Disturbance

by Jan Burke

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Quinn asked.

  “You’d better hope so,” Donovan answered distractedly. The leg looked like hell, and there was a lot of blood, but Donovan had seen many gunshot wounds and knew Quinn was relatively lucky. He’d need to get to a hospital, but it was survivable.

  Quinn screeched in protest as Donovan applied more pressure.

  “If you’d rather bleed to death, fine. And if someone heard gunfire and next hears your screams, you’ve bought yourself more trouble.”

  Quinn gritted his teeth but stopped crying out.

  Donovan took a packet of Celox from the field kit and used it to stop the bleeding. He added a field dressing and turned toward Parrish. He was surprised to see him frozen in place.

  “Parrish!”

  Parrish looked at him blankly.

  “How’s Kai?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Come here!”

  Parrish hesitated, then crept forward.

  Donovan had done extensive research on his father and his brothers, and on Irene Kelly, Frank Harriman, and Ben Sheridan as well. He knew that Parrish rarely shot his victims but was no stranger to firearms, and certainly the long list of Parrish’s psychopathic behaviors included plenty to make one believe he wasn’t afraid of blood, wounds, or body parts.

  But perhaps, in Parrish’s world, he had to be the one who inflicted those wounds if he was to tolerate them.

  Donovan regretted that circumstances wouldn’t allow him to toy with Parrish’s reaction to his sons’ mayhem. Instead he sharply ordered him to discard the gloves he had on and put on a new pair, so as not to transfer contamination from Kai to Quinn. Parrish obeyed. “Put your hands where mine are. Apply pressure—steady pressure.”

  Donovan quickly headed back to Kai, taking the field kit and changing out his own gloves.

  Kai’s eyes were shut tight, and he was moaning softly. He had been shot in the right arm. Probably trying to hit your eye, Donovan thought. Neither one of you can aim.

  He shook his head. He should have gone for a gunfight with these two weeks ago, shot them dead in the middle of the park. He despised people who carried guns and didn’t know how to use them.

  “How harmful could it be, getting shot in the arm?” Parrish asked.

  “Very. Fatal, in fact. If it had hit an artery, he’d probably be dead. But as it is, it’s not too bad.” A little too deep to be called a graze, he thought, and undoubtedly painful. Better to make Parrish and Kai worry about it. He could do that and still tell Parrish the truth, in case Parrish knew more about such wounds than he was letting on. “It may keep him from using the arm for a while. He could easily end up with a bad infection. If that happens, he could lose his arm or even die of blood poisoning.”

  Parrish watched Donovan for a few moments, then said, “You didn’t tell me you have medical training.”

  “Only what I learned in the service. I’m no doctor. You need to get them to a hospital. Soon.”

  “No. Too big a risk. You take care of them.”

  “Don’t be a fool.”

  “You’d fucking better make sure I get to a doctor,” Quinn said between clenched teeth. “You don’t want me to die—I’ve got a little insurance policy.”

  Well, Donovan thought, give a few points to Quinn. Under other circumstances, Donovan would have found the stunned expression on Parrish’s face almost laughable. But the coldness that quickly replaced it ended any desire to laugh.

  “What do you mean?” Parrish asked.

  “I mean, Daddy Dearest, that I’m not so fucking stupid that I’d come up here to spend time around you and your loving sons without putting something in place to protect myself. If I don’t make contact with an associate at arranged times, all sorts of information gets released to the police.”

  Parrish struck him hard across his bloodied face.

  Quinn hit him back, knocking him to the floor—a move that shocked Donovan nearly as much as it did Parrish.

  “Stop it,” Donovan said. “That won’t get us anywhere. Quinn, sit still or you may bleed to death yet.”

  Kai opened his eyes and frowned but stayed out of the argument. Donovan continued working and managed to get the bleeding stopped. He looked back at Parrish, who was holding a swollen cheek and looking malevolent.

  “I may just go ahead and kill you,” Parrish said to Quinn.

  “You aren’t one to make rash moves,” Quinn said. “And that would be rash. You need my resources.”

  “Has it occurred to you,” Parrish said, “that perhaps I haven’t put my future entirely into your hands? Kai’s already a wanted man, and so am I. Therefore, the only thing of importance you could tell the police is where we are. We don’t have to stay here, so don’t press your luck.”

  Quinn smiled. “What are you going to do? Finally kill Violet?”

  “No …,” Kai said.

  “No,” Parrish said. “I don’t think I’ll be discussing my plans with you, Quinn.”

  “After all we’ve been through together?”

  “There’s no need for the two of you to fight,” Donovan said. “Quinn and Kai need to get to an ER as soon as possible. I’ll load the two of them into my SUV and take them to a hospital. I can manage it without being seen.”

  “They’ll both be arrested!”

  “Kai probably will be,” Donovan agreed. “But if we could arrange your escape, we can do the same for him. There’s no reason for them to arrest Quinn.”

  “Who’s going to take care of Violet?”

  Donovan nodded toward the stairs. “Irene. She took care of her father when he was dying of cancer, I’m sure she can manage Violet’s care.”

  “No!” Kai protested. “I’m not going. I’m staying here.”

  Donovan stared at him for a moment, then looked at Quinn.

  “While I appreciate what you’ve done so far,” Quinn said, “I want to get professional care.”

  “Take him,” Parrish said. “He thinks he’s got insurance? Well, it’s mutual destruction. I’ve got more than enough on him to ensure he’d end up on death row.”

  “Exactly.” Quinn smiled faintly. “You don’t try to stab me in the back, I don’t try to stab you in yours.”

  “They’ll catch you, Donovan,” Parrish fretted. “They’ll know by now.”

  “They may know, but they won’t catch me.”

  Parrish helped Kai get settled in bed, something he could do without lifting. It was left to Donovan to carry Quinn downstairs. He placed him on a large leather couch and covered him with a blanket. Quinn looked tired and weakened, but there was no sign of shock setting in.

  When Parrish joined them, a few minutes later, Donovan spoke softly to him. “Stay with Kai, keep him warm, watch for signs of shock, and especially for signs of infection.” He named every sign of dangerous levels of infection he could think of. “Right now, I’m going to take care of getting Irene settled next—”

  “I’ll stay with you while you do that.”

  “Look, someone’s got to keep an eye on Kai—”

  “You don’t give the orders around here, Donovan.”

  Donovan considered testing that and decided this was not the time. “Fine. While I’m with Irene, it’s important that you don’t say anything.”

  “Why?”

  “The substance I gave her has a number of properties. Among other things, it’s a hypnotic and amnestic drug. She’ll obey me, but your presence will just confuse her. As it is now, when she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember anything after the moments when she started drinking with me this afternoon.”

  “What drug was it?”

  Donovan looked away, hiding his contempt. “You’d probably call them roofies.”

  He carried Irene upstairs to another bedroom, one that connected to Violet’s through a door on the opposite side of a shared bathroom.

  Irene awakened and looked up at him in puzzlement. He set her on her feet.

/>   “There’s a bathroom between these two rooms. Take your clothes off and take a quick shower. Shampoo your hair. When you are finished showering, dry off with this towel. I’ll set some clothes out for you to change into.” She complaisantly walked into the bathroom, although she wasn’t steady on her feet, so he helped her take her vomit-stained blouse and pants off, and stayed in the bathroom with her while she took the shower. She seemed a little more alert after that. She dried herself off and changed into the soft, warm clothing he had brought for her, all without argument. At his command, she brushed her teeth. He told her to get into the bed and sleep. She obeyed, falling asleep almost immediately.

  He opened a duffel with other clothing suitable for the mountains and hung several of these items, with the exception of the parka (which he kept in the SUV), in a small wardrobe that stood in one corner of the room. He placed the duffel in the bottom of the wardrobe.

  Throughout this process, he had been aware of Parrish watching them. He had also been aware that there was something off about the attention, something unexpected. Parrish was interested in her, but not in the way a predator should be interested in his prey.

  Donovan placed her soiled clothing in a cloth bag and took it with him.

  Parrish and Donovan left the room, locking the doors leading to the hallway, and Donovan saw Parrish look back with a frown as he pocketed the key.

  Now or never, Donovan thought. He took slow breaths and made his mind quiet, then turned to Parrish.

  “She’s changed, hasn’t she? Not your ideal any longer. Aged beyond that.” He made sure the bag of soiled clothes was between them, the smell of the vomit unavoidable.

  Parrish looked at him and answered, “I’ll think of something to do with her. I owe her.” But his eyes had betrayed him. Donovan had seen him glance to the side before he answered, caught the sign of evasion. Saw his nose wrinkle at the scent emanating from the bag.

  Donovan considered how to make use of Parrish’s lack of attraction to Irene, which he was sure was not just a matter of having seen her get sick, although that helped. The beginning of a plan came to him.

  “Let me have her first,” he said.

  Parrish laughed. Donovan stayed silent.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Parrish said in disbelief, stepping a bit farther away from him.

  “I’ve been on the hunt for her. I caught her. So yes, I am.”

  “What about the child?” Parrish asked.

  Donovan shrugged. “As I said before, a curiosity. Nothing more. Let’s be honest, no one in this … family … is capable of much more. I doubt you feel much more than curiosity about me.”

  “Hmm. You do intrigue me. More than your brothers do, as long as we’re being honest.” He studied Donovan’s face, then said, “You’d trade?”

  “Her for the child? Why not? I’m no more interested in children than you are.”

  “Then why have you done as I asked? I was so sure you were not like Quinn or Kai.”

  “I’m not. As for doing what you asked—well, let’s say I’ve been curious about you as well.”

  Parrish was silent. He looked uneasily back at the locked door, then said, “I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a small reward. I’ll think about it.”

  Donovan left it at that. To press too much would backfire, he was sure of it.

  He placed the soiled clothes in a washing machine downstairs and started the wash cycle. He took some clean blankets from a supply in the laundry room, then used them to form a makeshift bed in the back of the SUV. He loaded Quinn into the vehicle and drove off, refining his plans.

  Quinn moaned as they hit the first curve of the winding mountain road but didn’t say anything until he realized they were merging onto 91 West.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked irritably, trying to sit up.

  “Stay down,” Donovan advised, glancing in the mirror, “unless you want to have to answer some embarrassing questions later.”

  “The pain is killing me,” Quinn complained, although he lay back down. “I thought you were taking me to a hospital.”

  “I am. In Las Piernas. Just not directly. I’m sure you can understand the need.”

  “No, I can’t. Goddamn it …”

  “What explanation will you give for being in the San Bernardino Mountains, especially if Nick Parrish’s plans continue to get so spectacularly screwed up?”

  There was a silence.

  “How are you going to explain being shot?”

  “I can’t think straight—fucking hell this hurts!”

  “Then let me do the thinking. If you pay attention, maybe I can keep you from dying. If you actually do what I tell you to, I might be able to keep you out of prison, too.”

  After a moment, Quinn said, “If you think I’m going to reveal the name of my contact—”

  “I don’t,” Donovan said. “If I asked you, you’d only lie to me, so why bother?”

  “You’re calling me—”

  “A liar? Yes. And for your own sake, you’d better be as expert at it as I think you are.”

  THIRTY

  Frank Harriman knew something was wrong even before he pulled into the driveway. He had caught a drug-related shooting case just after four in the morning, one that had seemed as if it would be relatively straightforward but had kept him busy until nine o’clock that evening. His mind had been on the case as he drove home, until his house came into view and he saw that Irene’s car wasn’t in the driveway or parked anywhere nearby. The house was dark. As he opened his car door, he heard the dogs barking in excitement—but they weren’t inside, they were in the backyard.

  He went inside, calling her name, turning on lights, letting the dogs in, and greeting Cody as well. He checked his phone again to see if she had texted a message about being late or left a voice mail—nothing. He looked for a paper note on the counter, didn’t find one, and saw that, even though Cody had his usual dish of kibble out of reach of the dogs, the dogs’ big stainless steel bowls were up on the counter—they hadn’t been fed. His anxiety kicked up a notch. Even if she hadn’t been able to get home, she would have called Jack to ask him to take care of them.

  Frank told himself not to jump to conclusions and called her cell phone while he was measuring out dog food. It went immediately to voice mail.

  He listened to the messages left on their answering machine. Nothing from Irene.

  Ethan Shire was catching a catnap on the couch in his office when his cell phone, which he had set to vibrate only, began buzzing, causing it to walk its metal back along the top of the glass table he had set it on, making more noise than if he had just let the sucker ring.

  He nearly just slapped it off but saw the caller ID and answered groggily. “Irene? What’s up?”

  “Ethan, it’s Frank. I guess if you thought Irene was calling she’s not there with you.”

  “No—she went home a long time ago. She’s not there?”

  “No. She doesn’t answer her cell phone.”

  “Maybe the battery’s dead. Or she dropped this new one, too.” He laughed, but Frank didn’t join in.

  “Maybe. When did she leave?”

  The worry in Frank’s voice finally brought Ethan more fully awake. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Late afternoon—not exactly sure what time. Hang on, I have a beautiful view of the parking lot; let me take a look.”

  The window was narrow, and the lighting in the parking lot wasn’t the greatest, but Irene had an unwavering habit of parking under one of the lights. He let out a breath of relief. “Her Jeep’s here, Frank. I fell asleep, and she must have come back here while I was napping. Let me look around the offices and I’ll call you back.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay on with you.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  But as Ethan made his way through the station, it became clear she wasn’t there. He questioned the staff who were still there.

  “Last time anyone saw her, she was wit
h Lydia,” Ethan said to Frank.

  “Thanks. I’ll try her next.”

  Ethan hung up, sat for a moment, then got his jacket and keys. Irene Kelly and Frank Harriman were, as far as he was concerned, family. Closer to him than any of the losers in his own family had been, in fact. He wasn’t going to sit in an office if Frank needed help finding Irene. On his way out to his car, he called Ben Sheridan.

  Despite the maitre d’hotel’s best efforts, Frank, Ben, and Ethan got past him and interrupted the dinner Lydia and Guy St. Germain were enjoying at the exclusive restaurant in the Cliffside Hotel.

  Guy saw them first, and he came to his feet as the men approached. “Frank? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” Frank said. “Irene didn’t come home this evening, and I can’t reach her by cell phone.”

  Lydia, accurately reading the pained look on the maitre d’s face, said, “We just finished. Let’s talk outside, okay?”

  The maitre d’ accompanied them to the door and started to apologize to Mr. St. Germain, one of his best customers, but the gentleman replied that he would have been far more upset if his friends had not been allowed to speak to him.

  He paused, as the others moved ahead of him, and added, “Did I ever tell you how I learned of this restaurant?”

  The maitre d’ admitted he had not.

  “Detective Harriman and his wife, Irene Kelly, recommended it.”

  As he watched them leave, the maitre d’ felt a headache coming on.

  After hearing Lydia’s story, Frank exchanged a glance with Ben Sheridan, the only one of the group outside the Cliff-side who was staying calm. Or appearing to. Frank appreciated that, in part because it reminded him that if he didn’t also stay calm and keep control of this situation, he’d never get the information he needed. Even as he thought this, Ethan began badgering Lydia.

  “You’re sure you didn’t hear his name?”

  “Of course I’m sure! I’d tell you if I knew.”

  Frank intervened. “I know you would, Lydia. Do you think Irene knew who he was?”

  “Absolutely. He was definitely someone she knew and felt comfortable with,” Lydia said. “I think she might have known him from that astronomy story she worked on. They made some kind of joke about it. But maybe not, because he wanted to talk to her about a missing person case. Didn’t set off any alarm bells for me—he was polite and charming, even invited me to join them. But I needed to get home, because Guy and I were going out here tonight.” She bit her lower lip. “I can’t say why, but I just find it hard to believe he wanted to hurt her.”