Killing Bliss (39 page)

Cade noted the gun was equipped with a silencer. Whatever Grover had in mind, it was lethal, and he intended to do it quietly.

They did what they were told and lined up against the wall separating Addy's bedroom from the living room. Cade, nearest the door, heard the shower running.

His insides boiled when he thought of Addy coming through the door. Pulling Susan close to his side, he shielded her with his shoulder. On her other side, Gus did the same.

"Wayne, whatever are you doing?" Susan said, her tone crisp. "With that"—she pointed angrily at the gun—"that thing in your hand. What's this all about?"

For a moment, he looked chastened. "You're the only regret I have in all this, Susan. But when you told me you were coming here, who you'd found, you gave me no choice." He licked his lips. "I'm... sorry."

Cade had no fucking idea what he was talking about, but he got the message. This nut-job was apologizing in advance for murder.

Grover took a deep breath, appeared to straighten his shoulders, pull in his gut. He looked at Cade then. "Sorry about you, too, Harding, but you're a threat, you see. And I can't live with threat anymore. Can't allow anyone to hurt me anymore." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm in charge now. Only me. And I have plans. I killed my wife, you know. Tonight." A tiny smile curved his lips, slightly lush lips, moist from his licking of them, and his eyes were flat, too bright.

Bliss thumped his foot on the floor again, yelled through his sealed-off mouth. His face was red from the effort, and a vein bulged in his forehead.

Grover shifted the gun, and without bothering to aim, got off a shot in Bliss's direction. He immediately retrained the piece on Cade, Susan, and Gus. The shooting was so reflexive, so spontaneous, Grover himself looked surprised by it.

Susan screamed and covered her mouth.

Gus didn't blink.

Cade's eyes moved from Grover to Bliss.

Grover might not have aimed, but he hadn't missed; the bullet caught Bliss in the upper thigh. His tied-and-taped body jerked wildly. His muffled wail sounded like a horn coming through dense fog, before he fell back on the sofa, staring at Grover from a face now contorted by fear.

"Shut up, Frank, or I'll do it again," Grover threatened.

Gus gave Bliss and Grover a slow once-over, then said evenly, "I see you boys have kept in touch."

Grover, his pale eyes now black with rage, spit at Bliss. "If you call blackmail keeping in touch." He looked a little wild now, as if the shooting had juiced him up.

Cade knew his heart would be pounding, that his nervous system would be on overload—like his brain already was. And, damn it, there was virtually no chance Addy heard the muted burst of the shot over the shower that he heard still running on the other side of the wall. She'd walk into this mess any minute. Whatever the hell was going on in Grover's head, it was the worst kind of dangerous—volatile and unpredictable. Then there was Bliss. Cade tried to assess the damage from the gunshot. Blood oozed from the wound, but he looked okay—for now. But if he bled out, if the son-of-a-bitch died, any chance of clearing Addy went with him. He wasn't about to let that happen. He sidled cautiously toward the door.

"Blackmail, huh? Now that's damn funny," Gus said, casting a scant glance Bliss's way. "Although it's good to know you didn't get off too easy, Grover."

"Shut up." Grover eyes darted to Susan.

Gus caught the glance. "Ah, I see. The grandmother doesn't know about you and Belle."

"I said shut up." Grover looked nervously at the door beside Cade, as if to will Addy through it. Get the killing done. "And you," he said to Cade, "stay where you are."

"What's he talking about, Wayne?" Susan demanded from beside him.

"He's talking about a social worker who was getting a little something on the side, by placing kids with Belle Bliss," Cade said, the pieces of that night dropping into usable slots.

Gus nodded, didn't take his frigid gaze from Grover. "A woman whose idea of child care was a locked room and an iron poker. A woman who let her son rape and assault girls, because she knew you'd never do a damn thing about it."

"No." Grover shook his head, licked his lips again, looked like a rabbit on a string. "That's not true. Not one child ever got hurt. Belle was a good woman. I loved her. And I never left the kids long—"

"You left us long enough for that piece of shit over there to rape Beauty and nearly beat her to death. Long enough for that little boy to scream for hours in a house where no one cared whether he lived or died." Gus's jaw was rigid.

Grover looked confused, shook his head in a futile defense. "I only put kids with Belle temporarily until I could move them to... better homes," he said. "A few government checks, that was all. I would never hurt a child. Never put them in danger. Never. I've devoted my life to children—kids no one else cares about. It's all I ever wanted to do. If it weren't for me—"

Gus didn't move, but his voice seemed to, curling tight and hard around his next words. "If it weren't for you, Grover, three kids wouldn't have had to run for their goddamn lives. If it weren't for you, you yellow-bellied asshole, Belle Bliss would still be alive."

"I'm not listening to any more of your lies." He steadied the gun, the distress on his face morphing into determination.

"And if it weren't for you"—Gus gestured toward Susan who stood at his side—"this woman wouldn't have spent years looking for a boy—a goddamn baby, for Christ's sake—you put with a snake-mean women who didn't give a damn about him, a woman who ignored his screams for hours before you showed up and—"

Grover's eyes went wide. "No. No, that's not true, Susan. You mustn't believe him. I would never hurt Josh. Never. I love my kids. I take care of them." Now holding the gun in both hands, he aimed at Gus's chest. "Why are you telling all these lies?" His voice rose to shrill.

Cade maneuvered himself between the bedroom door and Grover, who, wild-eyed, toggled the gun uncertainly between him and Gus. "We can talk about this, Grover. Make things right." Cade saw the sheen of moisture on his lips, left by his perpetually licking tongue. He reached out a hand, palm up. "Give me the gun."

"Get back."

"Stop now, Grover, and no one gets hurt."

"No. You'll hurt me. I know you will. And there's Linda, you see." His eyes widened, seemed to whirl in his skull. Then it was as if some new idea had entered his brain and sucked up his fear and confusion—and any remorse. Cade could see him force himself to a calmer state.

"The gun, Grover. Give me the gun."

He raised the gun to Cade's face, and a slippery, amused smile filtered over his mouth. "I think I'll give you what's in the gun instead."

Addy burst through the door at his side, slamming it so hard against the wall it damn near came off its hinges.

As a distraction, it worked. Cade didn't waste it.

He dove for Grover's knees. He heard a shot whistle past his ear in the second before the bastard hit the floor, his back hitting it with a bone-cracking thud, his lungs expelling their air in a rough, noisy gush.

Vanelleto's sneaker-clad foot stomped on Grover's wrist, ground it into the carpet. "You won't be needing this anymore," he said, taking the gun from his hand and dangling it at his side. He sneered down at him. "You really are a pathetic bag of crap." When he took his foot off his arm, Grover curled into a ball.

Cade got to his feet, ignored the sear of pain across his shoulder. "Is everyone all right? No one hit?"

"Just my ceiling." Addy pointed a shaking hand up to where a crumble of plaster surrounded a dark hole.

He nodded at her, relief choking his chest.

"You always did come through, Wart," Gus said, shifting the gun into his other hand, then looking at Cade. "That was gutsy, Harding," he said, then handed him the gun. "Look after this garbage, would you?" He made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Addy called out.

His eyes were bleak and angry. "To Beauty. Where else?" At the door, he stared long and hard at Bliss and Grover. "I suspect these two, given the chance, will talk your head off." He stopped and seemed to consider his next words. "But because most of it will be lies, it'd be better if you save the wear and tear on your ears until I get back. That way, you'll get the whole story." He paused, and for a second looked weary. "And for what it's worth, the true story."

It crossed Cade's mind Vanelleto might take off; now that Bliss was immobilized there was no reason for him to stay.

The two men's gazes met and locked. And as if Vanelleto knew Cade's thoughts, he added. "I'll be back, Harding."

Cade studied him, nodded. "Make it quick."

Vanelleto nodded, then glanced at Susan, his expression impenetrable. "Better she hear what she has to hear from me than them."

When Vanelleto turned to go, Addy ran toward him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm coming with you."

"No. You stay here with Harding. He needs a good pair of arms." He smoothed her shower-wet hair off her brow, kissed it. "I'll be back, Wart. I promise." He looked down at Grover, who was still curled in a fetal position at Cade's feet. "It's past time to put out the garbage." Looking again at Addy, he added almost formally, "Do you agree?"

His tone was serious, his look intense, and left no doubt Addy's answer mattered to him.

She didn't speak for a moment, then said, "Yes, Gus, I do. And I think Beauty would, too. And"—she stopped as if nervous about her next words—"we owe it... to that boy."

Cade heard Susan, now standing beside him, let out a noisy, nervous breath. "Yes, you do, because 'that boy' we're talking about is my only grandson, the only link I have to my daughter. And his name is Josh, damn it. Josh Moore," she added firmly, as if the name gave him substance and life—and credence to her claim.

Vanelleto ignored Susan's outburst, but his expression darkened. "I never wanted you to know, Wart..." His voice was flat, when he went on. "I made a mistake back then. Beauty and me."

"We all did, Gus. We shouldn't have left him. We shouldn't have run."

Vanelleto started to speak, seemed to think better of it. "I'll be back," he said, and with that terse promise, he went out the door.

Addy stared at the closed door for a long moment, then turned her battered face toward Cade. A cut over her eye seeped red. For the first time since he'd walked onto her property, she looked small and tired—as if she didn't have any spirit left to draw upon.

He wanted to pull her close, tell her everything would be okay, but that would mean soothing with wishes and lies, and there'd been too many of both already. The room heaved under them—and under the threat of what nightmares lurked in the truth promised by Vanelleto. Cade drew in a breath. For that, they had to wait, which made keeping her and Susan busy his only option.

"Would you do what you can for Bliss's leg?" he said to Susan.

She took a breath, pulled her gaze from the door, then rolled her eyes. "Aren't I the lucky one?" She left the room to get some fresh towels.

Cade looked at Addy, who continued to stare at him with a vacant expression. "How about your giving me a hand with Grover? Some more duct tape would help. It's on the counter by the fridge."

She blinked, then nodded. "I'll get it."

When they had the trembling, mumbling Grover secured and sitting in a chair opposite a murderously glaring Bliss, Addy touched his hand. "Is your arm okay?"

"Fine. But it might be a good idea to change the bandage." He unbuttoned his shirt, caught Susan's surprised look as she arrived back in the room—a look to remind him she'd changed it minutes before Addy got home. Thankfully, she said nothing, and got started cleaning and bandaging Bliss's leg the best she could.

Silently, Addy changed the dressing on Cade's wound. When she spoke it was softly, so Susan couldn't hear. "You lied to me." She didn't lift her eyes from her task. "I don't much like liars."

"I don't much like women wanted for murder either, but I'm in love with one."

She took her hands from his shoulder and sat back in the straight wooden chair she'd pulled up close to his so she could work on him. Her face somber, eyes the color of rain, she said, "You know what I think?"

He tilted his head, raised a brow, and waited.

"I think we should leave all this... love stuff until Gus comes back and says what needs to be said."

He shrugged into his shirt. "I think you're right."

So you'd better get the hell back here on the double, Vanelleto.

* * *

Beauty wondered when it got so dark, why there was so much weight on her eyes. She tried to force them open, but they resisted. And the sounds—she couldn't place them. Beeps, whirrs, and something like music seeped into her space from far away.

I'm falling. Falling, falling...

Panic grew, a thickness in her chest, rolling and heaving. She raised a hand to grab something, anything, but there was only air and fear. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see.

"Shush, easy now, baby." A strong hand gripped hers, and she clasped it. Hung on.

Dreams now. Old voices...