Fallen Angels 03 - Envy (50 page)

And then in the pitch-black, the wind came from out of nowhere, the violent gale carrying on its back a vicious, earsplitting noise. In the midst of the fury, heavier and heavier stones fel on him, until he tucked into a bal and thought . . . shit, he wasn’t getting out of this one alive.

No fucking way.

Off in the distance, he heard more great rocks shifting, but knew that in reality, it was probably not far away at al and just a case of the earth muffling the sounds: The whole quarry slope was a Swiss-cheese mine field of subterranean cutouts, incapable of withstanding this kind of blast—

Abruptly the hurricane sucked out of the cave, taking the screeching noise with it.

In the aftermath, soft sobs cut through the rumbling of the slope.

Feminine sobs.

Not like Kroner’s at al .

“Reil y?” he shouted.
“Reilly!”

He jumped up—“Fuck!” he muttered as he hit something overhead.

Rubbing his skul and crouching down so he didn’t bang the ceiling again, he shoved the dagger back into his belt and patted his pockets for his flashlight. Shit. He hadn’t brought one.

Cursing a blue streak, he tried to zero in on the sounds of her. “Talk to me, Reil y! Help me find you!”

“I’m . . . over . . . here. . . .”

“Reil y!” he hol ered, throwing out his arms in front of him and sweeping them from side to side—

Al at once he had his own mini-earthquake, his body going haywire as Jim Heron separated the pair of them, and stepped out, revealing himself.

Perfect timing: Suddenly there was plenty of light in the cave, the angel’s form glowing fiercely as he stood off to the side.

For a moment, al Veck could do was stare at what he saw.

It made no fucking sense.

Reil y was hanging from the ceiling, in exactly the place Kroner had been, her arms stretched over her head, her feet barely touching the earthen floor.

Her face was swol en and her legs were bleeding, her panty hose shredded, her skirt covered in mud, her shoes God only knew where.

“Reil y?” he breathed.

She struggled to lift up her head. Through her dirt-caked hair, her blurry eyes sought his. “I’m . . . me. . . .”

A shower of rock fragments fel from the ceiling and snapped Veck into action. Now was not the time to question any of this shit. He had to get her out of here before the slope col apsed on them both.

Thank God for Heron’s guiding light.

Veck used it to shoot over to Reil y, except when he got a look at what she was strung up by, he knew they were in trouble: The iron links had been screwed into the rock ceiling, and the thick iron cuffs clamped to her wrists were bolted onto the damn chains.

Shit, this was not the first time this cave had been put to use, was it.

“Fucking hel ,” he muttered as he tried to find a release.

“Use the dagger,” Jim said.

“It’s just glass—”

“Use the goddamn thing
.
”

Veck took out the blade and put it against the links. He didn’t expect much—other than the “weapon” shattering—

The metal cleaved apart under the crystal, not just slicing in two, but getting ripped free of itself: He barely had time to catch Reil y and keep her off the ground.

Crushing her against him, he felt her shudder, and he al owed himself one treacherous moment of bliss to know that she was alive—and then he was al about getting her out.

As he swung her up into his arms, Jim led the way to the snaking corridor with his light.

Just as they came up to Bails, Veck had to stop.

“We’re leaving him,” Jim pronounced.

“You got that right.” God only knew who his “friend” real y was, but one thing was clear: Who the fuck cared. Anyone who so much as cut Reil y off in traffic was on his shit list. Endanger her life?

The bastard was lucky to have already been shot in the head—

Behind them, the ceiling began to crumble, the rush of sound and rocks and cold air al but palming his ass and ushering him the fuck out.

Veck broke into a run, his body charging forward at breakneck speed. As the chute they were racing through started col apsing on his heels, this was Indiana Jones, except it was real. Shit, the way in hadn’t seemed this long—

Veck burst out of the tunnel into the fresh air, narrowly missing a body slam by leaping up onto the boulder in front of him.

There was no time for thanking God or Heron or anyone else. If that cave had just bitten it, there was a good chance that there was going to be an avalanche.

Zagging sharply to the left, he didn’t bother measuring the distance he had to go to get them to the lip of the quarry, and he didn’t waste time looking behind himself to see al the rol ing, car-sized hunks of quartz barreling down on top of them.

Even if it kil ed him, he was going to get her up this goddamn slope.

He
was
going to save her—and al the odds that were against him from the obstacle course he faced, to the half mile up, to the burning fatigue that was already squeezing his thighs and his chest, weren’t going to stop him.

He’d had the chance to sel his soul and had walked away from the negotiating table.

And that triumph paled in comparison to what it was going to feel like to make sure Sophia Reil y got to see tomorrow morning’s sunrise.

R
eil y must have lost consciousness after Veck got her down from the chains in the cave, because when she came to again, there were red lights flashing al around and she was stretched out on something relatively soft.

“Veck . . .?”

“Ma’am?”

Definitely not Veck’s voice. Frowning, she forced her eyes to try to focus . . . and got the blurry picture of an EMT leaning over her.

“Ma’am? What’s your name?”

He did it, she thought. Veck had somehow gotten them out.

“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

“Reil y. Sophia . . . Reil y.”

“Do you know what year it is?” After she told him, there were a couple more how-many-of-your-marbles-have-you-lost questions.

“Where is . . . Veck?” Why the hel wouldn’t her eyes work—

A bril iant light exploded on one side of her vision. “Hey!”

“Just checking your pupils again, ma’am.”

She fought to bring her hand up, and found that they’d run an IV into her arm vein.

“We’d like to take you to St. Francis,” the man said. “You’re on the verge of shock, you may need a transfusion, and you have a concussion.”

“Where is . . .”

She turned her head . . . and there he was.

Veck was standing off to the side, just on the verge of being outside of the light thrown by the open double doors of the ambulance. His forearms were crossed in front of his chest and he was staring at the ground at his feet. He looked like he had been through a war, big patches of sweat staining his shirt, his pants splashed with dirt and ripped in places, his hair sticking straight up. Dimly, she had to wonder where his windbreaker had gone.

A CPD officer with an open pad was next to him, obviously taking a statement, and there were several members of Search and Rescue who looked like they were about to go down into the quarry.

To get Bails, no doubt.

Veck was shaking his head. Then nodding. Then speaking.

Tears cheated her of the sight of him.

He had carried her out of there. And he had done the right thing . . . he was not a kil er at heart.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he lifted his stare and met her own: Instantly, she was back to that night in the woods, when they had looked at each other over Kroner’s body.

When he seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of whether she’d want him, she tried to reach out her hand. “Veck . . .”

He took a step forward. Then another.

The police officer let him go and the medic got out of the way and then he was beside her in a rush, taking her palm in a squeeze that faded to a gentle holding.

“How you doing?” he asked in a ragged voice, as if he had screamed a lot, or maybe panted like a racehorse getting her up the rough slope.

“Head . . .” She tried to lift her free hand and found that her arm weighed four hundred pounds. “You? Are you . . .”

“Fine.”

He didn’t look fine. He looked gaunt and washed-out. Matter of fact, if it had been any other man, she would have said that he was . . . lost.

“Bails,” she said, and then tried to swal ow. Her throat was so dry, she felt like she had been in a forest fire, breathing smoke. “He shot himself—”

“Don’t worry about—”

“No.”
Now she was the one squeezing. “He set you . . . up. Said . . . juvie record . . . Facebook . . .”

“Shh—”

“He was at the prison. For your father. He was . . .” An abiding cynicism eclipsed Veck’s exhaustion. “One of the legions.”

“I know . . . you didn’t plant the earring. Bails . . . Had to have been him. He shot himself . . . in front of me. . . .”

“None of that matters—”

“I’m sorry.” Those damn tears returned, but she did nothing to stop them. “I’m so very sorry—”

“Shh.” He placed his fingertip on her lips. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“You already did.”

“Not far enough.”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“I’l cal your parents.” He brushed her hair back. “And tel them to meet you at the hospital.”

“And what about youhS”

“I’l make sure they’re there.” He stepped back and glanced at the medic. “You’d better get going.”

Not a request. A demand.

“Veck . . . ?” she whispered.

His eyes avoided hers. “I’l cal your parents.”

“Veck
.
”

As she started to try to sit up, the medic and his partner began rol ing her to their vehicle. Meanwhile, Veck just took another step back.

There was a bump and a smoother rol as she was packed inside.

“I love you,” she shouted as loud as she could. Which turned out to not be very loud.

The last thing she saw before the doors were shut was Veck’s expression of pain . . . and then him slowly shaking his head back and forth . . . back and forth.

Good-bye, she realized in a cold rush, didn’t have to be spoken in order to be real.

Veck breathed in sweet diesel fumes as the ambulance trundled off the shoulder and onto the dirt road that led away from the quarry. As it took off, its engine growled loud and then settled into a softer hum that gradual y disappeared.

“Detective?” his fel ow CPDer said behind him. “I just have a couple more questions.”

Good luck with that, he thought. He wasn’t sure he could remember how to speak English.

“When you arrived, Bails was holding Officer Reil y—”

“She was strung up,” he gritted. “By the wrists.”

“And then what happened. After you arrived.”

Yeah, how to explain al that. “I was set up . . . to kil her.” “Officer Reil y?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

In this he could tel the truth: “Because like everyone else . . . he wondered how much like my father I am. I disappointed him. Gravely.”

Might as wel leave out the woman. Obviously, she didn’t real y exist—at least, not in the conventional, 3-D, police-report kind of way.

“You said Bails was dead when you left the cave.”

“He was dead when I got there. Shot in the head.”

“By who?”

“Reil y just said he did it himself.”

The officer nodded and scribbled.

Man, Veck thought, he was so done with being on this side of the law.

“Wel , that’s al I’ve got for now.” The officer looked up. “I imagine you’l want to get to the hospital. Can I give you a lift?”

Veck shook his head. “I’m just going to go home.”

Except, shit, how was he going to accomplish that, given the way Jim Heron had brought him out here? And where was the guy, anyway?

At that moment, an unmarked pul ed up, and Detective de la Cruz got out, the brisk wind blowing at the man’s coat and hair.

“Okay, Detective,” the other officer said. “Take care. And no doubt there wil be others from your own departmentth questions.”

“I think one’s just arrived.”

As the uni walked off to his squad car, de la Cruz strol ed over, his head shaking back and forth on the approach.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” De la Cruz offered his palm. “How you doing?”

Veck shook the hand that was offered briefly, and became aware that he was getting cold. “I’m okay.”

“You look it,” the guy said dryly. “You need a ride back into town?”

“Yeah.” On that note, how was he going to explain how he got out here?

Oh, who the hel cared anymore, he thought.

“So Reil y went to the hospital,” he said.

“I heard. Also heard you saved her.”

More like she saved him. Not that anyone was counting.

“She was the one, by the way,” de la Cruz continued. “The one who found out about Bails. We think that’s why he targeted her. She found him on your father’s thing on that Facebook what’s-it. Then she fol owed up on something he’d lied about concerning your past—with a little help from someone else.”

Given the dark light in the detective’s eyes, it was not a stretch to wonder what role the man had played on that front.

“Thank you,” Veck said softly.

Casual shrug. “I wouldn’t know, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Listen, I cal ed her parents on the way in. Let them know she was going to St. Francis.”

“That’s good.” It meant he didn’t have to bother them. “You want to question me?”

The detective’s weary eyes met his own. “I want to take you to the hospital. You’re shivering in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Am I?”

“Come on, St. Francis has a stethoscope waiting for you—”

“Reil y doesn’t need to see me now. Or ever.”

“Don’t you think that’s her cal ?”

Not in the slightest. There was too much that couldn’t be explained—and the context of that vast informational void was not pixie dust or unicorns or leprechauns. It was demons and evil and double shadows. It was what he had been seeing in mirrors al of his life. It was nothing that you wanted anyone you truly loved even reading about, much less being around.