Bones (57 page)

"You haven't killed him," I said, hoping I was right.

"How do you know?"

"No gunshot, no blood on you or your knife. As usual, you're full of shit."

"I don't think you're so certain he's alive. Call his name. See if he answers."

"You aren't going to get me to be the one to help you find him."

"I'll find him. He can't move as fast you can."

"Shows what you know. I don't think you can catch him."

"Oh, I can. Just as I caught his girlfriend, who completely lost her head over me. She was lovely. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to see his tears when he saw the Ice Dancer this morning."

"Wrong again, Nicky. He wasn't upset at all. She was his ex, don't forget. He really didn't give a rat's ass."

"Maybe that's because he's been boning you behind your husband's back."

Don't let him get to you, I told myself. Keep him distracted. Let Ben get away.

"Something out of your fantasies, Nicky? Or were you just trying to upset me? You'll have to do better. Of course, you don't know anything about friendships or genuine relationships, do you? You can't have sex with anyone unless you hold them at knifepoint, right? What woman in her right mind would want to get it on with you voluntarily?"

He laughed and lifted the knife. "If I wasn't going to enjoy your screams so much, I'd start by cutting out that tongue of yours. Maybe I'll start there, anyway."

He lunged and I leapt back, instinctively putting my hands out in front of me. I still held the cell phone.

"What?" He laughed. "You'll call the police? They'll never reach you in time. And you may rest assured that no one is coming up those stairs to the roof anytime soon. I've blocked the door to the stairwell, and even if they manage to push past that, I've secured the door to the roof from this side. A rather sturdy locking bar. Do you travel?"

The question was so unexpected, I didn't answer.

"Every airline magazine advertises these little gems," he said. "Something to supposedly keep you safe in your hotel room. This one is for industrial use. I've found it very handy on other occasions."

I tried to think of any other access to or from the roof. Only one side of the building adjoined any other buildings; a row of shops that were three stories tall.

"I have the only key," Parrish was saying. "You and Dr. Sheridan are my captives, you see. The locking bar won't hold forever, but it will give me all the time I need."

"You don't have as much time as you think you do," I said.

"Then let's make the most of it. Remember our little game in the mountains? Start running, Irene."

I took two steps, pivoted toward him, and hurled the cell phone with all my might. The phone didn't weigh much, but I hit the target, which was gleaming right at me and not more than ten feet away from me--his headlamp. He yelped and seemed stunned, which was fine by me. I took off running again without waiting to see if I had done any other damage.

I might not have done so well in the mountains, I told myself, but here it would be different. No altitude, exhaustion, or dehydration to slow me down. I was wearing running shoes, not hiking boots. The surface was flat and relatively free of obstacles. On the downside, I was running in a cage.

I thought of ducking into the room with the light panel for the landing pad, but I decided I'd be better off knowing where he was, and remaining free to move. One dark row of rooftop structures led to another, and every time I turned a corner, I was afraid I'd meet up with him.

Where was Ben?

I heard a helicopter approaching, then the sound of sirens wailing.

Suddenly it dawned on me that if Travis and Stinger landed again, they'd be in danger of being shot--or shot down by Parrish. Now I really needed to know where he was, and to warn them away. Where could I make sure they could see me, though, and not make a bull's-eye out of myself?

I headed for the flagpoles.

I climbed the ladder cautiously, but quickly, afraid I'd meet Parrish at the top or have him come at me from below.

To my relief, there was no one else up on this highest of the structures. I was about another twenty or thirty feet above the roof. I heard a sound below me, and saw that Ben was coming this way.

I took my eyes off Ben's progress when I saw the helicopter coming closer. Not knowing the official signals to get a helicopter to turn away, I made the universal shooing motion with my arms extended over my head, shook my head no and made a double thumbs-down motion. I even tried to pantomime a gun being shot at them. Some part of this bad mime show must have gotten through to them, though, because they pulled away, hovering higher, and to one side of the building. They didn't completely leave the area, though, and I was afraid Parrish still might shoot them.

I saw Ben's head at the top of the ladder and hurried over to him. "Get away!" he suddenly shouted, and seemed to lose his footing. He was grasping the top of the ladder, bent over the ledge at the waist, apparently straining to pull himself up.

I ignored his warning and ran closer. I peered over the edge and saw that Parrish, coming up the ladder behind him, had yanked Ben's right leg from the ladder and was trying to pull him off.

Parrish was not far from me, but now he had hold of both of Ben's legs with his right arm. His left hand grasped the ladder railing. He began trying to twist Ben off the ladder. I bent over the edge, holding the ladder rail and keeping most of my weight on the ledge. I grabbed Ben's belt, trying to counteract Parrish's twisting motion. The blood was rushing to my head, but with our combined resistance, Parrish wasn't making any progress.

Parrish moved up another rung, so that his face was inches away from mine.

"Now I have both of you. One hard tug, and over you go. Not bad for a panty rustler, eh?" He lurched up and licked my face.

I let go of Ben's belt and punched Nick Parrish hard in the nose. It started bleeding like crazy, and for a moment, he loosened his grip on Ben. Ben found a ladder rung with his right leg, while Parrish screamed at me in rage. I took advantage of what I hoped was a moment of near blindness for Parrish and reached for his gun in the shoulder holster. Now he did let go of Ben with his right hand, but not fast enough. I cleared the gun from the holster. He grasped my wrist hard, though, and I let the gun fall to the rooftop below.

He started to try to pull me over. Ben, who had stepped up a little higher, landed a mule kick in Parrish's groin area with his Flex-Foot; he apparently missed the nuts but not the squirrel, because Parrish grunted and let go of my wrist but didn't fall. Parrish quickly made a grab at Ben's legs again, but only managed to get a grasp on the prosthesis that had so recently wounded him. I grabbed the socket end of it, trying to pull Ben up, even as Ben held on to the top rung for dear life, kicking at Parrish's left arm.

There was a bright light above us, and noise and wind; the helicopter was overhead. I couldn't see them, but knew they could not get too close to us--there were too many poles and wires and other objects up on this part of the roof. The flags were snapping loudly, and the cables beat out a ringing alarm.

"To the left!" I shouted up at Ben, not knowing if he could hear--whether he did or not, he aimed his next kick better, coming down hard on Parrish's left arm.

Parrish lost his grip and nearly fell, but held on to the Flex-Foot as he tried to find his own footing. He managed to get his feet back on a rung midway up the ladder. Ben had moved his right leg up higher, out of reach, and was trying to pull himself up while Parrish kept all his weight on Ben's left leg. Still holding the Flex-Foot with his left hand, he grinned and suddenly let go of Ben with his right, swinging free. But instead of reaching for the ladder, he took hold of his knife.

"I'll make a double amputee out of him," Parrish said, his bloody nose making his speech sound odd. "But maybe I'll cut your fingers off first."

Involuntarily flexing my fingers, I felt a metal button beneath them. The locking pin release. I pressed it.

I heard a click and watched Parrish's bloodied face register a look of horror as the socket and Flex-Foot separated.

He made wild, futile stabs at the air as he fell backward onto the rooftop with a thumping crack.

He didn't move after that.

** CHAPTER 59

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1:55 A.M.

Las Piernas

Ben pulled himself up onto the ledge. I sat up, dizzy after hanging upside down. We were both winded.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded. "You?"

"Yes. Sorry about your foot."

"It's probably okay. But after all that work to get up here, hell if I'm going back down there to find out if it's damaged."

"I think someone will bring it to you," I said, pointing to where the helicopter was landing.

At the same time, we heard a loud bang that made us jump--the SWAT team had made its way through the door to the roof. In no time at all, Parrish was surrounded. When he didn't move, they edged toward him.

"Irene!"

I turned from the scene directly below to that best-loved voice. Frank was stepping out of the helicopter, running toward us.

I waved and yelled, "We're okay!"

His face broke into a big smile and he ran faster.

Three members of the SWAT team made it up the ladder before Frank did.

"We're okay," Ben told them. "Is Parrish dead?"

"No," one said, "but damned close to it. Looks like he broke his neck. We're going to take him over to St. Anne's. It's just down the street."

Frank came up the ladder, carrying Ben's Flex-Foot.

"Thought you might need this," he said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," Ben said. "I was wondering how I was going to get down from here without it." He looked it over and decided that although it was a little scraped up, it wasn't badly damaged.

"I don't think my cell phone fared as well," I said. When I told him how I'd used it, Frank laughed and took me in his arms. "Parrish just didn't know what he was up against, did he?" But he was holding me tight, as if needing to reassure himself that I was okay. I held him, too. It felt good, the safest I had felt in a long time.

"Oh!" I said, coming out of that spell of comfort. "I just remembered something! Phil Newly called me, and it was forwarded from my desk to the cell phone. Can you find the number from the cell phone records?"

"No need to," Frank said. "Newly called us."

"The police?"

"Yes. That's how I found out you were here. Newly said he tried calling you, and you told him you were up here with Nick Parrish and were scared and asking for the police."

"Where has he been?"

"He said he's been hiding. He's been afraid of Parrish. He said after you got those bones and roses, he knew that Parrish was back in the area, and he took off. He rented a beach house down the coast, didn't even tell his sister how to get in touch with him. He heard the news reports tonight and decided to come home."

"So why call me?"

"He was expecting a hostile reaction from the police, and he thought you might help him meet with me before things got out of hand. I didn't tell him that you were the one that kept insisting we check him out. He's hired a defense attorney of his own, but agreed to meet with us tomorrow."

"Wait a minute," I said. "You found a bloody circular saw and more at his house, right?"

"Right."

"And those leg bones in the roses might have been cut with a saw, right, Ben?"

"Right."

"I met with Phil, and that same night the bones showed up on our doorstep. If he left after he heard about the bones, he left after they were worked on in his garage. If he's innocent, he must also be deaf--because he must not have noticed an awfully loud noise in his garage. Not to mention missing the peculiar sight of a bloody workbench while he was pulling his car out."

"Not necessarily," Ben said. "You're relying on news reports based on secondhand sources."

"Ben Sheridan--"

"No, I'm not trying to start a fight about the media. Frank, you were in Newly's garage and saw it with your own eyes. Was the workbench bloody?"