The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set

by H. P. Bayne

  Sully wasn’t going to manage any more rest, not with the possibility Flynn had found a thumb drive—the thumb drive.

  Mara had been trying Flynn’s phone repeatedly, but he hadn’t picked up, nor had he responded to her voicemail pleas to call her back. Sully watched his mother pace as he dug through what he could on the desktop computer his father had recently used. He was no computer expert, but he wasn’t wholly useless with them either, and he could find no trace of recent activity save the likelihood an external drive had been used.

  Now there was nothing left to do but wait and worry.

  “Mom, how upset was he when he left?” he asked.

  Mara’s face said it all as she gave up pacing and dropped heavily into the chair across the desk from Sully. She provided the verbal answer Sully probably didn’t need. “Very. I can’t remember the last time I saw him that angry. He could barely speak. I’m worried, Sully.”

  “Did you try phoning Lowell?”

  “No answer there either, and your Aunt Kindra is having a very late day at work, so she isn’t sure. She said she’d try Lowell and call me back once she spoke to him, but I haven’t heard anything from her since, and now I can’t reach her. I don’t know what else to do. I was tempted to drive over, but I couldn’t leave you.”

  “I’m awake now,” Sully said. “Let’s go.”

  They were in Mara’s car, five minutes on the road, when it occurred to Sully they should notify Dez. Mara shot that down.

  “I thought of that, but I decided I didn’t want to call until I had some answers. You know how he can get. He handles stress fine on the job, but he’s never been good at dealing with family problems.”

  Sully reluctantly agreed. If Flynn was agitated about something—a rare occurrence in Sully’s memory—then Dez would quickly reach the same point if notified. Even so, it was likely Dez would want to check back in on Sully once he picked up his own vehicle, and it wouldn’t be any better should Dez walk into an empty house and be left to worry about what that meant.

  Sully was about to suggest they call Dez when Mara’s phone rang.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said as she started to dig the phone out of her purse. Sully took over the search to allow Mara to continue driving and, when he at last found the smartphone, he didn’t think she’d like what showed on the screen.

  “It’s Dez,” he said.

  Mara’s sigh revealed distress rather than relief. “You’d better answer. Maybe he’s heard from your dad.”

  Sully was already doing that, clicking the talk button as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Dez?”

  “Sully, it’s Dad! You need to hurry! It’s Dad!”

  Sully reacted immediately to his brother’s panic, hand flying out and landing on Mara’s shoulder. He felt the tension there and realized she’d heard Dez’s voice even though the phone was not set to speaker mode.

  “What happened?” Sully asked.

  “Just hurry, okay? University Hospital. I’m heading there now. Hurry!”

  “Dez, what happened?”

  “Lowell called. He said Dad had a heart attack. It’s not good. Jesus Christ, Sully. He said it’s not good.”

  Something flashed in Sully’s peripheral vision, and he knew without looking a third person was now with them in the car. And for the first time since he’d begun seeing him, Sully prayed it was Harry sitting in the backseat.

  He stopped halfway to checking, unable to cope with a wholly new terror, one that dwarfed anything the vision of Harry had ever caused in him. Because he knew without the need to see. He’d spent much of his life protected and guided by Flynn Braddock, the man who had saved him, who had given him the family, the love and the hope Sully had never known and likely would otherwise have never found.

  He would know his dad anywhere. And even if he couldn’t bring himself to turn to see his face, he recognized the strong, lightly freckled hand that reached forward, settling over the fingers Sully still held against Mara’s shoulder.

  The hand remained there, fixed in Sully’s wide-eyed stare for perhaps a minute. Then it was gone.

  And Sully knew his dad was too.

  19

  Dez flew through traffic, four-way flashers blinking as he closed the distance to the hospital.

  He didn’t know what he’d find there, but he was experienced enough in life to fear the worst. There had been Lowell’s tone for starters, deadened rather than panicked, the sound of shock or perhaps of the acceptance of a brutal truth. Then there was the fact Flynn and Lowell’s father had died young of a sudden heart attack. They had blood pressure issues in this family, he knew that; he had his own to contend with. But Flynn had always managed to regulate his stress, was far more laid back than Dez. Sure, Flynn had moments periodically where he blew his stack, but those were few and far between, and he always needed some real incentive to get there.

  He knew pessimism would be the safer approach, but Dez clung to hope, to the possibility it was just a colossal case of heartburn that had led Lowell to request an ambulance. He passed that wishful theory on to Eva when he called to tell her, and she’d proven how well she knew him in opting to avoid pointing out the flaws in his suggestion. She didn’t agree with him, either; he was aware of that. But she knew, as Dez did, hope was the only thing keeping him from blowing every maddening red light he came upon or screaming at slow-moving pedestrians crossing his path.

  But hope could be an enemy sometimes, and it came at him with a sharpened blade the moment he found his uncle in the emergency room waiting area.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Dez …”

  “Where is he?”

  Lowell grasped his shoulder and attempted to guide him to a chair, but Dez wasn’t moving, not for anything. He needed to see his dad and he needed to see him now.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not now. I need to see Dad.”

  “Dez, please. This is hard enough as it is. Please, son.”

  And it was there, the truth contained within Lowell’s eyes, insisting on Dez’s grasping it. It was exactly what he knew he couldn’t do. “No.”

  “Dez—”

  He didn’t wait for the rest of Lowell’s statement; he couldn’t. He knew this ER well, had spent plenty of time here dealing with injuries to victims and suspects, as well as a few of his own. As he jogged through the department, scanning the faces inside the rooms for the one he was increasingly desperate to see, he struggled to ignore the sympathetic glances he was receiving from the nurses.

  He found him in one of the trauma rooms, lying quietly upon the bed while a nurse gathered up items Dez recognized as his father’s clothes. She looked up, her eyes enlarging and lips parting as a breath caught at the back of her throat. Behind him, he could hear rushed footfalls as Lowell, no doubt, caught up.

  Dez stepped closer to his father, took his hand as he stared down into his face. He was still. So still.

  Unnaturally still.

  “Dez, I’m sorry.”

  “Why isn’t anyone doing anything?” Dez asked. He broke his gaze only long enough to fix the nurse in his glare, his agony finding an outlet in the words he shouted at her. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything?”

  “They tried, son,” Lowell said as the nurse scurried off, closing the three men in the room. “They tried really hard. But there was nothing they could do. It happened so fast. I think he was gone within seconds, back at my place. He was a good man, a good brother. And he was a great husband and father to you guys. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, son.”

  Dez had been looking back down at his father’s face, willing him to wake up, praying for a miracle, some sort of divine resurrection. But it wasn’t coming, Flynn’s body still, his hand limp, the chill of death beginning to creep in. And all Dez wanted to do now was to tear this room apart, to take it apart piece by piece until all that remained was him and his dad.

  Instead, he turned on Lowell, his mind settling on one word, the last one his uncle had u
ttered. “I’m not your son.”

  “I know that. I didn’t mean it like—”

  But Dez wasn’t listening, focus shifting again, this time to escape. He had to get away from here, from this place, his uncle, that body on the bed. He didn’t know where he’d go, but anywhere was better than this.

  He felt Lowell’s hand on his arm, trying to hold him back, but it would have taken an entire army to stop him as he barrelled past and into the hall. One boot skidded on the waxed floor but he managed to catch himself before falling.

  Then all he could think to do was run. It didn’t matter he didn’t know where he was going, what he was running to, not even what he was running from.

  Nothing mattered.

  Not anymore.

  Sully had hoped to find Dez waiting for them at the hospital. Instead, they got Lowell.

  Sully had a few inches on Mara, but she was doing her best to outpace him as they raced from the parking lot to the ER entrance. Sully had thought briefly about switching spots behind the wheel with Mara directly outside the entrance, which would have allowed her to go in more quickly while he looked for a parking spot. But he wanted to be there with her, didn’t like the idea of her having to fall back on Lowell for support, even for a few minutes.

  Because Sully knew what she faced going in there. He’d been working on getting his head around it himself since he’d seen that hand and felt Flynn’s presence. For now, grief had taken a back seat to mounting anger. He didn’t see ghosts unless they’d died at the hands of another person. If Flynn had died while in Lowell’s company, then Lowell was responsible.

  Lowell was waiting for them in the main waiting room, just inside the ER entrance. He got an arm around Mara and guided them down a hall to what Sully knew to be a soft room. Sully hated to think how many people had learned of loved ones’ deaths in this little space; even more, he hated to think he was about to become one of them.

  “Where’s Flynn?” Mara asked. “I want to see him.”

  “Mara, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Mara must have read something in her brother-in-law’s expression, because her face crumpled before Lowell had uttered the words, tears so far held in check at last giving way with the sob that tore from her throat.

  “I’m so sorry, Mara. They tried but they couldn’t save him.”

  “No.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara.”

  Lowell tried to hug her, but she turned instead to Sully. Which was just as well, because Sully had been about to shove Lowell against a wall.

  “What happened?” he asked. He could hear the accusation in his own voice and found he didn’t care.

  “We were arguing,” Lowell said. “Things got a little heated and suddenly he just stopped and fell to the floor, hit his head pretty bad on the way down. The head injury looked bad, but I was more worried about why he collapsed in the first place. I remembered what happened with our dad, so I checked his heart immediately and it wasn’t beating. I checked his carotid pulse as well, and same thing. I guess I’ve always been paranoid about going the way Dad did, so I keep epinephrine around, just in case. I injected some into Flynn, but I guess I was too late. It was so sudden, just seconds. I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do.”

  “What were you arguing about?”

  “Sully, please,” Mara said. “Not now.” She pulled away from him to enable her to face Lowell. “Where’s Dez?”

  “He was here, but he left.”

  “He left?” Sully said.

  “Ran off, to put it more accurately. I tried to run after him, but he was too fast and he took off in his SUV before I could catch up. I decided I needed to wait around here to talk to you.”

  Sully turned to Mara. “Mom, we need to find him.”

  “Eva’s out looking,” Lowell said. “She told me she’ll call once she finds him. Listen, Mara, I think you should stay with Kindra and me for the time being. It’ll be too hard going back home right now.”

  Mara nodded, but thankfully had a better solution to that immediate problem. “My sister’s in town. I’ll stay with her for now, but thank you for the offer.”

  She’d managed to get her emotions back under control, but lost it again as she made her next request. “I’d still like to see Flynn. Could you show me where he is?”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  One of the things Sully disliked about Lowell was the incessant need to control, not just his own business but that of others. Mara was a strong woman who knew her own mind, and the last thing she needed right now was to be treated like a fragile flower. “She wants to see him, Lowell. She doesn’t need you to manage her, all right?”

  Lowell looked for all the world like he’d been slapped, and Mara laid a gently restraining hand on Sully’s chest. “Sully, it’s okay. He’s just trying to protect me.”

  “You don’t need protecting.” He didn’t give voice to the thought that she definitely didn’t need protecting by the man who was very likely responsible for their being here in the first place.

  Lowell accepted Sully’s assessment on that much, anyway, silently leading the way from the soft room and down a hall to one of several resuscitation rooms. He pointed to one with the door closed. “He’s in there.”

  Mara nodded and took a deep breath as she stepped toward the door. Before she pushed it open, she snagged Sully’s hand. “Do you want to come in?”

  He shook his head, no. No way in hell. He had a hard enough time dealing with the walking dead; he didn’t need the double dose. Mara nodded and squeezed his hand—or maybe he squeezed hers—before she pushed open the door. Sully spotted a flash of red hair and white freckled skin on the bed before he could look away.

  Unfortunately for Lowell, he was where Sully’s gaze settled.

  Sully waited until Mara was fully inside the room, door shut behind her, before unleashing what he hadn’t been able to in front of his mother.

  “So what were you arguing about?”

  Lowell blanched. Sully didn’t fault him for that; he’d barely recognized the sound of his own voice, a low growl he didn’t recall ever having made before.

  “Sully, I don’t think this is the time.”

  Sully took a step forward, causing Lowell to take one back until he was against the wall. “You don’t get to decide the time, Lowell. I’m asking and I want an answer now. Where’s the thumb drive?”

  He saw the moment Lowell caught himself, mouth sealing into a line, brows crawling back down until they were in their natural position. It was the first indication of a lie to come. “What thumb drive?”

  “You know damn well what thumb drive. Where is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Sully. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Sully had never been violent, had always been the sort of person to internalize rather than externalize torment, holding in and mentally evaluating rather than sharing his issues with others. But Lowell had just placed the last straw on the camel’s back, and Sully felt it the moment something inside him broke.

  He sprang forward, grabbing Lowell’s shirt front and shoving him hard, back into the wall. Flynn appeared next to them, and Sully at last gave in, looking over at his father. Flynn, who knew Sully’s limitations in his interactions with the dead, didn’t try to speak, merely shook his head, no. And Sully could read it in his father’s expression: “This isn’t the way, Sully.”

  “Why didn’t you take me with you?” Sully asked his father. “Why did you go by yourself?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Lowell asked.

  “You should have waited, Dad. I wish you’d waited for me.”

  Flynn reached out a hand as if to lay it along the side of Sully’s head. There was nothing substantial to the touch, nothing but a sensation Sully could only describe as cold static. But the meaning behind it was there in Flynn’s face, and Sully believed he could read his father’s thoughts in his changing expressions, shifting from, “I’
m sorry,” to a more determined, “Find your brother.”

  The situation grew more complicated when Sully felt hands—these ones definitely physical—grasp his arms and pull him back, off of Lowell. This time, Sully was the one thrown back against the wall, putting him face to face with Sergeant Forbes Raynor.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Braddock?” Forbes asked.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “Would you like to lay an assault charge?”

  “No, of course not,” Lowell said. “No harm done. Anyway, the boy’s just suffered a loss.”

  “I heard,” Forbes said. “I also heard him talking to air.”

  “As I said, he’s just suffered a loss,” Lowell said. “He’s not rational right now.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” Forbes said, before answering his own semi-question. “How, for some people under stress, violence is an automatic response.” Forbes turned back to Sully, finally addressing him. “Now, I’m curious. Were you under any emotional strain before Betty was killed?”

  “How dare you!”

  Sully turned toward the voice as Forbes did, finding Mara standing there, face tear-streaked but set into a solid approximation of a mother bear prepared to defend a threatened cub. Forbes took a wise couple of steps away from Sully as Mara closed the gap, moving to stand at her son’s side. “His father just died, and you choose this moment to level your ridiculous accusations at him? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Deputy Chief Braddock isn’t Sully’s real father.”

  “He was every bit his real father, just as I am his mother,” Mara said. “We raised him and we have always loved him as our own son. He has just as much right to grieve for his father as Dez does. Now I’d suggest you leave us the hell alone before I file a harassment complaint against you with the chief.”