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 with 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.