“You don’t seem very broken up about it,” Donovan said.
Reed looked at him. “Name me three people on this planet who would be.”
“Sara, for one.”
“Leave her out of this.”
“She’s smack in the middle of it, Tony. Whether you like it or not. Always has been. And I think it’s time you told us the truth.”
“About what?”
“Alex came to your house, didn’t he?”
“I already told-”
“Come on, Tony, we both know it’s true. Right after the crash. He sat in your living room watching CNN. And when they showed Sara in a coma, and me being rushed to the hospital, Alex turned to you-looked right at you-and said, ‘I’m gonna put that motherfucker away, and you’re gonna help me.’ Isn’t that how it went, Tony?”
Reed was trying hard not to show it, but every word Donovan said had hit home. Donovan couldn’t explain it, but he knew-he knew — that that was exactly how the scene had played out. In a corner of his mind he could see Gunderson sprawled on Reed’s living room sofa watching television while Reed paced nervously. He didn’t know where this image was coming from, but there it was.
“Well, Tony?”
“I want a lawyer,” Reed said.
“Christ on a cracker,” Waxman muttered.
“We don’t have time for lawyers,” Donovan said, feeling his adrenaline rise. “Just tell us where she is.”
Reed gave him a puzzled look. “Where who is?”
Donovan had had enough. Grabbing a handful of Reed’s shirt, he pulled him out of the chair, slammed him against the wall. The framed One From the Heart poster rattled, threatening to fall.
“Don’t fuck with me, Tony.” His head was starting to throb. “I’m very short on patience right now.”
Waxman moved toward them. “Easy, Jack. Take it easy.”
“Stay out of this, Sydney.” Donovan kept his eyes on Reed. “Where is she? Tell me now or you’ll be directing videos from a wheelchair.”
“Come on, man, I don’t even know who she is.”
Adrenaline buzzed through Donovan’s body, his head pounding now. He spun Reed around again and shoved him back into the leather chair. The force sent Reed toppling to the polished wood floor.
Donovan started toward him, but Waxman blocked his path. “That’s enough, Jack. Take a couple of deep breaths.”
“He knows. He’s hiding something.”
“He ain’t Nemo. And this isn’t gonna help.”
“You have any other suggestions?” Donovan pushed past Waxman and moved toward Reed again. “Your sister’s in a coma because of me, Tony. At least that’s what your buddy Alex thought. Maybe the two of you didn’t share a whole lotta burgers and beers, but Sara’s something you had in common.”
“Fuck you,” Reed said.
Donovan reached down, grabbed him again. “Where is she, you little turd?”
He was about to lift him up off the floor when Reed threw his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right!” he shouted. “I’ll tell you what I know!”
Donovan let him loose, backed off. Reed took a breath and climbed to his feet as they waited.
“Here it is, no bullshit: Alex did come to my house. And he did say something about you. But all he wanted from me was money. That’s all they ever wanted. He and Sara. I was their personal bank account, whether I liked it or not.”
“What about Jessie?”
“I swear on my sister’s life I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t seen Alex in weeks.”
Donovan stood there, wanting to pound the crap out of Reed, wanting to make him squeal the way Fogerty had. But something clicked in his brain, and in that instant he knew this was a waste of time.
Reed was telling the truth.
Donovan relaxed, turned to Waxman. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Huh?” Waxman said.
“He’s clueless. Let’s go.”
Waxman looked as if he’d just dropped in from another planet and couldn’t quite fathom the behavior of this alien beast. “Did I just miss something?”
A guy with a clipboard appeared in the office doorway. One of the crew members they’d seen earlier. “Hey, Tony. The creep’s back.”
Reed’s face went pale. “What?”
“I told him you were in a meeting, but I don’t think-”
A deep baritone cut him off: “Hey, asshole, you trying to hide from me?”
All at once the doorway filled with a hulking mass of muscle in a Gold’s Gym T-shirt, his fierce gaze directed at Reed. “I need cash, man, and I need it now.”
Donovan’s own gaze dropped immediately to the hulk’s inner left forearm. A long, puckered, pink scar ran the length of it, bearing all the earmarks of a homemade stitch job.
Donovan’s heart skipped.
Holy shit. Ski Mask.
At that instant, the hulk’s head swiveled in Donovan’s direction, the eyes going wide. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Tony’s crew member by the shoulders, hurled him at Donovan and Waxman, then turned on his heels and ran.
34
He was already across the warehouse by the time Donovan reached the stage floor. Coming around a corner, Donovan heard the echo of a door banging open and saw a blast of sunlight, the hulk’s massive frame silhouetted against it as he darted outside.
Cutting a diagonal path toward him, Donovan plowed through a gaggle of cast and crew members milling around a catering table. The angel let out a shriek, wings fluttering, as he swept past her. He brushed against a light stand and it toppled over with a loud crash, more shrieks and cries of alarm rising behind him.
Somewhere in the confusion he heard the sound of Wax-man’s voice, shouting for people to “Move!” There was another loud crash and Waxman let loose a flurry of profanities that would make a truck driver blush.
Donovan ignored the commotion. Reaching the door, he slammed through it and found himself in a parking lot, pale sunlight glinting off the windshields of a dozen or more cars. Squinting against the light, he quickly scanned the lot, his pulse up, heart pounding in his ears, head now feeling as if he’d been worked over by a jackhammer operator on a vicious amphetamine high.
Across the lot, the hulk was about to climb behind the wheel of an F-150, but quickly abandoned that idea when he saw Donovan coming his way. Taking off on foot, he cut across a narrow side street, blew past a forklift operator unloading rolls of carpet from a container truck, and headed into an alley between two warehouses.
Donovan followed, the thud of his heart growing louder with every step. As he neared the alley, the forklift operator swung into a reverse arc, warning beeps shrieking. Donovan veered around him and reached the mouth of the alley just as the hulk made an abrupt left turn at the far end.
Donovan felt his chest seizing up but pushed himself, picking up speed. As he moved deeper into the alley, its walls seemed to close in on him, that odd sense of deja vu sweeping over him again. For just a moment, he felt separated from his body, as if some dark part of him were being sucked away. The faint whisper of voices filled his ears.
Donovan shook off the feeling and continued forward, bad leg throbbing, lungs scorched by every ragged intake of breath. Reaching the end of the alley, he turned left and saw a vacant lot up ahead, its far end bordered by a chain-link fence.
The hulk was halfway across it.
Relying on pure adrenaline, Donovan willed his feet to move even faster. He knew he’d pay for this, probably wind up right back in the hospital, but he couldn’t give up. Not now.
But as the hulk neared the chain-link fence, the pounding in Donovan’s head grew so fierce it overrode everything else. He was suddenly deaf to the world, his vision narrowing, a circle of light the size of a penny pulsing like a tiny sun spot between his eyes.
The hulk was halfway up the fence now, limbs moving furiously as he scrambled up and over it. Beyond it was a steep, grassy embankment that sloped downward toward a highway. Midafternoon traffic streaked by.