As I pulled up outside the well-kept garden, Rink was out the car and rushing up the path for the front door before I’d engaged the parking brake. As fast as he was, the door opened before he got all the way there, and standing in the opening was Bridget’s daughter, Judith. Even across the length of the garden I recognised the woman’s concern in the way that she plucked at her tie-dyed skirt. I couldn’t hear what she said, but their discourse lasted all of about five seconds before Rink was charging back towards the car.
‘My mom’s house. Now!’ he shouted even as he was lunging inside the car.
Without argument I hit the gas.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Why does my mom have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time?’ he demanded by way of reply. It didn’t explain, but I could read the subtext behind his words.
‘She has gone home?’ I asked.
‘Where else? The hard-headed old goat.. ’ Rink punched the dash. ‘Mom talked Mrs Lanaghan into driving her home. Judith phoned, to check that they made it there safely as she expected her mom home ages ago. She got no answer, Joe. Dear God, what if Markus went straight there and has hurt her already?’
Earlier my resolve to stay within the speed limit had been tested. Now it simply snapped as I floored the pedal, aiming to get to the Rington family home in record time. We had the idea that Markus didn’t know where Bridget lived, but the same couldn’t be said for Yukiko’s home. The bastard had been there before.
I tore along streets. I recalled Rink’s joke bemoaning the lack of opportunity to do a Bullitt when evading Chaney’s men that time, but we got it now. Andrew’s car wasn’t a super-charged Mustang like Steve McQueen drove in the iconic movie scene, but it did the job all the same, ramping off each intersection as we hit the downward slopes. Something had been knocked loose as I’d negotiated the hillside behind Markus’s house, and now it rattled and clanged and the engine was making a high-pitched shriek. I didn’t slow one bit. We cut across town and screeched on two wheels around the penultimate corner before reaching Yukiko’s street.
‘Oh, no!’
Rink’s dismay was well founded. Over the roofs of the residential neighbourhood the sky was painted an ominous orange. A huge plume of smoke billowed into the heavens. It didn’t take a genius to guess the source of the fire or its instigator. Markus had previously shown his penchant for flames as a method of murder when he set Yoshida Takumi’s house ablaze.
‘We might make it in time,’ I tried to reassure my friend, but they were empty words. I arrived at Takumi’s place just after Markus had set the place on fire, but looking at the immensity of the flames soaring over the rooftops this blaze had been going some time. Anyone caught within such a conflagration would be charred to cinders by now.
I spun the car on to Yukiko’s street, almost hitting a group of neighbours watching the fire. They leaped out of the way, and I pulled hard on the steering taking the car away from them. Clear of them, I hit the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. The crowd was made up of people who had spilled from their beds at sounds of alarm; they stood in pyjamas and dressing gowns, watching with open-mouthed awe as the roof of Yukiko’s house collapsed down into the charred guts of the building. The roar of crashing timbers was echoed by their gasps. Flame ribboned into the sky, a million sparks dancing on the breeze. Over it all was Rink’s tortured shout. ‘MOM!’
He battled his way out of the car, and I was a second behind him as he plunged towards the burning house. I raced after him. With his long-legged gait he was gaining distance, and there was no sign of him slowing. He was about to dash directly into the flames in search of his mother. There was no other recourse: I threw myself after him, wrapping my arms around his thighs and took him down. We hit the roadway, my elbows and knees slamming the concrete paving, but the pain was nothing to what Rink must have been enduring in his heart. He struggled and kicked to free himself from my grip, still intent on charging into the conflagration, but I crawled up him, holding him down. I knew that if he meant to, he could clamber up and carry me into the flames with him, but he wasn’t about to do that. His actions had been driven by a moment of intense anguish. Our tumble, followed by my exhortations for him to calm down, finally impinged on his mind. It was safe to release him, and we both scrambled up, conscious of the concerned neighbours moving all around us. Distantly came the warble of sirens as fire trucks responded to 911 calls.
Rink spun, facing the crowds. ‘Was she in there?’ he demanded. ‘My mom, Yukiko Rington, you all know her, right? Was she inside the fucking house?’
At first he didn’t receive a reply. The people were too stunned by the fury in his shout.
‘Was my mother inside the house?’ he roared again.
‘She was with that lady there. The one sitting in the car,’ an old man pointed out. He was holding a leashed poodle and was the only person in the crowd fully dressed. ‘They arrived after the fire had started. Your mom asked me to call nine-one-one, so I ran back inside…’
Rink wasn’t listening to the man, he was already charging towards Bridget Lanaghan’s car. She had obviously approached the house from the opposite end of the street judging from where she’d parked a hundred yards further along. The hood faced us, as did the windshield, but the smoke billowing across the road made it difficult to see anyone inside. I nodded thanks at the old dog walker before sprinting after Rink.
I covered my face with my jacket as I charged through the smokescreen, feeling the intense heat of the fire carried along with it. Sparks clung to my clothing, and as I cleared the choking cloud I batted them out. Rink seemed heedless of those that glowed brightly on his shoulders. Catching up to him as he bent to peer inside the car, I slapped the points threatening to ignite his clothing. He didn’t even notice.
He craned back and let out a shout of denial, his hands slamming down on the roof of the car. I pushed by him and discovered the source of his torment. Bridget Lanaghan sat in the driving position, both her hands folded in her lap. Her head had lolled forward and she looked as if she was sleeping. But for one thing: the blood trickling from a wound behind her left ear.
Leaning in, I pressed the tips of two fingers to her carotid artery just below the left jaw. I couldn’t find a heartbeat. But the slow trickle of blood told me that there might yet be hope. Gently I eased her head back, taking the pressure from her throat, and checked again. It was faint, but I found a steady pulse.
‘She’s still alive,’ I said. ‘We have to help her, Rink.’
‘We have to find my mom,’ he corrected.
Chapter 36
Despite having just shot his way through a police cordon, Markus made the San Mateo Bridge with little drama, and sped over it towards the lights of Hayward, having negotiated the tollgates without raising suspicion. Then it was a short run up the Nimitz Freeway to San Lorenzo where he cut across country to the MacArthur Freeway and on towards Chabot Regional Park. Despite the route, he didn’t have a clue as to how close he’d come to Parnell’s and Faulks’s hiding place, he was heading further into the national park where Sean Chaney had called an emergency meeting. His new business partner had come through for him, but in a more satisfying manner than he could ever have expected. He was keen to meet the man.