The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set

by H. P. Bayne

  “I appreciate you looking out for me, but it wasn’t necessary. Like I said, no one followed me. As for Forbes, he needs to mind his own business. We’re not together anymore.”

  “That doesn’t mean he automatically stops worrying about you.”

  Eva cleared her throat, and Dez looked over at her. She was smiling and doing one of those little headshakes that suggested strongly he shut up. Eva, as usual, had clued in faster to Dez’s meaning than even he did. He hadn’t been talking about Forbes, after all, but himself.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and to check you didn’t see anyone,” Dez said. “I was hoping you might have some sort of description to provide.”

  “You’re the one who followed. You should be the one with a description.”

  Dez shrugged a shoulder. “I was behind him initially but lost him in the cemetery. He had a hat on besides, so I didn’t get a good look. All I know is he was a bigger guy, solidly built. Ring a bell?”

  “No, sorry.”

  Eva cut in, returning them to the issue that had brought them here in the first place. “Look, we really need a few minutes with Mrs. Usher.”

  “No. It’s not possible. Now I’m really going to have to ask you to leave. Dr. Gerhardt is on his way over, and I hear he’s not happy Dez is back on the property.”

  Eva plucked at Dez’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

  Dez looked back to the younger woman by the window. She was no longer facing the grounds outside the sunroom. She was watching them.

  There was a smile on her face but, unlike the one her neighbour Bubbles had worn, hers was cold enough to set the hairs on Dez’s arms and the back of his neck on end.

  It took every ounce of willpower Dez possessed to hold her eye. The hateful smile didn’t waver until her lips parted to speak, her words as black as her expression.

  “They will burn,” she said. “They will all burn.”

  23

  While part of Dez wanted to stay and question the woman further, he didn’t fight Eva or Greta as much as he might have as they pushed and pulled him from the sunroom. That unnatural grin and the words that had come from it had been like something out of a horror movie.

  “What do you think she meant by that?” Dez asked once he and Eva were alone outside.

  “They will all burn?”

  “Jesus, don’t repeat that.”

  Eva chuckled. “Seriously? You’re scared of her? She’s so frail she makes some of the folks in there look like Olympians, and most of them are twenty to thirty years older. And, God, Dez. The woman’s out of her mind. Surely, you can see that.”

  “She knows something, Eva. I’m telling you, the woman knows something.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. If Raynor or anyone else finds out I’ve been here, I’ll be lucky to keep my job.”

  “I’m sorry. I hadn’t planned on you being here. But I really do appreciate it.”

  “Forget it,” Eva said. “I did it for Kayleigh, anyway. Last thing I want is her having to visit her father in prison because he beat a psychiatrist to death. Speaking of, let’s get out of here before he sees us, okay? And, Dez? Promise me you won’t come back here. Please?”

  She deserved an answer, but he couldn’t provide the one she wanted to hear and so kept his mouth shut.

  “Dez.”

  “You know I can’t promise that, Eva. If she knows something that could help Sully, I need to figure out a way to get it out of her. You know that.”

  They had reached the vehicles, but not quite in time, as Dez heard his name shouted from the direction of the main building. He turned to see the lean, older man making his way slowly but purposefully down the steps toward them.

  Eva shoved Dez toward his SUV. “Go. Please, Dez. Go.”

  There was no point. The main entrance and the reception area were covered by surveillance. Eva had flashed a badge, so if there was any question as to who she was, the video would be circulated to the KRPD. She’d face questions, quite likely sanctions over this. There wasn’t much option but to stay and try to smooth things over with Gerhardt. As the man limped over, Dez reminded himself if he assaulted him in Eva’s presence, it would only be worse for her.

  Gerhardt closed the last few steps, barking out the question as he approached. “Just what in God’s name are you doing here?”

  He had changed little in the past couple of years, although his permanent limp had worsened significantly, making the man appear shorter than his six-foot frame. Cane in one hand, Gerhardt used the other to prop himself against the hood of Dez’s SUV as he peered at them above the low-riding rims of his half-moon spectacles. Dez had never been convinced the man needed glasses, rather suspecting he used them to make himself appear more scholarly. He had a little less hair than before, but what remained had maintained its ash blond shade. His face showed the remains of what were once handsome features, but they had been twisted with the rest of him. It was funny how dark thoughts and emotions did that over time, made a person look the way they felt.

  “An associate of mine was attacked last night,” Dez said. “I was asking some questions on his behalf.”

  “What associate is this?”

  “Lachlan Fields.” Dez watched the man for a response. There was none, but then Gerhardt probably would have been a shark at poker. Had he been born a little earlier in time, he could easily have been one of those itinerant gamblers who went from town to town raking in the dough and putting slugs from his six-gun between the eyes of anyone who crossed him.

  “I don’t know what Lorinda Usher could possibly have to do with Lachlan Fields.”

  “So you’re aware what happened to him.”

  “Of course I’m aware,” Gerhardt said. “It’s been all over the news. Now, what does it have to do with Mrs. Usher?”

  “Her name came up in the investigation, and he was here to speak with her shortly before he was assaulted,” Dez said. “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything further.”

  “That’s my patient you’re harassing.”

  “We barely spoke to her,” Dez said. “I don’t see how that counts as harassment.”

  That argument failed, Gerhardt moved onto one that was indisputable. “I thought I said you were never to come here again.”

  “And I was quite happy to oblige but, as they say, needs must.”

  His tone was edging toward threatening, and Eva stepped in quickly. “I apologize, doctor. We were just leaving.”

  “You’re his wife, aren’t you? You’re not wearing a ring.”

  “We’re separated.”

  “Smart woman.”

  Dez started to take a step forward, but Eva’s hand on his chest prevented him.

  Gerhardt still had Eva fixed in his stare, seemingly unperturbed by any threat Dez might present. “I’m well aware Desmond is no longer with the police department, but I believe you still are, are you not, miss?”

  “Constable. And, yes, I am.”

  “So why are you here? Is this official business?”

  “No, it isn’t. I’m off duty, here strictly for personal reasons. I learned Dez was on his way here, and I came to see to it he didn’t do anything he’d regret.”

  Gerhardt smiled, the expression only a shade warmer than Lorinda Usher’s. “If it’s personal business, why did you present your badge to our receptionist?”

  “I never go anywhere without it,” Eva said. “It’s become force of habit to pull it out when I sense a situation that looks a little tense. I shouldn’t have used it.”

  “Peggy said you threatened her with an obstruction charge.”

  Eva smiled back at Gerhardt. “I’m afraid Peggy is mistaken. I was speaking to my estranged husband here.”

  It was bullshit, but Eva was far smoother than Dez, and Gerhardt looked like he didn’t know quite what to do with it. “I will be speaking with everyone here about this situation. If I find out about anything inappropriate, you’ll be hearing from me. You are both to stay awa
y from here from now on, do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” Eva said. “And, rest assured, I’ll be speaking to my supervisor about the situation as well.”

  “Good,” Gerhardt said. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

  He lifted his hand from the hood of the SUV and paused as if assuring himself he’d remain upright before turning to head back to the building.

  The question was out of Dez’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Do you remember Lucienne Dule?”

  Dez could no longer see the man’s face, but his head and shoulders visibly stiffened, and his gait faltered. Gerhardt stood still. Only for a heartbeat.

  Then, he returned to the building.

  A key in the lock awoke Sully from a dreamless sleep.

  He started to stand, but then remembered how furious Brennan had become the last time he’d taken that posture. Instead, he pushed himself farther forward on the mattress so he wasn’t right up against the wall, leaving him in a better position for a fight should it come to that.

  He recalled the notebook and looked around quickly before remembering he’d tucked it safely within his jacket. It was all he had of his birth mother, with enough inside those scrawled words to allow him the chance to get to know her a little.

  Brennan entered the room carefully as he had the last time, ensuring Sully wasn’t about to spring a trap.

  This time, the larger man had brought something with him, a bag from a fast food chain. The smell of warm bacon and potato not only let Sully know it was morning, it reminded him he was hungry.

  “I got us something to eat. Hope you’re not a vegetarian or anything.”

  “I’m basically homeless,” Sully said. “I can’t afford to be choosy about my diet.”

  Brennan nodded what looked to be some sort of approval before closing the door most of the way and sliding down to the floor so he was sitting with his back next to the only escape route. That done, he dug into the bag and pulled out a couple of wrapped items, throwing one to Sully. He then drew out some deep fried potatoes before tossing the bag and the rest of its contents to his prisoner. Inside was another order of the potatoes, and Sully next caught a plastic bottle of orange juice Brennan produced from an inside pocket.

  “Thanks, Brennan.” He unwrapped what ended up being an English muffin sandwich and took a bite.

  “Sorry, I meant to get you something last night. Things … kinda didn’t go so good. I shouldn’t’a gone off on you like that.”

  Sully shrugged, deciding downplaying was the safest route. “Forget it.”

  The two ate in silence for a few minutes, Sully debating how much to ask Brennan, or whether he should question him at all. There was a reason that notebook had found its way into the wall, after all. That said, Brennan was too close to the edge, and Sully didn’t want to risk pushing him over. Last time, things had resolved before Sully had gotten seriously hurt. The next time he might not be so lucky—especially since Brennan’s mood swings were getting more extreme.

  The safest route was to stay quiet, at least on all but one subject. If he could get Brennan onside, maybe he could find a way out of this.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Brennan looked at him from the corner of an eye, suspicion colouring his features. “What?”

  “When did you first start seeing them?”

  Relief appeared but passed quickly from Brennan’s expression, leaving behind a different kind of tension. “My whole life.”

  “Me too, I think. I mean, it’s as far back as my memory goes, anyway. Have you ever figured out what they want?”

  Brennan shook his head. “You?”

  “Mine are a little easier in a way, I guess. I only see the ones that need some sort of justice. I figure the reason I can see them is because I’m supposed to help them. Problem is, I don’t always know how.”

  Brennan thought that through a moment before breaking into a wry laugh. “And you can’t even help yourself right now.”

  Sully wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take that. He decided to match Brennan’s laugh with one of his own and hoped for the best. “Yeah, you’re right there.”

  Brennan didn’t react either way, which Sully counted as a win.

  “Not sure what I’m supposed to do with mine, either,” Brennan said. “They’re everywhere.”

  “Have you ever talked to them, asked what they need?”

  Unfortunately, that proved Brennan’s tipping point, his eyes narrowing as he shouted his response. “I don’t give a shit what they need! No one ever cared what I need!”

  Brennan drew a few shaky breaths in through his nose, sounding more like rage than regular strain, and Sully gave him time to collect himself, returning to his food as he studied Brennan for signs of an escalating threat.

  But the moment seemed to be over. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get angry.”

  “It happens.”

  “I just want them to leave me alone. I can’t even handle my own shit most days. How can anyone expect me to handle theirs?”

  “You’re right. It isn’t fair. I wasn’t judging or anything. I’m just trying to help.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Brennan had been focused on his food, at least visually, but now met Sully’s eye. “You’re a good guy, man. I’m sorry this is happening to you. If it was up to me ….”

  “But it’s not.”

  “No.”

  The obvious next question was right on the tip of Sully’s tongue, but he suspected all it would do was get Brennan’s hackles back up.

  The trick, he figured, was to continue the conversation in a way that had some benefit to Brennan. He was thinking through his next conversational move when he heard a phone buzzing. Brennan removed a flip-up handset from a pocket and pressed it to his ear. Likely a burner, Sully decided; everyone had smartphones these days.

  “Yeah? … What? … Jesus Christ …. Yeah, okay …. Yeah, I said!” He closed the phone, stuffing it back into his pocket. The rage had returned, simmering quietly just below the surface.

  Sully treaded quietly. “Is everything okay?”

  Brennan jumped to his feet and it took everything Sully had not to do the same. “No, everything is not okay. Your fucking, goddamned brother.”

  Sully felt a bubble of hope, his heart thudding against his chest wall at the mention of Dez. “What about him?”

  “He’s trying to find you. And I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you, ‘cuz now I’ve gotta go and deal with him.”

  The bubble popped as Sully’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean, deal with him?”

  Brennan didn’t answer, turning for the door. This time, Sully wasn’t prepared to leave well enough alone.

  He climbed to his feet. “Brennan, what are you going to do?”

  Brennan was about to leave the room, and Sully knew if he didn’t act, the next ghost he could be meeting was Dez.

  The Purple Girl was a presence in the corner of his eye, a warning to hold back. But it wouldn’t do any good. Not now. What it did was provide a reminder, and Sully reached into his pocket, retrieving his mother’s pen as he rushed Brennan from behind. Sully wasn’t as large or as strong as Brennan, but he was quick, and he managed to secure an arm around Brennan’s throat with his left arm. Brennan made a choked sound and reached up to grab the arm, working to pry it off. Sully wasn’t letting go, not for anything.

  But the room was small, and the nearest wall just inches away. The problem with fighting Brennan was he’d lived with the pain and fear of abuse and torture far longer than Sully had. There was nothing Sully could do that Brennan hadn’t already survived. Except one thing. And while Sully might have ordinarily dreaded the idea of killing a man, he feared far worse letting his brother die without doing everything in his power to stop it.

  Sully lifted the pen, plunged it as hard as he could into the soft spot between Brennan’s shoulder and neck.

  Brennan howled but didn’t fall. Instead, as Sully struggled to pu
ll the makeshift shank free, Brennan took two steps backward, and Sully felt his spine and skull collide hard with the wall. Once. Twice. Three times.

  The fourth slam knocked Sully loose, his head swimming under the impact and his back screaming abuse at him.

  Whatever fury Brennan had managed to squelch moments ago was unleashed; he turned and rained punches down on his captive. With little left to do, no easy way to move now that he was pinned here against the wall, the pen out of his reach and still buried within Brennan’s shoulder, Sully curled in on himself to shield head and face within his arms.

  He lost track of the number of blows, his focus shifting entirely to how long it was going to take Brennan to kill him. Because there was no longer any question about that. Brennan wasn’t slowing or easing up and, whether or not he had any intention of ending Sully’s life, that’s exactly what he was in the process of doing.

  But, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. A choked sort of sound came from Brennan’s throat, and he took a large step back from his target as an icy chill settled in Sully’s chest.

  Sully shifted an arm enough to look and saw the Purple Girl standing not in front of him, but in him, her legs appearing from somewhere within his torso. Brennan’s eyes were fixed on her, a grimace twisting his face as he took another step toward what would be his escape.

  Sully tried to move, but icy pain seized his chest, and he fell back against the floor as Brennan rushed from the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Sully had been holding back his emotion in favour of rational thought, focused on figuring a way out of here, finding and following a strategy with Brennan that would earn his trust and gain his loyalty. Now, nothing mattered. He’d failed, and Dez would die because of it.

  As the key turned in the lock, Sully gave up, the scream rending its way from his lungs and throat and reverberating off the walls.

  Footsteps in the concrete hallway beyond his cell stopped. Waited in silence.

  Then they set off again, growing distant as Brennan walked away.

  24