Chapter 45: Chapter Forty-Five

Bill O'Neill gripped the limp hand of his partner, Ian Cavanaugh, as the ambulance sped through the rain-slicked streets. He offered up prayers to God every few seconds. He thought of Ian as his younger brother. When he'd gotten a call from him and answered, there had been no talking. All he'd heard on the phone was the sound of something burning, and then came an explosion.

Moving with the speed of a much younger man, Bill had someone track Ian's phone. His skin still crawled as he recalled the scene he'd discovered upon his arrival. It had begun to rain, the temperature plunging with each raindrop that fell from the dark sky.

Before him sat Ian's Cobra, burning eerily in the mist and rain. Screaming for his partner, Bill scrambled to the body he saw lying near the warehouse building. It didn't take long for him to call out the Code 510. The blood streaming from Ian's body had blended with the rain, and Bill was afraid to move him. He checked for a pulse; it was faint, yet there.

While he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he sat on the ground beside his partner and protected him the best he could from the increasing rain. Bill ignored the fact there may still be someone out there. Honestly, he doubted it, since if they were there, they probably would have finished them both off.

Making sure Ian could breathe, Bill, waited with increasing impatience until the paramedics showed up and stabilized Ian. Climbing into the ambulance with Ian, he watched as a fire truck pulled up and began to douse the flames still burning on his car.

"Move this hunk of junk," Bill snapped at a young EMT that climbed behind the wheel. They waited until two pounds hit the back door before the driver gunned the engine, taking them away from the scene.

Bill's heart skipped a beat when Ian's gray eyes opened and he looked right at him. It was like looking at him, and yet at the same time not. There was confusion and pain in the gray orbs. Bill grew even more frightened as Ian faded back into unconsciousness. Images of Ian as a strong and healthy man vanished, leaving a shell in its place. The bruising, pale skin, shallow breaths. Nothing like the man who'd been his partner for years.

Only after they arrived at the hospital did Bill heave a sigh of relief. Waiting doctors and residents rushed ahead and did a smooth exchange with the paramedics. Bill followed as far as he could before he was refused further admittance. His hand resting on the wood of the swinging door, he sighed and offered up another prayer. When he turned around, he saw a bunch of other detectives and cops streaming in to offer support.

With one last glance through the doors leading toward surgery, Bill turned his attention on the people gathered around him. He answered what questions he could.

***

Fallon knew there were going to be more questions. But, for the time being, Agent Jackie Carlson had allowed her to go. She called her brothers and made sure they were okay. They were okay, and although detained, it was what they'd expected to happen.

The agent who'd aimed the gun at her walked her to her vehicle. "You'll be reachable?" the man asked, his eyes no longer as professional as they scanned her body.

Staring at him as the flashing red and blue lights highlighted his clothing, Fallon nodded. "Yes, Agent Carlson has all my information." She unlocked her vehicle and arched a brow as the man opened the door for her.

"Great, so we'll be in touch."

Is he coming on to me? "Okay." She climbed in and tried to shut the door, but he held onto it. "Something else, Agent?"

He stared at her for a few moments before shaking his head. "No, ma'am. That'll be all from me for now."

She started the engine as her door shut on the increasingly wet night. The back of her neck prickled and she worried her lower lip as she dialed her brother, Dylan. He should have checked in by now. She frowned as no answer was forthcoming.

Fallon couldn't stop the fear from growing in her belly as she headed toward the house. She called Shawn and asked if either he or Clay had heard from Dylan. That was a negative. "Damn it, Dylan, where are you?"

She turned onto her street, shut off the lights, and pulled to the side of the road, parking along the curb. Vehicles she didn't recognize were in the driveway. Hopping across to the passenger seat, Fallon snuck out of her Xterra and stayed low, even the feel of the cold rain not penetrating through the dread that cloaked her.

Sneaking along to the back of her house, Fallon quietly crept into the backyard. Loud crashes reached her ears from the inside and fear rose again within her, and on its heels rage followed close. Silently she vaulted over the railing and landed beside the door leading to the kitchen.

She opened it slowly and peered inside. No one was in the kitchen so she eased her way in. It was unlit in this room and she could hear mumbling, crying, and some muffled yelling.

"I'm going out to my vehicle, and when I come back, I want what I'm looking for. No more games, no more playing around. You either give it up or I'm going to kill everyone."

Fallon hissed as DeVane's voice reached her. Its cold malevolence made her shiver. The one who answered him made her gasp. It was Dylan.

"I'll not tell you anything, even if I knew," he muttered defiantly.

She hugged the wall of the kitchen as a large figure moved past the doorway. Three soft pops reached her seconds before the front door slammed shut. Fallon would never forget that sound. Despite the knowledge of what she knew she heard, nothing in all her years could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her as she stepped into the living room.

Windows again were broken and the house trashed but she glossed over all that as her gaze landed on the people in the room. Herschel's family sat tied up in a corner, eyes wide with tears and terror, Herschel lay in a crumpled heap beside them, and on the floor in the middle of the room... laid Dylan.

His red blood seeped out onto the tan carpet. She could see he was doing his best not to cry, but was fighting a losing battle. His pale green eyes were full of pain and tears. His normally pale skin seemed extra pasty.

She sank to the carpet beside him and gathered him into her arms, heedless of the blood running out of his body and onto her and the floor. "Hang in there, Dylan. Oh God, hang in there." Blinking back tears of her own, Fallon grabbed for her cell and dialed Clay, then Shawn. "Dylan's been shot," she said before hanging up and calling for an ambulance. His blood was warm and slick as it seeped into her clothing and touched her skin.

"I'm scared." His voice was weak. "Help me, Fallon. Please. I don't wanna die."

Fallon brushed a hand along the side of his face, knowing there was nothing she could do for him, not with three holes in him. "I'm right here, Dylan. Hang in there, I called the ambulance. It's coming. Just hang in there."

"They wanted photos. I tried to fight back." He fell silent shuddering. "Cold," he muttered. "So cold."

Without looking away from him, she grabbed for the blanket on the couch and covered his frail body. Not for a second did she turn her gaze from him, scared she'd lose him if she did. "Stay with me, Dylan. Come on, baby brother. Stay with me."

He looked up at her and tried to smile. "Guess I don't have to worry about a house anymore, do I?" His words grew garbled as he struggled to breathe. The death rattle crept into his voice as he did his best to hang on.

Dylan reached up with one bloodied hand and stroked it down the side of her face. She grabbed it with her own and tried to squeeze life back into him. It was not going to work, no matter how much she longed for it to do so. Don't leave me, Dylan. Please don't leave me. His eyes never wavered from hers as he breathed his last. His final sigh echoed throughout her soul and tore it in half. Tears streaked down her face as she reached out and slowly closed his green eyes forever.

Her features sobered as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. That bastard has gone too far this time. Despite the murder in her heart, Fallon was extremely gentle as she lowered Dylan's dead body back to the floor and covered his face with the blanket. Without a word, she drew her knife, moved to the huddled family, and freed them.

"Fallon," Laura began as she tossed the gag and gathered her children to her, pressing their faces against her chest to keep them from seeing their uncle dead on the floor.

"Get out, Laura. Get to the back room and stay low. Things are going to get ugly."