“What the hell?” the paramedic said, as they were thrown side to side, almost landing on top of Parrish.
They heard a loud explosion behind them.
Josh got to the intercom before the paramedic did. “What’s going on?”
“Something in the road,” Stan said, his voice strained. “It looked like a dead animal, but it must have been rigged with a mine or something. I’m trying to reach the car. I think they hit it.”
Josh heard the sound of a door opening.
Stan shouted, “Don’t-Hey! Come back here!”
“We’ve got to help them!” the driver said.
“Goddamn it, no! Don’t go out there! Bring those keys back here!”
Josh had just pressed the talk button to tell Stan he was going to radio for help when something heavy struck hard at the back of his head. He never heard the shots that killed Stan.
EIGHTEEN
Quinn knocked in the agreed upon pattern at the back doors of the ambulance. Kai opened them, letting in brightness, a rush of heat, and-as the wind shifted-smoke from the burning car. He paid little attention to Quinn and went back to stripping the keys and radio off Josh’s inert form.
Quinn was momentarily distracted by the blood spattered on his half brother. He found the sight stimulating and odd. Although Kai and Quinn didn’t really look alike-they looked even less alike in their currently altered appearances-Quinn felt as if he was seeing himself in a similar act but from outside his body. He forced his attention back to matters at hand and went to work to release the gurney. Looking over at Kai, he said, “Be sure to get his cell phone, too.”
“Did you clean off your prints in the cab?” Kai asked.
“Of course. Hurry.”
“You have to admit the roadkill was inspired.”
“I’ve already told you I admired your work,” Quinn said. It was true. Kai was a genius with electronics and explosives.
They were on a desert road. To the right, just beyond the ditch where Quinn had retrieved his assault rifle, was what appeared to be an abandoned business, surrounded by a high chain-link fence. A large, prefab metal building stood at the end of a short drive. Quinn could already hear the sound of an engine from within it.
They smashed the radios and threw them into the inferno that had once been the following car, quickly removed the SIM cards from the phones and did the same. Next they rolled Nick Parrish from the back of the ambulance and up to the locked gate. Quinn opened it and relocked it behind them.
“Will he be okay?” Kai asked, looking down at Parrish.
“Of course,” Quinn said, surprised by the concern on Kai’s face. “But we need to hurry. This road isn’t traveled much, but the smoke will attract attention from miles away. And who knows how soon someone will try to check in with the guards.”
By then they had reached the building. Once they were inside, there was no use trying to talk over the noise of the small plane’s engines. Donovan had already lowered the ramp. As they had rehearsed so many times, they loaded Parrish in the back and secured the gurney, closed up the plane, and strapped themselves in.
Donovan had done no more than glance back to ensure they were seated. He taxied out to the single, rough airstrip, and within minutes they were airborne. Quinn looked at the wreckage they had left below as Donovan turned the plane. What he saw provided an unwelcome shock.
“Land the plane!” he shouted.
“Not going to happen,” Donovan said.
Quinn turned his anger in another direction. “Damn it, Kai, you didn’t kill him!”
Kai, who had been removing Parrish’s manacles and handcuffs, moved to a window and looked down. Quinn continued to watch as Josh Enwill stumbled to the side of the road and collapsed.
Kai shrugged. “If he lives, it’s not as if he can tell them anything they don’t already know.”
Quinn bit back a reply and forced himself to calm down. This was not a time for squabbles.
Kai tried to appeal to Donovan for support, but Donovan remained aloof. Quinn smiled to himself. That was all right. Matters would be more easily managed if Kai continued to feel rebuffed by Donovan. In their strange alliance, it was always better if Kai looked to Quinn rather than to their older brother. Better for Quinn, anyway.
Quinn didn’t fool himself that what he shared with either brother was closeness. The truth was, all three were incapable of genuine intimacy with anyone-not as friends, brothers, or lovers. He knew it was best to think of them as individuals who were engaged in an enterprise that, if it succeeded, would have rewards for each but did not require real bonding of any kind-or even much trust.
The fact that they could function together at all said a lot for the genius of the man strapped to the gurney back there. The men who shared his impulses were rare, and, among those, he had a trait that was rarer still. Nick Parrish embraced longrange planning. Witness his first escape from authorities. If it hadn’t been for Irene Kelly, he’d still be free-and uninjured.
The authorities had all been surprised that Nick Parrish had a helper. A partner, they’d said. What a laugh to consider that one to be something so elevated as a “partner”-“servant” would have been a better word. But the police had seen no further. And they’d congratulated themselves on capturing and imprisoning the so-called Moth. Well, they could keep that one.
Despite the evidence right under their noses that Nick Parrish planned extensively and years in advance, they’d been blind. Apparently they believed they’d put an end to all his plans. How foolish. Nick Parrish always had other plans.
And he had children to help him carry them out.
He had chosen their mothers carefully, and through the years had decided which of his children would later be most helpful to him. Quinn didn’t know how many brothers and sisters he had, or how many had been contacted. The one time he had ventured to ask, he’d received a look so cold he had never dared ask again. Not many people could intimidate Quinn with a look. His father could. Quinn had spent hours practicing that chilling look in the mirror, and, although that practice had been useful, he knew he had not achieved his father’s abilities.
Nick Parrish had rarely made his presence known to them in their early lives, but he had been watchful. Not all of his children had been deemed worthy to be part of his plans. Some-such as Cade Morrissey-would prove useful if not worthy.
Quinn sat back and closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Killing Cade had been unexpectedly exquisite. Really, the best experience he’d ever had with a male. Cade had been so naïve, so excited about having a brother. And, unlike the two brothers Quinn was with now, Cade actually resembled him.
Quinn had used that, had reflected his emotions to get closer to Cade. He led Cade to believe that he was also given up for adoption, and that he was looking for his own mother. Cade saw him as someone who had been successful and led a normal life, despite having a serial killer for a father. A brother who would act as a go-between to arrange a meeting with his mother.
Killing Cade was almost like killing a little part of himself, and more exciting than anything that had gone before. Once it was done, Quinn felt immeasurably stronger, as if he had absorbed something of Nick Parrish into himself.
Then there was the experience of Marilyn Foster.
Cade had worried over meeting his mother. If he had lived, he might have learned that she had worried over him, too-came right out of the house when Quinn told her that Cade was extremely ill, possibly dying, and wouldn’t go to the hospital. Would she please come to convince him, or at least to meet him, as Cade had always hoped? No, Quinn didn’t have a car, he didn’t have much money, and had used the last of it to ride the bus out here and had walked to her house. In reality, he had parked his van not far away, and Kai had taken him the next day to retrieve it.