Disturbance

by Jan Burke

  I thought again about the contents of the duffel and went through every item in it, including the pockets, wondering if tucked away in one of them I might discover a message from Donovan, one that would explain everything. Sorry about drugging you and leaving you with a serial killer, but if you look under the floorboards, you’ll find a bazooka.

  Alas, nothing. Not even lint.

  I searched the room again, found nothing I had not found before, and realized that, between activity and anxiety and perhaps the residual effects of being drugged, I was tired. I decided Parrish was unlikely to find many thrills in killing me while I slept and lay down. I avoided the half of the bed he had touched.

  I prayed that someone would find out where we were. That Kai might have been seen driving a van up here, or might have gone shopping or otherwise appeared in public before our story about him broke.

  I knew Frank would already be looking for me. I just had to stay alive until he found me.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Frank Harriman knocked the clock radio off the nightstand as he reached a fumbling hand to find the cell phone. He answered groggily but came more awake when he realized what his lieutenant, Jake Matsuda, was saying to him.

  Jake wasn’t a ranter, but by the time he had killed you with kindness and long explanations of how you might be compromising a case, you wished he would have just yelled and gotten it all over and done with in one tenth of the time and one one hundredth of the guilt.

  At one point, Frank said, “Reed and Vince knew I was going to talk to him.”

  “Yes, they told me, when I talked to them after Mr. Moore’s attorney called me.”

  “I didn’t harm him or threaten him or anything of that nature.”

  “No. You’re far too professional for that sort of thing, I’m sure.”

  “I hear the warning in that, Jake, but I promise you, I talked everything over with Reed and Vince, before and after. All I really did with Quinn Moore was look for his reactions to a couple things, like the art.”

  “Under other circumstances, I think it would have been an excellent line of investigation to pursue. Perhaps without tipping our hand to him, however.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t see it that way.”

  “Nothing to forgive. Still, I find I have to ask you to choose one of two options here, Frank, or this will end badly for all of us. Either take some time off or let me load you up with so much other work you won’t have time to get involved in Reed and Vince’s cases.”

  “If you think I can just sit this out—”

  “Oh no, I don’t,” Jake said mildly.

  “I’ve got three more weeks of vacation time coming to me this year. I’ll take a couple of weeks of that now.”

  “You don’t have to use up vacation time. We can call it administrative leave.”

  “I find myself not wanting to be in the department’s debt.”

  There was a long pause, then Jake said, “All right. Have a good vacation, Frank.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Donovan woke late in the day, momentarily disoriented to find himself in a dimly lit space, staring up at rafters. He listened carefully before slowly sitting up.

  He was in the attic of one of the cabins, having easily defeated Quinn’s and Kai’s pathetic attempts at creating an improved security system.

  A few hours earlier, he’d used a disposable cell phone to make the anonymous 911 call that would ensure Quinn got to a hospital. He’d then destroyed the phone and driven to a street in Las Piernas, parked the Escape, and after one brief detour, walked a mile to the place where he had earlier parked a used Subaru Forester. Like the Escape, it had been purchased with cash given to him by Quinn.

  He had then made a journey of several hours to the desert. Although by this time he was feeling tired, he stopped by a storage building he owned, picked up equipment and supplies he had not been willing to put in a vehicle parked on the street, no matter how safe the neighborhood, and stored them in the Forester in compartments he had specially built into it, compartments that would not be easily detected. He left his own Honda Accord behind, locking up the building. He realized it was a weakness on his part to keep the Accord, but it was one of a few symbols of what he was reluctantly recognizing as his optimism. His hope—no, his belief—that somehow he would prevail over the mounting odds against him.

  He had of course known that the Escape could not be used past a certain point, although it had served its purpose well and would perhaps provide one additional bit of help in the coming days.

  He’d driven closer to the mountain camp in the Forester. Despite his exhaustion, he’d parked it at what he considered a reasonable distance and hid it. Then, donning a pack that held a portion of the equipment he had brought with him, he’d hiked back.

  He had reached the property just as the sky began to softly lighten in the east.

  He had briefly considered simply returning to the main lodge. It had been a long and arduous night. Parrish would doubtless have welcomed him. It would have been easy to accept a comfortable bed inside—but not if he calculated in the odds of being murdered in his sleep.

  So instead he had checked the garage near the currently unoccupied caretaker’s cabin, assured himself that neither Kai’s van nor Quinn’s Lexus—which he himself had moved into the garage on the previous night—had been driven recently, then hiked a short distance to one of the more remote cabins on the property.

  He had climbed into this dusty attic after obscuring all signs of his arrival, set a few booby traps for anyone who might come too near, and no sooner crawled into his sleeping bag than he had fallen deeply asleep.

  Now he awakened among the recreational odds and ends stored and forgotten here—a badminton set, a volleyball net, a raft that did not look seaworthy.

  He did not know if Irene Kelly was still alive. His check of the van had told him that, as of this morning, Parrish had not left, or driven it elsewhere and returned, but that was all he had been able to determine.

  He disarmed the traps leading to the attic, lowered himself into the cabin itself, and took a shower. He dressed, disarmed the outdoor traps, and made his way back to the lodge.

  He heard voices as he approached the lodge, then realized they were coming from a television. A news program, apparently. He cautiously went in through the kitchen under the cover of its noise. As he peered into the main hall, he saw Parrish asleep on the couch, and after a quick look around to see that Kai was not in the room, he entered.

  Parrish was still dressed in the clothes he had worn the day before. Other than an automatic and a stag-handled skinning knife lying on the table next to him, he appeared unarmed. Donovan considered his options, including slitting Parrish’s throat, but he regretfully abandoned that in favor of pocketing the revolver and picking up the remote, stepping across the room from the couch, and pressing the mute button—his eyes on Parrish all the while.

  As the voices abruptly stopped, Parrish awakened, grabbed the knife, and moved to a sitting position. Faster than Donovan had anticipated but far too slow had Donovan been intent on harming him.

  Parrish sat wild-eyed for a moment, and Donovan read exhaustion in his confusion. Of course. He had expected to have Kai—young, able-bodied, and devoted—available to assist him in his plans. Perhaps he had planned that Quinn and Donovan would be here as well, and now all of that had changed.

  “You’re back,” Parrish said, setting down the knife. He rubbed his hands over his face and stretched. “Tell me that you’re the one who has my gun.”

  Donovan held it up, then put it back in his pocket.

  “I’ve been listening to the news reports,” Parrish said with a yawn. “Do you think there’s a chance that this story of Quinn’s will fly?”

  Donovan shrugged. “I wouldn’t bet against Quinn’s ability to be convincing.”

  Parrish smiled slightly, then shook his head. “No. It won’t work.”

  “It will be hard for anyone
to prove anything against him.”

  “The story is weak, but that isn’t why it won’t work. It won’t work because Quinn is weak.”

  Donovan didn’t reply.

  “You think I’m wrong?”

  “No.”

  Parrish laughed, then fell into a brooding silence.

  “We’ll have to leave,” he said.

  “We?”

  “Of course. They’re already looking for you, you know.”

  “They have precious little to go on. They don’t even know my name.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be true for long.”

  Donovan said nothing, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “Tell me, did you enjoy playing the hero?” Parrish asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You did, I have no doubt of it. It’s in your nature, isn’t it? War hero, right?”

  “Now I know why I don’t know what you’re talking about—you don’t know yourself.”

  Parrish’s mouth thinned into a harsh line. “I don’t like to be spoken to in just that tone, Donovan.”

  “I was not a war hero,” he said, keeping his voice calm and low.

  “Have it your way,” Parrish said. “But if not in war, then in the mean streets of Las Piernas, certainly. For instance, rescuing damsels in distress in cafes.”

  Donovan hid his surprise as he studied Parrish’s smug look, all the while thinking furiously. “The ‘mean streets of Las Piernas’ seem to be teeming with your bastards,” he said. “Is Roderick another one?”

  “No. Merely one of the Moths. But I’m rather disappointed that you didn’t already figure out he was there because I provided him for you.”

  “An unnecessary risk on your part. I would have won her trust by telling her the story of the girl.”

  “Admit that Roderick helped.”

  He stayed silent.

  Parrish lifted a shoulder. “Donovan, you really must accept your heritage. Your fate. You can’t escape it by pretending that you belong to the rest of the world. You belong to me, my son. To me. The rest of the world will never come close to understanding you the way I do.” He paused, then said, “I would hate to find it necessary to have Roderick talk about you to the police.”

  Donovan stood and walked over to Parrish, towering over him. Parrish stared up at him coolly. Donovan’s own stare grew colder still. “You’ve never intended to tell me where to find the girl, have you?”

  “Now, now. I was told you have no real interest in her. By you, if I recall correctly.”

  “Admittedly, I’m no more capable of being a father than you are.”

  “But my dear Donovan, I am your father.”

  “No, like me, you provided a gamete and the rest was just nature taking its course. Nothing more.”

  “You think I don’t understand you? No, I’ve always known about your nature, your impulses.”

  “You don’t understand me. And you don’t know me.”

  “You think I’ve ignored you until now? No. I always knew what was happening in your life, Donovan.”

  Donovan moved away in disgust. “Then you definitely don’t deserve to be known as my father.”

  “Angry with me for not protecting you?”

  “No. Where’d you learn your psychology? Afternoon talk shows?”

  Parrish smiled. “Let’s not be at odds, Donovan. We both have more pressing concerns. The truth is, I had hoped to let you go on your way until Kai and Quinn decided to play with guns. Help me relocate and I’ll disappear with Kai. I’ll tell you exactly where I’ve been keeping the girl and her grandmother, and you—and I’m sure this will delight you—you can play the hero once again.”

  “And Kai’s mother?”

  “I’m afraid my plans for her will have to be altered. Kai will have difficulty functioning without her, but I’ll be sure to help him make the transition.”

  “Just how does she help him to function?”

  “Fueling his rage, of course. But that’s just one aspect of their rather complex relationship. He knows it humiliates her to have him touch her as intimately as he must to care for her. She provides an object of prolonged revenge. Exquisite, really, for one as young as Kai.”

  “They did let you watch talk shows in prison.”

  Parrish didn’t rise to the bait. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Donovan had a good idea of what it was, but he wasn’t going to gratify him.

  Parrish smiled. “You never really were interested in fucking Irene, were you?”

  “Not if you were going to provide an audience, no. Otherwise—Perhaps it’s the effect of hunting her over those weeks and months, but I do find I have some interest there.”

  “I believe you’re lying to me, but I won’t make anything of it just now.” Parrish stood. “Let’s see how Kai is doing, shall we? And return my weapon to me, please. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t come near any firearms anytime soon.”

  Kai was awake but did not stir from his bed as Parrish and Donovan entered his room. Donovan thought he looked pale. When he tried to sit up straighter in the bed, he moved his injured arm, now in a sling, and cried out sharply.

  Donovan exchanged a glance with Parrish, who only smiled and said, “He’ll be all right. He just needs a little time to heal. When we’re away from here, I’ll arrange for him to see a doctor.”

  “Who changed the bandage and made the sling?”

  “Irene,” Kai said. “She’s taking care of Mom, too.”

  “Kai,” Parrish said, “we’re going to have to leave this place.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m bored with it. And Quinn is going to talk.”

  Parrish smiled. “I believe you’re right about that.”

  “Sorry I didn’t kill him.”

  “You made him suffer,” Donovan said. “As revenge, suffering lasts longer than death.”

  Kai cheered up. “That’s true.”

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to go soon,” Parrish said.

  “Okay. I won’t be able to do much, I don’t think, but I’ll try. Donovan will have to help you get my mom into the van.”

  “I don’t think it will be wise to use the van.”

  “There’s no other way to take her.”

  “Exactly. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You aren’t going to kill her!”

  “No.”

  Kai looked unhappy, yet Donovan could see that he was still in awe of Parrish.

  “What’s going to happen?” Kai asked warily.

  “We’re going to need to let someone else take care of her for a while.”

  “Irene?”

  “No, Irene will be coming with us.”

  “Donovan?”

  “He’ll be with us, too.”

  “Then who?”

  “Kai. Do you think I’ve failed to plan for any possibility? That I don’t know how much you want Violet to be … available to you?”

  “I’ll get her back?”

  “Yes, of course. I promise you’ll be together again.”

  “So what is the plan?”

  “One of the Moths is already on the way up here.”

  “But they have to know how to take care of her!”

  “Of course. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Kai was unconvinced, and Donovan knew that if he could see it, Parrish could see it. But Parrish seemed to believe Kai could be brought round his thumb.

  “Donovan,” Parrish said, “we’ll need to leave as soon as it’s dark. Bring the Escape—”

  “I don’t have it. I didn’t want to leave it around where it might be spotted by police. I switched vehicles.”

  “Excellent,” Parrish approved. “What do you have instead?”

  “A Subaru Forester.”

  After a pause, Parrish said, “I know Quinn gave you the money for the purchase of the vehicles. Is it his sense of humor that results
in these model names, or yours?”

  “Quinn will tell you I have no sense of humor.”

  “Hmm. Neither vehicle has real off-road ability, but if that’s needed, I suppose we’ll acquire something else.”

  “If Kai needs to be seen by a doctor, you’ll want to be near roads.”

  “If you want him to be seen by police, you mean.”

  “Hey!” Kai protested.

  “I don’t,” Donovan said to him. “I just don’t think that being killed by an infection will do you any good, either.”

  “It’s not going to come to that,” Parrish said. “Is the Forester here?”

  “No. I didn’t want to attract attention to this place with a lot of traffic. Bad enough that I had to drive up here and away last night.”

  Parrish approved of this as well. “We’ll need it now, though. Bring it around to the front of the lodge.”

  Donovan nodded and left immediately. He did not ask to see Irene Kelly—knowing that his interest in her well-being would be of no help to her.

  When he was a mile away from the lodge, and certain that he was not being observed by anyone, he took out a disposable cell phone.

  He was not, by nature, an emotional man, but neither were the possible repercussions of what he was about to do lost on him. He quieted his mind, closing his eyes, breathing deep and slow.

  He composed a text message addressed to Frank Harriman’s personal cell phone:

  Re: Irene

  He pressed Send, then quickly composed and sent three more messages:

  Third step down on beach stairs, underneath.

  Jacaranda Street.

  Previous destinations.

  He cleared the phone’s memory of the messages, broke it into pieces—crushing the SIM card—and hid the fragments in one of the compartments of the Forester.

  He picked up the dark green parka he had chosen for Irene Kelly. If it was not too carefully searched—if no one opened seams or checked certain lining hems too closely—he could explain why he had placed certain items in its pockets. Ideally, there would not be any search. Everyone would be busy with other tasks.

  He took another moment to slow thoughts that wanted to race, to remind himself to stay focused. But one part of his unruly mind insisted on noting a certain exhilaration. One he had not felt since the end of his last tour of duty.