger case. He’d followed it closely ever since the news had first been pitched to him back at the office: one man accused of murdering his own father and tearing up a police station with a yet-to-be-identified man. Anyone who dared to hurt cops was signing his own arrest warrant.

  And then there was Jackie Lang.

  Lang had been a newcomer to his department and had—so far—shown an impressive dedication and competency. From the first moment he’d spoken to her, he’d seen great things in her future. However, there was security footage of her assisting Blake Salinger and she’d since become a wanted felon.

  What made things even more difficult for Robbie was that they’d evaded surveillance for so long. Each passing week made it harder to track their whereabouts as they faded into the past. Thankfully, they weren’t as smart as they thought they were; countless security recordings had logged evidence of their presence in and around stores within Central LA. Why they’d decided to stay in the city was beyond him, but at least they were consistent.

  The last sighting had been around two weeks ago, when a woman had phoned in claiming to have seen both Salinger and Lang just outside a gas station. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to make out their van’s registration, and they’d been smart in avoiding the cameras. Sadly for the police, time was passing and the trail was getting cold.

  As Robbie stood there, watching his daughter, Cassie, swinging around on the ride with the excited yells of all the other children, he began to wonder if he would ever see Blake Salinger again. As for Jackie Lang, well, he had a more personal bone to pick with her after she abandoned the public she’d sworn to protect.

  “I’m really glad we could do this.” Sonia stepped up next to him, breaking his concentration by rustling a bag of candies. They were gummi bears. Her favorite.

  “Me too.” Robbie looked at her, smiling. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and full lips, and she always had a flower in her hair. It added something exotic to her image, something that drove him crazy every time he gazed into those almond-shaped eyes. Even after eleven years of marriage, she could still do that to him. No matter how often they screamed at each other.

  “I wondered if maybe we could do this more often. Just you, me, and Cassie. A family.”

  It was a trap, Robbie knew. He’d been here far too many times before. If he said no—reminded her of exactly why they couldn’t do it more often—she would fly off the handle again. If he agreed to it, he would (in her opinion, at least) be agreeing to actually do it more often, and that would only lead to disappointment. Sometimes, stating a simple fact was a lot easier. That was why he chose the former.

  “Work is hectic. You know that.”

  He heard her sigh again. The same sigh that said “Why, Robbie, why, why, why won’t you just let me have my way?” It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to have her own way. He would have loved to make her happy, but facts were facts and, at the end of the day, he still had a lot of responsibility as a detective.

  Robbie put a caring arm around her. She gave a look to suggest that now was not the appropriate time and began to move, but then stopped, submitting to his attempt at recovery.

  “Even now,” he explained to her, “it was a nightmare to get this three-day weekend. A lot of people are depending on me to stick with the case. When they see me working my ass off, they usually follow suit. Most of them—”

  “But—”

  “Please, honey, let me finish.” He ignored her pout and went on. “But I’m here in spite of that. You’re
here. Cassie is here. Isn’t that enough? Right now, in this moment?”

  Sonia looked at their daughter, and Robbie’s eyes followed hers. The ride was slowing to a stop, the operator moving around to open their gates and escort them off the ride. While she was waiting, little four-year-old Cassie was smiling that open-mouthed, gap-between-every-tooth smile. It was a smile he would never forget. When he worried about what she would be like as a teenager, he always thought he would look at her then and see her how she was now—daddy’s little girl.

  They moved forward to collect her. Robbie took her hand as she tottered along with short steps while Sonia threw some more gummi bears in her mouth.

  “Was that fun?” Robbie asked, his heart melting with the way Cassie bobbed her head up and down. “What do you want to do next?”

  Cassie pointed in the direction of a ride with a ladybug design, to which Robbie took both her hands in his. He lifted her above his head and placed her on his shoulders, her giggle high-pitched and hysterical, the way a child’s should always be.

  Sonia was smiling too. For a moment, it felt like they were a family, and nothing could break them apart. Nothing, except the job.

  “We should get some food first,” Sonia suggested.

  “And then go on rides? Yeah right. You can clean up the mess,” he teased but headed toward the lingering smell of cooking meat nonetheless.

  They walked over to the burger stand and took a seat, Robbie placing Cassie on his lap, propping her up and using his arms as safety rails. “I’m actually starving,” he said, frowning and slipping a menu out of its holder. “I wonder how much—”

  The phone jerked in his pocket, startling both him and Cassie.

  No, no, please not now.

  Robbie took it from his pocket, saw the number, and froze. He looked up at Sonia, who was glaring at him and shaking her head. The right thing to do and the easy thing to do were once again different things. Regretfully, feeling as though he’d done something wrong, he pushed the reject call button and slid his phone away.

  Just as Sonia started to smile, the phone rang again.

  This time he looked at her apologetically.

  Sonia nodded her permission—that was how it felt, anyway.

  “Detective Parker,” he said, taking the call. “Bear with me a second.” He put the phone down and handed his daughter over to her mother, giving her hair a playful muss, causing her to giggle sweetly again. Then he took his phone, and although keeping them in sight, left his family. “You know I’m trying to have some time off with my family?” he said.

  The voice on the other end hadn’t said much more than hello at this point, but it was Houston calling, and Houston never called unless he had to. “You’ll be interested to know who we just arrested.”

  Somehow, Robbie believed him. It could have been because of the sudden sweat that came upon him, or the anxiety that made his heart skip a beat, but there was trouble ahead, and he could feel it. “Yeah? Impress me.”

  “Val Salinger.” Houston sounded pleased with himself.

  “You mean Blake Salinger. Well, that’s incredible news. Great! Now I can enjoy the rest of my vacation with less to worry about. You should—”

  “No, sir. I meant what I said. We’ve taken Val Salinger into custody.”

  Robbie’s eyes lowered to the ground while his thoughts danced around inside his head. He put his hand on the railing for support. “Val Salinger is dead.” He said it as a matter of fact. A truth that needed to be reaffirmed. But now he was doubting it himself.

  “Well, that’s what we all thought, sir. But there’s a man at the station who’s claiming to be him, and he’s the spitting image.”

  “What’s the charge?” Robbie knew they couldn’t arrest anybody without a clear and legal reason. They must have read him his rights.

  “He was seen aiding the escape of Blake Salinger. We don’t know the exact details yet, sir. The orders came from high up. Higher than you.”

  Robbie put his hand to his head, ready to rake his fingers through his hair, but now recalling that he’d shaved it to a half-inch long only a couple days ago. “Take the prints.”

  “We did. Can’t you see what I’m telling you, sir? The prints match the prints of Val Salinger, but the prints of Val Salinger didn’t match the prints we got from the morgue.” He sounded exasperated but also excited. Like he’d won the lottery. Robbie could imagine him now: at his desk, a drawer full of snacks beside him and his cheeks wobbling with excitement.

  “Slow down, for God’s sake. Just what exactly are you telling me?”

  “That Val Salinger is alive, and that whoever we buried was not him!”

  Robbie sighed. He could barely believe his luck. It wasn’t just that the impossible was happening, but that it was happening to him, and at the worst imaginable time. “That means we also have a murder case to solve, for the body.”

  “Yup!” He sounded giddy, which was worrying.

  “All right, they’re going to have our asses for this one,” he told Houston. “Keep him there. I’m on my way back.” He hung up and stood looking at Sonia and Cassie; how happy they were engaging in a war of tickles and rewarding their triumphs with the gummi bears. Cassie took one, sucked the head off it, torturing the poor thing. A thin line of saliva was dowsing its head as Sonia initiated another tickle attack.

  Robbie exhaled in a strong gust.

  They weren’t going to like what he had to do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sonia had taken it better than expected. If he’d wanted a divorce, that was.

  “No, Robbie!” she yelled at him, and Cassie started to cry. “You promised us three days! Three! This is only one, and you’re not leaving.” Her commanding tone drove him nuts, and he always tried not to lash out. He knew that as soon as he started to argue back, he would say stuff he’d later come to regret—whether it be announcing the worst thing about her and addressing it, or saying something completely innocent for her to interpret the wrong way.

  But in the heat of the moment, she was known to take anything at its worst.

  “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry, but I have to. It’s Val Salin—”

  “I don’t care who it is!” she screamed, making their daughter’s face redden as tears welled from her eyes. “You’re not leaving us here. This is a family trip, and you’re supposed to be a part of the family!”

  He couldn’t have argued against it either. He knew he was in the wrong, but what could he do? Detective Robert Parker was always Detective Robert Parker—never just Robbie. Nice-guy Robbie. Here-let-me-get-that-door-for-you Robbie Parker. He had a full-time responsibility, and he’d be damned if he didn’t live up to it, even if his family were the cost.

  Another problem had been the car. He needed it for work, but his soon-to-be ex-wife and daughter needed it to get home unless they chose to go back with him. They’d made the painful decision to go home together, although they had separate homes for the time being. Robbie had hoped he could soon move out of his one-bed apartment and back into the house. It’d only been a temporary arrangement so Sonia could have some space, but a week had passed, and he was already sick of the lonely walls closing in on him. The neighbors were loud, too, with their rampant sex games. It seemed as though they enjoyed the use of every toy except a gag—the one thing that would benefit him the most.

  Sonia sat in the back with Cassie on the drive home, whispering consolations into her baby girl’s ear.

  “But I want to stay,” Cassie was saying through her gapped teeth. It came out more like: budda wanta shtay, which made it all the more heartbreaking.

  “I know, I know, sweet thing. But Daddy has to work. We’ll come back, I promise.” If there was one thing Robbie was grateful for, it was that Sonia wasn’t the type to use their child as a weapon. It was an unspoken rule that there would be no side-taking in the family.

  Robbie dropped them off at the house. He ran to the trunk of the car and grabbed the backpacks they
were using as suitcases while Sonia dealt with getting Cassie out of the baby seat. She would be growing out of that soon, he thought, and she would be at that awkward age where she could kick, scream, and slam doors. But he would love her all the same. He’d promised that to himself more than once.

  He carried the cases up the pathway and toward the house, then dropped to his knee to kiss Cassie on each cheek. “We’ll go back, just like Mommy promised.”

  She looked as though she didn’t believe a single word but had to accept it or risk losing out. Children were never quite as simple as being thankful for the gesture.

  “But until then,” he said, employing his calmest tone, “why don’t you go inside and start writing out your list for Santa?” It was a pleasant distraction he’d learned from his own mother.

  A smile took over her face then, the way the sun comes out after a downpour. She filled with life, suddenly struck by the idea. Yes! Let’s write a list of all the presents you can give me! What child would not want that?

  When Sonia shut the door in his face, without so much as a “thanks anyway,” he climbed back into the car and drove straight to work. This was something he wasn’t looking forward to. The first thing he would have to do was give Houston a kick up the backside for interrupting his vacation and putting his relationship with his family in danger. Then, he would deal with the Val Salinger wannabe.

  As soon as he arrived, he went inside and crossed the expansive reception area, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor. He took the elevator up to his department. When the doors pinged open, and he walked through, it was good to see that everyone was busy. He liked to think everyone would still be working when he turned his back too.

  Houston was waiting for him outside his office. “Sir, sorry for calling you. You understand that I had to?” He looked the same as he always did: gluttonous but oddly likeable. Robbie felt a bit sorry for him, actually. He was a nice guy and always trying to please. If he directed his efforts toward himself a bit more, he might have become something more than a sergeant.