Disturbance Read online

  Kai needed no additional encouragement. He began walking closer to Donovan and Parrish. It did not take much work for Donovan to let him get a little ahead, and then several steps ahead. And when Donovan judged the cover to be good enough and their attention fixed on the noises a deer was making as it ran from them, it was not hard to disappear from Kai’s sight. Unlike Kai, he knew how to move silently and quickly in the woods.

  Parrish caught a glimpse of him as he moved off, raised his rifle, and fired.

  His first shot missed.

  The second did not.

  FIFTY-ONE

  They weren’t aware of my presence. Donovan was moving toward me. Parrish was firing at Donovan. I saw Donovan fall, saw Parrish hurry toward him, gun raised and ready to fire again.

  That brought him closer to me. I stood, which brought him to a shocked halt, and I used that instant to smoothly raise my weapon and fire. I wanted more than anything to aim for his face. But I had two bullets and only two bullets. I aimed for his body, taking no chances.

  Parrish’s knees buckled, and he fell.

  I turned my aim on Kai, whose mouth had opened in a silent, shocked O. Then he ran. I ran after him, pissed as hell, ready to put an end to this. But he kept going, panicked. He ran past something and knocked it over, trying to block my pursuit.

  A backpack. It had Donovan’s name on it. Better yet, it had a tent and a bedroll on it.

  I let Kai run.

  I picked up the pack. It was too large for me, but I put it on anyway and let it jostle against me as I moved back to where Donovan and Parrish lay.

  When I got there, I saw that both Parrish and I had been less than successful in killing our targets. Parrish was on top of Donovan, trying to strangle him. Donovan was fighting back. I could not see where he was injured, but it was clear that at least one arm was useless. I dropped the backpack, placed the gun beneath it, and pulled out the garrote.

  Parrish was utterly intent on killing Donovan. He had not so much as glanced at me. I stretched the wire between my gloved hands, then quickly put my left forearm against his neck, looped the wire and my right hand over his head, and uncrossed my arms. The wire crossed at the back of his neck. I pulled it tighter.

  I had his attention then. I had it through the seconds during which he let go of Donovan, while he clawed and bucked and kicked and rolled, taking me with him. I felt him go limp, didn’t trust it but slackened slightly.

  He didn’t move, but Donovan did. He reached into his boot with his uninjured arm and in one swift motion withdrew a knife and plunged it into whatever passed for Nick Parrish’s heart.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Pete called, patched through by Pappy. He was a little more subdued, which made Frank suspicious.

  “What’s gone wrong?” Frank asked.

  “I’ve got some bad news.”

  Frank drew in a breath.

  “No, sorry, not that. I mean—nothing about Irene. But, well, you already know we are trying to track down Roderick Beignet.”

  “If you’re going to tell me he managed to ride his bike all the way into town without getting caught by the LPPD, I’m not surprised.”

  “You’re mad at me for that last call, bitching at you when you’ve got so much else on your mind. I get it. And I’m sorry. Seriously. If it’s any consolation, Rachel ripped me a new one over that.”

  “Rachel knows as well as I do that you don’t do well under pressure.”

  “Har-har. I will take that to be an acceptance of my apology.”

  “So what about Roderick?”

  “Still looking. He ditched the bike in the mountains, must have had a car nearby, because it doesn’t sound as if he was in the kind of shape that would let him go long distances on foot. We went to the address the DMV has on file, and no one was home. People in the neighborhood say they rarely see him anymore. But he does have a motorcycle. We’ll find him.” He paused. “I talked Jake into running DNA on the guy.”

  “You have a sample?”

  “Oh, yeah. We got a warrant and looked around the place.”

  “Thanks—glad you did. What about Quinn?”

  Pete sighed.

  Frank waited.

  “He’s in the wind.”

  “Fuck me. You have got to be shitting me. You let that son of a bitch out of your sight?”

  “I can’t be everywhere at once. You’re the one playing God, not me.”

  “You know I meant the PD, not you personally.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, yes. You wouldn’t think we could lose track of a guy in a hospital, but we did. As you know, patients have the right to leave a hospital and refuse care—even against the docs’ advice—so they couldn’t hold him against his will. He checked himself out before we even decided to send the detail. Apparently he never went home, because whenever we stop by, one of his attorneys answers the door and tells us Mr. Moore isn’t in and unless we want to get a warrant or press charges … you can guess the rest.”

  He broke off to have an argument with Rachel, then said, “Rachel sends her love, and says not to pay any attention to me, but I told her you don’t anyway, so there you have it.”

  “Thanks for the update, Pete. I’ll let you know if—Well, I’ll let you know.”

  Pete was atypically silent, then he said, in a much different tone of voice, “You are going to find her. I know you will.” He cleared his throat, then said, “That lunatic you married is nowhere near finished making my life miserable, let alone yours.”

  There was indecipherable shouting in the background, then Pete said, “No need to schedule an ass kicking for that remark, my wife’s gonna take care of that for you before you get home. Keep me updated.”

  The call ended. Travis and Jack sat up in the pilot’s and copilot’s seats, so he couldn’t see their faces, but he could see Ben’s. His friend was studying him. After a moment, Ben said, “You think your text messenger is Donovan, right?”

  “Right, unless Kai wanted me to check on his mom. That’s a possibility.”

  “Possible Violet’s in on it?”

  “Possible, not probable. Not probable for Kai to have sent the text, either—he was in the mountains while the car was being parked near my house, so he would have needed to use someone else to leave a message taped to the beach stairs and so on. He couldn’t do it without Donovan’s cooperation.”

  “So if it’s Donovan, why didn’t he give you the info on the vehicle Parrish is using now? Why not just text the plate number and let you put out an APB?”

  “I’ve thought about that. Several possibilities. One is that he didn’t have that information at a time he was free to send a text. Another is that he can’t—perhaps as far as Parrish is concerned, he’s served his purpose. In that case, chances are he’s already dead.”

  “Another possibility is that this is a trap.”

  “Yes. Another is that Violet was telling the truth, and Parrish has some kind of hold over Donovan.”

  “It must be one hell of a hold. I mean, beyond Parrish being his father. What would it take to get you to do what he’s done so far?”

  Frank had no answer for that. He was spared trying to come up with one when Jack said, “There! Up ahead!”

  They all saw it then. A green Subaru Forester. On the roof, someone had placed a set of dots and dashes that seemed to have been cut from a roll of white duct tape:

  … – …

  SOS.

  FIFTY-THREE

  I rolled Parrish’s body off me, retrieved the garrote, and came to my feet.

  I felt shaky, but I made my way to Donovan, who was lying very still.

  I turned him over. He groaned. Under the circumstances, it was a welcome sound. I didn’t feel so good about all the blood soaking his left arm. I bent to put pressure on the wound, which was near his collarbone.

  His eyes fluttered open. “In my backpack, there’s a field kit with Celox in it. Hurry.”

  I ran to the pack, pulled out the field kit, and
following his gritted out instructions, went to work.

  I was just finishing up with the bandaging when I heard the helicopter again. It seemed closer, but maybe that was wishful thinking. I looked up in the sky, but all I saw was fast-moving clouds.

  “Did you kill Kai?” he asked.

  “No. He ran off. I didn’t want to leave you here bleeding.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Hand me Nick’s gun, would you please? Just in case Kai comes back.”

  “Is that smart? I mean, your shoulder—”

  “He’s probably not going to come back, but he might also be lost out there, and there’s a chance he’ll circle back. I’d rather be ready for him.”

  So I gave him the rifle and picked up the gun I had been using. “You have any ammo for this one?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, sorry. There will be lots of it in the cave, but Parrish only brought extra rounds for the rifle. Look in his right breast pocket.”

  I forced myself to reach into the bloody pocket and found the ammo. I gave it to Donovan. His face was looking pale and drawn.

  “Do you have anything for pain in your field kit?”

  “Yes, but I need to try to keep my head clear.”

  A gust of wind reminded me of my next priority. I searched for a nearby spot to pitch the tent. I didn’t have to go far, fortunately—I was within sight of Donovan and Parrish’s body. I noticed that Donovan had pulled his knife back out of Parrish’s chest.

  I went to work on getting the tent set up. The wind was blowing harder, something I seem to be able to make wind do just by putting a tent stake in the ground. But I got it assembled—including the rain fly—without letting it blow away and soon had the bedroll laid out inside.

  I went back and helped Donovan to his feet, then got him settled inside the tent—an awkward and painful process for him, given the nature of his injury, but a loud crack of thunder made us hurry it along.

  The rain began to fall. In torrents.

  I set up a rain catcher. Donovan had a canteen we shared while the catcher did its work.

  After we had both been sitting there a few minutes, Donovan said, “They’ll be big on you, but I have some extra clothes in my pack.”

  I looked down at myself. I was wet, dirty, bloody, and stinky with God knows what. I didn’t want to think about it.

  “Thanks.”

  He closed his eyes.

  At that point, I would have stripped in the middle of Times Square for the chance to be out of those clothes, but he allowed me as much privacy as you can get in a tent without stringing a blanket down the middle of it.

  He had a pair of soft workout pants with a string tie, and I changed into those, then stuck my pants outside the tent, hoping the rain would make a start on washing the stench and stains out of them. I took off the parka, which made me cold, and slipped a big flannel shirt over the shirt and long underwear I had been wearing since we left the lodge. His clothes were so big, I was swimming in them, but they were soft, dry, warm, and clean, which made them more valuable to me at that moment than designer wear.

  I kept the wet shoes off, hoping they would dry, and did my best to clean the parka before putting it back on.

  “You can open your eyes now,” I said. There wasn’t much light in the tent by then anyway, and we both thought we should keep the use of the flashlight in his pack to a minimum.

  He accepted the offer of an energy bar.

  “Thanks for all the help,” I said.

  He laughed. There wasn’t an ounce of mirth in it. “I should ask you to shoot me. And you’d have every right to do it. No jury would convict you.”

  “No, I’m not going to shoot you. I know you’ve tried to help me. Besides, there’s a little girl waiting for you somewhere, right?”

  He looked away. “You remember that?”

  “Yes, although I don’t remember all of it, at least not clearly.”

  “Miranda. That’s her name. I may have just signed her death warrant. Parrish told me that if he didn’t make a call by a certain time, she would be killed.”

  “I heard a helicopter. I’m sure they’re waiting out this storm just like we are. But as soon as it’s over, they’ll find us, we’ll get you to a hospital, and the police can do an all-out search for your daughter.”

  “My daughter. With any luck, she’ll never know that. If she survives this, at least she won’t have to spend time around her grandfather or her father. One is dead, and the other’s going to prison.”

  “Not if I can help it,” I said. “I mean, Parrish can stay dead—”

  He did laugh at that.

  “And I’ll do what I can to help you stay free. I know a great defense attorney.”

  He was silent for a long time, then said, “You’re kind. And I—I’m glad you don’t think the worst of me, although I couldn’t blame you if you did. Which still makes me the son of that piece of shit out there.”

  It occurred to me that, until that moment, I had never heard him use even so much as “damn” under the most trying of circumstances. Which confirmed me in an opinion I had been forming for some time now. “You aren’t like him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “Look, Donovan, you’re right. I don’t know your history. I don’t know your background. I don’t know a damned thing about your past. But I know that whatever may have been in the past doesn’t matter to me. Right here, right now, it brought you to do things for me at great risk to your own life—and your daughter’s. I wish I could tell you how it felt, when I was alone, trying to hide from Nicky out there, to suddenly realize that you were rooting for me to survive. Not just in favor of it but actively helping me. You thought everything out. If you hadn’t, I don’t think I would have made it this far.”

  “You underrate yourself.”

  “Likewise.”

  We fell silent. I had insisted, over his strong objections, that he sit on his own sleeping bag, rather than give it to me. He lay down now but shifted, apparently unable to get comfortable.

  “Donovan.”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember the physicist I interviewed about the Large Hadron Collider?”

  He seemed startled by the change in subject. “Yes.”

  “I did that interview because my boss, who was once a lowly underling at the Express, got on an astrophysics kick. He came across this sentence, ‘The universe is expanding.’ He fell in love with that. You know why?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “It is true, but that’s not the only reason he has all but come up with a coat of arms to put it on. Do you know much about Ethan?”

  “You were his mentor. He took over running the news at the radio station, and after the paper closed, he hired you. He rents a room from your friend Ben Sheridan and is learning to be a dog handler, although his new job has made it hard for him to keep up with that.”

  I tried and failed not to look taken aback.

  “I studied you,” he said in a tired, flat voice. “You and everyone around you.”

  “So—you know that he was a cocky, lying little bastard who hid how shitfaced drunk he was getting every day, then fucked up big-time and brought so much shame on himself and on the paper that he nearly got fired, and probably would have found it easier if he hadn’t ever returned to the newsroom, where just about everyone hated him?”

  There was a long silence before Donovan said, “No, I didn’t come across that information.”

  “Yes, well, in a nutshell, he changed. He’s still cocky, but I kind of hope that never changes. So even though the astrophysicists don’t mean it in the same way, he believes we should all embrace the fact that the universe is expanding.”

  “I don’t know what sins Ethan committed, but—it’s not that. It’s not what I’ve done. It’s who I am. Cold. My own mother knew I had inherited an evil streak.”

  �
�What?”

  “Parrish raped her. She decided not to get an abortion. But even from the time I was little, I remember her being afraid of me, of who I would become, of my nature. I’ve always known I’m … not like other people.”

  “Well, thank God for that.”

  He laughed then, a genuine laugh. He reached for his shoulder.

  “Sure you don’t want that painkiller?”

  “Sure. I need to stay awake. I’m fairly certain Kai would have found his way back here by now if he was going to, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “My mother? My stepfather killed her. He’s in prison.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “I never felt close to either of them.”

  After a moment I said, “The world would be a horrible place if all children believed everything their parents said about them.”

  “It’s not just what they said. It’s what I know I’m capable of.”

  “That can be tough. For example, I’ve learned I can kill a man with my bare hands. A little earlier today, I wondered if I could bring myself to garrote someone. Guess I answered that. I ran to have the chance to do it.”

  “To save me. Besides, I killed him.”

  “Grateful for that, but really, I’m not so sure he wasn’t already gone. And besides …” I drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “He’s not the first person I’ve killed, and there are others whose deaths I probably could have prevented.”

  “You aren’t God. And I know about the killings—you were defending yourself.”

  I fell silent. My ghosts endure. I struggle to forgive myself, but they endure.

  I felt weary and lay down, even though I knew I would not sleep.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said.

  “You didn’t. Just something I have to live with.”

  “Believe me, I understand.”

  He wanted to stay awake, to stand guard, but blood loss and physical exhaustion trumped even pain, and soon I heard him fall asleep. He was on top of, rather than in the sleeping bag, so I put the survival blanket over him, trying to make sure he stayed warm.