House of Steel (27 page)

“She somehow got out of the restraints. She
must have had something - a knife or something - on her,” he
started, rushing his words. “I checked her, though. I patted her
down, looked everywhere.”

“Ethan,” Holston spoke as if he was scolding
a small child.

“Mr. Parker, I tied her up. She was passed
out. She must have slit the ties when I was dealing with this one,”
Ethan replied as he hit Delaney’s leg, her body still slung over
his shoulder.

“And where do you suppose she went, Ethan?”
His voice was calm and steady.

“I don’t know, but she ran south, and I
chased her for a bit before I saw this one run the other way.”

“And?”

Ethan fidgeted, feeling the intense pressure
of Holston’s eyes penetrate into him. He had known Holston long
enough to tell that he was losing his patience. His composed
demeanor at the moment meant nothing to Ethan, he knew better.
“Well, I figured you would find Evie, that she would come back, but
this one, I didn’t know.” He spoke slowly, carefully choosing the
words that articulated his lie. Ethan didn’t think Evie would come
back. He
knew
she wouldn’t come back. Sweat poured down his
forehead as he waited for his response.

“You’re right. She will come around.”
Holston stepped back, taking the fedora off his head and resting it
on his chest. “And the wound?”

“She’ll need medical attention. The bullet’s
still lodged in her arm. She’ll need someone to take it out,” Ethan
spoke truthfully.

“And anything else?”

“It looked like she was knocked around a
bit, and it looks like this one was, too. She has blood on her head
and possibly frostbite on her feet.” He raised her feet up near his
face.

“George and Frank?” Holston stood waiting
for the report.

“I didn’t find them, but three cars were
there. I’m guessing that’s where the bullet came from in Evie’s
arm. I’m sure they were in the barn.”

“One from Evie.” Holston waited, his eyes
bearing into him again. “One from George and Frank, and the last
car?”

“A black Buick. There was a body in the
shed.” Ethan paused. “It was Joe’s.”

“Joe?” His eyebrows and voice rose as he
stepped back, closer to Ethan.

“Yes, Joe.” Ethan’s voice cracked. He had
intentionally left the details of the barn out of their phone
conversation on the way over, but he knew he would eventually have
to tell him about Joe and the barn. Despite his size, Ethan knew
that Holston Parker could and would end his life. “His body is in
the trunk.”

“The trunk,” Holston repeated. He lowered
his voice as his hands gripped his hat.

“Yes.” Ethan exhaled as he watched Holston
rub the brim of his hat, running his hands across the fabric.
Holston nodded his head while his steel eyes remained fixated on
Ethan, the messenger.

“And the smoke?” His face sullen and
unflinching. “I smelled it the moment you walked in the door.”
Ethan’s eyes cast down to his feet. “Ethan, this has been a painful
conversation so far and I have been nothing other than generous to
you. I have much to do as you know. Did she burn it?” he hissed in
the darkness.

“Yes.”

“To the ground?” His voice was deep as his
face and neck tensed, making Ethan cringe. He had never seen him
like this despite the fact that Holston Parker had witnessed many
murders. Burning a barn to the ground seemed much less offensive
than killing.

“Yes, it’s gone. Or it will be by the time
anyone gets there. They were in the barn and the smoke was so
thick. There’s smoke inhalation, for the both of them…” Ethan felt
the intense need to unfold the details for the unrelenting man.

“That’s why you didn’t find George and
Frank. They were in the burning barn,” Holston interrupted, his
hand moving fast now against the brim. “Ethan.” His voice boomed
before he lowered it again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to do. There was no time,
so I just left and brought them here,” he responded, shifting his
feet. The weight of her body tugged on his own, the sweat now
dripping down his back.

“Bring her upstairs. I’ll be up in a
minute.” He turned his back to Ethan, slipping his phone from his
pocket and bringing it to his ear. Ethan trudged forward onto the
steps as Holston’s voice carried into the stairwell.

“I just got word that my property at 2516
Larsen Road is on fire. I’m sure you’ve seen the dispatch. There
will be two bodies in the barn. Convicted felons, released from
prison. I do not know any of these men. They brought two cars to
the scene, none of which are registered to me. One car is. It is my
daughter’s car. She’s gone missing. I will take care of it. Your
discretion is appreciated and will be awarded appropriately.” He
paused before answering, “Yes, I realize he’ll be on it. I know
he’s close. Do your job.” His voice disappeared into the hallway as
Ethan neared the top of the stairs. Holston hadn’t asked about
Gunnar, and Ethan wasn’t about to tell him. What would Holston do
without his trusted hit man? He pulled the metal door open, the
wheels squeaking against the track, and walked into the vast
loft.

Ethan’s eyes fell to the empty white cot
across the room, blotted with red stains. Evie must have brought
Theron here, but now he was gone. Ethan wondered how this had
happened – how Evie had gotten to this point. He thought he would
have known.

“On the other side. Put her down over
there,” Holston ordered as he appeared next to him, pointing across
the room at the cot.

“Thank you for bringing
her
to me.
Your services are no longer needed here. Go back to the pub. Make
sure her friends don’t wake up and take care of Joe.” Holston
paused as he spoke Joe’s name before taking a glass vial out of his
jacket. Inside was a single white cotton swab. “If she comes to
you, bring her to me. You can go.”

Ethan bent down, rolling Delaney’s body onto
the cot, when he spotted a small, black bag strapped directly
underneath it. He slid his hand beneath it, pulling it loose, as he
pretended to check the lock mechanism of the wheels. Ethan shot his
eyes up to see Holston’s back, turned to him as he set his fedora
on the table. Ethan slid the bag into his jacket before he walked
across the loft and disappeared through the metal doors without
saying a word.

***

Delaney’s eyes fluttered open to the light
above her, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the silhouette
standing before her. His face demanded her attention before he
stepped back, placing the cap on the small black tube filled with
smelling salts.

“Welcome back.” His voice was low and
steady. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He held out his
hand, firm, as if he was shaking the hand of a business associate.
His gray eyes were set deep in his face among his high, tight
cheekbones, just like the photo back at Atlas Pub. His black hair
was speckled with gray, just as she remembered it from the
hospital. It was him.
Holston Parker.
She lay still, unable
to move her hand forward to meet his. The distinguished, mysterious
killer stood before her.

“Breathtaking,” he said as he studied her
eyes first and then moved to her hair, reaching out to run the
strands between his fingers. The sweet smell of cigars filled her
nostrils before she flinched away, her body rigid, as she turned
her head. Her eyes fell on the fedora, resting on the table next to
her.

“Well, you’ll warm up to me. You have no
choice,” he said as he leaned in.
You have no choice.
The
words stuck in her throat as she watched him study her. Those were
her mother’s words.
Was it purposeful?
The anger welled in
her body, consuming her as she scanned the room.

Her eyes narrowed on a line running across
the room. Hung from it were canvases with various shades of black
and gray, but all forming one distinct and common feature - a barn.
Holston Parker is House_of_Steel
. She felt her stomach crawl
up through her throat as she heaved, but her body was empty. Her
head fell back onto the pillow beneath her.

“They are beautiful. Your work,” he said,
nodding up to her canvases strung across the room. Delaney let out
a small moan of disgust, averting her eyes.

“After I saw the first one, I couldn’t
stop,” he mused, walking over to the other side of the room to take
a closer look. “Your passion. Your talent. It’s astounding,” he
added as he looked up at the canvases.
I never should have done
it. “
You never should have started your little masquerade,
though. I needed you to stop your little shows with strangers, so I
gave you a reason to. I hadn’t intended to continue, but it became
…” he paused to turn to her, lifting his hands in the air in a
grand gesture as if he was about to say something earth-shattering,
before he finished, “Curious. Addictive.”

Holston strode back to her, his black jacket
moving effortlessly with him across the room. She eyed his pristine
gray pants and black shoes that exhibited a sheen only achieved by
regular buffing. In his late fifties, she guessed, his face was
taut and almost handsome-looking. Yet, she couldn’t wrap her mind
around his appeal, not with the frightening details that had
unfolded in front of her. He was a monster, capable of things she
couldn’t even imagine. A beautiful creature capable of destroying
her world. His mere presence made her body coil inward.
What
does he want with me?

“And you, of all people, know the true
meaning of curiosity, which is a cordial term for your addiction to
your self-destruction. First, the indiscretion online, and second,
the unfathomable. I can barely speak the words. The affair with
your student,” he said before adding, “but I’m getting ahead of
myself. Let’s go back.”

“What do you want from me?” she uttered, her
voice raspy.

“You knocked your head. On the ice,” he
said, not answering her question.
Evie. Did she get
away?

“She’s gone, but she’ll come back,” he
assured her, as if he knew what she was about to ask.

I’m alone.
Delaney turned back to the
vast, open space with exposed brick walls. Her eyes moved along the
wall to the corner where a toilet and sink, recently installed,
stood with no walls. She looked down at the white sheets underneath
her, blotches of red soaking through the white near her right hand.
She pulled her hand from the sheet, moving it to rest on her
stomach.
Theron.

“Evie had him here strapped down to the bed.
His wound was covered and taken care of. She had even placed an IV
in him,” he continued, looking at the ground where an IV pump on a
wheeled pole lay next to the bed. Delaney’s eyes moved up to the
table where empty plastic bags and medical supplies littered the
surface next to his fedora. “She must have drugged him. The needle
was on the table.”

“Theron?” her voice rasped.

“He’s taken care of,” he replied, his
hardened eyes unmoving from her as he slid down to sit on the cot
next to her. Delaney cringed, pulling her legs toward her to inch
away from his body. The weight of her feet felt like concrete
blocks. She felt a sudden pang in her stomach.

“Taken care of? How exactly?” The words
flooded from her. “Like Henry?”

“So she told you about Henry?” He turned to
her feet, placing another blanket around them. She looked down to
see that her feet were wrapped tight with cloth. “Did she tell you
she’s had a hard life? A troubled past?”

“A troubled past because of you,” she shot
back.

“Delaney, love. Theron’s alive, at the
hospital by now,” he replied. “I’m sure she didn’t tell you
everything about Henry. He was a barbaric young man with no hope. A
rapist. A slaughterer. Despite my best attempts, he wasn’t worthy
of saving. I gave him a shot to work for me, but his darkness
prevailed, leaving me with little to decide. After Gunnar found
Elizabeth’s strangled body in the field, it was just a matter of
time before we found him. Evie had no idea.” His eyes wandered out
into the loft.
Theron’s at the hospital, thank God.
Relief
swarmed her body.

“They said it was an accident,” Delaney
prodded. Despite her urge to scream at the insanity of the Parker
family, she found herself drawn to defend Evie. She had saved her,
in a twisted sort of way, and now that Theron was alive, she felt a
renewed sense of energy.

“Gunnar made it look like an accident. Joe
wouldn’t have been able to live knowing that his Elizabeth was
murdered,” Holston replied as he turned back to her. “And besides,
we had destroyed the evidence. Henry that is.”

“Leaving your own daughter shattered,”
Delaney muttered.

“My daughter,” he paused, slow to let the
word twist from his lips. “It wasn’t time for Evie to know. Look
what she’s done,” he replied, lifting his arms up toward the
room.

“She’s dying right now from a bullet lodged
in her arm. It was one of your guys that shot her. You can live
knowing that you killed your daughter?” Delaney asked.

“She’ll come back.” His eyes shifted to her.
“You need to trust me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“There’s no other choice. You need to trust
me.” Her mother’s words stung her again.

“My mother,” Delaney said. Her voice trailed
through the air.

“Your mother is in good hands,” he said as
he peeled off his jacket. “Dr. Jackson is the best surgeon in the
U.S. He’ll take care of Ann, there’s no doubt. He needed a little
convincing, of course, to take her on such short notice.” He
reached out to touch Delaney’s hand that lay on the cot. She pulled
it away as if she had touched a hot fire. My mother, Ann Jones. The
maniacal man before her was watching over her mother, over her.
Mark’s boss
. A deep smile spread across his face.

“But why do you care?” she pressed.