Bloodlines (46 page)

Kelly hadn't come back to the paper this afternoon after her meeting with Max Ducane. He didn't mind Max--for all the grief O'Connor gave her about him, he liked the young man. But he had hoped she would take her responsibilities at the paper seriously enough to return in time to contribute something before deadline.

He had covered for her with H.G. and the others, told them she was pursuing leads and he wasn't sure if she'd make it back. He said--and this much was true--that she had given him plenty of material for today's story already. H.G. seemed to buy it, but O'Connor wasn't confident of being able to keep up the charade more than this once.

It was a shame. She'd have to be taken off the story. He found he was deeply disappointed. He enjoyed working with her. She sparked something in him, made him work harder.

He was working hard tonight. He sighed and went back to writing the story of the rooms found today on the farm. It wasn't much of a story in and of itself, but it made O'Connor feel surer about Mitch Yeager's involvement. The Yeagers were the biggest bootleggers in Las Piernas, whether they had been convicted of it or not. And if Griffin Baer was involved with bootlegging, chances were good he was involved with Mitch Yeager.

Lefebvre also told O'Connor--on the condition that he held the information from publication--that they had found some shell casings in the trunk of the Buick, and other evidence (which he wouldn't talk about at all) that might help them find the killer. He wouldn't name the caliber, which made O'Connor suspect the caliber itself would give him a lot of information about the gun. Lefebvre had taken an interest in Irene's theories about that night in1958. Lefebvre had been impressed, which made O'Connor feel a certain pride in her.

It had lasted until she failed to return to the newsroom.

O'Connor finally filed the story. He was putting his coat on when Stephen Gerard stopped by his desk.

"I thought you would have gone home long ago," O'Connor said.

Gerard held out a stack of photos. "Give those to Kelly, would you?"

"What are they?" O'Connor said, taking them.

"The plates on that car that has been following her."

O'Connor looked up sharply. "What?"

"The black Beemer. You've seen it, haven't you?"

"Yes," O'Connor said slowly. "Yes, I have."

"Maybe one of your friends at the DMV can run those for you."

"Who said I have friends at the DMV?"

Gerard shrugged and started to walk off.

"Wait!" O'Connor called.

Gerard turned back to him.

"When did you take these?" O'Connor asked.

"Today. Out at the construction site."

O'Connor let him go, but he sat staring at the photos for a moment, an uneasy feeling coming over him. The phone on his desk rang, startling him. "O'Connor," he answered.

"Mr. O'Connor? This is Mary Kelly, Irene's aunt. We met the other day."

"Yes, of course," he said, his worries taking a new direction. "Is Patrick-- is Patrick all right?"

"Patrick? Oh, he's fine--sleeping at the moment, which is why I thought I'd call now. Forgive me for disturbing you, but I wondered--you see, it's so unlike Irene not to warn me if she'll be late, and--"

"She's not home?"

"No--that's why I'm calling you. What time did she leave the paper?"

"She went out with Mr. Ducane this afternoon," O'Connor said. "I haven't seen her back here since."

There was a long silence, then she called him a series of names he was surprised she knew. "I thought you were keeping an eye on her!" she ended.

"I defy anyone to keep an eye on your grandniece," he said. "But I'm worried, too. I'll look for her, and I'll keep you posted."

She thanked him, apologized for losing her temper, and hung up.

O'Connor quickly looked through his notes and found the address for the house that had once belonged to Griffin Baer. He started to leave, hesitated, then went back to his desk and called Lefebvre.

**CHAPTER 45

MITCH YEAGER STOOD UP FROM THE DINNER TABLE.

Ian and Eric exchanged a glance, then realized that Uncle Mitch had seen the exchange, and was smiling. It was not a good kind of smile.

"Eric, Ian, in my study," Mitch said. To the rest of his family, he said, "You'll excuse us. We have a little business to discuss."

"But, Daddy!" his daughter protested. "You promised you would help me with my homework."

Eric felt hope rise.

Mitch smiled at her. "And I will, sugar, I will. This won't take long."

His brief moment of optimism crushed, Eric followed his uncle into the study, as Ian lagged behind.

When they had taken seats across from him, Mitch asked, "Tell me all of it, and tell it to me right now."

"All of what?" Eric asked.

Mitch threw a glass paperweight at him. Eric ducked just in time. The paperweight shattered behind him.

Mitch looked at Ian.

Within minutes, Ian divulged everything. He started out nervously, then warmed with the enthusiasm he felt for the project. Ian discussed what he believed to be the more brilliant aspects of the plan, including the place where they had hidden their hostages. "So you see, Uncle Mitch, Warren will have to come back."

For a full fifteen seconds, Uncle Mitch said nothing, but Eric knew he was unhappy. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and he turned red.

"You fucking imbeciles!" he exploded. "I work all these years to clean up the family name, and you do this? I give up lucrative opportunities, donate to charities I could give a crap about, and spend time with people I like even less. I pay off half a dozen hoods to shut their yaps, and permanently shut the yaps of the ones who aren't smart enough to be satisfied. I send my kids to good schools. I make sure your own little youthful escapades never lead to an arrest or bad publicity--that wasn't easy. I take care of you, and what kind of thanks do I get? One fuckup after another, that's what!"

He ranted at them, telling them that he would be lucky to be able to save their miserable hides this time, then going on to a familiar speech about their lack of intelligence. All the while, Eric thought of the bag he had packed and concealed in the trunk of his car, of the one-way plane tickets, cash, and other treasures, of the private residence he had bought under another name. He was so pissed off at Ian, he wasn't sure he'd give him the other ticket.

He wondered at his own ability to foresee this moment. Maybe he had always been expecting something like this to happen, maybe he had always known in his heart of hearts that Ian wouldn't be able to stand up to Uncle Mitch. At least Uncle Mitch thought he was too dumb to have a Plan B, which was actually an essential part of said Plan B.

He suddenly realized that Uncle Mitch had asked him a question.

"Well?" Mitch said impatiently.

"No, they didn't see our faces. We had masks on," Ian answered for him.

Okay, Eric decided, Ian could come with him.

"Did you say anything in front of them?"

"No, we were absolutely silent," Eric said.

"Thank God for that!" Mitch said. "You go back there and make it possible for them to escape, you understand? You will do this immediately, then come back here. Go. Now!"

When they were outside, Eric insisted on driving. Ian was apologizing profusely, paying no attention to where they were going, until Eric pulled into Ian's driveway.

"This is my house," Ian said. "What are you doing?"

"Thought I'd give you a chance to pack. You want to buy your underwear in Belize, that's fine with me."

"Belize? What are you talking about?"

"You can stay here and let Uncle Mitch ride your ass for another twenty years, or you can come with me to the Caribbean. I've had it. I'm getting out of here. What you do is up to you, but I've got phony passports, and all the other arrangements made if you want to come along with me. Plan B."

Ian swallowed hard. He was silent for so long, Eric began to feel certain that he was going to stay behind. He wondered if he'd really have the nerve to go alone.

"I'll go with you," Ian said.

Eric smiled. "You will not regret this. I promise. Now grab a change of clothes and let's go--don't fuck around in there, we've got to get out of here before Uncle Mitch figures out what's going on."

"What are we doing for money?"

"I've been putting some in an account down there." He thought about telling him about the bag in the trunk, but decided that could wait. "Hurry. I'll tell you the rest on the way to the airport."

Eric kept the engine running. Ian was inside for no more than a few moments. When he returned, he had a canvas bag with him. "I brought underwear, a pair of jeans, and three thousand bucks," he said. "That's all the money I had in the house."

"That's great, Ian," he said, and pulled away from the curb.

They were on the freeway when Ian said, "What about Kyle and the girl?"

"Not our problem," Eric said, and moved into the fast lane.

**CHAPTER 46

LEFEBVRE ARRIVED AT THE DARKENED MANSION ON SHORELINE ALMOST at the same moment O'Connor did.

"Doesn't look as if anyone is here," Lefebvre said.

"You have someone looking for the BMW?"

"Yes."

"Who's it registered to?"

Lefebvre didn't answer. O'Connor hadn't really expected him to, but he had learned long ago that unasked questions never get answered, so he had taken the chance.

Lefebvre took a portable police radio and a large flashlight from his car. O'Connor already had his own flashlight in hand. It was windy here, and he pulled his jacket closer about him.

They tried the front door and found it locked. Shining their lights in through the big windows, they saw no sign of Irene or of Max.

"Maybe they've been and gone," Lefebvre said.

"Let's look around back."

The side gate was unlocked. They went through it into the backyard.

"Windows are open," Lefebvre said, and called out, "Irene! Max! Anyone there?"

No answer.

While Lefebvre tried knocking at the back door, O'Connor walked toward the alley.

"Lefebvre!" he called a moment later.

The detective turned toward him.

"Her car's still here."

Lefebvre joined him, shining his flashlight into the car while O'Connor squeezed his large frame between the little import and the garage door. There was no lock on the door and so he unlatched it, trying to peer inside. The wind caught the door, banging it against the Ghia.

"She's gonna have your hide for that one," Lefebvre said.

"Another item on a long list, I'm afraid." He pointed his flashlight into the garage and drew a sharp breath. "A black BMW." He bent to shine the light on the license plate, and sighed. "Not the one we were looking for."

Lefebvre's radio crackled and O'Connor saw him turn away to speak into it. O'Connor didn't try to listen in--he hurried back toward the house. If she wasn't still in the house, it was the last place she had been. He had no doubt that she was in trouble. If he knew anything about her at all, it was that she was devoted to her father, and would not have left him.

He thought of his own sister's disappearance and momentarily lost himself in remembered helplessness--how like that night this seemed to him. The thought filled him with dread, and he took himself to task--think of Irene, he told himself. Concentrate on the here and now.

He ran to the back door. He rang the bell, knocked, tried the knob. The door was locked.

He stepped back, then slammed against it. He felt it start to give. He slammed against it again just as Lefebvre came into the yard and asked him what the hell he was doing. The door gave way. He pushed what remained of it aside and went into the house.

He quickly went from room to room on the ground floor, calling to her. Moonlight came in through the windows, enough to see by in most of the rooms. Where it wasn't enough, he used his flashlight. Lefebvre had followed him in and was doing the same. They met up at the stairway. "Let's take a look around up there," Lefebvre said, shining his light on the stairs, "then maybe I'll arrest you for--"

Lefebvre grabbed his sleeve just as O'Connor was about to step on the first tread, and pulled him back. "Hold it," he said, bending closer to the stair.

O'Connor saw what he was focusing on. Blood. A large splotch of it on the left side of the tread, another on the banister just above it.

"Oh God..." O'Connor said. "Oh God."

Lefebvre seemed unperturbed. He used the radio again and called for backup and a crime scene unit and said to stand by, they might need an ambulance. He mentioned that the power was off, adding that they might want to bring a portable generator.

O'Connor, impatient, tried to break away from him, to rush up the stairs, but Lefebvre held tight.

"Listen to me!" the detective said, commanding, yet calm. "We're going up there, but don't touch the rails, and step to the right edge of the treads. I'm going first--try to step where I step. Watch that you don't put your big feet in any evidence." In a lower voice, he added, "Hold your flashlight away from your body, just in case we're not the only uninvited visitors, all right?"