Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(130)

He pounded the steering wheel. If he were a kidnapper sneaking a drugged woman out of a hospital and into a vehicle…

Basement. Laundry. Back entrance. Definitely.

He slewed the vehicle around just in time to take the lefthand road that looped up and around to the back service entrance and the employee parking garage. He jerked to a stop outside the garage, and left the SVU running as he sidled along the wall towards the entrance.

He definitely couldn’t count on those brain-dead Endicotts to tell the cops to block the exit roads, so he yanked out his phone and dialed 911 as he peered into the entrance, sidling down. A pair of headlights flicked on in there. His heart kicked up a notch, his stomach did a no-hands cartwheel. The lights came slowly towards him.

He pulled out the SIG Con had brought him, held it discreetly behind his thigh. He couldn’t make out who was in the driver’s seat. He was still in the chute that led up to the outside lot. It was a white van, stenciling on the side, hospital supplies or something. His nerve endings prickled. The engine roared. Was it T-Rex? Fuck.

The dispatcher spoke into his ear. “Endicott Falls Police.”

If that was T-Rex, the only solution was to shoot the driver right now, head-on. But he couldn’t see who was driving. Couldn’t risk it.

The van picked up speed, swerved. The door swung open. Sean leaped back, turning so that the spine-snapping lethal blow was downgraded to mere searing white-hot pain. The ground swooped up and slapped his body sidewise, knocking out his wind.

A bulky, familiar body dressed in hospital scrubs leaped out of the van. Sean lifted the gun that was still, miraculously, in his hand.

Pfft, a flash of light, a hard, shocking pressure to his upper arm. That cold, sinking feeling that he knew too well. He’d sprung a leak.

T-Rex scooped up the SIG Sean had dropped into his latex-gloved hand, and slammed his boot into Sean’s kidney. A fireburst of pain.

“I thought you’d be more of a challenge.” The guy crouched, fixing piglike eyes upon Sean. “It’s * does it to you, you know? Makes a guy weak. You’ve been at her night and day, right? Made yourself as weak as a limp, floppy dick. Lucky I’m here to take over, huh?”

It would take too much energy to reply. He gathered himself in stillness, waited for his chance.

“I’m supposed to keep your brain in one piece until Chris is done playing with it,” T-Rex went on. “But if there’s anything left, I get to take you home, to play. Olivia, too. Chris promised I could have her for a toy if I brought you in. “He grinned. “I’ve got a meathook in my garage. When I’m bored with f*cking her, I’ll slide the point between her ribs, hoist her up. Use her for a punching bag. You can watch.”

T-Rex hauled back, preparing for a spine-crushing kick. Sean’s good arm shot up like a spring, stabbing two fingers into the guy’s balls.

An instant’s shock, a guttural howl as the pain hit the guy. Sean braced one leg against the wall, swept his other leg around to knock the guy off balance. There wasn’t enough time to roll away before TRex landed on him, splat, like a half ton of shit.

Then, a hot burning sting in his thigh. Oh, no. Oh, f*ck, no.

T-Rex rolled off him. The hypodermic stuck out of Sean’s thigh.

“Hey! What’s going on? Where have you taken Liv?” bellowed a loud male voice. Sean turned his head. Blair Madden was in the door.

He opened his mouth to yell “Run.” He kept opening it, and opening it. His mouth had become a huge vast space in which his tongue was too small to be found. T-Rex aimed the SIG he’d taken from Sean, in slow motion. The gun blast reverberated endlessly.

Madden’s eyes went wide, his hands went to his throat, clawing at the dark blood welling out. He dropped to his knees, face squished to the side. Wide eyes, looking straight at Sean. Astonished to be dead.

T-Rex grabbed Sean’s bloody hand, slid Sean’s fingers through the trigger, squeezed. His giggle was incongruous, from such a big man. “I love it when shit like this happens. I am a genius. Am I not a genius?”

You are a festering shithead, he wanted to say. A hot pimple on the ass of the universe, but he was too far away, his voice couldn’t make it across the gap. The guy heaved him up, flung him into the van.

He landed on top of a soft, female form. He could smell her scent.

It broke his heart, and yet he was grateful for even that much to hang on to, like a glowing silk thread of light. The thread got thinner as he floated further, until thin became nothing, and it was all distance.



Miles plugged in the dusty dinosaur of a VCR into the outlet. He turned to Davy and Con, both leaning against the table, identical expressions of dread on their faces. “You guys ready for this?” he asked.

They both gave him are-you-kidding grunts. He hit play.

The recorder had been hidden behind a potted plant. The slice of white was the wall, the slanting blades of green were leaves. Minutes passed. Miles gnawed his nails. He’d never known Kev, but he was as invested in this as if the guy were his own long-lost brother. He was about to suggest fast-forwarding when they heard voices. A flash of movement. They leaned forward. Miles turned the volume up.

“…just relax,” said a low, soothing baritone voice.

Another flash, and they saw a face. A dark-haired man in a lab coat. A younger man, acne spots on his face. Shaggy hair. The lens was too low. They could only see the bottom halves of both men’s faces.