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Davy’s broad, motionless back was as eloquent as Con’s tears.
Miles removed the flash drive with a hand that shook, and laid it on the table. Gently, as if it were a wounded, living thing. He stared at it for a moment, and cleared his tight, swollen throat. “There was another video in that folder,” he said hesitantly. “You guys, uh, ready for the next one?”
Connor made a sound, like a laugh, or a sob. “Oh, Christ.”
“Play it,” Davy said harshly. “Get it the fuck over with.”
Miles inserted the flash drive again, and selected the other file. He set it to play, bracing himself.
It was a forest. Dappled green, sun. The handheld camera jerked with every step. The camera swung up, showing a curving bridge.
“That’s the Korbett incline. The old Korbett Bridge,” Miles said.
The camera swung left, focusing on a rock formation. It swung around and plunged into the woods, alongside a barbed wire fence.
“He’s fixing the location,” Davy said.
Whoever held the camera got down and wiggled through the grass on his belly. The image came to rest, and the lens zoomed in. A black van in the woods, back doors gaping. A large man was digging a hole, his T-shirt plastered to his big body. His hair was crew-cut, high and tight like a marine. He flung the shovel down, and headed to the van. He pulled out a body, trussed in black plastic, dragged it by the feet, head bouncing over rocks. He flung it into the hole. Went back for the next. The camera moved as the guy’s back was turned. Wiggling closer.
“Oh, shit, Kev,” Davy whispered. “You idiot. You had him.”
The next time the image stabilized, the guy was tipping another body into the grave. They heard the thud as it hit. The lens zoomed in, gave them a leisurely look at the lantern jaw, the blue eyes. The guy leaned to grab the shovel. He froze, eyes fixed in the direction of the camera. “Hey!” he yelled. He yanked a gun from the back of his jeans.
The image swirled, spun, jerked. A confusion of green, of sky, of earth, of shouts, thudding feet…and the screen went blank.
They stood there for several minutes, mired in speculation.
“I want to talk to Professor Beck again,” Davy said. “If Sean would ever come back with my damn car.” He grabbed his cell, dialed. “Pick up your phone, punk,” he muttered. “Sean? Where the hell—” His voice broke off, listened. When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“I see. Yes. My name is Davy McCloud,” he said. “I’m the brother of the man who owns this phone. Is he there? I need to speak to him.”
He listened. His lips went white. “How long ago?”
They all heard the questioning tone of the next burst of words.
“Of course,” Davy said. “I’m aware of that. I’ll come down as soon as I can.” He held the phone away from his ear as the guy reiterated his demand. “As soon as I can,” he repeated. He snapped the phone shut.
“Detective Wallace, from the police department,” he said. “They found Sean’s phone, in a pool of blood. At a murder scene.”
“Murder scene?” Con’s voice sounded strangled. “Whose murder?”
“Blair Madden,” Davy said. “Shot in the throat, in the parking garage. No Sean. No Liv, either. The filthy son of a bitch got them.”
There was a moment of blank disbelief, and Miles spun around to check the monitor. “Wait. Don’t we still have Liv’s tracker?”
Liv’s icon blinked away, its position unchanged. “It’s just her purse,” Davy said. “She doesn’t have it on her.”
“Who do we squeeze?” Con said grimly. “Parrish? Or Beck?”
“Beck’s closer,” Davy said. “Stupider. If he hasn’t skipped town.”
Miles’s mom bustled in, with her usual kick-ass timing. “I have some sandwiches.” She looked around, smile fading. “Is everything OK?”
Miles took the tray, set it down, and gave her an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Mom, I need the keys to your new car.”
CHAPTER26
“Iam mortified that you were put through such an ordeal.” Osterman was literally groveling, and it was not enough to smooth the feathers of Charles Parrish, the CEO of Helix. The man was hysterical.
