Fade To Midnight (41 page)

Edie looked up at the date of the e-mail again. A cold skeleton hand snaked around her vital organs…and squeezed.

It was the date of her mother's death.

Ah, come on. No need to get the willies. What was so strange about that? It had been a day like any other day for Linda Parrish. E-mails, protocols, meetings.

But her mother had collapsed at that board meeting. She'd been dead before she reached the hospital.

Edie realized that she was doodling on the the e-mail from Des. Covering it with tiny hearts. Like she'd done on the napkin, at the restaurant. With her mother, the last time she'd seen her.

Edie's little closet full of compulsions.
Her mother's voice sounded in her head, so vivid, she felt as if she'd heard it with her waking ears.

“Ah! So you're home from your little sexual adventure? And now you're spying for him?”

Edie leaped up, her heart pounding. Marta was framed in the doorway. She was almost unrecognizable, with her hair down, no makeup on her face. Her eyes were red and hollow, but they still glittered with intense dislike.

Edie forced herself to slow her panicked breaths. “No,” she said. “I have a right to be here, looking at anything I choose to look at.”

“Do you? More than I do? Is that what you're saying?”

“You said it, not me.” Edie gazed at the other woman. Marta's haggard face indicated that she might have cared more about Dad than Edie had given her credit for. But perhaps she was grieving the prospect of marrying a multibillionaire. Those were scarce on the ground.

A thought flashed through her mind. “Marta, were you there that day at Helix in Tacoma, when Kev's brothers visited Dad?”

Marta's face tightened. “Yes, I was. I met the McClouds, and they were animals. They physically attacked your father, did you know that?”

“McClouds?” She was startled. “Was that their name?” So her father had known Kev's real name and background all along.

“God, Edie, is that all you care about? I said they attacked Charles! Physically! He had bruises! Aren't you listening to me?”

Edie thought about the marks that Kev carried on his body, and then quickly concluded that any comparison would be both irrelevant and offensive. “And they were asking about Kev?”

“That's putting it mildly,” Marta muttered. “They wouldn't give up. They just could not accept the fact that they'd killed the only two people in the world who might have possibly given them the information that they wanted. It was their own goddamn fault, and they thought that we should clean up their mess? Idiots.”

Edie was bewildered. “Killed…how? What two people?”

Marta made an impatient gesture. “Osterman, of course! And Gordon, his…oh, I don't know what you'd call him. Osterman's wet-work man. The mess was kept as quiet as those McClouds would allow. They would have destroyed Helix completely, if they'd had their way.”

Edie was at a loss. “But…but the fire in the lab…?”

“It happened, but not before these McClouds slashed Osterman's throat and bashed in Gordon's skull,” Marta said harshly. “That's the evolutionary level of people we were dealing with, understand?”

Edie sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Ah…wow.”

“Yes, I told you. Wild animals. I still cannot believe that in this day and age, that an organization like Helix or a man like your father could be held hostage by violent thugs like those McClouds.”

As if the McClouds had been the ones systematically killing runaway kids for decades. But Edie kept that comment to herself.

“And now, the worst animal of all has finally gotten his revenge. I guess it was just a matter of time,” Marta said.

Edie stared at the other woman. “What do you mean? What revenge? They already know who killed Dad? Have they got the guy already?”

“Don't be disingenuous,” Marta snapped. “Don't tell me you don't know. You were in on the whole plan. His little brainwashed errand girl and fuck buddy. You practically poisoned Charles to death at the banquet the other night, so don't pretend to be sad that your lover finished the job! You should be in jail! You disgust me! How dare you come here, and pretend that you didn't know what he was going to do?”

Edie's mouth opened and closed, helplessly. “I…he…but what do you…how can you even—”

“Marta.” Des stepped into the office. He looked pale, weary. “I know that you're grieving, but this is not how I wanted to tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Edie's voice cracked. “What are you talking about? If it's what I think it is, then don't bother. I don't want to hear your poisonous bullshit! I am done, hear me? I am done!”

Des and Marta looked at each other. Des beckoned. “Edie. We need to talk. And I need to show you a couple of things that are going to open your eyes.”

“My eyes are wide open!” she yelled. “I am going to Ronnie now! Everyone else just shut up, and leave us alone! Go to hell!”

“We can't, Edie. Not yet.” Des took her by the arm.

Edie jerked it violently away. “Do not touch me!”

“Edie.” He sounded exhausted, and sad. “Let's get this over with.”

Oh, whatever. She could go humor them, listen to their lies, and tell them to fuck off afterwards. When she knew exactly what she was dealing with. Whatever they said would not change reality. They could not change what Kev was. They could not destroy him with lies.

He was too strong, too real. Too pure.

She followed Des out of the room, her arms wrapped across her chest. Protecting her heart, and what she knew was true.

Something crackled in her hand. She was still clutching the crumpled printout of the e-mail that she'd taken from her mother's catch-all desk file. Another thought occurred to her.

“Des, what about this morning?” she asked. “Did you meet with Kev? Did you show him the archives? Did you guys find anything?”

Des's eyes slid away. “That's part of what we have to talk about.”

“So? Talk, then!”

Des opened the door to the library. “There's someone you need to meet,” he said.

A thin, graying woman in a severe navy blue suit sat at the table, scribbling on a legal pad. She stood up when they entered.

“Edie, meet Detective Monica Houghtaling, of the PPD. Detective, Edie Parrish.”

Edie shook the detective's hand, accepted her murmured condolences, and stared at the chair that Des pulled out for her, as if sitting down in it would give them some obscure power over her.

“Des.” Her voice felt high, thin. A cord about to snap. “What happened this morning? With the archives?”

“Nothing happened. With Larsen, anyway. He didn't show.”

“Didn't show? What do you mean, he didn't show? He told us that he'd arrived. He said—”

“I waited at the meeting place for him for an hour. Then I had to leave, because I had an appointment, at ten-fifteen. With Charles.”

“This morning? You were…there?” Her voice choked off.

Des passed his hand over his face. “Yes.” His voice was gravely and thick. “I was there, Edie. When it happened. I saw it all. Me, and my colleague, Dr. Cheung. She's still in shock.”

“But that's…but—”

“We'd just finished presenting a new project to him. Discussing funding possibilities. And then he lights up a cigar, and walks over to the window as he's talking to us…and…” He stopped, swallowed. Looked away. “I can't…talk about it.”

The room was silent, but for Marta's hitching sniffle behind them.

“Edie, we have to talk about some hard things now,” Des began.

“Don't start,” Edie held up her hand. “Don't even start.”

“We have to,” Des said, heavily. “We don't have the luxury of denying reality. Detective, can I show her the film footage?”

Houghtaling pulled a slim silver laptop toward herself, and typed into it, her narrow mouth tight and grim. “This is security footage from outside the Parrish Foundation building this morning, at nine-nineteen
A.M
.,” she said. She spun the laptop so that Edie could see it.

The image was stationary, just tree branches waving gently outside the door of the new Parrish Foundation building. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, a tall, familiar form strolled into view. Kev. Edie stopped breathing.

Kev stopped, turned slowly in a circle, eyes narrowed as he studied his surroundings. Then he went on into the building.

“There's an eight minute gap,” Des said. “May I?” he asked the detective. She nodded. Des fast-forwarded, and set it to play again.

Kev walked out of the building again, brisk and purposeful.

“There's a three minute gap.” Des leaned to fast forward again. “Now, watch carefully here.”

Kev appeared again, this time carrying two large, metal-sided suitcases. He shoved the door open with his shoulder, turning to sidle the cases inside. She saw his scarred face very clearly.

“Your father was killed one hour later,” Des said. “From an unfinished suite on the eighth floor, one that faced your father's office suite across the grounds. This was the time it took for him to set up his gun, and wait for his moment.”

Edie shook her head. “No. You've got this all wrong,” she protested. “How could he have possibly known where Dad would be?”

“He knew, because I told him,” Des said heavily. “I told Larsen he had to be on time, so I could make my meeting with Charles. At his office, at the Helix complex, at ten-fifteen. He knew exactly where Charles would be. And when.” Des passed his hand over his face. “I told him,” he repeated. “I am going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.” He dropped his face into his hands.

Marta made a choking sound, laid her hand on Des's shoulder.

Edie felt horribly cool, cut out of the sob fest.

Des lifted his head, grabbed her hand. She was too numb to shake it off. “Edie. I know this is terrible for you.” His voice broke. “But I have to ask. Can you think of any place the police might be able to find him? Anyone they could question? Who was the man who brought you to the house, for instance? Was he one of Larsen's associates?”

She shook her head. “Just a friend.”

She was doodling again. Without knowing it, she'd pulled the pen from her pocket, laid out the e-mail, and was scribbling frantically, as if the contact of pen to paper was a lifeline to her sanity. “I can't think of anything,” she said, as she felt the eye open up. Her pen moved faster.

“Edie! Stop that!” Marta snapped. “You're acting like a child! Drawing your little comic book pictures at a time like this?”

Edie stopped, feeling vulnerable and exposed as she looked into the closed faces, the staring eyes of the people in the room.

Des reached out to hold her pen hand still. “Edie. Stop drawing, and concentrate. Consider this. If he's innocent, he has nothing to worry about. By helping the police find him, you clear his name that much faster. Fingerprints can't lie, Edie. And if he's guilty, then who are you protecting, Edie? And why?”

“Stop repeating my name,” she said.

He blinked. “Huh? Excuse me?”

“I know they probably taught you in some people management seminar, that people like to hear the sound of their own name, but I just find the repetition incredibly annoying,” she said.

Des's face hardened. “Edie, that's not very…” He stopped himself. “So. You can't help, then? You can't think of anything?”

She shook her head.

“I can't believe the staff just let the guy who brought her here go without questioning him,” Des grumbled.

“We have his name and plate number,” Houghtaling said.

“He has nothing to do with any of this!” Edie protested.

“I hope that you're right,” Houghtaling said. “And that you won't end up charged with aiding and abetting. Accessory to murder. Think about that, please, while you see if you can remember anything else.”

“Please, Detective, don't put it in those terms,” Des pleaded. “She's fragile, and she's been through a harrowing experience.”

That annoyed the piss out of her. Kev hadn't harrowed her. These days with Kev had been the best days of her entire life, bar none, until three hours ago, with that cell phone call on the bluff. “I am not fragile,” she snapped, staring at the freeze frame of Kev's thoughtful frown, looking up. Her heart cramped with love for him. “Des,” she said. “What do you mean he never showed up for the appointment?”

Des looked confused. “I mean what I said. He never showed.”

“But here he is,” Edie said. “Right here. On the video.”

Des hesitated, blinking rapidly. “Oh! The Foundation building wasn't our appointment location. We were supposed to meet in a warehouse over at the Graystone Business Park, where the boxes are being stored. There didn't seem to be much sense in moving them, so I was waiting for him there.”

“That's not what he told me,” Edie said. “He told me he was meeting you at the Parrish Foundation. He texted us about the pile of boxes.” She turned to the detective. “Did you see the library? “

“Edie,” Des's voice was long-suffering. “Of course he told you that. Think about it. He knew you would see that video sooner or later.”

“Did you see the library?” She repeated the question to Detective Houghtaling, her voice wobbly and high.

Houghtaling's lips pursed. “We did not have any reason to look on the fifth floor. The sniper's perch was on the eighth floor. I was under the impression that those floors weren't even finished.”