Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) (22 page)

“How long has she worked here?” I asked.

“She grew up here just like Boo,” he said. “Pops, her dad, used to be head trainer. She worked her way up and has been head now for close to ten years.”

I caught Pellini’s eye. “We should go introduce ourselves,” I said to Lenny. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes?”

A flicker of worry passed over his face, but he simply gave a nod and went back to watching the horses.

Pellini and I strolled down the rail. “Boudreaux’s family has been here for
generations,
” I said. “No wonder he’s so messed up about Farouche’s death.”

He nodded, grim.

We waited for the horses to slow before approaching. “Mrs. McDunn?” I said when she looked over. “I’m Kara Gillian. I used to work with your son. This is Vince Pellini, his partner.”

“What do you want?” she asked, sounding more tired than defensive.

“I’m sorry, I know this is hard on you,” I said. “I’m sure various investigators have already spoken to you, but I was hoping you’d answer a few questions about your husband, Angus.”

To my relief, she gave me a firm nod. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said, mouth tightening in undisguised anger as she slid the stopwatch into the front pocket of her jeans. “I can’t believe that man lied to me for all these years. All those terrible things he did! I hope they track him down and put him away for the rest of his life.”

“You believe the accusations?” Pellini asked.

“Every one of them,” she said with conviction. “The bastard called me the day after the plantation fire wanting help. He didn’t deny any of it.”

Pellini and I exchanged a quick glance. It was clear we shared the same thought. “Did the cops happen to get a recording of that conversation?” I asked.

“Not that one,” she said. “But after that I gave them free rein to tap the phones.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “They got one last night when Angus called to try to tell me he loved me and god knows what else. I didn’t want to hear it.” She dashed away a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mrs. McDunn,” I said. “I take it you—”

She yanked her hand up. “Ms. Kinsley,” she corrected sharply. “I’m filing for divorce and going back to my maiden name.”

“Understandable,” I said, though I wondered how Boudreaux felt about that. “What did Angus want when he called that first time?”

“Cash,” she said, a mix of fury and hurt in her eyes. “Can you believe that? Not, ‘I’m sorry I ruined your life.’ No. Money to get him by until he met up with some other people—other criminals, no doubt.” Her eyes followed the two horses coming off the track. “I need to go. Anything else?”

Pellini cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”

She forced a smile and headed toward the long barn in the wake of the horses.

“Can you get hold of that recording?” I asked Pellini as we walked back toward Lenny.

“Tricky,” he said. “I may have to call in a favor or two, but I’ll do what I can. We
have
to hear it.” He nudged me with his elbow and pointed toward the far side of the track.

A big chestnut horse the color of a burnished copper penny walked onto the track. Copper to Gold, a.k.a. Psycho, with Boudreaux aboard. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, eyes riveted on the pair.

Looking perfectly at ease in the saddle, Boudreaux brought the horse to the head of the stretch then let him run. For a moment I forgot all about Angus McDunn and Katashi and valves, enthralled by the beauty of motion, power, and speed. They galloped past, and I felt as though they carried me with them as they ran for the pure joy of running. Boudreaux slowed Psycho to a canter, then a walk, before circling and heading back our way. Boudreaux patted the horse’s neck, a broad smile on his face.

“He looks happy,” I said. “Even with all the shit going on, he looks
happy
. I’ve never seen him like that.” I shook my head. “We need to get out of here before he spots us.”

Too late. Boudreaux’s gaze snapped to us, and his smile melted into a scowl. He stopped Psycho about fifteen feet away and vaulted to the ground with a grace I never expected. Lenny ducked under the rail and eased their way. Psycho laid his ears back and lunged toward Lenny, but Boudreaux let out a short whistle. The horse immediately settled down and allowed Lenny to take hold of his bridle and lead him toward the gap in the rail.

Boudreaux yanked loose the strap of his helmet and stalked toward us. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” he said then glared at Pellini and stabbed a finger in my direction. “How could you bring
her
here?” He didn’t add
you traitorous piece of shit
, but he might as well have.

Pellini lowered his head and shifted his weight. “We wanted to check out a few things. Didn’t know you’d be home.”

Boudreaux stepped closer, jaw so tight the muscles on the sides of his neck stood out. “What things? Nothing for either of you here.”

I lifted my hands. “Look, maybe we shouldn’t have come here, but we did. We’ll go now.”

“No!” Outrage mottled his face with red and white patches. “You can’t just invade my home and
la dee da
waltz out again. You
owe
me.”

I met his eyes steadily. “I know what you want, but I can’t give it to you.”

He bared his teeth. “We’ll see what you have to say when—”

A horse neighed in the big barn, and he jerked his gaze that way. Catherine stood by the entrance, one hand shading her eyes as she watched us. “My mom. Goddammit. You talked to her.” Worry covered his anger. He tore off his helmet to reveal hair plastered to his head from sweat. “What did you say?” His voice shook. “Did you upset her? She doesn’t need any more shit.” Without waiting for a response, he took off toward Catherine at a jog then turned, eyes on me. “Get the fuck out of here.” He shot me the finger for emphasis before running toward his mom.

“Well.” Pellini grimaced. “I’d say that’s our cue to depart.”

“Boo ain’t happy, and I can’t say I blame him.” I struck out toward the parking lot with Pellini. “At least we didn’t say anything upsetting to his mom.”

“You hope.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I hope.” And I hoped the lead on the phone call would be worth antagonizing Boudreaux even more.

 • • • 

“Who do you know over at the Sheriff’s Office?” I asked after we were on the road again. I was on a first name basis with quite a few of the detectives there, but at the moment that meant absolute zilch. Even if I wasn’t currently a person of interest in a very high-profile active investigation, I was no longer a cop and therefore had no pull.

“I know a few guys over there,” Pellini said. “I think I can get a copy of the recording without too many questions asked. I’ll say it might pertain to the Amber Gavin case.” He scowled. “Not that it matters, right? If I try to build a case against the shitholes who raped and murdered her, it’d draw too much attention to the arcane side of things.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it would be risky. I’m sorry,”

He echoed my sigh. “It fucking sucks shit.”

Led Zeppelin came on the radio, and I waited for them to finish singing about the land of ice and snow before I spoke again. “Probably doesn’t help much, but Amber was murdered outside of Beaulac. Wouldn’t be your jurisdiction anyway.”

“Where?”

“Austin, Texas.”

He made a disgruntled noise. “Yeah. I hate working with out-of-state cops.”

We both knew it would never come to that, but I didn’t press the point.

“What do you know about Rob O’Connor?” I asked after another few minutes. “He’s the detective investigating me.”

Pellini considered carefully. “He’s a real straight arrow,” he finally said. “The Farouche case is a huge deal to him for obvious reasons.”

I understood that. This area didn’t get many murders, especially not one this meaty—prominent local businessman gets murdered execution-style and turns out to be involved in who-the-hell knows what. Any detective worth a shit would love to sink their teeth into an investigation like that.

“He’s a good detective,” Pellini continued, frowning.

“But?”

Pellini shook his head. “There isn’t a ‘but.’ Sorry.” He offered me a sympathetic look. “O’Connor
really
wants to close this case and find the shooter.”

In other words, the dude wasn’t going to give up simply because I refused to talk to him. Wonderful.

“Guess I should put his number in my contacts.”

Pellini snorted. “Not a bad idea.”

Pellini paced near the tree line with his phone to his ear and Sammy trotting happily beside him. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every third round or so, he would pick up a stick and chuck it across the yard without a break in his conversation. Each time, the dog rocketed after the stick, brought it back to drop at Pellini’s feet, and resumed trotting at his side.

Fuzzykins lay draped over the porch railing, regarding the dog with the utmost disdain. Me, I lazed on the back porch and watched the dog and his man, unable to keep from smiling at Sammy’s antics. It was on Pellini to pull strings and get us a copy of the McDunn phone call recording, so all I could do was wait and see. And relax.

After several minutes Pellini clipped his phone to his belt and returned to me with Sammy gallivanting in circles around him. The triumphant smile on his face told me the outcome of his calls. “Man, I had to call in a lot of favors for this one,” he said. “But the guy who has the case is emailing the recording to me right now.”

“Sweet!” I stood and stretched then gave him a rueful smile. “I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull it off.”

Pellini twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “I have a few connections.”

“As long as it gives us a lead, I don’t care if you sold your soul to the devil.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Pretty sure I did that a
long
time ago.”

“Dude, I hear you.”

We proceeded inside to the dining room. Pellini retrieved his laptop, flipped it open, then drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited for his email to load. “There it is,” he said. He clicked on the file and adjusted the volume. I pulled up a chair beside his and leaned close to the speaker.

A series of clicks.

“Hello?”
Catherine McDunn’s voice.

A pause. Silence.

“Hello?”
Catherine again.

A man spoke.
“Catherine.”

Her sharp intake of breath.
“Angus.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.”

“You’re
sorry?
And that’s supposed to fix it? How could you do this? To me. To Marcel.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I swear.”

“But it
is
like this, Angus.”
Pain threaded through her words.

“Baby, please.”
His breath shuddered.
“Please, just hear me out.”

“Why? So you can ask me for money again or something else that puts me in danger?”

“No! God, no, I never wanted you to be in danger. Catherine, I love you.”

Her breath caught in a sob.
“I love you too, Angus, which makes all of this hurt so much more. We wouldn’t be in this nightmare if you’d talked to me the first time Macklin asked you to
 . . .
to . . .”

“It killed me not being able to tell you, baby. You have to believe me.”

“I love you. I’ve been here for you. And
 . . .
all those years of lies. How can I believe anything you say now?”

“Dammit. I was trying to protect you and Marcel. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Protect us? From what? It couldn’t be worse than this.”

“Look, baby. I can’t go into that. Even now. All I’m asking is for you to trust that I—”

Muffled voices in the background that didn’t belong to Angus or Catherine, but too low to make out any words.

“Hang on a sec.”
Angus again, but sounding as if he spoke over his shoulder to another person.

“Angus?”
Catherine, worried.
“What’s going on?”

“It’s cool, baby. I promise I’ll—”
More background voices. A few words rose above the others:
Timetable. Critical. Master.
A voice that might have been Jerry’s. A curse from Angus, then a rustling as if he’d put his hand over the phone.
“Number six.”
Muffled but audible. Angus, taut and stressed, speaking to the other person.
“You and the boss are doing number six this afternoon. Now leave me the fuck alone for two goddamn minutes.”

More rustling.
“Catherine. I love you. That will never change.”

A ragged breath.
“Then do the right thing. Turn yourself in.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Won’t! You
won’t
do it.”
An angry sob.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. Where’s my hero?”

“I’m right here, baby. Listen to me—”

“No! I’m through listening. You had
years
to talk. Years, Angus.”
Voice shaking.
“Don’t
 . . .
don’t call me again.”

“Catherine, baby. Don’t cut me out of your life. Please.”

“You cut me out of yours, you lying son of a bitch!”
Crying
. “You’ve left me no choice! I have to protect myself and my son. I
 . . .
hate you. I
hate
you.”

“Baby, no! Listen. I’m—”

A click, then silence.

Pellini exhaled and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “That’s all of it.”

“Wow,” I breathed and sat back. “Bryce wasn’t lying about how those two were with each other.”

“Yeah. They sounded like the real deal. And he trashed it.”

An odd catch in his voice drew my attention, but before I could pry into the cause he shoved away from the table and stomped out of the room. Taken off guard, I stumbled up to follow.

“Pellini? You okay?” I made it to the hallway in time to see him stiff-arm the back door open, shoulders hunched and head down. Mystified, I continued after him. What in blazes had triggered this? Sammy ran up to him but, instead of frolicking as usual, he dropped his ears and pressed close to Pellini’s leg as if sensing his human’s mood.

Pellini stopped in the shade of a tall pecan tree then crouched and hugged the dog to him, not resisting when Sammy offered slobbery dog-kisses.

I cleared my throat softly. “Do you need anything?”

He blew out a breath and shifted to sit on the grass. Sammy draped himself over Pellini’s lap, eyes on his human’s face. “Sorry,” Pellini said with a grimace. “Old ghosts.”

I sat a few feet away. “Related to Angus and Catherine?”

“Nah, but they reminded me of some personal shit.” He stroked his dog’s ears. “Angus is a turd, and they’re going through hell right now.”

“And you know hell,” I said, echoing his own words from the other day.

Pellini didn’t bluster defensively this time. Instead he sighed. “We all do. Some more than others.” He lifted his chin toward me. “Like you and your scars and what Rhyzkahl did to you. And Idris . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t imagine having to
watch
what happened to his sister. Makes my shit seem pretty insignificant in comparison.”

“No,” I said with force. “No, that’s total hogwash. You can’t compare your trauma or grief to anyone else’s. Telling yourself that you have to smile through your pain because the guy next to you has it worse is as dumb as refusing to be happy because the other guy is having a better day.” I stabbed a finger at him. “Don’t invalidate your own feelings.”

Pellini blinked at me. “Did you really just say ‘hogwash’?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and I can’t believe that’s all you got from that.”

He let out a low snort, looked down at the blissful dog in his lap with a soft smile. “Nah. I heard you. Every now and then you make a little sense.”

I held back a tart reply and waited. After a moment he let out a long sigh. “Kadir was a huge part of my life for seven years, and then out of nowhere he abandoned me. Shook up my whole world.” His lips pressed together. “Less than a week later my mom passed away.”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.

Old pain pulled at his face. “Just like that, two of the three most important people in my life were gone. I fucking fell apart.”

“Who was the third?” I asked.

“My fiancée, Vicky Malone.” His voice caught on her name. “She was the love of my life. Understood and supported me. Got my dumb sense of humor. Funny and smart.” He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“Did . . . she die too?”

Pellini shook his head. “No, I drove her off. She’d try to console me about losing my mom, then I’d get
pissed
because she didn’t understand that it wasn’t just my mom. My whole world had collapsed, and I couldn’t tell her.” His gaze turned bleak and haunted. “I took it out on her. Jesus, I was the biggest fucking asshole to ever walk the earth. She stuck it out for three months then finally gave up.” He tipped his head back to look up at the sunlight piercing the leaves. “For close to a year I told myself I hated her. By the time I figured out what a goddamn jackass I’d been and tracked her down, she was married to another guy, with a baby on the way.”

“Shit.” I didn’t know what else to say, but apparently that was enough. He dropped his gaze to me, nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, listening to those two on that recording brought all that back. McDunn screwed up.”

I winced. “Poor Boudreaux.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Let’s hope to god he
never
hears us say that about him.”

A bark of laughter slipped out. “Oh,
hell
no!” The crunch of gravel in the driveway heralded the return of Bryce and Idris. I clambered to my feet. “Let’s play the recording for the boys. I bet ‘number six’ is a valve and, if so, hopefully Idris will know which one it is.”

 • • • 

Number six was, indeed, a valve.

“Nature center,” Idris said the first time he listened to the recording. Pellini played it twice more, volume turned all the way up as the entire posse clustered in the dining room. At the end of the table Bryce sat beside Jill as she took notes, both with matching grim expressions. Eilahn stood near the door, arms folded. Tension held Idris in a solid grip as he paced by the table.

“He’s going to be there,” he said after the third time through the recording. He raked a gaze around the room. “Katashi. He’s going to be at the nature center valve this afternoon. There’ll be an emission at 2:47.” Anger boiled through the excitement in his words. “We can get him. This is our chance.”

“You’re
sure
he’ll be there?” I asked.

His head jerked in a nod of assent. “Completely. Even if they changed the numbering system—which I doubt—there’s no other valve that has an emission this afternoon. And the ‘master’ is Katashi. He’ll be there for the burst. I
know
it!”

“All right,” I said. “Our strike team will be me, you, Pellini, and Eilahn. That’s it. Bryce stays here with Jill. Who else will be with Katashi?”

“He doesn’t like a lot of people around him when he works,” Idris said. “One security guy and one other summoner. Tsuneo, most likely. He knows the valves almost as well as I do.” Idris wasn’t bragging either. He was stating a fact.

“Does Tsuneo carry a weapon?” Jill asked.

Idris shook his head. “Arcane and some martial arts, but I’ve never seen him with a gun.”

A charged excitement filled the room. “This could work,” Pellini said, stroking his mustache. “We get there well in advance, stake out the valve, and take them down.”

“Bryce?” I said. “You’re our tactical advisor. Can you work up a plan for us in the next, oh, twenty minutes?”

“I can,” he said.

I rubbed my hands together. Damn, it felt good to take action. “Then let’s have us an ambush.”

 • • • 

I pulled Eilahn aside before she could return to the backyard. “I think you need to remain here for this,” I said, letting my worry show.

Her lips pursed as she regarded me. “Then there is great error in your thinking,” she replied, enunciating each word to ensure I comprehended.

So much for my fantasy where she agreed without argument and toddled off to her nest. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I insisted. “You’ve passed through the void once already, and . . .” I didn’t want to finish the sentence.

“It is no different than the risk you take,” she said with a pointed look.

Crap. She was using logic. I didn’t like that she was right. “You’re not at full strength.”

She set her jaw stubbornly. “I am not weakened to the point of jeopardizing the excursion,” she said. “The benefits far outweigh the risks.”

I knew when I was beaten. Exhaling, I wrapped her in a hug. “Okay. Fine. But I’ll be really pissed if you get hurt. Or worse.” Nope, still couldn’t say it.

She embraced me close. “Should you choose an irrational emotional response, it will not alter my opinion of you.”

I snorted, smiled. “I love you, too. So there.”