Outrage (Faith McMann Trilogy Book 2)

by T. R. Ragan

  He turned to Mom then, forced himself to lean down close and plant a squishy, wet kiss on her wrinkled forehead. Then he turned back to the nurse and asked her if Mom had been taking her medication.

  Looking past him, the nurse appeared suddenly concerned about something.

  Aster looked back at his mom. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets as her toothless mouth flapped open and closed.

  The nurse rushed forward and kneeled down so that she was eye level with Mom. “She’s trying to tell us something.”

  Ridiculous, Aster thought. His mother hadn’t said a word since falling down the stairs more than thirty years ago.

  “You . . . your fault.”

  Son of a bitch. “I think she’s trying to say she wants me to take her on a stroll,” Aster said calmly.

  The nurse attached an inflatable cuff to his mother’s arm and took her blood pressure. “I don’t think so. Her blood pressure is out of control.” She stood and headed for the door. “I’m going to get the doctor. I’ll be right back.”

  “You sneaky little bitch,” he said to his mother once the nurse disappeared. He gripped the arms of her chair and peered into her eyes. “You made Dad’s life a living hell, put him in an early grave with all your nagging. And now you sit here day after day staring at the wall, costing me thousands of dollars. It’s going to stop. Do you hear me? Next time I come, it won’t be for a visit. It’ll be to take you out of this place for good. It’s time for you to come live with me, your son.”

  Her face contorted into an ugly grimace of pain. “You . . . d-d-did this to me.”

  Aster took hold of Mom’s hand and squeezed. When the young nurse reappeared with a doctor at her side, Aster told his mom in a loving voice that everything would be OK.

  “I’m so sorry,” the nurse told Aster, “but we’re going to have to ask you to step out while we check her over.”

  “It’s OK. I have errands to run.” He rubbed his mom’s arm and said, “Don’t you worry. They’ll take good care of you until I can come back and bring you home where you belong.”

  Raised voices prompted Detective Yuhasz to look up from his paperwork and see Officer Ryan O’Sullivan approaching. O’Sullivan usually knocked before entering, but not this time.

  “Looks like you have a visitor,” O’Sullivan told him.

  And that’s when Yuhasz saw his son-in-law, David Hofberg, storm past cubicles and a long row of desks, his face a brilliant mass of purples and blues from the beating he’d taken the other night.

  Yuhasz got to his feet just as Hofberg came barreling through his office door, his broad shoulder knocking O’Sullivan off balance.

  “You got a problem?” Yuhasz asked.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.” Hofberg pointed a finger his way. “I saw you in the parking lot watching me while your dogs dragged me into the back alley. You’re so fucking cocky you think you can get away with this kind of shit?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yuhasz motioned for O’Sullivan to give them some time alone.

  O’Sullivan hesitated before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

  “You brought this upon yourself,” Yuhasz told Hofberg when they were alone.

  “So you’re not going to deny it?”

  “Deny what?”

  Hofberg gestured toward his battered face. “This.”

  Yuhasz couldn’t help but admire the work his pals had done. His aristocratic nose had been broken and now slanted to the left. His friends might have gotten a little carried away, but sometimes that sort of thing couldn’t be helped.

  “I didn’t think so,” Hofberg said when Yuhasz said nothing in response. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’ve already put a call into the captain and assistant commissioner. I’ll go all the way to the top with this if I have to.”

  “You need professional help,” Yuhasz said matter-of-factly. “My number one priority is to protect my daughter. If you think you can settle this in a positive way and get professional help, I’m all for it, and I’ll back you up one hundred percent. Otherwise, me and you have a problem, because I will protect my family any way I see fit.”

  Hofberg inhaled as he took careful, seemingly calculated steps toward Yuhasz. He stopped to admire his wall of framed certificates of achievements. When he got to a spot that was empty, he slammed his fist through the wall. Bits of plaster and dust fell to the floor. He then turned toward Yuhasz and said, “What are you going to do about it?”

  Yuhasz took a seat and began sifting through his mail.

  “A man enters your office and puts a hole in your wall, and you do absolutely nothing about it?”

  When Yuhasz looked his way, the dickhead smiled at him. “I’ll say it one more time, so you better listen carefully. If you have any intention of staying married to my daughter,” Yuhasz said as he used a letter opener to slice open an envelope, “you need to get counseling. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

  “Well, here’s the thing, Dad,” Hofberg said with a sneer. “An old divorced dog like you shouldn’t be handing out marital advice. You’re way out of line. I don’t know why you think you know what’s best for Holly and me, considering you never could control that bitch ex-wife of yours.” Hofberg brushed a hand over the top of his head in frustration. “Holy shit, man, that was painful to witness back then. All those years spent watching her trample over you, ordering you around, demanding and nagging while you ran around with your tail between your legs. Nobody, including your own daughter, could believe how long it took her to leave your sorry ass and go in search of a real man.”

  Yuhasz decided to let the idiot mouth off all he wanted. He would take care of him later—just not here, not now. Putting a fist into Hofberg’s big mouth would only be playing right into his hands.

  “You might have nothing to say, but I have plenty to say,” Hofberg continued. “I’m giving you a warning. You, my friend, need to take a step back and mind your own business, because otherwise you’re going to regret it. Your daughter married me. She’s my wife. She hasn’t been your responsibility since the day we married. She’s mine now.”

  “Oh, really? Where is she? Because I have it on good authority that she’s left town.”

  Hofberg’s jaw twitched. “She’ll be back. She always comes back to me sooner or later.”

  “I don’t think so. Not this time. And for the record, you touch one hair on her head,” Yuhasz ground out, “so much as make her cry, and it’s over.”

  “Over?”

  “Yeah, over.”

  Hofberg walked toward him, rested splayed hands on top of Yuhasz’s desk as he leaned in close. “A man needs to take care of his household. And that includes teaching his wife to love and obey and to know her place. Holly will come back, and if she thinks she can flap her mouth whenever she feels like it and have an opinion on everything just like her goddamn mother, then she better—”

  Yuhasz jumped to his feet so fast, his chair toppled over behind him. Before he could make another move, the door swung open and O’Sullivan and Hernandez stepped inside. “Everything all right?” O’Sullivan asked.

  It took everything Yuhasz had not to jump over his desk and wring Hofberg’s neck.

  “Come on,” O’Sullivan said to Hofberg, waving him toward the door. “Time for you to go.”

  Hofberg straightened his spine, then tucked his thumbs into his waistband and stretched a bit, letting everyone know he wasn’t in a hurry and would take his sweet time before he finally headed for the door.

  “She’s never coming back,” Yuhasz warned as Hofberg neared the door. “Next time I see you, I’ll be serving you divorce papers.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Dad. You don’t know Holly like I know her. She’ll be back. Guaranteed.”

  Patrick was about to ring the doorbell when the ornate iron doors opened to a stone entry complete with a lavish chandelier and custom-painted ceiling.

  Standing before him was Aster
’s wife. Rae’s skin was flawless, her eyes like crystals, her thick auburn hair pinned up in a swirl of perfection. She wore a classic white knit sweater and white, curve-hugging slacks.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She blushed.

  Patrick looked around. “Is he gone?”

  She nodded, leaving him to close the heavy iron doors behind him.

  “The kids are in school,” she said, her voice soft and husky.

  He was facing her again, standing so close he could feel the heat from her body. Many times he’d dreamed about being alone with Aster’s wife if only for a moment.

  She raised one perfectly arched brow. “You needed to talk?”

  No words came forth; her beauty made him speechless. He nodded instead.

  “Why don’t we have a seat in the other room? I’ll make us tea.”

  Instead of heading for the main room, he followed her into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was old-world architecture with thick exposed wooden beams, dark woods, and wrought iron elements throughout. While she filled the kettle and put it on the stove to heat, he admired the archways and the craftsmanship.

  “Who’s your designer?”

  “Me,” she said with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to be an interior designer. But then the kids came along and time got away from me. You know how that goes.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  Her smile faded.

  Her expression said it all. “Aster doesn’t want you to work?” he asked.

  “He doesn’t like when I talk about those kinds of things. You know how he can be.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He stepped close again, this time with much more confidence. He couldn’t stop himself if he’d wanted to. He raised a hand to her head and gently pulled the clip from her hair, mesmerized as he watched her thick mane fall in heavy waves against her slender shoulders. He put a hand on her cheek and brushed his fingers through the silky strands. “You can talk about these things with me,” he told her. “You’re an amazing and talented woman,” he whispered into her ear.

  She rested splayed hands on his chest. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, but we should.” He kissed her then, thinking she might very well push him away. Instead she kissed him back, tentatively at first and then with much more passion than he’d expected or hoped for.

  They stumbled about a bit as she eagerly stripped him of his jacket and tie. She undid the front buttons of his shirt, and when she finished with that, he slipped her sweater up over her head.

  Overcome with desire, they continued removing each other’s clothing as if it might be their last day on this earth. When their gazes met, they smiled at each other and slowed things down a notch, took their time exploring and touching, until finally he swooped her into his arms and carried her to the living room rug.

  In a frenzy of heated lust that could no longer be contained, Patrick set out to do what he’d planned from the moment Aster Williams had killed Stanton, his boss, friend, and mentor—he took Aster Williams’s most coveted prize. He took every bit of her. And as she arched her hips higher, he whispered words of endearments into her ear until her cries of bliss were drowned out by the high-pitched hiss of the teakettle.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Dark clouds gathered overhead. The wind had picked up considerably over the past hour. While Colton relieved himself behind one of many trees, Russell Gray pulled out his cell phone on the off chance he might get reception. He wanted to talk to his wife. Needed to talk to her.

  No such luck.

  His days were spent thinking about finding Hudson and keeping the morale up, but his nights were all about Lilly. She was his everything, and at times like this he wished he’d expressed how he felt about her more often while he’d had the chance.

  Although he talked a good talk to his son, the truth was his old bones were weary, and there were moments that he could literally feel his body shutting down. He might not make it off the mountain, but he’d be damned if he didn’t find his grandson first.

  Life was an amazing thing, each day an unexpected miracle—nature, the intense love he felt for his family, good food, and loyal friends—life’s intricacies could be downright magnificent at times. And then there was the other side of existence, the dark side. Humans without morals who thrived on making others suffer, greed, and selfishness.

  Nobody wanted to see the ugly side.

  In fact, Russell always figured he’d seen enough hostility for two lifetimes, but apparently not. He’d always thought of himself as a leader and protector, but age, he realized now as he stood on top of a high mountain with vultures circling in the distance, had a way of humbling a man, bringing him down to his creaky old knees, and making him see the world for what it was—infinite and unpredictable.

  “Hey, Dad,” Colton said as he approached. “I think I saw something near the bottom of that ridge.” He pointed down the mountain, far from the trail they had been following. “I’m going to go take a look, but it would be easier if you could stay here and I could leave my pack behind. I’ll carry my pistol just to be safe.”

  Russell didn’t like it, but they couldn’t very well head on without checking it out, and if he went with his son, he’d only slow him down. Time was not on their side. “What do you think you saw? You better take the bear spray just in case.”

  Colton was on his knees going through his pack. He attached the spray and a walkie-talkie to his belt loop. “I thought I saw smoke,” Colton said. “As if someone might have recently tamped out a campfire. I’ll use the walkie-talkie to contact you if I see anything.” He looked toward the sky. “Looks like more than a bucket of rain is coming our way, which means I best hurry.” Colton clapped him on the back and then rushed off without another word.

  Russell took a seat on the ground, then rifled through his pack for his binoculars. It took him a few minutes to adjust the focus knob to get a sharp image of the terrain and zero in on Colton. His hand trembled, and he had to concentrate on keeping a steady hand as he moved past Colton to the ridge.

  He made some adjustments and used the higher magnification. The moment he located the source of the campfire, his heart rate accelerated. Small puffs of smoke came into view, and yet there was no sign of anyone close by. He set the binoculars down and used the walkie-talkie to try to contact his son. All he got was static in return.

  The wind wasn’t letting up.

  He picked up the binoculars again, narrowed his eyes, and kept a steady gaze until he located the spot where he’d seen Colton before picking up the walkie-talkie. But Colton wasn’t there any longer.

  Russell took a breath to keep himself calm and steady his hands as he observed the lands and more particularly the trees, large boulders, and thick brush, places someone might be able to hide.

  And that’s when he spotted a man, wearing a green cap, half-hidden behind a moss-covered boulder. The bill covered most of his bearded face. His movements were quick and efficient.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Russell’s gaze fell on the semiautomatic rifle being positioned in the man’s hands.

  He followed the direction the gun was pointed and saw that it was aimed at his son, who had reached the campfire and was kneeling down, checking things out.

  Russell’s heart jumped to his throat. He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his own rifle, got on his belly, legs spread. No time to change the caliber of the bullet. The wind would be a problem. No matter. He would make the necessary adjustments. He grabbed Colton’s backpack and used it to rest the front of his rifle to make for a more stable platform. With the butt of the stock in the pocket of his shoulder, he looked down the sight of the scope.

  His hands shook; his heart raced.

  Although he had yet to pull the trigger, a shot was fired.

  Looking through the scope, he saw his son go down. A sharp pain sliced through him. And in an instant, Russell Gray was back on the front line. The wind, the birds, the sounds of nature a
ll but gone.

  The shooter hadn’t moved.

  Focused, Russell opened his mouth and throat until he felt his body relax. Once again he lined up his shot, took a breath, waited for the reticle to line up over his target, and then pulled the trigger.

  Bull’s-eye.

  Russell skidded down the mountain; he couldn’t see through the spray of dirt, twigs, and pebbles. His emotions were all over the place, his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode. Before he reached the area where he’d seen Colton go down, he saw his son’s head come up. His gaze appeared to lock on the man now lying on the ground. Surprise. Elation. Joy. It all hit him at once. Colton was alive.

  “What the hell happened?” Colton asked when he saw him approaching. “Did you take him down from clear up there?”

  Russell was having a difficult time catching his breath, but once he realized Colton wasn’t hurt, he stopped, hands on hips, and bent over to take in some much-needed air. “Jesus, son,” he said. “I saw you go down. I thought you were dead.”

  “The minute I saw his rifle, I did the only thing I could. I dropped and rolled. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of escaping a second bullet, though.”

  Colton got to his feet and followed Russell to where the shooter had fallen. The man had taken a clean shot through his head. Russell leaned over and took the rifle, then searched through the rest of his things. No ID.

  Colton peered up the mountain toward the spot where he’d left his dad. “How did you see the guy from way up there?”

  “I was watching you through the binoculars. Keeping an eye on things.”

  Colton shook his head. “That was some shot, Dad.”

  Russell wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder, didn’t want to think about how close he’d come to losing him. “Come on,” he said, afraid his emotions might get the better of him if they didn’t get moving. “Let’s go find Hudson, and go home.”

  Faith spent another night at the hospital, tossing and turning.

  The good news was Mom was improving. The swelling had gone down, and she was no longer feeling nauseous. The bad news was nobody had heard from Dad or Colton. At times like this it felt as if time literally held still. Every minute felt like an hour, every day a week.