The Survivors Club

Tess nodded. She leaned against the wall in the hallway. Aware that her heart was beating hard.

Electricity seemed to branch out through her veins.

I’m right about this.

Still, it would be a hard sell.

She had what she had.

She hoped it would be enough.

CHAPTER 26

Bonny looked down at the pages Tess had printed up and back up at her. He looked skeptical. “You’re saying you think Hanley was going out to LA as part of his, uh, ‘investigation?’”

“Orange County. He did go out there. He and Barkman were on the same trail.”

He clasped his hands over his stomach. “It sounds far-fetched to me.”

Tess said, “Look at his itinerary. He planned to fly into John Wayne Airport. He had a reservation at the Starbrite Motel in Sylvan.”

The old mining town was at the edge of the Santa Anas, not five miles from the entrance to Asteroid Canyon.

Peter Farley lived there and commuted to his job in Irvine.

Bonny sighed. “You honestly think you can find a link to Michael DeKoven? He’s got a lot of money, and his family has never been afraid of lawsuits.”

“I think George Hanley thought DeKoven was after him.”

Bonny sighed. “If he was, he got him.” He swiveled on his chair. He’d brought the office chair from the Bajada County Sheriff’s Office, beat up as it was. He said his butt was used to it. The chair squeaked when he swiveled, and Tess liked the sound of the squeaking—which usually meant Bonny was thinking—and she liked the smell of tobacco on him, even though she didn’t smoke.

There was a bond between them. She’d asked him to let her do ridiculous, sometimes impossible, things.

“All right. You go. I’ll put in for one day.”

Tess had been ready for this. “Overnight? That will give me two full days if I get there on an early flight.”

“I don’t know. I’m going to get flak just for the plane fare. We’re going to be shorthanded as it is.”

“I can pay for the motel.”

“That’s not the point.”

Tess said, “What if I find what I’m looking for and don’t have time to pursue it? I’d have to fly back.”

Bonny swiveled. Finally he said, “Okay. I’ll see if we can pay for the overnight. But if it doesn’t look like it’s gonna pan out, you come back pronto.”

Chad DeKoven had wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered over the waves in Laguna, so they made arrangements for Chad’s best friend, Dave, to pick them up. Michael didn’t know about his sisters, but he didn’t plan to return for the ceremony.

On the way back to LAX, he was silent. Twice Brayden had tried to engage him—wanting comfort—but he just said nothing. He was thinking of the Commandments.

There were only four.

First Commandment: Player must have survived a previous encounter.

That was the whole point.

Second Commandment: No expedition shall take place within the Kingdom. (In other words, don’t shit where you eat.)

That was why they had waited on George Hanley.

Why he’d waited. He still didn’t know if Jaimie or Brayden had jumped the gun.

Third Commandment: For all expeditions, new equipment must be purchased. Any unused equipment must be disposed of, i.e., destroyed.

Fourth Commandment: There could be no connection between the Player and the Gamer.

None.

Simple enough to memorize. Harder to implement.

He didn’t think he’d broken any of the commandments. He only knew Barkman through Barkman’s mother, Geneva Rees—and even then, he’d only met him once. Michael couldn’t even remember the circumstances, although he thought it might have been at the symphony. They were not even acquaintances.

Still…it was what it was.

Shit, meet fan.

Jaimie, pulling that crap with Hanley’s dog. That was what bothered him. Did she take the dog out of guilt, or was it something else? If she took the dog as a trophy…

What else did she do?

Michael knew that there was plenty of room for improvisation—and this was where the danger lay. It was only human nature that the written commandments would only be part of the game. The other things they made up as they went along. Because they could. Because it was fun to create a world and add to it.

As time went by and they were successful in staying under the radar, Michael realized he’d taken too much for granted. They’d become too improvisational.

Cocky.

Like what he did in Houston—no excuse for that.

It didn’t start out that way. Improvising had been discouraged from the outset. He’d made a big deal of it. Go off script, and you could blow the whole deal. But Michael admitted he was as guilty as Jaimie was. The game was…well, it was exhilarating. It made him feel like God, and that kind of thinking led to carelessness.

He realized he should have added another rule. “No celebrating in the end zone.”

One reason he’d chosen Sheppard—he himself understood what it was like to dive out of an airplane. He’d been on a toot for some time, but lost interest in it when he realized that the odds were thinner with every jump, that his number might come up.

The whole idea of it fascinated him. Having jumped himself, he tried to imagine what that would feel like— the panic. The fear. It must be like being on speed. It must be exhilarating and scary at the same time, a whole lifetime of fear in a few seconds.

But there was something about the man…

Maybe Sheppard wanted revenge. Maybe he had it in him to be like Michael, himself.

Michael knew Sheppard was a shark in business. He’d started from scratch with a petroleum cleanup method he’d patented after the oil spill, and it was only three years before his startup had gone public, and now he was rolling in it.

Which made him so attractive in the first place. His death would have made a big splash.

Michael had been extremely careful. He’d covered his tracks. Used an assumed name, chartered a jet. Every step of the way he’d been careful, thought it through. Once, twice, three times he’d gone through it. He made sure the whole plan was fail-safe.

And then, at the penultimate moment, to make a mistake like that? To telegraph his knockout punch?

What had driven him to do it? Did he want to fail? Did he want to get caught?

Like his sister and that stupid dog!

Now he wondered if Sheppard was coming after him.

Coming for him through the weakest link—his poor, simple, pathetic younger brother.

Once the thought crossed Michael’s mind, it ate at him. Scratched behind his eyelids. Sheppard was in great shape. He was strong. The guy was mentally and physically tough.

Was he the type to seek revenge?