Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) (27 page)

“She didn’t kill anyone. That girl had mental problems. No one could have predicted she’d hang herself because of a little teasing.”

“A little teasing? I read the texts she sent to Lindsay,” Grant said. “Your daughter was brutally and intentionally cruel. She taunted that poor girl mercilessly.”

“Regan had no idea the girl was medicated. I’m sure she wouldn’t have teased her if she did.” But Corey’s eyes weren’t convinced. He was making excuses and he knew it.

“You don’t even care, do you?”

“I need to protect my child.”

“What about teaching her to be a decent human being? What about forcing her to live with the consequences of her actions? Do you not care what kind of person you’ve borne and raised?”

Corey’s gaze went flat. Clearly, that ship was halfway to the Caymans.

Mac tapped Grant on the shoulder. “You can’t kill him.”

“I can hurt him.” Grant’s blade was poised directly over Corey’s carotid artery, but he could easily move it to a less fatal location.

“Grant, let’s call the cops,” Mac said. “We need to find Donnie.”

Donnie.
Shit. Donnie could be anywhere.

Grant grabbed Corey by the hair and pressed his knife to his throat. “I can take your whole fucking head off from this angle. So where is he, Corey? Where’s Donnie?”

Corey’s face twisted with resentment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You
can’t
kill him.” Mac pulled out his phone and punched numbers.

But Grant wanted to. Listening to his brother summon the police, red hazed Grant’s vision. Rage muddied his thoughts. This man had threatened to kill Ellie’s family, and now he was holding back information. As soon as the cops got here, Corey would shut up and call a lawyer.

“Grant!” Mac yanked on his shoulder. “You can’t kill him.”

That caught Grant’s attention. He straightened, removing the knife from Corey’s throat. Corey’s head fell onto the ground, and his body shook with self-pitying sobs. Grant stood and sheathed his knife.

“What now?” Mac asked. “The cops will be here any minute.”

“We tie him to something, and we split up. Do you want the house or the skating rink?” Grant looked behind him. Corey’s sedan was still running. “I’ll take his car. Hopefully the cops will be able to get him to talk.”

Sand grated on blacktop. Grant whirled toward the sound as Corey launched his body at his legs. Grant sprawled, his legs shooting back, his weight coming down on the back of Corey’s shoulders. Corey hit the pavement face-first and went still.

“So much for questioning him,” Mac said. “Now how are we going to find out where Donnie is?”

Grant poked Corey with his boot. No response. “Hey, I didn’t expect the idiot to try and tackle me. I didn’t even hit him. Fool fell down and knocked himself out.”

“Doesn’t matter how it happened.” Mac lifted his palms. “An unconscious man can’t tell us anything.”

“Shit.” Grant sheathed his knife and swept both hands through his hair. What now? He nodded toward the vehicle. “I have some zip ties in the van.”

“Here.” Mac handed the plastic fasteners over Grant’s shoulder.

He bound Corey’s wrists behind his back. He dragged the man by his feet to the building and zip-tied him to the natural gas pipe running from the meter into the ground. “I’ll call McNamara from the car, explain everything, and get him to send men to the house and the rink.”

Mac was running for the minivan. “Where do you want me?”

“I don’t know.” Grant ran for the sedan. “Donnie was after Carson and Julia. I have to make sure they’re safe. Ellie is at the rink with Julia.”

But which one would Donnie go after?

The ice rink was a very public place. When Grant had dropped off Ellie and Julia, dozens of parents had crowded the bleachers and lobby. The house was the easier target, and Carson, who’d gotten a clearer view of Donnie, was the better witness. Chances were, Donnie would be going after the boy. Also, the rink was all the way across town. Mac might not even get there before the police.

“I’ll take the house. You head for the rink.” Grant drove off. He called the cop. Though supremely pissed off, McNamara promised to send units to both the rink and house ASAP. Grant shoved the gas pedal to the floor. He’d get there first. He’d call Hannah and Ellie and put them both on alert. His instinct told him the ambush on Corey had gone all wrong. Punching numbers on his phone, he ran through a stop sign, the case whirling in his mind. Grant had missed an important piece of information. Now all he could do was hope his failure wouldn’t cost the people he loved their lives.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Donnie parked his van down the street from the Barrett house. He’d had it with these people. He was tired of being jerked around. That applied to his client as well. He’d killed two people for that loser. Sure, he’d enjoyed the act, but he still deserved to be compensated for his effort and risk. Motherfucking coward was too chicken to do his own dirty work. Well, he was going to pay up. Donnie was a killer. Nobody was going to fuck with him.

His mind wandered back to the night he’d strangled his girlfriend. Her death was an accident, but what a rush! Donnie still got chills thinking about his submissive’s final session. That night was going to be hard to beat. He was going to have to find a new place to crash. Even on ice, she’d been getting ripe enough for the neighbors to smell. It was far too risky to go back to her trailer. But first, he needed to get this job behind him.

He opened the back of the van and pulled out a backpack. Mentally, he tacked an extra 10 percent on to his invoice. His aggravation and effort didn’t come cheap. Shrugging into the backpack, Donnie took out the gas cans and headed down the street. If he couldn’t find that motherfucking one piece of evidence, he’d destroy it. It had to be in that house somewhere. If the house was incinerated, the evidence would be history, and the little fucker who’d IDed him would be gone, too. Donnie was never going back to prison.

Enough was enough. He was through with this shit. In the next ten minutes, the whole cluster would be behind him.

He’d find his client, demand his payment, and be on a fucking beach in fucking Florida by fucking next weekend.

The big house loomed against the clear, black sky. The place was ugly as sin anyway. Donnie was doing everyone a favor by burning it to the ground. He walked across the front lawn, massive snowmelt leaving the grass squishy underfoot. At the corner of the porch, he picked up the first can and started pouring. The sharp scent of gasoline punched through the night air. He splashed can number two across the clapboards along the side of the house. Kneeling on the soggy ground, he opened the backpack and pulled out handfuls of roman candles, bottle rockets, and a round box called a cake, some combination of pyrotechnics that could be lighted all at once. Whatever. Donnie didn’t need a carefully calculated explosion. He just needed a nice, raging fire. The time for finesse had passed. This old tinderbox of a house ought to burn hot. He’d rid himself of the evidence and his witnesses in one big whoosh of fire.

Excitement zinged through his blood as he piled the fireworks on the porch, stepped back, and lit the closest fuse.

Sitting cross-legged on the family room area rug, Hannah ended the call with her brother. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she thought of Lee and Kate’s killer coming after the children. Next to her, Faith wriggled on a blanket. Hannah had been flipping her onto her belly for rollover practice and some hopefully tiring exercise. Faith rolled onto her back and squealed with joy. Nan was knitting on the sofa, her booted foot elevated on the ottoman. Kneeling at the coffee table next to the older woman, Carson colored a picture. The dog snoozed, her head resting on Carson’s leg.

The quiet, peaceful scene stirred fear in Hannah’s belly. Everyone in that room depended on her to keep them safe. The enormity of the responsibility outweighed any deal she’d negotiated.

Hannah picked up the babbling baby and set her on her hip. Though she curled toward Hannah’s body for support, Faith held her own head and upper body weight. Hannah went into the laundry room and checked the alarm panel. The green light flashed, letting her know the system was up and running with no issues. She carried Faith to the living room. Standing to one side, she peered through the window but saw no movement outside. They moved from room to room. Hannah didn’t see any signs of trouble or company through any of the windows, but her spine tingled and her belly cramped. Something was happening. She could feel danger approaching.

Or had Grant’s warning call fired up her paranoia?

The dog rushed past. A low growl emanated from her throat. Hannah followed her to the window.

Movement at the corner of the house caught her attention. A shadow stretched across the grass. Someone was outside. She moved closer to the glass. At the edge of the porch, a glow flared brightly and then dimmed, briefly illuminating a man’s figure. Next to Hannah, AnnaBelle barked.

Oh. Shit.

Fire.

Hannah hugged the baby close. Dialing 911 on her cell phone, she inhaled her panic and rushed down the hall. The house was set up as a fort, with everything aimed at keeping the inhabitants secure. Getting them all out quickly hadn’t been included in the plan. Thank God they were all in the same room. The dog raced from window to window.

“I need everyone to go out the back door right now.” She spied the detached garage through the kitchen window. She snagged the keys from a bowl on the kitchen counter on her way past. “We’re all going to the garage and getting in the minivan.”

Nan’s eyes caught Hannah’s. Alarm registered. “Let’s hurry, Carson.”

With one hand, Hannah grabbed the crutches in the corner and handed them to Nan.

A whistle and boom sounded from the front of the house. Carson scre
amed and covered his ears with both hands. Faith wailed.

“Don’t wait for me. Get the kids out of here.” Nan took the crutches and gave Hannah a push. “Go!”

Hannah swallowed her indecision. With her sprained wrist, the older woman could barely hobble across the room on crutches. The children had to come first. Hating every step, she ran for the back door.

“AnnaBelle!” Carson cried as Hannah pushed him over the threshold. Fire crackled behind them, and Hannah could hear the dog still barking from the living room. She whistled. Leaving the door open, she ran for the garage. Carson turned back toward the house, calling for Nan and the dog in a pitiful, frightened scream. Hannah dragged him toward the garage.

“No!” he screamed. “We can’t leave them.”

“I’ll go back in a minute.” Hannah released him to open the garage door. She pushed him into the garage and helped him get into the minivan. With the baby still in her arms, she climbed into the driver’s seat and backed the van out of the garage. When the vehicle was clear of the building, she drove it across the grass and parked it behind Ellie’s house, where she hoped the fire couldn’t reach. Then Hannah climbed into the back and set Faith in her car seat. “Can you buckle her in, Carson?”

He nodded, his face wet with tears.

“Do you know how to lock the van doors?”

He nodded again. Hannah put the keys on the front seat. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it unless it’s safe.”

“OK.”

“I’ll be right back.” She jumped out of the vehicle. The locks clicked behind her.

Praying that the car was far enough from the house, Hannah raced for the back steps. Flames shot from the front of the house, and smoke poured from the open door. She pulled the neck of her sweatshirt over her nose and ran inside. The front of the house popped, whistled, and boomed. Fire crackled.

“Nan!” Hannah coughed as she ran into a cloud of black smoke. In the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Outside, a man ran across the backyard. He was heading for the van—and the children.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Grant turned into the development on two wheels. Tires squealed as the car lurched around the corner.

He called Ellie and told her what had happened. She and Julia were fine. In a crowded ice rink, they should be safe enough, and Mac would be with them any minute. He hung up and dialed Hannah; her phone rang four times and switched to voice mail.

Damn it. He pounded the steering wheel.

Grant turned down the street. The thin wail of sirens announced emergency vehicles were on the way, but the sight of flames pouring from the front of Lee’s house sent Grant’s heart catapulting into his throat. No!

He slammed the car to a stop in the middle of the street. Leaving the door open and the engine running, he raced toward the door. But the porch was completely engulfed in flames. Grant ran around the building to the back lawn. Sweeping his eyes across the scene, he took in the sight of his sister disappearing into the smoky house and a man running toward Ellie’s backyard, where the minivan was parked. Through the side van window, he could see Carson’s face pressed to the glass.

Grant hesitated for a second. Heart breaking, he veered toward the children. His body slid into combat mode as he overtook the running man. Grant tackled him in the grass, landing on top of him. The man flipped onto his back. His hood fell away.

Donnie Ehrlich.

Fury fueled Grant’s first punch. His fist connected with Donnie’s face with a crack of bone. Blood spurted. Grant hit him again. And again. Making the sonofabitch pay for what he’d done to his family.

Then a loud boom behind him snapped him out of his rage.

Hannah!

Ellie glanced at the crowd around her. Twenty parents had been on the bleachers ten minutes ago, but the majority of the kids had already rehearsed their routines and left. Still, she was hardly alone. At the entrance to the ice, the remaining few kids and coaches queued up, watching their teammates perform and waiting their turns. Julia’s name was read over the loudspeaker. She was next on the ice.

The nerves playing Ellie’s skin had nothing to do with her daughter’s rehearsal performance. All she could think about was Grant’s phone call. She couldn’t believe Corey Swann had been her extortionist. She scanned the crowd again. Grant had said Donnie Ehrlich was still on the loose, but she didn’t see anyone in the arena who didn’t belong.

The skating club was running the evening exactly as the carnival would occur next week. Julia’s lower-ranked team had to wait until the end of the show. The beginning of the carnival was always the most crowded. The advanced team would perform first and get to enjoy the rest of the evening. By the time the younger kids performed, the bleachers would be mostly empty. But that was to be expected.

The advanced skaters were the most serious. They practiced hours every day, coming in before school and again in the afternoon. Their dedication deserved to be rewarded. Their prima donna attitudes still grated on Ellie, and after the bullying episode with Lindsay Hamilton, she would never look at those girls the same way again. She’d read those horrible texts, and while the police had no way of proving that Regan and Autumn had sent them, everyone knew they had.

“Do you think Autumn’s choreography is original enough?” a man’s voice asked.

Ellie followed the sound. Rinkside, Joshua Winslow was talking to Coach Victor. The coach crossed his arms over his body. “Don’t worry. Autumn is going to nationals. We have all summer to perfect her routine.”

“Maybe we need to hire a new choreographer.” Josh frowned. “I thought her moves looked stale.”

“Her routine is fine,” Victor argued.

“Autumn isn’t happy with it, and it’s her career. If she wants a new choreographer, we’ll hire one.” Josh’s hand flew up in the air in an angry Kermit flail. He stalked away from Victor. The coach rubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Ellie turned away. Parent tantrums were hardly new.

Anger and shock welled in her throat as she thought about Corey. He’d threatened to hurt Ellie’s family just to get his hands on whatever evidence Lee had found. Had Corey arranged to have Lee and Kate killed as well, all to protect his daughter from the consequences of her actions?

The first notes of Julia’s music floated over the PA system, and Ellie turned her attention to her daughter, waving as Julia skated to center ice and positioned herself. She glided through her moves with the grace expected of her ability and level. Ellie held her breath as Julia poised for a single axel, the hardest move in her routine. She hadn’t practiced much this week, and Kate’s death had obviously dampened her enthusiasm for the sport. She leaped and twirled, landing with only a slight bobble.

Ellie exhaled.

Julia finished her routine with a spin and the biggest smile she’d worn since Kate and Lee had been killed. Maybe everything was going to be all right. Corey was in custody. Surely, the police would find Donnie soon. Ellie went to the rink exit and waited for Julia to step off the ice.

“Nice work!” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

Julia paused, her eyes searching the bench next to the exit. “Do you have my blade guards?”

“No.”

“Someone must have taken them,” Julia frowned.

“We’ll get a new pair tomorrow.”

“Beautiful routine, Julia.” Victor walked by. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“I even landed the axel.” Julia grinned at Ellie, then sobered. “It’s a shame Mrs. Barrett isn’t here. Do you think she can see me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Ellie sighed.

“It would be nice to think she was still watching over me.” Julia clomped across the cement.

“It would.” Ellie followed her to the locker room. Usually she waited outside, but not tonight. She wasn’t leaving Julia alone for a second until Donnie was caught. They walked through the doorway into a cinder block hallway that led to the locker rooms.

Josh Winslow followed them into the corridor. He caught Ellie by the arm. Her pulse spiked. Julia disappeared inside.

Ellie jerked her arm away. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Your daughter looked good on the ice tonight, but remember she’s not advanced team material.” Josh leaned close enough that she could smell alcohol on his breath. “You know that, right?”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Ellie pushed at his chest. “Back off.”

He sneered. “Just so you don’t think that little priss of yours is any competition for my daughter.”

Oh, my God. Could Josh be involved too? He and Corey were tight. Fear pulsed through her as she took in the animosity shining from his eyes.

“They are kids. It’s ice-skating. Get some perspective.”

“Now that Kate’s gone, Julia won’t get any more preferential treatment.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie tugged at her arm, but Josh tightened his grip on her bicep. “Julia likes skating, but it’s a fun hobby for her. That’s it. She’s several levels below Autumn. What is your problem?”

“Just as long as we’re clear that she’s never going to be competition for Autumn.”

“You have issues. Now let go of me.” Ellie pushed against his windpipe with her fingertips.

He gagged and staggered backward.

Ellie stepped back and looked down the empty corridor. The insulated door between the locker room hallway and the rink was closed.

One hand clutched his throat. Josh moved closer, backing Ellie against the wall. “You bitch.”

Grant looked down at Donnie. His face was a bloody pulp. His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged and wet. How many times had Grant hit him? The thug probably wasn’t getting up anytime soon, which was good because Grant didn’t have time to restrain him.

He levered his body up and off Donnie. Racing for the house, Grant followed the barking through the thick black smoke. He dropped to the floor and belly-crawled under the worst of it. Hannah was in front of him, on her knees, trying to drag Nan toward the back door. Unwilling to leave without her humans, AnnaBelle barked beside them.

“Go. I got her.” Grant pointed toward the exit in case his sister couldn’t hear him over the roar of the fire.

Hannah lunged for the dog, grabbed her collar, and stumbled toward the exit. Grant picked up Nan and followed them out.

They lurched for the next yard. Sirens wailed in the street. Red lights swirled and flashed.

McNamara ran toward them between the houses.

Grant laid Nan down on the grass. Her bloodshot eyes opened, and she coughed. Relieved that she was awake, Grant stood. A paramedic dropped to his knees beside her, an oxygen mask already in his hand. Grant backed away and almost tripped over Donnie’s still form. He glanced down. The killer’s face was hamburger.

A soot-streaked Hannah was helping Carson out of the van. Sobbing, the boy ran to Grant, who picked him up, turning his face away from the beaten man on the ground. Oh God. Had Carson seen Grant beat Donnie?

McNamara put his hands on his hips. His gaze swept over the ragged bunch, paused on Hannah for a heartbeat, then settled on Grant, as if he’d just identified the guilty party. Hannah had the baby out of the car and was holding her close. Red-faced, Faith hiccuped into her shoulder.

“Is that Donnie?” McNamara asked.

“Yes.” Grant met the cop’s frustrated gaze. With a nod to the now quiet, but still trembling child, Grant made it clear he wasn’t answering any more questions until Carson was out of earshot.

McNamara seemed to get it. He waved a uniformed cop and a paramedic toward the prone man, then turned back to Grant. “Are Ellie and her daughter still at the rink?”

“They should be.” Grant shifted Carson in his arms and patted his back pocket. Damn. Where was his phone? He must have dropped it. “Mac should be there with them by now. Did you send a patrol car?”

“I did. The officer should be there.”

“I’ll call Ellie and make sure she’s all right.” Grant coughed hard and forced a shout out of his raw throat. “Hannah, do you have a phone?”

His sister checked her pockets and shook her head. “I must have dropped it in the house.” She gasped.

Her coughing drew the attention of another paramedic, who sat her on the car bumper and slid a mask over her face. When he tried to take the baby, Hannah bumped his hand away and hugged her tighter.

Carson leaned away from Grant’s chest. He wiped his running nose with his forearm. “I have a phone, Uncle Grant.” He held out a cell phone.

Grant took it. “Where did you get this, Carson?”

“It slid out from under the seat in the van.” The little boy lifted a skinny shoulder.

“Is that your mom’s phone?” McNamara asked.

Carson shook his head. “She has the
I
one.”

This was no iPhone. It was a burner phone, with camera and video capabilities. Grant passed it to McNamara. The cop used the hem of his jacket to accept it. He turned it on.

While he scrolled through the phone Carson had found, McNamara handed Grant a cell. “Use this to call Ellie.”

The cop stepped away.

Grant dialed Ellie’s mobile number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Panic slid through his veins.

“She’s not answering.” Grant dialed his brother.

Mac picked up on the first ring. “I’ve been trying to call you. I just got here a few minutes ago. There’s a cop here with me. We haven’t found Ellie yet.”

McNamara’s hand settled on Grant’s forearm. “Hey, Carson, could you go make sure your Aunt Hannah is OK?”

“Keep looking,” Grant told his brother. “I’ll call you back in a minute.” Reluctantly, he set the boy down. Even the weight of the small body in his arms wasn’t enough to convince him that everyone had emerged from the fire relatively unscathed. Hannah and Nan were both alert and talking to the paramedics. Donnie was handcuffed and being loaded onto a stretcher. Disaster had been averted. But Grant’s instincts stirred uneasily in his chest. Until he saw Ellie and Julia, safe and well, he wouldn’t relax.

McNamara held the phone between them and hit Play. Everything inside of Grant went cold as he watched the video.