Part 24 (2/2)

”Yeah, we'll leave him where they put Ryan.” He c.o.c.ked his head and frowned at me. ”You look surprised. You think I was going to kill him?”

I didn't answer. I honestly didn't know, and it left me feeling uneasy with him and with myself. Rubio had tried to murder me, and he had tortured Ryan. When Heath was pounding him b.l.o.o.d.y, I wanted Rubio dead and out of my life. I thought of the wind blowing through the shattered gla.s.s of my living room and wondered if I'd ever be the woman I once was, or thought I was, before I tried to help Jenny. But I already knew the answer.

Heath strode past me into the cell. ”We're gonna get you on your feet, Ryan.”

I helped Heath lift Ryan into a standing position. Then we got him into the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. I settled beside him and watched Heath pick up Rubio by his feet and drag him across the floor.

As he got him into the cell, Ryan said to me, ”I need to tell you.”

”Are you in pain?” I asked.

He licked at the caked blood on his lips. ”Parson wanted a name.”

”You mean someone he could get more information from about his daughter's death?”

Hanging his head, he nodded.

”Whose name did you give him?” Heath asked sharply over his shoulder as he closed the cell door and bolted it on Rubio.

”She was selling the Bel Air house. All I could think of.”

”Celia?” I felt my entire body tighten. ”You gave him Celia's name?”

”I couldn't take the pain.” He looked up.

I put my arm around him.

”It was the smell of my own flesh,” Ryan mumbled.

”I'm calling her.” I took out my iPhone.

”Tell her to get the h.e.l.l out of wherever she is and don't tell anyone where she's going. Even you. It's safer for her that way.” Heath stared at me. ”Safer for you, too.”

The phone rang only once.

”Yes?” Celia answered quickly, as if she were expecting a call.

”It's Diana.”

”I've been meaning to call you ...”

”Don't talk, Celia. Listen. You're in danger. You have to leave your house, office, wherever you are. Go to a hotel and don't tell anybody where you're staying. Even me. Just go. Now.”

I could hear her sharp intake of breath. ”Is it Parson?”

”Yes. I can't talk now. I'll call you on your cell as soon as I can and explain it.”

The phone went dead in my hand.

”She's leaving,” I told them.

Ryan sighed heavily, relieved.

Puzzled, Heath said, ”Did she ask you exactly why she had to go?”

”No. In fact she asked me if she was in danger from Parson. A man she'd told me she didn't know.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at Ryan's house. From the car I had called the number of a doctor Ryan knew; I'd hoped he was more that the feel-good kind. His place was dark, no lights showing, which was the way it should be. Ryan gave Heath his house keys, and Heath walked through, checking it. Then we helped Ryan into his room and onto his bed.

In the kitchen I found a baggie containing a stale bagel and dumped it out, replacing it with ice from the freezer, which was filled with vodka bottles. Then I wrapped a hand towel around my makes.h.i.+ft ice bag.

By the time I got back to Ryan's bedroom, he was stretched out, his head on his pillow, his hands clasped over his stomach. Heath had put the other Ugg on his bare foot. Now in the doorway, he leaned on the jamb and watched.

I pressed the ice gently to Ryan's bruised eye.

”Ouch!” Ryan groaned. ”That hurts.”

”Keep it there. Or you're going to end up looking like the Elephant Man.”

He grabbed my wrist. ”I want to get out of show business. What's in Idaho?”

”Potatoes.”

He sighed heavily. ”I wanted to die, Diana.”

I stroked his arm. ”I'm glad you didn't.”

”They kept hitting me and burning me.” He raised his forefinger toward the ceiling. ”Turn my train on.”

I clicked a switch built into his nightstand. A replica of a ”1930s” Santa Fe Super Chief with Pullman cars started chugging along a railed shelf erected high around the walls. Tiny silhouetted pa.s.sengers showed in the windows. We watched the train roll around the room, disappearing into tunneled mountains, then reappearing. It tooted and flashed its lights at the railroad crossings. Even Heath moved into the room and stared at it intently. Watching seemed to calm both men. Is that all it took?

Ryan's house was decorated in early p.u.b.erty. A sparkly purple drum set sat in the corner of his bedroom. Drumsticks had been scattered on the floor like old bones. A prized Martin guitar and a s.h.i.+ny alto sax leaned against a chair. On the wall across from his bed was a Sony screen as big as Pica.s.so's Guernica, while remote controls, play stations, and X boxes were stacked on shelves.

He closed his eyes. I moved the ice pack to the corner of his bruised lips.

Grimacing, he said, ”Parson has a copy of the video of Jenny and me.”

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