Disturbance

THIRTY-EIGHT

Ifed Violet and finished doing what I could to make her more comfortable, talking to her, without any response on her side, about exploring the possibility of getting some of the adaptive technologies now available. I had seen wheel-chairs that could be operated by blowing into a strawlike device or by the movement of a person’s tongue. I kept thinking that if I had been in her place, cut off from everyone but Kai and a set of doctors I didn’t like, I would have been yapping away at first contact. Apparently, though, she was out of the habit of social interaction or wasn’t interested in what I had to say. I gave up after a few minutes of the silent treatment from her.

I was considering going back to my room when the door to hers suddenly opened.

Parrish with the gun again, and he had someone with him, but this time it wasn’t Kai Loudon. I felt pure rage course through me as I beheld Donovan Cotter for the first time since he had placed me under Parrish’s control.

I was on the verge of venting some of that anger when I saw how much Parrish was enjoying it. Hell if I was going to satisfy his puppet mastery.

“Hello, Donovan,” I said, then hesitated. “That really is your name?”

“Yes. Hello, Irene.”

“How very civil,” Parrish said, choosing to be amused. “Especially for a man who was just searching her closet. Tie her up.”

I felt panic set in.

“She needs to change into warmer clothes,” Donovan said. “I was going to bring those items in here.”

Parrish smiled. “We’ll go to her room instead.”

They took me there. I thought they would leave, but Parrish said, “Go ahead and change. We’ll watch you do that.”

The panic heightened. I decided not to strip past my underwear and just to put the longer underwear on over my panties and bra. It was humiliating even to strip to that extent in front of them, with Parrish making comments on my body and what he’d like to do to me all the while, and mocking Donovan for not taking advantage of my state of undress.

“I told you. I don’t want or need an audience,” he said.

Parrish told me to go back into Violet’s room. Once we were there, he again ordered Donovan to tie me up.

“That will make it more difficult to put her into the vehicle. I don’t want to carry her, do you?”

Parrish clearly didn’t like being contradicted, but he said, “All right, just her hands, then.”

Donovan moved toward me with a roll of duct tape. I decided I wasn’t about to go along with that without a fight, gun or no gun. I used a move from Kenpo, avoiding his hold and getting in an initial blow-hitting Donovan’s brow rather than the eye I was aiming for-when he quickly reacted. I wasn’t close to being a match for his skills. He soon had me pinned to the floor and bound my wrists.

Parrish started laughing, so hard that he doubled over with a hacking cough.

Donovan turned his head away from him, and under the cover of that laughter whispered into my ear, “Don’t attack. Wait.” He then lifted me to my feet, far more gently than I had expected.

I was strongly tempted to ignore that advice, especially when Parrish tucked the gun into his waistband and sauntered within range of a kick. I watched him warily, all the time wondering if I was crazy to listen to a man who had drugged me, bound my hands, and was clearly a confederate of Parrish’s to some degree. Violet was sure he was somehow being compelled to participate in Parrish’s plans, but that wouldn’t make me any less dead if those plans succeeded.

In the end what kept me from lashing out was Parrish himself. Looking into his eyes, I could see anticipation. He wanted me to give him an excuse.

My next thought was that he had never needed an excuse for anything he did before, so why hold back now?

Donovan.

The answer came to me with a certainty that surprised me. I had no doubt that Kai, whose unpleasant acquaintance I had made a few hours earlier, would have been egging Parrish on, providing an audience eager to see him inflict pain and humiliation on me.

As if to confirm my guess, Parrish glanced at Donovan, who had taken a step away from me, so that he was within view-and reach-but not threatening. It was as if Parrish wanted to impress him but was not quite sure how to do that. For his part, Donovan was standing still and calm, yet radiating power-it was as if nothing Parrish might do would disturb or intimidate him.

“Did Donovan happen to mention that he’s my son?” Parrish asked.

I didn’t answer.

Parrish smiled. “It’s so ridiculous that you have two layers of underwear on now, you know. He’s seen you completely naked. He undressed you. He watched while you took a shower. As did I.”

I wasn’t able to hide the fact that this news disturbed me.

“Yes,” Donovan said calmly. “You had thrown up on yourself and Nick. You weren’t in any condition to be left alone.”

Matter-of-fact, not salacious.

Parrish frowned, but the frown quickly eased into another of his leering smiles. “He asked me to let him have you before I kill you.”

Donovan didn’t respond. I followed his lead.

Parrish chose a new tack. “Say good-bye to Violet. While she’s doing that, Donovan, get her things.”

Donovan didn’t argue. He just walked into the other room.

I wasn’t able to stay quiet. “What do you mean, ‘Say goodbye to Violet’-what are you planning to do to her?”

“Why, nothing.”

“Then why-”

“You ask too many questions. All you need to know is that we’re leaving, Violet is staying.”

“Without someone to care for her-”

“Enough!” he snapped.

I moved closer to the bed. Any further protestations I might make-that it was murder, that it was cruel-were unlikely to be seen as anything but points in favor of carrying out his plan. He thought nothing of murder. He enjoyed cruelty.

Hands bound, I could not touch her. I leaned over and said, “I’m sorry.”

I am not. Go.

And then she baffled me with the next string of letters, not because I didn’t know what they meant but because this one word had already nagged at my memory:

.-..-.-. -.-.-

Parka.

“Why not let Donovan stay here and care for her?” I asked, stalling, hoping she’d further enlighten me.

No.

“No,” Parrish said. “Although that may be what he’d really prefer. He’s made a point of visiting her when he stops by.” He called out, “Right, Donovan?”

Donovan either didn’t hear or pretended not to.

“Do you have any idea what will happen to her if you just abandon her here?”

“You, my dear Ms. Kelly, have much more to worry about than what becomes of Violet Loudon. Besides, who said she’d be abandoned?”

I didn’t find that at all reassuring.

Donovan returned carrying the duffel and-I was quick to notice-a dark green parka that looked expedition-worthy. Parrish held the gun on me as we went downstairs.

Donovan said, “We didn’t think this through. She needs to have the parka on in the vehicle. We all need to wear our parkas and keep the hoods up-the hoods will make it harder for anyone in a passing car to identify us. And we’re going to have to change the way she’s bound,” he said.

Not much later, I was carried outside by Donovan. My hands were bound in front of me, and after another struggle-no matter what advice he had to give me-my ankles were now bound, too.

Parrish had been all for taping my mouth shut, but Donovan had dismissed this idea, saying it could easily be noticed by others and be difficult to explain, and it would make it hard to feed me or give me water. “Irene,” he said, “given your claustrophobia, do you see that it is smarter for you to stay silent? Otherwise we’ll have to tape your mouth and put you down on the floorboards for a long ride.” It was not hard to agree to be quiet.

It was dark outside, and cold, although I felt the chill air only on my face and hands. I was placed in the backseat of a green Subaru Forester. I was wearing the parka, the hood pulled up in a way that hid most of my face from anyone who might happen to look at the passengers in the SUV. Parrish was always very close to us. Donovan did not attempt any further communication with me.

Everyone in the car wore parkas, which was why the air-conditioning was cranked up full blast. It was still almost too warm. I noticed Donovan’s parka was also dark green. Kai’s and Parrish’s were a light tan color, and of a higher quality. My parka felt a little lumpy, although of course I couldn’t reach my hands into the pockets to discover what they held. My imagination supplied possibilities from hidden weapons to remote-controlled explosives (making me a human bomb) and, more reasonably, energy bars, lip balm, and perhaps a scarf or the gloves I’d found earlier. Depending on which way I leaned against the door or seat and how panicked I was feeling at any given moment, the guesses changed.

Kai was in the front passenger seat, his injured arm tucked inside his open jacket. At first he seemed to be having a hard time getting comfortable, but he soon fell asleep.

Donovan drove.

Parrish sat in the backseat, holding a gun on me, barking directions to Donovan.

After we drove away from what I thought might be the Running Springs area and were winding our way down to Interstate 15, I wondered if we might be on our way out of state. But Parrish’s next instructions were to go north on 395.

We were headed toward his old hunting grounds, the southern Sierra Nevada. He had killed dozens of people and slain animals there as well. One of his favorite moments, he had once bragged to an interviewer, came when he watched a victim dig her own grave. He’d had many such moments to treasure.

Two facts about my situation disturbed me. First, he was letting me hear directions. Second, there was a shovel among the gear in the back.

Added together, it seemed likely that I was on my way to my own execution.