twenty

Wren rushed into the hall and stopped short. Randy just caught himself from running into her. Maria lay on her back just outside the bedroom, gun loose in her right hand, blinking groggily. “What happened?”

Wren kicked the gun out of the other woman’s reach.

“I think you got her with the door. Huh. That’s anti-climactic. Dang! I was really looking forward to flinging rocks at somebody.”

Randy laughed shortly. “Yeah, you’re my brother’s girlfriend all right.” He went over and retrieved the gun, put the safety on, and stuck it in his pocket. Maria sat up, rubbing her head. “You haven’t won, you know.”

“Looks like victory to me,” Randy said.

Wren grinned. “Is this the part where you tell us all about the diabolical plan that would have worked if it wasn’t for us pesky kids?”

“Joke all you want to,” Maria said, “but your boyfriend’s as good as dead right now.”

Wren readied her slingshot again. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you think they invited him to go boating?”

“Why did they invite him to go boating?” Randy asked, directing his question at Wren.

“Gregory said they wanted to hear about his experiences as a private investigator, but we figured they wanted to pump him for information, to see how much he knows. There was a newspaper story about him investigating your death. They already tried to kill him once, though. He thought it was a coincidence, but I knew it wasn’t. Your friend here put on a fake mustache and made it look like he got caught in a convenience store robbery. He disarmed her with a bottle of mustard.”

Maria sneered. “Let’s see him disarm the Mississippi.”

Wren shot Randy a worried glance. “He said they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything on a busy river in broad daylight.”

“All they have to do is get him in the water and wait for him to drown. Gregory’s rigged a section of the railing on his boat. Pretty boy leans on it, he’ll go right through.”

“That’s a stupid plan,” Randy said. “Death swims like a fish.”

“Not anymore.” Wren looked around, frantic. “Wounded warrior, remember? His lungs are damaged. I need a phone.”

“Damn! Right. You had one?”

“It went out the window.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Where’s the house phone?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only ever seen people talking on cells that they carry in their pockets.” Wren looked at Maria.

“I don’t have one. But if you let me go, I’ll call and tell them the game is up. That the police know everything and if they kill him they’ll go down for murder.”

Wren hesitated.

“Think about it,” Maria encouraged. “They’re the real villains. I’m just a minion. You said it yourself. Let me go and I’ll disappear. You’ll never see or hear from me again.”

“But how will you call them if you don’t have a phone?”

“Fine,” Maria said. “I have a phone. It was in my hand when you attacked me with the door. It should be around here somewhere. But I’m not going to call anybody without some kind of guarantee.”

“If your boss hurts my boyfriend, I’ll kick your ass. How’s that for a guarantee?”

Wren looked around the hallway, then exclaimed and dived off to the side to retrieve a fancy, new smartphone from under the hall table. She turned it over in her hand as she came back. “Hell.”

The screen was intact but the back had busted and the battery and data card were gone.

“This can’t be happening! Death doesn’t have time for us to play hide-and-seek with electronics.”

Randy reached up and stabbed a finger at the ceiling and both women jumped as a frantic, high-pitched beeping filled the house.

“Smoke alarm,” he said. “Fancy place like this will have everything hooked to a private security company. The smoke alarm goes off, the company will call the police and the fire department. We should have reinforcements in a couple of minutes.”

_____

“Would you like to drive, Lainey?”

“I don’t know,” she hedged.

“Oh, come on,” her brother coaxed. He looked to Death “I’m trying to get her used to taking the helm. She does okay on the quieter parts of the river, but traffic and turbulence tend to fluster her.”

Reluctantly, the small woman crossed to starboard and took her place in the captain’s chair. “Do you want to head back toward the dock now?”

“No,” Gregory said. “Let’s keep going downriver. I promised Mr. Bogart that we’d show him where his brother’s ashes were scattered, remember? That was near the confluence with the Missouri. We’re still a couple of miles above there.”

“Don’t go out of your way on my account,” Death said.

“It’s no trouble,” Gregory assured him. “And I think you should see the place. I think it’ll do you good.”

_____

When the call came in for Fire Station 41, the address sent a chill up Captain Cairn’s spine. Einstadt Avenue. The last time he’d gone on a call to Einstadt Avenue, nearly a year ago now, he’d come home short a firefighter. That had been in the morning, not the evening, but the weather was identical. With a strong sense of déjà vu, he took his place. The engine led the way out of the station and they raced across town.

The address was a big, brick mansion across the street from the abandoned brewery. There were no hysterical occupants in the yard and no sign of smoke coming from the building, so he figured it was most likely a false alarm. They pulled up in front of the place and he saw a large man in the side yard, doing something to a small tree. Cap sent two of his men around the house to look for signs of fire and went to talk to the gardener.

“Is there a fire?”

He had to tap the larger man’s arm to get his attention. The man looked up, puzzled. “I said, is there a fire?”

Frowning, the man reached up and fiddled with his ear. He was turning up a hearing aid, Cap realized. “Sorry. I keep it off so I can’t hear my boss. What?”

“We’ve got a fire alarm going off,” Cap repeated. “Do you know anything about that?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not burning anything. The maid probably is, if she’s trying to cook. But don’t tell her I said that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Cap started for the house, the gardener trailing behind, but before he reached the door it slammed open and the ghost of his long-lost firefighter barreled out. “Bogie?”

He was thinner than he should have been, his face looked gaunt and pale and his hair was gray, but it was undoubtedly Randy Bogart. Cap heard Rowdy shout and Talia scream and then Bogie grabbed him, frantic and breathless. “Cap, you gotta stop them! They’re trying to kill my brother!”

_____

Death’s phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket and lifted it, but before he could answer or see who it was, Gregory stumbled against him. He hit the phone and it flew out of Death’s hand and disappeared below the surface of the river.

“Oh, my God! I am so sorry!” the doctor said.

“Damn. Um, can I borrow your phone?” Death asked. He expected the other man to have some excuse as to why he could not. Still, he had to try. The missed call was sending tremors of worry up his spine. He hadn’t seen who was calling, but figured it was only important if it was Wren.

“Of course,” Gregory said. He took out his own phone but held onto it. “What’s the number?”

Death hesitated, then reluctantly repeated Wren’s number and watched while the other man punched it in. Gregory put his phone on speaker. “I’ll just hold on to it.” He held the phone out. “No offense, friend, but you’re a little tipsy and I don’t want this one going in the drink.”

Wren had her phone set to vibrate for the dangerous foray into enemy territory, but Death knew she’d answer it if she could. As it rang and rang and rang, dread settled like lead in his belly.

_____

“No answer,” Cap said, voice grim, keeping his phone to his ear. “Watch your step.”

Wren took the hand he offered and let him help guide her off the dock and into the fire boat. She’d ridden here sitting on Randy’s lap, crammed into the middle of 41’s fire and rescue truck between Rowdy and the kid who’d taken Randy’s place. They’d had the siren going and were traveling at a rate of speed that normally would have terrified her. She’d leaned forward the entire way, as if somehow that would help them to go even faster.

Cops were scouring the Grey house, looking for the missing SD card. Gregory’s phone wasn’t registered in his name and Maria hadn’t known the number, nor even the number of the phone she was using. It was one Gregory had provided, with strict instructions that she wasn’t to call anyone on it but him. They couldn’t even get her number from one of her friends or relatives and use it to trace his phone.

The fire boat had been waiting for them. Randy was already on board and the paramedics followed her, lugging gear they hoped not to use. “Good luck,” Cap said. “Go get your brother. You call me the second you know something, you hear? And be careful.”

There were two firefighters already on board. As they pulled away, the one who wasn’t piloting turned to them.

“The police and water patrol have craft out looking for them, too. According to the registration, Gregory has a 27-foot pontoon called the Zaca. Registered to St. Charles.”

“That’s where Death went to meet them,” Wren confirmed.

“St. Charles is between the two rivers,” the officer said. “Gregory’s yacht club has its main facility on the Missouri and an auxiliary location on the Mississippi. They could be on either river, going upstream or down. The Sheriff’s Department has choppers up with searchlights. The problem is, with the sun all the way down now, a lot of the river is in shadow. It’d be awfully easy to miss them, especially if they’re somewhere with a lot of trees.”

“Is he trying to be helpful?” Wren asked Randy. “Because this doesn’t feel helpful.”

Randy ran a hand across her back, reassuring her. “Just keep an eye out for pontoon boats. They’re pretty popular so there are apt to be a lot of them on the water.” He leaned forward and addressed the firefighter who’d been talking before. “You guys got any spare eyes?” The fireman leaned down, fished around in a tool box, and handed back two pair of binoculars, small but powerful.

“Thanks!”

Silently, side by side, Wren and Randy scanned the darkening water.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t answer his phone,” Wren said finally, barely finding the breath for a whisper as despair clutched at her heart. “He should have answered his phone.”

Randy’s voice came back to her, just as soft and pained. “I know.”

_____

This would be poignant, Death thought, if he still believed his brother was dead.

“The ceremony was in the morning,” Gregory said. “It was very impressive. They came in a procession of fire trucks, down to the landing below the Arch where the riverboats dock. Your brother’s station, I believe, boarded one of the official fire boats, with his ashes carried in a fireman’s helmet. A lot of the other firefighters had people waiting to pick them up in private craft, and by the time they were ready to go, most of the other boats out on the water had joined the fleet, whether out of respect or curiosity.”

“It sounds impressive,” Death agreed. And ironic, a bastard like Andrew Grey getting a hero’s send-off.

“This is about where they scattered the ashes. A piper played “Taps” on the bagpipes. I’ve never been really enamored of the bagpipes, but I have to admit that, in that instance, they sounded lovely. Come up here by the railing and you can get a better look.”

Alaina cut the throttle back to idle and let them drift. Death obediently joined James Gregory at the rail. It was a perfect summer evening. The water was wide here, the Big Muddy curving in from the northwest through a vast expanse of wetlands. The sun was down, but the sky was still bright. Venus hung in the west, a silver pendant against the soft, blue-purple twilight. This part of the river was largely empty of watercraft. Only a single speedboat approached, moving fast and leaving a long plume in its wake.

Death was expecting the hand to the small of his back and the push, propelling him up and over. What he wasn’t expecting was for the railing he had braced himself against to give way and drop him into the swift, muddy river channel.

_____

It was Randy who spotted the Zaca. He pointed it out to them just in time for everyone on the boat to see Gregory give Death a shove and send him flying into the water.

The pilot hit his siren and surged forward, speaking urgently into his radio as he did. He cut his engine when they were close, so as not to imperil the swimmer. Randy kicked off his shoes and hit the water before Wren even realized he was in motion.

On the Zaca, Gregory and Alaina were feigning distress, as if they hadn’t all seen the doctor pushing Death overboard. Gregory spoke to his sister and she jumped for the helm. A cold, sick feeling settled into Wren’s stomach. Death and now Randy were too close to the boat. If Alaina revved the engine, they’d both be sucked in and cut to ribbons. The fire boat captain had seen the danger as well. He had a megaphone out and was commanding Alaina not to touch the throttle. Wren didn’t trust the effectiveness of that for a second. She looked around for something to throw and realized she was still clutching her slingshot and a fistful of stones.

_____

The top foot or so of river was as warm as bath water. Death plunged through it quickly and into the cool, murky depth. He’d taken as deep a breath as he was able while he was falling, but that wasn’t very deep any more and he was already out of oxygen before natural buoyancy reasserted itself and he began to rise. Currents swirled around him, tugging at him, and the weight of his shoes tried to drag him down.

Lightheaded and desperate for air, he toed off his sneakers and let them drop into the mud, then concentrated on not breathing before his face broke the water’s surface.

His instincts were screaming at him to get the hell away from the Zaca. He expected the propellers to come to life at any second. That was why Gregory had put Alaina at the helm. It would be more convincing to the authorities. She was an inexperienced pilot. She panicked. She didn’t know what to do and she was only trying to help.

Death was disoriented, though, confused by the water’s agitation and his own hypoxia, and he couldn’t be certain where the boat was.

He surfaced half a dozen yards from her starboard side. The current was taking them both downstream, him and the pontoon boat, but the slower stream he had gone through under the surface had left him closer to the back of the boat and the deadly outboard motor. He coughed and spluttered, on the verge of blacking out. Something moved in the water near him. Jaws, Death thought. Damn.

Then a pair of strong arms came around him and a familiar voice said, “Relax. I got this.”

He whipped his head around, trying to see behind himself.

“Randy?”

“No, I’m the Little Mermaid. Stop it! Don’t fight me.”

Death choked on a sob. “Randy.”

“Hush. It’s okay. I got this.”

_____

“Get the helm,” Gregory hissed. “Rev the engine, like I told you. Quickly! Do it!”

Alaina ran for the helm, crying and already hysterical.

All the better to convince the authorities, Gregory thought. In his head he was already rehearsing what he would say to the police. I was trying to catch him. I’d been concerned about him already, you know. He’d just started a course of antidepressants, and suicide is always a danger. I thought it would help if he could see where his brother was buried. Find some closure. But he was so distraught, and then the railing gave way …

A second official craft was closing in from behind and there were two more coming upriver, heading in their direction. Dark water reflected flashing red and blue emergency lights and sirens reverberated through the river valley. Alaina reached for the throttle. She was almost touching it when she shrieked in pain and staggered away holding her nose. Blood streamed down her face.

The first official craft Gregory saw was a fire boat, not a police boat, coasting up alongside the Zaca. A small, redheaded woman stood braced against the railing. She held a slingshot, stone at the ready, and addressed Alaina in a hard voice. “The nice fireman said not to touch the throttle. Keep your hands off the throttle, bitch.”

The firefighter who was holding the megaphone dropped it and moved to the side of the boat, swiftly and expertly tethering the two crafts together. By the time he’d finished, a water patrol crew was making their own boat fast on the other side. The first cop to board them spun Gregory around, pushed him up against the bar, and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. “James Gregory, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder.”

“Kidnapping? Murder? Why, I don’t know what you’re talking about! He was suicidal. He jumped. I tried to stop him!”

Behind him, a second officer was arresting his sister. He cuffed her hands in back, careful to avoid the blood streaming from her nose, and read her the Miranda warning. Two of the firefighters had also boarded the Zaca, carrying equipment and trailed by the anxious redhead.

One of them, a pale, blonde female, grabbed the Zaca’s life preserver, stepped on the loose end of the throw rope, and tossed the ring into the river. She was holding the rope in her left hand and she let it play out completely, then took it in both hands and pulled it back in a few feet. “Bogie? The buoy’s just behind you. Can you get it?”

Gregory, pushed down into a seat and sandwiched between two burly officers, watched with a sick fascination as the line went taut. The second firefighter joined the first on the line as they reeled it in. Then they were pulling the ex-Marine, dripping and exhausted, from the river onto the pontoon boat’s swimming deck. When he was safe, the blonde reached down. A second hand came up to meet hers and Baranduin Bogart climbed aboard after his brother.

He pulled himself to his full height and spared the siblings a brief, withering glare. In that moment, Gregory reflected, he really didn’t look like Andrew Grey at all. Alaina, apparently, didn’t share that sentiment.

“Andrew? Andrew! Oh my God! Jamie, it’s Andrew!”

“It’s not Andrew. Shut up!”

“It is Andrew. He was in the water! He could have been killed!” She was leaning toward him now, straining against the officer holding her back. The exertion had restarted her nosebleed and she was screaming at him, gory and vengeful. “Did you know he was in the water? You promised me we were only going to kill his brother! Did you know?”

The cop to Gregory’s left leaned down, clasped his shoulder, and grinned insufferably.

“You do know we already read her the Miranda warning, right?”

_____

With a helping hand from Yering, Death sat up. Talia was leaning over him, stethoscope at the ready. Randy snatched it away from her, put the earpieces in his own ears, and set the scope on Death’s back. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Wren said your lungs are damaged. How much of that river did you swallow? Did you breathe in any?”

Death batted the instrument away, grabbed his little brother, and pulled him into a fierce hug. After a few seconds, Randy gave in and returned it. The baby of the family, he always tried extra hard to come off as a tough guy. Death didn’t care. He was crying openly and, when he finally spoke, there were tears in Randy’s voice too. “You big, dumb, jarhead. I told you to keep your stupid head down. I told you!”

It was Randy who finally pulled away, taking up the stethoscope again and putting it back in his ears.

“Seriously, man, you gotta let me check you over. We’re gonna take you in for chest X-rays and they’ll probably want to keep you overnight. In fact, I’m gonna insist they do—”

“No.” Death pushed his brother away and climbed clumsily to his feet. “Hell no. I don’t need to go see a doctor. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine when I say you’re fine.”

“I’m the big brother. You are not the boss of me.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“Anyway,” Death said, “if anyone needs to go to the emergency room, it’s you.”

“Me? I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine. You’re pale and you’ve lost weight. God only knows what those two have been doing to you.”

“Nothing,” Randy said. “I’m fine. I’m not going to any ER. I just want to go home, put on my own clothes, and be me for awhile.”

Wren suddenly gasped in dismay.

“Oh, Randy! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

They both turned to look at her. She had one hand to her mouth and her cheeks were as red as her hair. “Sorry?” Randy said. “What have you done to be sorry about?”

She blushed even harder, gave a tiny shrug, and admitted, “I threw away all your underwear.”