Deadly Lies
Page 33
“You kept the sheets?” Bastard.
“Why do you think I sent her to screw you?” A wink. “Always got to have a backup plan. When you cut out of the city, you’ll start to look mighty guilty. That’ll make those Feds shift their focus.”
Nathan’s fingers curled over the black bag. One last batch. He’d brought the drugs Quinlan demanded, and now the kick in his gut told him who they’d be used on.
“You want the account number, Don? Go give my brother a drink, and it’s yours.” Quinlan’s smile flashed again, and the sight of it made bile rise in Donnelley’s throat.
Only one person between Quinlan and the Malone fortune. And now Quinlan wanted him to dose Max. Donnelley tossed the bag at Quinlan. “You do it. I’m done.” He had enough blood on his hands.
“Then you don’t get a dime.”
A tremble shook his body. Part rage. Part fear.
“I need your fingerprints on the glass, Don. Yours, not mine. When the Feds check, I need to be clean.” He walked closer, nice and slow. “You’ll be long gone. Hell, go jump a plane tonight. Doesn’t matter what you leave behind because they won’t be able to touch you.”
Money. Finally, he wouldn’t have to kiss some rich jerk’s ass. Wouldn’t have to watch while everyone else lived the good life while he stood on the fringes.
“I know why you stayed with dad. Your career was shot after that nurse found you using, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t speak. Why bother? Quinlan would know. The guy knew everything. Watched everyone.
“I had a PI do some research on you a couple of years back. That nurse—her name was Sheila, right?—she still remembered you.”
Of course the bitch had. “My wife… she’d just left me.”
Quinlan shook his head. “Do I really look like I give a shit? I don’t need to know why. Save that crap for your shrink.”
Donnelley glared at him. Asshole.
“I picked you to help me not because of the drugs. Hell, I could get those from anyone I wanted on the street.” When had Quinlan’s gaze become so mocking? “You’re my fall guy, Donnelley. The man who takes the blame, but gets to walk away with a boatload of cash.”
Only if the Feds didn’t grab him first.
“Go back outside,” Quinlan ordered. “Tell my brother I’m fine. Then have a drink with him.” Quinlan’s gaze dropped to the bag. “Just a drink. Then you walk away.”
Max stopped pacing when Donnelley came out of Quinlan’s room. “How is he?”
Donnelley stared at the floor, shaking his head. “He’s not—he’s not going to be the same, Max.”
Donnelley walked across the room and headed straight for the bar. Max frowned. “Are you okay?”
Donnelley’s hands shook as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. “Your stepfather was my friend.” The back of Donnelley’s hand swept out and sent a tumbler falling to the floor. It shattered, and glass flew everywhere. Donnelley stooped down to pick it up.
“No, careful! I’ll get it!” Max bent and hurriedly scooped up the large chunks. He pushed them onto the top of the bar as worry filled him. Donnelley looked shaken. And the guy wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Donnelley’s hands covered two glasses. “Beth was such a troubled woman.”
Beth? “I didn’t realize you two were close.” Beth had barely seemed to tolerate the doctor.
Donnelley picked up one of the glasses and handed it to him. “You learn a lot just by watching people. Beth, she was so unhappy.”
Max took the glass. “You knew she’d been screwing Frank when my mother was still alive, didn’t you?”
Donnelley drained his glass in two gulps. “Doesn’t really matter what she did now, does it?” A long sigh escaped him. “In the end, does it matter what any of us do? Death comes, no matter what.”
Max took a sip of the whiskey. “That’s one hell of a pessimistic view you’ve got there, doctor.” This time, he took a longer pull from the drink.
“When you’ve seen all that I have, you tend to get pessimistic.” Donnelley’s glass hit the bar top with a soft clink. “Your brother—he needs to keep seeing that shrink. Maybe… maybe this one will even be able to help him.”
The whiskey burned down Max’s throat as he drained the glass. “Maybe.” He could hope.
“The Feds aren’t pressing charges against him?” Donnelley’s eyes dipped to the empty glass that Max had just set on the bar.
“Frank’s death was an-an accident.” Max put his hand to his temple. That damn ache was back.
“If that’s what you think.”
What?
Donnelley came closer. The light glinted off the top of his balding head. “Sometimes people have blind spots.”
The room seemed to dim a bit. “What are you talking about?”
Donnelley’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “I kind of liked you. Of all the a**holes around Malone, you were the one who bothered me the least.”
His knees gave way, and Max hit the floor, hard. “Wh-what the… f-fuck… d-did…?” The drink.
Donnelley crouched above him. “And I am sorry about your mother.” Another sigh whispered from him. “Everything went downhill after her death.”
Max’s hands were numb. No, his arms were numb. A heavy weight seemed to settle over his entire body. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes open and on Donnelley. The doctor Frank had trusted.
“I hope it’s quick,” Donnelley said, but the words sounded funny. Distorted. “You shouldn’t have to suffer.”
• • •
It was a little after nine p.m. when Sam knocked on the door of Max’s apartment. The doorman had let her through when she flashed her badge, and now she stood in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot. She was wired, a quick process, and she knew every sound that she made was being transmitted back to the team outside.
Sam took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. The thick carpeting in the hallway muffled her movements. She knocked on the door again. Harder now. Louder.
She couldn’t hear any sounds from inside the apartment. “Max?” She pounded again. “I need to talk to you. Let me in.” The doorman had assured her that he was home.
The minutes ticked by. Max was home, but not answering. Shit.
She grabbed the door knob. Twisted it. Locked.
“Hyde, I don’t like this.” Her heart drummed even as her fist thudded into the door. “I don’t like—”
Glass shattered inside.
Sam kicked at the door. Once, twice. The damn thing wasn’t opening. The wood was too thick. “Hyde, something’s wrong!” Max was in there. Too quiet. An image of Beth’s blood-soaked body flashed in front of her eyes.
Sam kicked again, as hard as she could, and the lock shattered. The door opened with a groan, and Sam ran inside, her gun drawn.
The first thing that she noticed was the broken balcony door. Shards of sharp glass glittered on the floor. “Max!”
“S-Sam…”
She saw him in the shadows. Max lay face down on the floor, and his outstretched arms were just inches from the broken glass.
“Hyde, Hyde, get up here! Max is hurt!” She ran to Max, knowing Hyde could hear every word. She put her gun down and flipped him over. “Max, what happened?”
But his eyes were closed and his mouth had gone slack. “Max!” Her fingers fumbled. She found his pulse. Slow. Her hands searched his body but she found no wounds. No blood. She eased back, and her foot brushed against something. A broken drinking glass. Understanding hit—drugged.
Just like the other victims. They’d been drugged, and they hadn’t remembered…
She caught his face in her hands. “Max, I need you to hold on, do you hear me? Just hold on. Help’s coming.” Fear had her voice shaking because she didn’t know what he’d been given. Something to knock him out, to immobilize him? Or something to kill him? “Stay with me.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Their cry trickled through the broken door.
Check the apartment. She knew that she had to secure the scene, but she couldn’t leave Max. Wouldn’t leave him. Sam reached for her gun and held it tight. She kept her left hand on Max—her fingers were over his chest so she could feel the slow thud of his heart.
“I’m not leaving you,” Sam whispered, her grip on the gun never easing. “And you’re not leaving me.”
Quinlan hurried down the street, hunching his shoulders as he sank deeper into his coat. Damn that bitch. He’d been so close… and then she’d come pounding at the door.
He turned left and slipped into the alley.
A police cruiser raced by. Dammit. Quinlan’s breath blew out and a small cloud appeared in the cold air.
Somehow, Max had reached for that lamp. He’d grabbed it and sent the thing slamming into the fragile balcony door.
Then the bitch had started screaming.
He’d barely had time to hit the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness, before she’d gotten inside. Knocked the door down. Almost impressive.
She’d run for his brother. The agent hadn’t even bothered to search the shadows, and Quinlan had just walked right out the front door. The door she’d left open.
The bitch hadn’t seen him. But he’d seen her and her gun.
Wrong time.
He’d take care of her soon.
Since she’d been there, he figured some of the other FBI pricks had been around, too. He’d run down the service stairs and slipped out the back exit, making sure to duck and avoid the security cameras. No cars had been within sight, and it had only taken about ten seconds to jump the rear fence, even with his injuries.
He knew how to avoid the security at that building. He’d known that he’d have to take out big brother sooner or later, so Quinlan had made sure he could get in and out of Max’s building any time he wanted.
Can’t f**king catch me.
The chill night air bit into his skin. He wouldn’t be able to stay out there long, not with the cops likely to search all the nearby streets. Good thing he knew exactly where he was heading.
• • •
“Clear!” Luke shouted as he strode back from the guest rooms. “No one else is here, sir.”
Hyde nodded grimly. “Did you see anyone when you entered, Kennedy?”
“No, just… him.” Her fingers were wrapped around Max’s. He was still out. Not so much as a flicker of his eyelashes. The EMTs had him loaded on a stretcher. Kim had already bagged the glass on the bar and the shards left on the floor.
“The guy at the desk downstairs ID’d Nathan Donnelley,” Ramirez told them as he stalked into the apartment. “Said Donnelly came in about an hour ago, and he never left.”
“The doctor left all right. Just not through the front door.” A muscle in Hyde’s jaw flexed, then he said, “I want all the security footage from this place. I want to know when and how Donnelley and Quinlan Malone got out of this building.”
The EMTs started to haul Max out.
“Kennedy…” Hyde’s attention shifted to her. “Go start running the tapes. See what you can find for—”
“No.” Her fingers tightened on Max’s. So strong, but right then, so vulnerable. Out like that, anything could happen to him. No way to fight back. “I’m going with Max.” Her voice came out, flat and certain, and she glanced up at Hyde. “I’m going with him.” Screw the case. He mattered to her.
Silence. She felt all eyes on her. Even the EMTs’. “Move!” she shouted at them. “He needs to get to the hospital!”
They moved.
“Get me an APB out on Quinlan Malone and Doctor Nathan Donnelley.” Hyde’s sharp orders followed her out the door.
Sam looked back, just for an instant, and found Hyde’s glittering stare on her. Sam inclined her head but never eased her grip on Max.
I won’t leave you.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Nathan Donnelley had gone back to his motel, the shithole he’d been staying in since he left the Malone house.
It took less than five minutes to toss his clothes into a bag. He grabbed his passport, shoved his wallet into his pants, and yanked out his phone.
On the second ring, Quinlan answered.
“Where’s my money?” Donnelly asked. “I need the account number.” He yanked open the motel room door. Juggling his bag and the phone, he hurried out. “Don’t screw with me,” he snapped when nothing but static crackled over the line. “I need—”
“I know what you need.”
The voice hadn’t come from the phone. Oh, f**k, no, it had—
Quinlan stood in front of him. A white-hot pain drove into Nathan’s chest. Quinlan smiled and shoved the knife deeper.
Quinlan’s left hand clamped around Nathan’s shoulder, and he pushed Donnelley back into the motel room. Donnelley’s phone dropped and thudded onto the floor.
The knife left his chest with a long, slow slosh. Donnelley’s breath wheezed out as the suitcase slipped from his fingers.
Quinlan smirked. “Missed your heart, didn’t I?” He kicked the door closed. “Better try again.” Then he lunged forward.
Donnelley opened his mouth to scream, but Quinlan’s hand slapped over his lips and his knife thrust deep again.
“Did I miss this time, doc?”
When Max opened his eyes the next morning, he didn’t know where he was.
“Why do you think I sent her to screw you?” A wink. “Always got to have a backup plan. When you cut out of the city, you’ll start to look mighty guilty. That’ll make those Feds shift their focus.”
Nathan’s fingers curled over the black bag. One last batch. He’d brought the drugs Quinlan demanded, and now the kick in his gut told him who they’d be used on.
“You want the account number, Don? Go give my brother a drink, and it’s yours.” Quinlan’s smile flashed again, and the sight of it made bile rise in Donnelley’s throat.
Only one person between Quinlan and the Malone fortune. And now Quinlan wanted him to dose Max. Donnelley tossed the bag at Quinlan. “You do it. I’m done.” He had enough blood on his hands.
“Then you don’t get a dime.”
A tremble shook his body. Part rage. Part fear.
“I need your fingerprints on the glass, Don. Yours, not mine. When the Feds check, I need to be clean.” He walked closer, nice and slow. “You’ll be long gone. Hell, go jump a plane tonight. Doesn’t matter what you leave behind because they won’t be able to touch you.”
Money. Finally, he wouldn’t have to kiss some rich jerk’s ass. Wouldn’t have to watch while everyone else lived the good life while he stood on the fringes.
“I know why you stayed with dad. Your career was shot after that nurse found you using, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t speak. Why bother? Quinlan would know. The guy knew everything. Watched everyone.
“I had a PI do some research on you a couple of years back. That nurse—her name was Sheila, right?—she still remembered you.”
Of course the bitch had. “My wife… she’d just left me.”
Quinlan shook his head. “Do I really look like I give a shit? I don’t need to know why. Save that crap for your shrink.”
Donnelley glared at him. Asshole.
“I picked you to help me not because of the drugs. Hell, I could get those from anyone I wanted on the street.” When had Quinlan’s gaze become so mocking? “You’re my fall guy, Donnelley. The man who takes the blame, but gets to walk away with a boatload of cash.”
Only if the Feds didn’t grab him first.
“Go back outside,” Quinlan ordered. “Tell my brother I’m fine. Then have a drink with him.” Quinlan’s gaze dropped to the bag. “Just a drink. Then you walk away.”
Max stopped pacing when Donnelley came out of Quinlan’s room. “How is he?”
Donnelley stared at the floor, shaking his head. “He’s not—he’s not going to be the same, Max.”
Donnelley walked across the room and headed straight for the bar. Max frowned. “Are you okay?”
Donnelley’s hands shook as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. “Your stepfather was my friend.” The back of Donnelley’s hand swept out and sent a tumbler falling to the floor. It shattered, and glass flew everywhere. Donnelley stooped down to pick it up.
“No, careful! I’ll get it!” Max bent and hurriedly scooped up the large chunks. He pushed them onto the top of the bar as worry filled him. Donnelley looked shaken. And the guy wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Donnelley’s hands covered two glasses. “Beth was such a troubled woman.”
Beth? “I didn’t realize you two were close.” Beth had barely seemed to tolerate the doctor.
Donnelley picked up one of the glasses and handed it to him. “You learn a lot just by watching people. Beth, she was so unhappy.”
Max took the glass. “You knew she’d been screwing Frank when my mother was still alive, didn’t you?”
Donnelley drained his glass in two gulps. “Doesn’t really matter what she did now, does it?” A long sigh escaped him. “In the end, does it matter what any of us do? Death comes, no matter what.”
Max took a sip of the whiskey. “That’s one hell of a pessimistic view you’ve got there, doctor.” This time, he took a longer pull from the drink.
“When you’ve seen all that I have, you tend to get pessimistic.” Donnelley’s glass hit the bar top with a soft clink. “Your brother—he needs to keep seeing that shrink. Maybe… maybe this one will even be able to help him.”
The whiskey burned down Max’s throat as he drained the glass. “Maybe.” He could hope.
“The Feds aren’t pressing charges against him?” Donnelley’s eyes dipped to the empty glass that Max had just set on the bar.
“Frank’s death was an-an accident.” Max put his hand to his temple. That damn ache was back.
“If that’s what you think.”
What?
Donnelley came closer. The light glinted off the top of his balding head. “Sometimes people have blind spots.”
The room seemed to dim a bit. “What are you talking about?”
Donnelley’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “I kind of liked you. Of all the a**holes around Malone, you were the one who bothered me the least.”
His knees gave way, and Max hit the floor, hard. “Wh-what the… f-fuck… d-did…?” The drink.
Donnelley crouched above him. “And I am sorry about your mother.” Another sigh whispered from him. “Everything went downhill after her death.”
Max’s hands were numb. No, his arms were numb. A heavy weight seemed to settle over his entire body. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes open and on Donnelley. The doctor Frank had trusted.
“I hope it’s quick,” Donnelley said, but the words sounded funny. Distorted. “You shouldn’t have to suffer.”
• • •
It was a little after nine p.m. when Sam knocked on the door of Max’s apartment. The doorman had let her through when she flashed her badge, and now she stood in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot. She was wired, a quick process, and she knew every sound that she made was being transmitted back to the team outside.
Sam took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. The thick carpeting in the hallway muffled her movements. She knocked on the door again. Harder now. Louder.
She couldn’t hear any sounds from inside the apartment. “Max?” She pounded again. “I need to talk to you. Let me in.” The doorman had assured her that he was home.
The minutes ticked by. Max was home, but not answering. Shit.
She grabbed the door knob. Twisted it. Locked.
“Hyde, I don’t like this.” Her heart drummed even as her fist thudded into the door. “I don’t like—”
Glass shattered inside.
Sam kicked at the door. Once, twice. The damn thing wasn’t opening. The wood was too thick. “Hyde, something’s wrong!” Max was in there. Too quiet. An image of Beth’s blood-soaked body flashed in front of her eyes.
Sam kicked again, as hard as she could, and the lock shattered. The door opened with a groan, and Sam ran inside, her gun drawn.
The first thing that she noticed was the broken balcony door. Shards of sharp glass glittered on the floor. “Max!”
“S-Sam…”
She saw him in the shadows. Max lay face down on the floor, and his outstretched arms were just inches from the broken glass.
“Hyde, Hyde, get up here! Max is hurt!” She ran to Max, knowing Hyde could hear every word. She put her gun down and flipped him over. “Max, what happened?”
But his eyes were closed and his mouth had gone slack. “Max!” Her fingers fumbled. She found his pulse. Slow. Her hands searched his body but she found no wounds. No blood. She eased back, and her foot brushed against something. A broken drinking glass. Understanding hit—drugged.
Just like the other victims. They’d been drugged, and they hadn’t remembered…
She caught his face in her hands. “Max, I need you to hold on, do you hear me? Just hold on. Help’s coming.” Fear had her voice shaking because she didn’t know what he’d been given. Something to knock him out, to immobilize him? Or something to kill him? “Stay with me.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Their cry trickled through the broken door.
Check the apartment. She knew that she had to secure the scene, but she couldn’t leave Max. Wouldn’t leave him. Sam reached for her gun and held it tight. She kept her left hand on Max—her fingers were over his chest so she could feel the slow thud of his heart.
“I’m not leaving you,” Sam whispered, her grip on the gun never easing. “And you’re not leaving me.”
Quinlan hurried down the street, hunching his shoulders as he sank deeper into his coat. Damn that bitch. He’d been so close… and then she’d come pounding at the door.
He turned left and slipped into the alley.
A police cruiser raced by. Dammit. Quinlan’s breath blew out and a small cloud appeared in the cold air.
Somehow, Max had reached for that lamp. He’d grabbed it and sent the thing slamming into the fragile balcony door.
Then the bitch had started screaming.
He’d barely had time to hit the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness, before she’d gotten inside. Knocked the door down. Almost impressive.
She’d run for his brother. The agent hadn’t even bothered to search the shadows, and Quinlan had just walked right out the front door. The door she’d left open.
The bitch hadn’t seen him. But he’d seen her and her gun.
Wrong time.
He’d take care of her soon.
Since she’d been there, he figured some of the other FBI pricks had been around, too. He’d run down the service stairs and slipped out the back exit, making sure to duck and avoid the security cameras. No cars had been within sight, and it had only taken about ten seconds to jump the rear fence, even with his injuries.
He knew how to avoid the security at that building. He’d known that he’d have to take out big brother sooner or later, so Quinlan had made sure he could get in and out of Max’s building any time he wanted.
Can’t f**king catch me.
The chill night air bit into his skin. He wouldn’t be able to stay out there long, not with the cops likely to search all the nearby streets. Good thing he knew exactly where he was heading.
• • •
“Clear!” Luke shouted as he strode back from the guest rooms. “No one else is here, sir.”
Hyde nodded grimly. “Did you see anyone when you entered, Kennedy?”
“No, just… him.” Her fingers were wrapped around Max’s. He was still out. Not so much as a flicker of his eyelashes. The EMTs had him loaded on a stretcher. Kim had already bagged the glass on the bar and the shards left on the floor.
“The guy at the desk downstairs ID’d Nathan Donnelley,” Ramirez told them as he stalked into the apartment. “Said Donnelly came in about an hour ago, and he never left.”
“The doctor left all right. Just not through the front door.” A muscle in Hyde’s jaw flexed, then he said, “I want all the security footage from this place. I want to know when and how Donnelley and Quinlan Malone got out of this building.”
The EMTs started to haul Max out.
“Kennedy…” Hyde’s attention shifted to her. “Go start running the tapes. See what you can find for—”
“No.” Her fingers tightened on Max’s. So strong, but right then, so vulnerable. Out like that, anything could happen to him. No way to fight back. “I’m going with Max.” Her voice came out, flat and certain, and she glanced up at Hyde. “I’m going with him.” Screw the case. He mattered to her.
Silence. She felt all eyes on her. Even the EMTs’. “Move!” she shouted at them. “He needs to get to the hospital!”
They moved.
“Get me an APB out on Quinlan Malone and Doctor Nathan Donnelley.” Hyde’s sharp orders followed her out the door.
Sam looked back, just for an instant, and found Hyde’s glittering stare on her. Sam inclined her head but never eased her grip on Max.
I won’t leave you.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Nathan Donnelley had gone back to his motel, the shithole he’d been staying in since he left the Malone house.
It took less than five minutes to toss his clothes into a bag. He grabbed his passport, shoved his wallet into his pants, and yanked out his phone.
On the second ring, Quinlan answered.
“Where’s my money?” Donnelly asked. “I need the account number.” He yanked open the motel room door. Juggling his bag and the phone, he hurried out. “Don’t screw with me,” he snapped when nothing but static crackled over the line. “I need—”
“I know what you need.”
The voice hadn’t come from the phone. Oh, f**k, no, it had—
Quinlan stood in front of him. A white-hot pain drove into Nathan’s chest. Quinlan smiled and shoved the knife deeper.
Quinlan’s left hand clamped around Nathan’s shoulder, and he pushed Donnelley back into the motel room. Donnelley’s phone dropped and thudded onto the floor.
The knife left his chest with a long, slow slosh. Donnelley’s breath wheezed out as the suitcase slipped from his fingers.
Quinlan smirked. “Missed your heart, didn’t I?” He kicked the door closed. “Better try again.” Then he lunged forward.
Donnelley opened his mouth to scream, but Quinlan’s hand slapped over his lips and his knife thrust deep again.
“Did I miss this time, doc?”
When Max opened his eyes the next morning, he didn’t know where he was.
