Chapter Seventy-Four.

I headed out the same doors I had entered-my head still throbbing, my steps unsure.

I spotted the medical van that had brought me there parked in front of the entrance. I looked around for a policeman, at the same time wondering just how I was going to explain things. A bloodied man, staggering about, barely coherent. Going on about how his son was in danger back east. And how the only detective who could corroborate his story was possibly dead. How he had to save his brother and sister-in-law.

How would that go over? It sounded insane. They would probably just escort me back inside and order a sedative.

I had to do something.

I ran out of the drop-off area and made my way, disoriented, onto the street. I spotted a taxi parked in front of the hospital. I headed toward it, shaking out the cobwebs in my head, trying to remember Charlie's address and what the h.e.l.l I was going to do when I got there.

I climbed into the back.

"Six-oh-nine Division Street," I told the cabbie. "In Grover Beach."

The driver, a Pakistani, barely even looked at me, putting the car in gear. "Okay, sir . . ."

He pulled a U-ey and headed in the opposite direction. I sank back into the seat. Within seconds, I was clear of the hospital. The craziness of what I was doing was starting to sink in.

I leaned forward. "Do you have a cell phone?" I asked.

"Yes." The driver nodded. "I do."

"Can I borrow it? It's an emergency. I'm a doctor . . ."

The driver turned and actually eyed me for the first time, and warily. Who could blame him? I was disheveled, b.l.o.o.d.y, and barely coherent. He hesitated, probably wondering if he should pull over and tell me to get the h.e.l.l out.

"Please, it's a police emergency," I said again. "My son's in danger. I'm a doctor. I need to call my wife."

Something must have convinced him, because after thinking a second, he pulled his phone off the seat next to him and handed it back to me.

"Thank you," I said, grateful, meeting his concerned eyes.

The first call was to Kathy. I could barely punch in the number, I was so nervous and disoriented. Dev had said they had Max. I could barely hold on as I heard it ring.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Kath," I shouted as she answered. I saw the clock on the taxi's dashboard. It was eleven P.M. back home.

She heard the disturbance in my voice right away. "Jay, what's wrong?"

"Kath-where's Maxie?" I asked. "Is he okay?"

"Max? I don't know, Jay. He's out at a friend's. He said he was studying. What's wrong?"

"When was the last time you heard from him?" I asked her.

"The last time? I don't know. A couple of hours ago. He said he'd be home by eleven. Why?"

"Kathy, you need to call him," I said to her, "now." My heart was leaping around like a cod in a catch bin. "He could be in trouble. Do it for me, Kathy. Now."

"Jay, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

"I can't tell you right now, but please, please, Kathy, just do it. Call him. While I'm on the phone. Now!"

"Okay . . . ," she answered tremulously.

I figured she was in bed. Reading. She got up and ran to her phone. The next seconds seemed like an hour to me. My hands were shaking. Like most doctors, I was a guy who didn't rush to a.s.sumptions, who always waited for the facts to determine a course of action.

But my mind was rushing to the worst now.

Finally she came back on the line. "There's no answer. Jay, tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on."

"Kath, I just need you to listen. Call the police. Tell them to look for him. Tell them where he was. Give them his license plate numbers."

"Jay! You're sounding crazy. I don't know the plate numbers. You're scaring me!"

"Kathy, please, just do it, okay! Someone here said they had taken him."

"Taken him?" She became apoplectic. "Jay, tell me what's going on!"

"I can't. Kathy, I can't. I'm sorry. Just do it for me. Please. I'm on my way to Charlie's. They could be in danger too. I know how this all sounds. I know it's crazy. But just call the police. Call the house where he was at." I looked at the clock. "You can call me at Charlie's when you know something. Okay? And, Kathy . . ."

I knew I sounded crazy. I also knew I had no idea how the next minutes might turn out. I couldn't say it before, but now I could. And I did. "I love you, honey. And the kids . . ."

All she could say back was, "I love you too, Jay."

I hung up. The driver must have thought I was crazy. "How long?"

"Long?" He turned around.

"How much longer until we're there?"

He shook his head; his eyes went wide. "Five, six minutes . . ."

The palm of my right hand was throbbing. I hadn't even noticed it since I left the hospital in such haste. I bit off the end of the tape and began to peel away the gauze, not sure what I would find.

It was covered in antiseptic cream.

I rubbed it on my pants and my heart almost climbed through my throat.

The ugliest cuts were there. Four slash marks dug in the skin-from Dev's blade. Each a kind of a half semicircle.

I had seen them before, but now they were staring back at me. As a gruesome reminder. On my own hand.

An eye!

A feeling of nausea rose up through the waves of pain. My next call was to Sherwood. His cell number was embedded in my head. Dev had made me believe he was in trouble, or even dead, but how could I be sure?

The call went through, his phone rang-two, three times. No one picked up. My pulse buzzed like a ba.s.s guitar. Come on, answer, Sherwood. Please . . . Now it was five rings! To my dismay, it transferred into voice mail. "You've reached Detective Don Sherwood . . . Please leave your name, a message, and your number. I'll . . ."

My body was flooded by a sensation of dread. He wasn't picking up. Which wasn't good. Dev's mocking smile came into my mind. If by "police" you mean your ol' buddy Sherwood . . . He had become a friend. And I was both nervous and scared for him.

I struggled through some kind of hurried, rambling message. "Sherwood, it's me. Jay. I've been beaten. By the guy I mentioned. It's after eight. I'm heading to Charlie's now. If you get this message send someone there. Please, Don . . . And G.o.d, I hope you're all right."

I hung up, pushing back the most horrible feeling something terrible had befallen him. He had said he was on his way. If he had been he would have found me at the motel. The EMTs would have mentioned it.

"I have to make one more call," I told the driver.

This time to Charlie.

His number rang. I let the line ring and ring. Each was like a sharp blade cutting into my heart, taking a piece of me with each unanswered tone.

Where could they be?

No one picked up.

I was starting to get really scared now. And I wasn't sure what to do. I handed the phone back to the driver. The neighborhood began to look familiar. We were on Costa Verde Drive now, only a few blocks from their place. The driver stopped at a light. Each second was like an eternity. He turned on Fourth and started to go up the hill.

"Call the police," I said. "As soon as you drop me off. Tell them to come to that address. Six-oh-nine Division. Apartment two. Tell them there's a possible homicide in progress."

The driver looked at me, scared.

"Just do it," I said. "And I'm sorry. I can't pay you now. I'm staying at the Cliffside Suites. You know it?"

He nodded. I don't think he cared about being paid now.

"My name is Erlich. Ask for me there. I'll leave money. I promise."

We were only a block away, but Division was a one-way street and he'd have to wrap around the block, which I couldn't wait for. I actually saw Charlie's building. It would be shorter if I ran.

"I'm getting out!" I said. "Thank you for the phone. Now call . . ." I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed. "Please . . ."

I jumped out and headed down the darkened street. One side bordered a thicket of trees, the train tracks. I glanced behind me and saw the taxi drive away. I prayed he would follow through. My pace was erratic, my balance off, my brain still woozy. But I had regained my wits now and I prayed I wasn't too late. That Dev hadn't already gotten there.

Your brother and his wife are going to be dead soon . . .

I got to the carport of his building. The dimly lit courtyard.

I glanced across the street and what I saw there made my spirits soar.

A police car. Stationed outside. Like Sherwood had said. Parked in the shadows.

Thank G.o.d!

I hurried over. The car's lights were off. The driver's window appeared to be down. I could see a huddled shape behind the dash.

"Officer, officer!" I yelled as I ran up. My heart was ricocheting off my ribs. "I need some help."

I got to the car, put my hands on the window. "Officer, my brother's inside that house and-"

My stomach almost came up my throat at what I saw.

The cop inside, his cap off, head slumped to the side, blood all over the top of his neck.

And a bright red circle dotting the center of his forehead.

Chapter Seventy-Five.

"So many things to go over, Charlie. So many years . . ."

Dev had let in Susan Pollack, the woman Charlie knew as Maggie, and they had their guns out, grinning. "And the little woman. So nice to finally meet you. So where to start?" He picked up the splintered neck of Charlie's guitar that sat on the mantel. He whistled sympathetically. "Man, that must've put a dent in the ol' music career . . ."

"What do you want with us, Dev?"

"What do I want? What could we possibly want, Charlie? When it comes to you. Hey!" He placed the guitar neck back on the hearth. "How'd you like the pictures? I made 'em up just for you."

His eyes grew wide, flashes of relish and enjoyment in them. "I'm thinking definitely some of my best work, don't you agree? As I remember, you two were kinda cozy back then. Man, it was sure a b.i.t.c.h to find her. She'd really lived quite the regular life since she left you . . ."

"You didn't have to kill her, Dev. She was just a kid back then. She wouldn't have hurt a fly."

"Of course we had to kill her, Charlie. I mean, you see that, don't you? That it wasn't even about her, anyway. Not about her at all." He sat across from him, spreading his knees. His gun bobbed against his thigh. "That was about you, mate. We had to kill her because we wanted to make the point to you. You get it now?"

"Yeah, I get it, Dev."

"I mean, you knew what the score was, Charlie. Chase. Buckaroo. You knew even back then. When you brought those pigs into the garden, the rest of us had to do what? Clean up the mess. Right? It's like with the Bible, Charlie. Ain't no statute of limitations on betrayal."

"That was all more than thirty years ago, Dev. We've lived out our lives."

"Thirty years . . ." The words had a certain importance to them. Dev looked over to Susan. "He wants to know what thirty years is, Maggie."

"Thirty years is what I gave up," she said to him. "Over ten thousand days, Charlie. Each one spent counting the hours. Marking them off in my head. Until I could do what I was spared to do. What Russell wanted me to do. He knew part of his flock was weak. That they would betray him. That was why some got to go with him and others had to wait behind. So they would be here one day . . ."

"Russell was crazy, Maggie! He murdered all those people. Now you're as guilty as him. What you've done is evil."

"Evil?" Susan Pollack chuckled and dangled her gun. Her smile was mirthless. "Don't you remember nothing is evil if it's done from love, Charlie? And your son . . . That was done from the greatest love I knew."

"Evan?"