Bloodlines (67 page)

"Where is it?" Mitch asked. "Where'd you put it?"

"I have to find the right vault," Ethan said, looking around again. "I was afraid of this--they've done more digging. I need to find the tombstone of Alice Pelck." He spelled the last name.

"Who's Alice Pelck?"

"Hell if I know, I just used her tombstone as the marker. It's one of the big ones with an angel looking down from it." We looked across the cemetery and saw about fifty angels. He used his flashlight to make his way over to the nearest one. "No, that's not her."

"Don't go running off," Mitch said, ordering Eric to hand over his gun and stay close to Ethan and Ian. Mitch would stay with me. I didn't like that much--I had been hoping we could separate the brothers.

Ethan said to me, "They moved the excavator that was parked near here, and now I can't find her. Do you remember where she is?"

"I thought she was over there," I said, pointing to a nearby section, one that was crowded with equipment, old trees, and at least two dozen stone angels. They must have been all the rage at some point in Las Piernas's history.

Moving the flashlight in a sweeping motion, spotlighting grave markers here and there, Ethan walked toward the area where I had pointed, Eric close behind. Ian held both flashlight and gun and began to run the light over tombstones, joining the search for Alice Pelck. Eric, although far from helpless, now had no gun and no light. Glancing uneasily around him, he jumped when a breeze stirred the shadows of the tree branches over the tombs. He ordered Ian to give him the flashlight. Ian refused. "Uncle Mitch--" Eric called back to us in complaint.

"Damn it, Ian, give him the light," Mitch shouted. "Never mind looking at the graves, keep an eye on the smart boy there." Under his breath, he muttered, "Fucking morons." He waited to see that Ian obeyed him.

With Mitch staying near me, I gradually started drifting farther away from the others, supposedly to find dear Alice. "Try that one," I would say, and while he bent closer, I'd move to the next one.

I gradually lured him into a place with more treacherous footing, a muddy spot between two open graves. I could smell the stagnant water that lay along the bottom of each.

Despite his instructions, Ian got caught up in finding Alice Pelck's grave now, distracted by reading the tombstones Ethan illuminated, not paying close attention to Ethan himself. Eric was nervously darting his flashlight all around, peering into empty graves and pulling back with distaste.

"I think I see it!" I shouted, moving closer to one of the open graves, blocking Mitch's view of its monument.

Ian turned toward us. Mitch moved forward to try to read the tombstone, telling me to get out of the way. Eric turned his light toward us, but Mitch was now between me and Eric. Eric's beam of light fell on Mitch just as he bent over me, and just as I rose and shouldered into him with all my might.

I lost my footing on the slippery ground and fell face first into the mud, but Mitch was off-balance and fell backward into the stinking open grave. I heard him hit bottom with a splash as I hurriedly scooted myself behind the cover of the tombstone.

Ian fired at me, his bullet striking the wing of the stone angel above me. A shard of stone flew off and struck me on the cheek, but I ignored its sting and rolled to my feet. Eric came running toward me. Ian shouted at Eric to get the hell out of the way. I glanced back in time to see Ethan take his chance--while Ian and Eric started toward me, Ethan used his flashlight to deliver a cracking blow to Ian's head.

Even though I was some distance from them, I heard the sound of it. Ethan's flashlight broke. Ian pitched forward. Ethan disappeared behind some equipment.

I ran, dodging between trees and tombstones, watching for open graves. Glancing back, I saw Eric, unsure of which of several disasters to attend to first.

"Get your ass over here and get me out of this fucking grave!" Mitch screamed. "Now! And bring some damned light!"

I ran awkwardly from tombstone to tombstone, tree to tree, wishing my hands were free to allow me better balance and speed. I gradually headed toward the gates--until I saw Ian stumble to his feet and head in that same direction. He looked dazed, but not necessarily too out of it to fire a shot that might kill me. Not the gates, then. I altered my course and wound my way to the oleander, trying to see Ethan, thinking once or twice that I caught a glimpse of movement in the dark.

I reached the oleander and burrowed into it, then watched for Ethan while catching my breath.

I couldn't see much. There was only one flashlight now, and it was shining eerily up out of a grave, illuminating the face and wings of the angel above. Eric had taken off his jacket and was using it as a lifeline to Mitch, bracing himself against the tombstone, trying to pull Mitch out without being pulled in himself. It didn't seem to be working well, judging from Mitch's shouted obscenities. Apparently, he had sprained or broken an ankle in the fall. Eric tried grabbing hold of his clothing and hauling him up, but this also failed--he lost his grip on Mitch's muddy clothing, and dropped him for a second dunking.

I tried desperately to think of a way to draw Ian's attention away from Ethan, without getting caught myself.

I searched along the chain-link fence as quietly as I could and found a place where someone or something had previously burrowed in or out. The gap between the ground and the bottom of the fence was narrow, but I lowered myself to my belly and began to snake my way through the opening. Metal prongs of broken fencing caught at my skin and clothes, but I made it through. I came clumsily to my feet. I ran to the Jeep and slammed myself against it.

The car alarm went off.

Over its din, I heard Eric and Ian shouting that we were getting away.

"Never mind!" Mitch yelled. "Just get me the hell out of here."

I hurried back through the fence, but stayed hidden within the oleander. Ethan might have made his way free by now, but I couldn't be sure, and I didn't want to abandon him. I decided I'd wait where I was a little longer. With any luck, the car alarm might attract the attention of a passing patrol car.

I watched as Ian stumbled his way toward his brother and uncle. With his assistance, Mitch was freed from his trap. "Eric, go shut that damned alarm off. Bring the car in here," Mitch said. "We need the headlights."

Ian handed the keys over to him. Eric moved with surprising speed back to the Jeep, eventually coming close enough to turn the alarm off with the key-chain remote. He paused, in the quiet that followed, and seemed to look back toward the oleander. I hunkered down, hoping I wasn't more visible to him than I thought I was.

I heard Ian say, "Maybe I should call the helicopter."

"Yes, yes... that's even better," Mitch said. "The chopper will see them. We'll leave from here."

When Eric pulled the car in, he said, "I think there's someone hiding in those bushes, by the back fence."

Hell.

"You and Ian, search along that back fence," Mitch ordered. "You hear me, Ian?"

"Who's going to watch the gate?" Ian protested.

"I'll watch the gate. Leave the Jeep lights on."

"I need my gun," Eric said. "Give it back."

"I'm not going to sit here crippled and unarmed, you dunce! They don't have guns. Take a stick."

"Give me the flashlight, at least."

Mitch conceded that this would aid in the search and handed it to him. "Now hurry! By now the bastard's over the fence and halfway to Hong Kong."

"He's going to Hong Kong?" Eric asked, distracted.

"Damn you, Eric, get over to that fence!"

From the moment I had heard Eric mention the oleander, I began easing out from my hiding place. One flashlight, I told myself. The car was providing light in one line of sight, but Mitch wouldn't be able to maneuver that source of light. That was to my advantage. Staying as low as I could, I hurried out of the oleander and toward a nearby tomb.

Ian moved down the outside of the cemetery; Eric used the flashlight and a large stick to poke and prod at the bushes. I could stay hidden from them where I was, but not from Mitch, who was focused on shouting instructions to them, but at any moment might start to look around him. It was only a matter of time before he saw the silver of the duct tape reflected on my wrists in the moonlight.

The one place none of them seemed to be watching was the cemetery's front gates. I started to make my way toward them, thinking that if I didn't find a way through the entrance before the helicopter arrived, at least I might be able to hide under the equipment.

If the helicopter was going to carry all of the Yeagers and a crew for a distance that would allow them to escape law enforcement, it would probably be a big one. Landing it in other parts of the city might have attracted too much attention. But here? As Mitch Yeager had noted, no one in here was going to complain.

I wondered if the helicopter might be too big to land in the cemetery. No, I decided--I could see an area of more modern graves that was flat and open. That area was not near the front gates, though.

Mitch Yeager sat between me and the area I wanted to reach. I'd have to pass fairly close to him if I wanted to reach the gate. If the helicopter arrived before I made it, well--I decided I'd run back and kill him, if I had to do it by pushing him into the grave again, jumping in after him, and head-butting him to death.

I was really hoping against having to try that.

I crept along until I drew just about even with him, only a few yards away, but obscured from his view by tombstones and equipment, and watched him sit in the moonlight. His attention was fully absorbed by the hunt in the oleander. The expression on his face was smug.

Rage rose within me. The arrogant asshole was confident that once again he'd escape justice. He had every reason to believe that, of course. Maureen O'Connor and her family, the Ducanes, Rose Hannon, Baby Max, Corrigan, even his own adopted son--what price had he ever paid for the pain and death he had caused? None. He had become wealthy and more respectable. Why should he fear capture?

For a moment, the idea of killing him by any means I could didn't seem so bad.

I had taken one creeping step toward him when there was sudden shouting and wrestling in the bushes.

"Don't shoot him!" Mitch shouted.

I saw Ethan being dragged from the bushes as he and Eric fought. Eric used his size and weight to tackle Ethan to the ground. He raised the flashlight, ready to strike him, when Mitch's shout stopped him mid-swing.

"No! Bring him to me!"

**CHAPTER 68

"I SAID, BRING HIM TO ME, YOU MORONS!"

Eric stood slowly. In the past twenty minutes or so, we had probably given him the biggest workout he'd had in twenty years. As Ian hauled Ethan up between them, Eric shined his flashlight beam over the ground. "There!" he shouted. "What the fuck is that?"

He picked up an object that I couldn't make out from where I stood.

They brought Ethan to the edge of the grave where Mitch sat.

Eric tossed something shiny down before Mitch.

"A tape recorder?" Mitch said, outraged. "Eric, get rid of it."

Eric stomped on it with a heavy booted heel, then picked it up and made as if to hurl it away.

"No," Mitch said. "In the grave."

I heard it hit with a splash.

"You don't have shit, do you?" Mitch said.

Ethan, still out of breath from his struggle with Eric, smiled. "Risk it, if you think I don't."

Mitch stared at him, rubbing his ankle. "I might."

He turned to Ian. "Shoot him in the kneecap."

One flashlight, I told myself, and shouted, from behind a tombstone, "Bad bet, Yeager."

"Irene!" Ethan shouted. "No!"

"Get her! Get that bitch! No, Ian, give me your gun first."

As usual, his troops needed direction, and while he shouted orders, I ran like hell, ducking and dodging behind marble monuments and concrete vaults, and then in and around the equipment.

Eric had that one flashlight, which might be why he caught up with me first, but he was tired from his previous battles, and I was able to land a hard kick on his knee before he had a good grip on me. He let loose and gave a howl of pain as he stumbled to the ground. Before he could get up again, I was set upon by Ian, who handed me a little payback before hauling me to my feet and over to Mitch. Eric slowly limped after us.

Ian left me next to Ethan. Mitch Yeager looked between us. "You know, until just now, I thought the love story was just one more lie." Ethan put an arm around my shoulders. He was shaking. Or I was.

"Separate them. Stand her up by the grave," Mitch commanded, indicating the one I had pushed him into earlier.

When they had done so, Mitch said, "Thanks to you, I have had a trying evening, Ms. Kelly." He paused, then smiled. "Do you hear that sound?"

It was faint, but distinct. A helicopter.

"I'm going to leave, and take the smart boy with me, because something tells me his sense of self-preservation is stronger than yours. He has guts, but he's not so caught up in sacrifice as you are, is he? His generation is ultimately more pragmatic. They don't see the sense in struggling. If there is an easy way, they take it."