Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 26

Davy punched the number for the third time, scowling. He snapped shut the mouthpiece. “Line's dead,” he said. “We can't get in touch with Connor.”

There was a brief, grim silence.

“That sucks.” Sean's voice was unusually thoughtful.

“Could be a coincidence,” Davy offered.

Seth snorted as he pulled off onto the exit that led to Lazar's usual marina. “Want to bet?”

“Nope,” Davy and Sean said in unison.

Seth's mind raced. “If you guys want to bow out now, be my guest,” he said. “I'll think no less of you for it. On the contrary. My opinion of your intelligence will rise. Sharply.”

Sean gave him a goofy grin and pulled his green ski mask down over his pretty boy face. “Get stuffed.”

“Yeah,” Davy said. “Ditto.”

Seth let out his breath in a long, silent sigh. The McClouds were like ticks. Once they dug in, they were hell to get rid of.

“So? What's the plan?” Sean sounded untroubled. “You can track the Corazon icon from here, can't you?” “Get my laptop out of the bag “ Seth said.

Sean opened up the laptop and logged on. “OK. X-Ray Specs is up and running. I've got the map on screen. Now what?”

“Click the top right button and wait for the prompt.”

'Password?”

“Retribution,” Seth muttered.

“Oooh,” Sean crooned. “That gives me the shivers.”

Seth scowled. “You're not supposed to be having this much fun.”

“Hey. Just because you're having woman problems, does that mean I have to be all down in the mouth? Lighten up, already.”

“Stop being a pain in the ass, Sean,” Davy said wearily.

“I’m a little brother. That's what we do best” Sean grimaced, and shot a pained look at Seth. “Oops. Sorry” he muttered.

“Just give me the goddamn laptop “ Seth growled. He reached back for it, but Sean kept a tight hold on it, humming cheerfully.

“Wait, wait” he said. “I see the... oh, man, bingo! You really do have a romantic streak, don't you?”

“What do you see?” Seth barked.

“The icon. A little heart with an arrow through it. The Corazon, right? One point three kilometers west and moving south, right along with us. We're practically on top of the guy. It's destiny.”

The parking attendant in the garage of the Lazar building leaped up when she got out of the car, his face a comical mask of alarm.

“Good morning, Jeremy,” she said. “I'm sorry I don't have my employee tags or my parking sticker with me today, but it doesn't matter. I promise I won't be long.”

“Huh?” Jeremy's jaw dropped comically. “Who?”

The elevator ride was a trip through an alternate universe. The people that surrounded her stared at her like she had two heads. They were so pressed and polished Their world was safe and comprehensible and controllable. She wanted to scream at them, warn them that their worst nightmares could materialize and jump out at them any time, with long, dripping yellow fangs bared. Oh yes, indeedy, they could, boys and girls.

She controlled herself with a huge effort of will. It was not her job to warn these people. Thank God her snarled-up hair was so big and frizzy today, long enough to cover up the gun stuck at the small of her back. The skimpy T-shirt certainly didn't cover anything. Her butt was practically hanging right out of the low-slung jeans.

“Excuse me,” she said as the elevator door opened, and they all recoiled to let her out first. She could get used to this, she reflected, trying not to laugh. Maybe she should permanently change her look.

The same thing happened in the Lazar Import & Export office. People who had browbeaten and ordered her around all month scurried out of her way, eyes wide, flattening themselves against the walls to give her space. As if she were dangerous. A spark of grim amusement kindled inside her. She'd come a long way from the girl whose knees had knocked when she had to serve melon chunks and mini-muffins to a room full of suits.

Harriet bore down on her like a fighter jet as she strode down the corridor for Victor's office. She blocked Raine's path, her tight, pinched mouth trembling with outrage. “How dare you come here looking like a slut! Have you lost your mind? You've got blood on your face, and you're actually... dirty!” Her voice cracked with horror.

Raine swallowed down a cackle of hysterical laughter. “Out of my way,” she ordered. “I need to get into that office, right now.”

“No!” Harriet held out her arms, prepared to martyr herself. “No amount of intimacy with Mr. Lazar gives you the right to intrude on—”

“He's my father, Harriet,” Raine snapped.

Harriet jerked back, her eyes huge and startled behind the frames of her glasses. Raine advanced upon her. “So get your bony ass out of my way. I'm having a really bad day, as you might have noticed, and I don't have the time or the patience to explain myself to you. Go!”

Harriet swallowed and backed away, her face stiff. “Call security,” she said to the cluster of staring, murmuring people behind her.

Security. Lovely. She wouldn't have much time. Raine locked the door and dropped into the thronelike desk chair. The computer was already logged on, the password request up, cursor blinking dutifully.

She seized the phone, punching in Seth's cell phone number. The recorded voice informed her that the phone was out of range. Would she like to leave a message? She slammed it down and rubbed her burning eyes. What was it that Victor had said? More than four letters. Less than ten. What he wanted from her.

Damn him. Always a power struggle, always a guessing game. What she wouldn't give to have the power to make people rack their brains trying to guess what she wanted from them. As if. She had to beg for what she wanted on her hands and knees. And she never got it anyway.

Oh, stop it. This was no time for self-pity. She had to concentrate. Victor was a control freak. He liked to control people by....

She typed in “fear.” It didn't work. She tried “control.”

“Revenge.”

No go.

She tried “power.” Then “respect.” Still nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to think like him. More convoluted, more abstract. Victor was nothing if not abstract. But nothing came to her brain; stress had battered it to a numb pulp. She shook her head to clear it and just started typing in every word that popped into her head.

She tried “trust” “Truth.” “Honor.” “Justice.” “Courage.” No. She tried “Mercy.” “Forgiveness.”

She hesitated for a long time, bit her lip hard and typed in “love.”

Nothing.

She swore, using some of the brand-new, violent combinations of words she had learned in the past few days from listening to Seth.

The goddamned password should have been “love.” That was what she wanted it to be, sentimental idiot that she was, always wanting what she couldn't have, seeking love where it couldn't be found. She wanted out of this screaming madhouse of hate and revenge. She wanted to rescue them all: herself, Seth, Connor, even the unknown, hapless Erin. She wanted to rescue the perfect, precious bliss she had known last night before the killer came and murdered it.

She wanted to go back in time, rescue Peter from Ed, rescue Victor from himself, rescue everyone from their