Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(122)

Liv leaned forward, doubling over. “OK,” she whispered. “I will. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it today, but—”

“Then you’ll be too late. I understand that…person is more important to you than your own family, but Daddy is dying, Livvy.”

Liv’s mind raced in circles. “I’ll get there,” she promised rashly. “As soon as possible. Where is he?”

“He’s in the critical care unit of the Chamberlain Clinic. North wing, second floor. When can you be there, Livvy? So I can tell Daddy.”

“Not less than maybe four hours. Mother, listen carefully. There are people after me, people who are trying to kill me. Sean’s been helping me figure out who and why, and we’re making progress, but—”

“Livvy. Listen to yourself. I cannot believe that at a time like this, all you can think about is yourself. It’s just me, me, me, and meanwhile, Daddy is hooked up to life support, gasping his last.”

“Please, Mother,” she said, with forced patience. “Stay with me, here. I will get myself to the clinic, but I need for you to arrange for a police escort to meet me there. Please, take this seriously. Please.”

Her mother harrumphed. “Shouldn’t be hard to convince them to come,” she said acidly. “They’re extremely interested in talking to you.”

“Got to go, Mother. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Livvy! Wait! At least tell me where you—”

She hung up, and sat rocking back and forth. A plan, a plan.

Tam was absorbed in her work, and might not notice if she slipped away. Assuming Liv could disarm the security system and open the garage, that Sean had left the keys in the ignition, that he’d left a full tank of gas, or even a half tank. That she could scrounge up some cash. That was a whole lot of hopeful assumptions.

Her license, IDs, credit cards, bank card, gas card, checkbook, were all lost. Comical, that she was wearing over a thousand dollars’ worth of clothes on her body, and she didn’t have a cent to her name.

Amazing, how helpless a person was without her wallet.

She stumbled up to the tower, tear-blinded. Good old gruff, benevolent, closed-minded, pig-headed, tender-hearted Daddy. He’d been using his clutch-the-chest trick for a decade. For a while, it had worked, but she’d gotten wise, hardened herself against his wiles.

She’d hardened too much. She felt like crap for dismissing all his “episodes.” If he died before she could say goodbye—

No. She wasn’t going to deal with that ’til she absolutely had to.

She rummaged around. Found thirty dollars in Sean’s muddy cargo pants. If the gas tank was full, she just might make it. She wound her hair up, tugged on the blond wig, perched sunglasses on her nose.

Now for Sean. She poked out a text message on the cell phone.



found tapes i hope EF Public Library Historic Collection Room

Look behind book with call# 920.0797 B63

knock yrself out love liv

Telling Sean about her father was pointless. He’d be frantic at the idea of her going alone. She felt like she was betraying him by running away from the haven he’d found for her, but that was too bad.

Saying goodbye to Daddy was worth the risk.

It shouldn’t even be that much of a risk. She was in a car no one knew she had. On a road no one knew she was using. Arriving at a public building in broad daylight, met by a police escort, surrounded by her family. She was in sexy designer clothes. Blond, for God’s sake.

Her own mother wouldn’t know her.





Chapter 24



S ean cast an approving glance over Miles and his brothers as they waited in the muted, hushed elegance of the Helix reception area. Not bad, he thought. They cleaned up nice. Sean’s Ferragamo suit was too wide in the shoulders for Connor, but only a gay man would notice. Davy in his own Brooks Brothers suit had a stodgy, don’t-f*ck-with-me-or-I’ll-club-you-over-the-head-with-my-stock-portfolio style happening, and Miles looked hot and hungry in Sean’s gray Armani. With his hair gelled back and the mirror sunglasses, the kid looked like a cross between a prosperous young gangster and a human sports car.

With all the crap eating at his nerves, still it did his heart good to see those slobs spiffed up. The only false note in this pageant of male sartorial splendor was the scabby bruises on his own battered mug.

The phone in his jacket pocket let out a soft chirp. He pulled it out to check. Message from Liv. He pulled up the text. Read it. Stared.

“Holy f*cking shit,” he said, in a loud, carrying voice.

“Shhh,” Davy hissed, as the receptionist gave him a snooty look.

“What is it?” Con snapped, under his breath.

“Liv’s cracked the code. She’s found Kev’s tapes.” His low voice felt strangled in his throat. “She says they’re at the public library.”

Everybody’s jaws flopped, in the direction of the mauve rug.

In the stupefied silence, the receptionist spoke. “Mr. Urness? Mr. Parrish will see you and your party now. Marta will show you the way.”

A stunning trophy secretary, blond, of course, greeted them with a brilliant smile, and gestured for them to follow her through the plush office complex. Wow. Deep carpets, picture windows, aromatherapy. Mosaic this, feng shui that. A fake waterfall bubbled away in a wall alcove.