Twenty Hours in Boston

by Priscilla Darcy

  "I can't let you do this, Gray,” he said. “It's my fault. I'll take responsibility. Halcourt, you're a scumbag. And I'm an even worse scumbag for being in cahoots with you. But that's over. It all stops now."

  "Like hell,” Dennis Halcourt said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  This is Boston, where the Red Sox have become an ongoing passion play.

  —Bill Reynolds, Providence Journal November 26, 2002

  "Who's that that just went into the room?” asked Markham.

  "Doug,” said Mark. “Finally growing a backbone."

  "I don't like it,” said Markham.

  Aubrey wished he would shut up. She was trying to hear what was going on in Gray's office, leaning as close to the recorder as she could get. She thought she could hear Gray's voice, but the words weren't clear because it sounded as if Halcourt was talking over him. Something about consequences, she thought.

  Markham took the recorder off his lap, which relieved Aubrey, who leaned closer to it as Markham stood and walked over to the door of the massage room and said, “We're going in."

  "What the hell are you doing?” Mark asked in alarm, jumping up.

  Aubrey looked up from the recorder then. The voices in Gray's office had devolved into shouting. She couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. And Markham, she saw, was barking into a cell phone walkie-talkie.

  "We're going in,” he informed Mark shortly.

  "Who's going in?” Mark demanded.

  "The agents I have posted around the executive offices suite."

  "You have agents posted?"

  "Yes. And we're going in to stop this right now. We're going to arrest Halcourt here and now."

  "Have you lost your mind? You can't barge in there. Don't you think Halcourt's armed?"

  "This is not your operation, Mark. You've done more than you should have already.” He spoke again into his walkie-talkie. “We're giving it ten seconds.” Then he opened the door and walked out.

  Mark swore and darted out of the spa after him.

  Aubrey, not to be left behind, followed as closely as she could. They both passed Markham, who seemed to be sauntering. Mark swiped his card and called for the elevator, muttering “Damn it” over and over under his breath until it came. As they stepped onto it, Aubrey wanted to ask what disastrous thing could be about to happen, but she didn't want to break Mark's concentration.

  The elevator doors opened at about the same time that what sounded like a hail of bullets erupted.

  * * * *

  Gray had been angry with Doug to begin with. He was even angrier now. He had invested a good deal of time and energy into his plan, and he was irritated that Doug had swept in to ruin everything in one fell swoop. “You are not going to—” Gray began, but Halcourt cut him off.

  "Now, now, Gray. He's finally realizing that his actions have consequences. You should let the boy talk."

  "The boy isn't going to talk,” Gray bit out furiously. “We already have a deal, Halcourt."

  "But this is not a good deal,” Doug interjected firmly. “I won't let you do it."

  "You will let me do it,” Gray shouted. “I have examined it from every angle and this is what is best for you—"

  "Why do you still get to decide what's best for me?” Doug shouted back.

  "Because, as you've recently proved, you are incredibly stupid in these matters!"

  "Family drama is so much fun to watch,” commented Halcourt, his tone laced with amusement.

  Gray looked at him, prepared to shout at him too to shut up. He needed to keep this situation firmly in hand, and it was very much out of hand at the moment.

  Then, amazingly, it got worse.

  His office door was abruptly flung open. Gray looked up in surprise, registered in a split-second that he did not recognize the men who had entered, and he was about to ask who they were when gunfire erupted.

  He reacted by instinct, dropping to the floor behind his desk, listening to the chaos of the gunshots around him in disbelief. Someone barked out an order that sounded like “Drop it!” Something shattered. His desk jerked backward as something—or someone—collided heavily with it, a corner jutting sharply into his shoulder. Several raised voices shouted over each other and suddenly the gunshots stopped as abruptly as they had begun.

  Cautiously, Gray stuck his head out from behind the desk.

  "That's right,” one of the strange men was telling Halcourt, gun pointed right at his head. “Let's not do anything stupid."

  The two bodyguards Halcourt had had with him appeared to be wounded, Gray thought. And there was blood pooling all over his carpet. For an incongruous moment he scowled at it in annoyance. Another thing now for him to deal with: Halcourt turning his office into some sort of gangland battleground, and blood on his carpet.

  Then he lifted his eyes and realized that the blood was coming from his brother.

  His brother, who really didn't look well, was collapsed, wide-eyed, leaning against the wall, his hand holding his stomach, out of which it looked to Gray as if blood was pouring.

  "Oh my God. Doug!” Gray scrambled over to him. “Doug! Are you all right?"

  Doug regarded him silently, with dazed-looking eyes. Gray nudged his brother's hand away and decided, on second thought, that that wasn't such a good idea. He had never seen so much blood.

  "Gray.” Aubrey appeared beside him, staring in horror at Doug. “What happened?"

  "I don't know,” Gray answered helplessly. “I don't know. He was shot, I think, but I don't know ... We need to do something. We need help here!"

  "Watch out,” Mark said, pushing Gray out of the way, his hand brushing over Doug's neck. He swore, then looked at Gray and smiled in a harried manner. “I'll take care of it."

  "What?” Gray asked stupidly.

  Mark's eyes flickered to Aubrey. “Get him out of here."

  "What?” Gray asked again. “I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving him. He's hurt."

  "Gray, I don't have time to argue with you.” Mark worked efficiently, trying to gauge the wound, whether or not a tourniquet would help, how faint Doug's pulse could get before it stopped altogether. “Aubrey, you need to get him out of here so I can take care of Doug."

  "Gray, come on.” Aubrey tugged at him. “Let's go. Mark needs room."

  Gray stood, but only because he couldn't think of what else to do. “Aubrey, what—?"

  He was covered in blood. She watched him lift a hand to run it through his hair, leaving a blood-stained trail in its wake.

  "I don't know what happened,” he continued. “Everything was fine. I mean, going as well as I could have hoped. And then Doug walked in and then—I don't know. I don't know what happened."

  Aubrey became aware that there was a large number of Bienvenue employees ringed around gaping at them. Danny emerged from the crowd, saying softly into her ear, “What do you want me to do?"

  Aubrey felt like crying. Why did everyone suddenly seem to think she was in charge here? She tried to think of a course of action. “Where's your office, Danny? We'll take Gray to your office, so that these people aren't staring at him anymore. You wait here and come and get us as soon as they know what they're doing with Doug."

  "Okay,” Danny agreed. “My office is that way.” He pointed. “Third door on the left."

  "Thanks. Gray,” she said, turning back to him.

  "I heard,” he told her calmly. He walked steadily to Danny's office and she was relieved that he seemed to be recovering. He closed the door behind her and then announced, without preamble, “Doug's dying, isn't he?"

  "What? No, I'm sure he isn't."

  "I'm sure he is. That's why Mark sent me out of the room. Dammit, what was he even doing there? And who were those people who came barging in? How did they get upstairs in the first place? How could everything have gone so wrong? I spent so long preparing every detail."

  "Gray—” she began, although she had no idea what she meant to finish the thought with.


  "What am I going to tell my mother? When I have to go and tell her that Doug is dead because—Damn! Damndamndamn! Never in his life has Doug ever displayed any desire to take responsibility for anything! He had to choose today to—"

  "Gray,” she said, “don't kick the wall.” Because she saw that coming clearly. “Don't kick the—"

  He startled her into silence by pulling her hard up against him and leaning down to bury his head in the curve of her neck with a small, compelling sound of anguish.

  She was a little grateful for it. Maybe this was all he needed. It was so much easier to handle than trying to come up with something to say. So she stayed silent and just held him until Danny knocked on the door.

  At which point Gray just lifted his head without letting her go and said miserably, “What?"

  "The ambulance is here. They're taking Doug to the hospital. Mark said you could ride with him in the ambulance."

  "Oh. Yes.” He let go of Aubrey, slid his hand into hers, led her out of the room, then paused and turned back. “Danny, I'm sorry to ask you this. Could you call my mother and tell her to meet me at the hospital? Just tell her there's ... been an accident and I need her and Sophie to meet me there."

  "Okay.” Danny nodded. “Gray, don't worry about it. Doug will be fine, I'm sure. Tell me if you need me to do anything more."

  * * * *

  "They think Doug's going to make it.” Mark collapsed heavily into the chair next to Aubrey. He looked haggard and tired, the way she was sure they all did. “Gray asked me to tell you. He asked me again if you wanted to go back there."

  "No, there's a reason it's family only."

  "You're practically family already to them. And I was back there."

  "You're a law enforcement officer. They're sure about Doug?"

  "Yeah,” Mark said on a sigh. “Yeah. Finally. The surgery's done. I mean, unless there's infection..."

  "Right.” Aubrey took a deep breath. “Right."

  "I'm sorry about the way this whole thing turned out. It's my fault. I was the one who brought in Markham. It was stupid, but I thought it would help Gray's cause."

  "It's all right.” She looked at him. “Doug didn't die. Everything's going to be just fine."

  "I should think the FBI now believes Gray had nothing to do with anything. And at any rate they finally have Halcourt in custody, so I would think they'll finally give this whole witch hunt a rest."

  "That's good. That's what I wanted. Gray is safe. Gray is...” She did not feel triumphant or victorious. She felt exhausted.

  "You did the right thing here, Aubrey."

  "I know."

  "You should go—"

  "Hey."

  "Gray!” Aubrey looked up in surprise. She had not expected Gray to leave Doug to find her.

  "I was coming to...” He trailed off and looked at Mark. “Would you mind if—"

  "No,” Mark answered immediately, standing. “I'm going to go home, now that we know Doug's going to be okay."

  "Yes. You should have gone home long ago. You've done more than you needed to."

  "No problem. I'll be in touch,” Mark promised as he left.

  Gray sat in the seat Mark had vacated and looked up and down the hospital hallway. It was deserted except for a knot of nurses talking in low tones around a desk.

  "Doug's going to be okay?” Aubrey ventured finally, watching Gray's eyes as they flickered over the hallway.

  "Yeah,” Gray affirmed, looking at her now. “Yeah. Thank God. You could have come back there, you know."

  "I didn't want to intrude. I don't suppose that, now that you know he's okay, you'd consider going home to get some sleep."

  He smiled a little. “No."

  "No, I didn't think so. You look exhausted.” He did look exhausted, accented by violet shadows under his heavy-lidded eyes. He also hadn't quite got all the blood out of his hair, which certainly didn't help his appearance. She rubbed the back of her hand across the healthy amount of stubble coating his chin.

  "I am exhausted,” he answered. “And almost ready to collapse."

  "But not quite."

  "No. But very soon, I am going to be able to stop being everything for everybody."

  "Really? And what's going to happen then?"

  He leaned toward her and whispered something wicked in her ear.

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, that's what's going to happen?"

  "What did you think?” he asked.

  "I thought the world would end."

  He chuckled and kissed the pulse point in her neck gently before drawing back. “Come back and sit with us."

  "I don't ... I don't feel..."

  "Right. It's okay. Go back to the suite. Once Doug wakes up, I'll come home and we'll talk."

  "Okay,” she said. And then she wished it was okay to add that she loved him. She settled for giving him a quick kiss. “And then you can shave,” she added.

  He actually laughed.

  * * * *

  February 28, 2004

  There came a point where Gray felt that his life was an endless maze and the whole object of it was to get to Aubrey. Doug regained consciousness and seemed as well as could be expected. The doctors were optimistic. And his mother, who seemed finally to have grasped the enormity of the situation he had been dealing with, and sensing an impending implosion, told him he should go home.

  He decided to go. He felt a little guilty. But he also felt that he deserved just a little time away. A quick catnap. A shower. And a shave, as Aubrey had suggested.

  He was moving dazedly out of the hospital, toward the hotel car his mother and Sophie had come to the hospital in, when the man came up to him. Markham, he realized, recognizing him from that frustrating, infuriating meeting he'd had with the FBI.

  Markham said, “We were told your brother's going to be okay."

  "Yes,” Gray affirmed tersely, not slowing down. “You can convene the grand jury now, get your indictment."

  "That's not what I ... I know you won't believe me, but I wanted to apologize for how everything went down yesterday."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When your brother walked in, I thought things were getting out of hand. That's why I sent my men in. I didn't realize Halcourt's bodyguards were in there with him. I thought they would be outside, easily overpowered. I didn't intend for all that shooting to break out in your office. And I thought I owed you an apology. I really thought that you were—"

  "Wait a second.” Gray stopped walking, turned to him in confusion. “You mean to tell me those men who came barging in were FBI agents?"

  "Yeah."

  "How did you know when my brother came in the office? Did you have it under surveillance?"

  "No, Mark wired it."

  "Mark wired it?"

  "Yes, they didn't tell you? It was Ms. Thomas’ idea. I mean, she was the one who told us where and when you were meeting Halcourt, then she got you out of your office so Mark could wire it."

  "Aubrey Thomas told you where and when I was meeting Halcourt?"

  "Yes. She didn't tell you?"

  "No,” Gray answered. “No, she didn't tell me."

  "Oh,” said Markham. “Well. I just wanted to say that it wasn't my intention to have all those bullets flying in your office. I know we've had a combative relationship, but not that combative."

  "Agent Markham.” Gray, finally reaching his car, opened the door. “We don't even have what could be called a relationship."

  * * * *

  Aubrey had moved much of her painting paraphernalia up to Gray's suite and was lost in her portrait of Sophie when Gray walked into the living room. She had commandeered his living room for her studio. She felt inspired by the Gainsborough.

  Gray no longer looked tired. He looked coiled tight and ready to spring. She was surprised by that. She had thought Gray would come home in exhaustion. Instead, she could practically feel the adrenaline pouring off him.

  "Hey,” she said. “Doug's okay?"
>
  "Doug's regained consciousness. You went to the FBI?"

  Ah, she realized. Who had told him this? “I went to Mark,” she corrected.

  "That's the same thing, as we've recently discovered, remember? Why did you go to Mark?"

  "Because if I didn't go to Mark, you would have carried out this ridiculous plan of yours."

  "But that was what I wanted to do!” he shouted. “You didn't have any right to play around with my life that way. I made that decision—"

  "In making that decision,” she retorted angrily, “you were playing around with everybody else's lives."

  "But my decision was better than yours."

  "Oh, you arrogant bastard,” she seethed. “I totally disagree."

  "Obviously."

  She threw her paintbrush down, trembling with anger, and stomped over to him. “You were being stupid and stubborn, throwing your life away—"

  "But that's what I wanted."

  "You don't stand around and watch someone commit suicide."

  "Yeah, and you don't throw people in the line of fire, either."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You told the FBI. You bugged my office. So the FBI could storm in and bullets would start flying and people I love would almost be killed."

  "That is not what I intended. Obviously."

  "Who's to know what you intended! All I'm clear on is that you didn't want me to be hurt. Who the hell cared what happened to Doug?"

  "That is not what I was thinking, Gray."

  "You shouldn't have done this, Aubrey,” he said flatly. “This was a mistake. A huge mistake."

  "A mistake? It's all going to turn out fine. Doug's going to live—"

  "They'll prosecute him."

  "They'll cut him a deal, Gray. There's no reason for them not to. Doug will testify against Halcourt and he'll get a—"

  "There are things, you know, that I will not forgive,” remarked Gray haughtily, as if he were delivering a well-rehearsed speech.

  She blinked at him. “What?"

  "It's my life, Aubrey. It was my call. You took that away from me. You made me look like a fool. And you almost got my brother killed."

  "I can't believe you're this angry."

  "I can't believe you didn't think I would be this angry."