Chapter 35
Fucking Darnell.
Gas leak. One dead.
No answer.
Vaughn saw the flashing lights. Pressed the gas a little harder.
He screeched to a stop within just inches of one of two PPD squad cars.
A uniform was standing near the doors of a barn, green this time, and smaller than the last. He was wearing a gas mask.
“Delaney?” Vaughn asked as he jumped out of his car.
It wasn’t Delaney. This cop was about six inches shorter.
“Where’s Delaney?”
The cop pointed to the east.
“He went that way on foot.” The mask muffled the man’s voice, making it difficult to understand.
Vaughn looked toward the barn.
“How many inside?”
“Just one. DOA.”
“Stay here.”
Vaughn broke into a jog, pulling out his flashlight as he went.
He didn’t have to go far. Three minutes later, he saw Delaney, easily recognizable by his uniform. Two others stood in front of the cop. With their flashlights aimed at the ground, all Vaughn could tell was that one of them was tall, the other short.
Vaughn unclipped the strap on his gun holster. Didn’t draw. Continued forward, but at a slower pace now.
“I said put your hands in the air!” Delaney shouted.
“He doesn’t understand!” A woman’s voice.
Familiar, but Vaughn couldn’t place it. The blood roaring in his ears warped the sound.
A fourth person arrived. Squat, round. Clearly struggling to breathe.
Unlike Vaughn, Delaney had his weapon out. He aimed it at this new person.
“Hands up! Hands up!”
The fat woman screeched and did as Delaney asked, cowering at the same time.
“All of you, hands up!”
“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying!” the first woman countered. “Please, he doesn’t understand!”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Delaney roared. “If you don’t—”
Vaughn announced his presence.
“Delaney! Detective Ryan!”
Delaney turned, leading with his gun. For a split second, Vaughn thought the cop was going to shoot him.
“Jesus Christ! Put your gun down, Delaney! It’s Detective Ryan!”
Delaney held Vaughn in his crosshairs.
Vaughn made himself small.
“Vaughn?”
“Yes! God damn it, stop pointing your gun at me!”
Delaney finally listened, turning back to the trio of people standing in the open field.
Both the newcomer and the woman Vaughn had heard speaking earlier had their hands high in the air.
The tall man did not.
“I saw this guy running from the scene,” Delaney said over his shoulder.
“He wasn’t running! He was lost!”
Vaughn made his way next to Delaney and raised his flashlight. The woman turned her eyes away, brought one of her hands in front of her face.
“Keep your hands up!” Delaney ordered.
“Ivy?”
It was Ivy—Ivy Reeves.
What the fuck?
“Delaney, holster your weapon.”
“But—”
“Do it now!”
Delaney begrudgingly jammed his gun into his belt.
“I saw—”
“I’ve got this.”
“What?”
“I said I’ve got this. Back away.”
“But—”
“Back off, Delaney. Don’t make me say it again.” Vaughn glared at the cop.
“Okay, okay, shit. I’m backing off.”
Delaney put his own hands up now, not quite as high as the others, and took three large steps backward.
“Good. Stay calm.” To Ivy, “What the hell is going on?”
He lowered his flashlight, and she squinted one eye.
“Detective Ryan?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?”
“My—my dad. Shit.” Ivy was having a hard time catching her breath, but Vaughn suspected that this was for a different reason than the woman in what he now saw was a blue muumuu.
“It’s okay, take your time.”
As she collected herself, Vaughn observed the other two. One was a fat woman in her forties, the other a man in his sixties. Tall, thin. There was something on his face and head. A skin-colored mask of some sort.
It looked . . . well, frightening.
“My father, he’s sick. He doesn’t understand.” Such pain in Ivy’s voice. “He wanders off. This is Sarah. She’s his nurse at the home.”
Ivy took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I’m Dr. Reeves’s resident care aide,” the big woman squeaked.
Vaughn recalled what Ivy had said when they’d first approached her in her office back at Princeton.
“Is it my dad? Please tell me my dad’s okay.”
“Where’s the home?”
“Back there.” Ivy pointed in the opposite direction that Vaughn had come from.
Vaughn felt a headache begin to form behind his eyes.
“Is he okay?” He indicated Ivy’s father.
Ivy moved to her dad, gently placed a hand on his back.
“Dad? You going to be okay?”
No response. Not even a blink.
“I think he’s fine,” Ivy said. “Sarah?”
The nurse or resident care aide, or whatever the hell she was called, twisted her hands.
“Can I—”
“Yes, put your arms down.”
“Thank you.”
She moved slowly, never taking her gaze off Delaney, who was still standing behind Vaughn. Reached for the man’s wrist, pressed two fingers against the thin skin just below his palm. Her lips moved slightly as she counted.
“Pulse is good,” she told Ivy. Then she rambled, “I’m sorry about this, Officer. Really sorry. Dr. Reeves gets confused and wanders off sometimes. Especially around this time of year. Around the time of the accident.”
“He was running—”
“Quiet, Delaney!” Vaughn hissed. “What’s your name?” he asked the woman.
“Sarah.”
“Sarah, I want you to take him back to the home, okay?”
A nod sent a ripple cascading through the woman’s multiple chins.
Expecting a protest from Delaney, Vaughn held a finger up and out to his side as a warning.
“Thank you.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Ivy whispered. Then she turned to Sarah. “I thought you didn’t tell management?” Accusing.
“I didn’t! I didn’t!” the woman protested.
Vaughn clued into what was going on.
“Ivy, the cops aren’t here because of your father.”
Ivy’s eyes shot in his direction.
“They’re not?”
“No. They’re here because there’s been another gassing.”