Runs Deep (29 page)

CHAPTER 86

D
eclan pulled into his sister’s drive. Keith had made it clear that his help was not welcome in the search for Julie or Steve, but Declan planned on helping anyway. He just had to do one thing first.

For a minute he sat and looked at his sister’s home. He’d fought with her more than a few times about his support of Steve. She’d always worried what it would do to his career, and she’d never understood how Declan just couldn’t let him go.

But Steve had always been like a little brother to him. He’d never had a brother. He wondered for a moment why he’d never felt that way about Jack. Maybe it was because Jack always seemed to know what he was doing, and Steve… well, he always seemed a little lost. A little too innocent.

Declan rubbed his face.
Apparently not as innocent as I thought.

He looked up at the house and his stomach dropped. He was going to have to go in there and tell Bess about Steve. It was going to break her. All these years, she had defended him.
And now…

Declan shook his head.
Damn
.

Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he opened the car door. Rain pelted him, but he couldn’t work up the energy to care. He walked slowly up the front path.

The door swung open before his hand touched the doorknob. Nate, his eight-year old-nephew, stood there. “Um, you forget your umbrella?”

Declan nodded. “Yeah. How’s everything going here?”

Nate shrugged. “Okay. I got to play outside for a little, but then it started raining again.”

“Yeah. I think it’s supposed to stop tomorrow, so maybe we can go for a drive around the island. See the storm damage.”

“Cool.”

Declan shrugged off his coat. “Where’s Bess?”

“She went home.”

Declan went still. “What?”

“Some guy in a suit came and picked her up.”

Declan felt relief flow through him.
Jack. Good.
He nodded. And glanced back outside. He owed it to them both to tell them himself. Better they hear it from him than from Keith. He pulled his jacket back on. “Well, I need to speak with them. Tell your mom I’ll be back.” He stepped back outside.

“Okay.” Nate started to close the door. “Oh, and your other friend stopped by.”

Declan turned slowly. “What friend?”

“The man who was in prison.”

Steve was here?
Declan’s heart began to pound. “Did he come inside?”

“No. He was looking for Bess. I told him she went home, so he left.”

He’s going after Bess.

“Lock the door and tell your mother not to let anyone in,” Declan yelled, and he ran for his car. He threw himself behind the steering wheel and quickly reversed out of the drive.

He slammed the car into drive and tore down the street.

He eyed the radio on the passenger seat, waging an inner war with himself.
Damn it.
He grabbed the radio and keyed it. “Steve Kane is heading for his home. His grandmother and brother are there as well. I repeat, Steve Kane is heading for his home. His grandmother and brother are there as well. All units respond.”

He dropped the radio back on the seat, knowing he had probably just signed Steve’s death warrant—and feeling really annoyed that he still cared.

CHAPTER 87

J
ulie broke through the water under the dock. She’d swum sideways under the dock, stayed under as long as she’d dared, and then surfaced quietly under the wooden planks. She wanted to suck in a lungful of air, but she knew she needed to try to take in only small breaths. She prayed the water hitting against the pilings drowned out the sounds of her ragged breathing. Blood pounded in her ears, and she couldn’t seem to stop the tremors in her arms.

The waves were threatening to pull her back out into the open water. She flipped onto her back, letting out a little cry at the pain that radiated through her back. Nausea rolled through her. Gritting her teeth, she kicked her legs, heading for the pilings closer to shore.

She had to battle the waves the whole way there. Each time she got a foot closer, the next wave seemed to push her another two feet back.

Please
, Julie begged, exhaustion beginning to weigh her down.

“Don’t stop.”

At first, Julie thought she’d imagined the voice.

“Julie, don’t stop. You’re almost there.”

Julie opened her eyes. A teenage girl, her dark hair wet from the rain, was treading water next to her. “Simone?”

Simone nodded. “You need to move, Julie. You need to swim.”

“I’m too tired.”

“No. Stay awake. Look at me.
Look
at me.”

Julie cracked open her eyes. “You’re dead.”

“And you will be too. Now move.”

Rationally, Julie knew Simone was just a hallucination. Her body was shutting down. Her brain was shutting down. But she still felt better not being alone.

She kicked with her legs.

“That’s it. Keep going,” Simone urged.

Julie kicked harder. “I miss you, Simone.”

“I miss you too.”

Julie kept kicking until her head bumped against a piling. She reached out and grabbed onto a rope wrapped around it. Her grip was weak, but she held on.

She pulled herself around to the other side and wrapped her arms around the pole, resting her head against the rough wood. The waves were now pushing her toward the piling, helping her hold on. Her face was getting scratched up pretty good, but it was making it easier to keep her grip. But even with the water’s assist, she knew she didn’t have the energy to hold on for long. She wrapped her hands in the rope and closed her eyes.

“Wake up.”

Julie struggled to open her eyes.

“Wake up,” Simone said again.

Julie cracked her eyes open, not sure if she’d lost consciousness or not.

“Hold on. They’re coming,” Simone said, still treading water next to her.

“Can’t. Too tired,” Julie mumbled.

“Just hold on. They’re almost here. Look.”

Julie could see a flashlight bobbing along the shore. She tried to yell out. “Here. I’m here.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

But the flashlight moved in her direction. For a moment, she worried it might be Jack, but Simone seemed so confident. And at this point, it wouldn’t matter if it was Jack. It was going to be over soon, one way or the other.

The light from the flashlight raked underneath the dock. Julie winced when the bright light hit her eyes.

She shut them. Warmth seemed to be calling to her.
I’ll just take a little nap
.

“Julie. Open your eyes.” A hand touched her face.

Julie struggled to pull herself from the warmth. She blinked a few times and then opened her eyes fully.

Russ was treading water next to her.

“How?” she asked, her voice weak.

He gently pulled her arms from around the pole and put her back against his front. She gasped as his belt came in contact with her wound.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered in her ear as he swam for shore. He quickly got them to the bank and pulled her out of the water.

Julie felt a sense of unreal. And somehow she felt warmer.

“Stay with me, Julie.” Russ rolled her onto her side.

She grunted when his hand brushed her wound. “Shot,” she mumbled.

Russ gently picked her up in his arms, his words rushed. “I’m taking you to the cruiser. We need to warm you up and get you to the med center.”

Julie felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness. “How’d you find me?”

“I was already in the area, looking for you and Steve, when I heard about your call to the station. I switched directions and came here.”

She struggled to focus on his words. That wasn’t what she meant. “How did you find me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just… I felt like I should check the dock. And then I heard you call out.”

But Julie knew that was impossible. Her voice wasn’t loud enough. She closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek.
Thank you, Simone
.

“We’ll get you on a medevac to the mainland. Don’t worry. And Declan is closing in on Steve. He won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

Julie shook her head. She was losing her battle with consciousness, but she knew something about what Russ was saying was wrong. Then she remembered. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t.

It’s not him. You’re after the wrong guy.

CHAPTER 88

S
teve crouched low against the side of his grandmother’s house. Jack’s car wasn’t in the drive, but there were candles lit in the living room and kitchen, and he could hear Frank Sinatra playing on his grandmother’s old battery-operated radio. He peered in through the kitchen window but there was no sign of either his grandmother or Jack.

Steve made his way around the outside of the house to the living room window. He was surprised that the house didn’t look damaged. He’d expected broken windows or maybe some more graffiti.

He peered inside and saw his grandmother sitting in a chair. Her knitting basket lay on the ground next to her. He let out a breath.
Thank God.

He climbed the porch and tried the front door. Locked. He knocked. “Gran? It’s me. It’s Steve.”

Nothing but Frank Sinatra answered him. The hairs on his arm rose. He knocked again, louder and more insistent. “Gran? It’s Steve. Open the door.”

Still nothing. Steve’s heart began to pound.

She just can’t hear me over the music.
His key only worked the back door. He ran down the stairs, stopping only long enough to peer in the window again. His grandmother’s hand twitched, and he let out a breath.
Okay. She’s fine. She probably fell asleep.

He ran to the back door and tried it. Locked as well. He unlocked the door and made his way to the living room. “Gran? Are you all right?”

She stayed in her chair, her head tilted to the side. Her knitting lay in a heap at her feet. He ran to her.

Her eyes shifted to him, but the bottom half of her face seemed to have frozen, and her lip drooped on one side. Terror paralyzed him.
A stroke. She’s had a stroke.

He knelt down next to her and ran a shaky hand over her hair, the same way she had done to him thousands of times. “It’s going to be okay, Grandma.”

Heart pounding, he picked her up out of the chair, carried her to the couch, and laid her down gently. He placed a pillow under her head, then pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and tucked it around her.

He knelt down next to her, taking her hand. At first he thought she was trembling, but then he realized the shake in her hand came from him. He tucked her arms under the blanket and wiped her hair from her eyes. “Gran, I’m going to call for help. You’ve had a stroke, okay?”

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Steve wiped it away. “It’s okay. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to call for help.” He kissed her on the forehead before standing up. He was almost in the kitchen when he heard a key in the front door.

He turned around as Jack stepped in.

All his earlier suspicions about Jack were immediately forgotten as soon as his brother stepped into the room. “Jack, thank God. I think Grandma’s had a stroke. I’m going to call for help. Stay with her.”

Steve ran into the kitchen and pulled the receiver off the handset. The cord dangled in the air. It had been cut. Steve stared at it stupidly for a moment, not understanding what he was seeing. How the hell did the phone line get cut?

Steve ran back into the living room, the phone still clutched in his hand. “The phone’s been cut.”

Jack stood beside the couch, looking down at their grandmother, rolling one of her knitting needles in his hands. “I know.”

“You
know
? Why is it cut?”

Jack looked over at him. “Yes. I know, because I cut it. I didn’t want her to be able to call for help.”

Steve stared at his brother, his thoughts tumbling over top of one another. “What? When? Jack, what the hell are you talking about?”

“She had the stroke about an hour ago. Before I left.”

Steve’s mind was a jumble. An hour ago? His anger boiled. “She had the stroke
before
you left? You just—
left
her here?”

Jack shrugged and twirled the knitting needle. “I had things to take care of.”

Steve stared, dumbfounded. Who the hell was this man?

Jack looked down at his grandmother. “But don’t worry, Gran, you have my undivided attention now.”

He plunged the knitting needle into her stomach.