Living with the Dead - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,148

he didn’t give a rat’s ass where the man was. Then Damon caught up and continued. “He’s trying to get to Bobby and Hope.”

“Where are they?”

“Hold up a minute so I can show you. Man, you’re as bad as that guy from The Fugitive. You’ve caught Bobby and now you’re not about to let her get away, huh?”

Was there a twist of sarcasm to those words? Before Finn could comment, Damon directed his attention to a tool shed fifty feet behind the barn . . . and a pair of fake cops standing guard between the buildings.

“What the hell are they doing in there? Of all the hiding places—”

“It’s a bomb shelter.”

“What?”

“It leads to an underground shelter. Bobby and Hope were coming out when they noticed those guys making a beeline for the shed. They ducked back down. Those two took a peek inside and didn’t see the hatch. But that seems to be their assigned post so they aren’t budging. And Karl’s getting tired of waiting.”

“Guide us in.”

“THIS WAY,” Damon said as they slipped into the barn.

Rhys stepped in the other direction, toward the dark stalls.

“No!” Damon said. “Stop him.”

“What?”

Rhys motioned that he wanted to check the rest of the barn, be sure it was clear.

“Tell him I already got it,” Damon said. “He doesn’t need to—”

Rhys was already disappearing into the stalls.

“Shit! Call him back, Finn.”

Finn wasn’t about to raise his voice. He jogged after Rhys, rounding the corner to see the other man dropping beside a woman lying in the hay. Finn picked up his pace.

It was a couple, a man beside the woman, arms around her, her face against his chest.

“The gas,” Finn whispered. “It must have knocked them out.”

“No.” Rhys rose and extended his hand. In it lay two small vials.

Finn strode over for a closer look. There were no lights in the barn, but a sliver of sunlight through the beams illuminated the face of the young man on the floor. His features were contorted in agony. The woman’s face was hidden against him, but Finn recognized her dark hair and blue dress. The girl who’d held a gun on Adele.

“Hugh and Lily,” Rhys murmured, his voice thick.

Damon murmured he’d go check on the women. As Rhys took off his ball cap, Finn looked around. Deep in the shadows he could make out two more bodies. Rhys hadn’t noticed them, and Finn wasn’t about to point them out. Whatever Rhys’s connection to this place, these people weren’t anonymous victims to him.

Rhys looked up sharply. “The others. I have to—”

“You have to get Hope, Robyn and Adele Morrissey.” Marsten appeared from nowhere. “As for the rest? What’s done is done.”

Harsher than Finn would have put it, but Rhys only pulled his ball cap back on and straightened. Then he dropped the vials and crushed them under his shoe.

“Those are stashed all over the property,” he said. “Anyone who hasn’t been captured will have already done what they were taught. They’ll presume it’s a Cabal.”

“But these people had rifles,” Finn said. “They could have fought back.”

Rhys shook his head. “Then some could be captured. They wouldn’t risk that.”

“It’s the Nasts, isn’t it?” Marsten said, keeping his voice low. “I believe I suggested we switch cars in case they’d planted a tracking unit.”

“And I said that my car has a device to scramble the signal. They’d be in North Hollywood by now.”

“Whoever is here, I think it’s my fault,” Finn said. “I called for backup, and this is what I got. I have no idea how or why—”

“They diverted calls from your radio,” Rhys said.

“That’s not poss—”

“Believe me, it is. Cabal technology. Almost certainly the Nasts. As for why . . . I have my suspicions—”

“Unimportant.” Marsten walked back from peering out the window. “We have a rescue to launch. Hope, Robyn and Adele’s trail seems to lead to that building behind the barn. But the guards have already checked in there, so—”

“They’re underground.” Finn explained what Damon told him, as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Don’t worry about Adele,” Damon said as he returned. “There was a situation. Hope took her down. Shot her.”

Again, Finn relayed. Seeming less pleased with that than Finn would have expected, Marsten frowned and walked to the window.

“What we’ll do then is create a distraction,” Finn began.

Marsten didn’t turn from the window. “At this point, I’m not looking for a humane course of action, Detective. It’s too risky.”

As Rhys answered, Finn thought he saw a movement behind the dead couple. He peered