Raised voices came from two doors down, and Bosco increased his pace, limping into a room where Detective Pierce was trying to pull Quint off a patient on a bed. “What’s happening?” he asked.
Quint stopped fighting the detective and straightened, flexing his hand. His brown eyes were pissed, and his shoulders were squared and ready to go. “I was just having a nice talk with this guy about why he blew up your apartment, and more importantly, about where Marlie might be.”
Bosco nodded at his older brother and moved around Pierce, stopping short at seeing the bloody man on the examination table, his torso partially stitched up by a wide-eyed younger doctor. The laceration looked deep enough to need stitches but not bad enough to have caused internal damage. The guy must’ve been attacker number two—the one Bosco had stabbed. Bos moved up the bed and looked down at the guy’s face. Wait a minute. “Turner?” Fury ripped through his ears, landing in his stomach. He planted a hand on Turner’s shoulder. Hard. “What the hell?”
Turner’s eyes were full of pain. His ripped down coat was in the corner, and tears filled his eyes. He coughed, and blood trickled from a split in his lip.
Detective Pierce tried to grab Bosco’s arm, but Quint and Rory intercepted him, getting in his way. “I will arrest all three of you,” Pierce snapped.
Bosco trusted his brothers to take care of Pierce. He leaned down and let his fury show. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Turner said, a snot bubble sliding from his nose.
Bosco motioned the doctor back. “You’re gonna want to move, Doc.” Then he flattened his hand over the still bleeding and open wound down Turner’s torso, pressing down.
Turner gasped in pain, and his body stiffened. “God. Stop."
“No.” Bosco twisted his hand, digging his fingers into the wound.
Turner cried out.
“Damn it,” Detective Pierce yelled. “Bud, get in here.”
Bud was probably the uniform that Bosco had seen in the hall. Bosco dug even deeper.
“She’s in Rickert’s shop,” Turner gasped, his body shaking with pain. “They won’t hurt her. They just want to make sure she won’t say anything about the business.”
A uniformed cop ran in, his chest big and broad. He headed for Bosco, but Detective Pierce waved him off.
“Who’s Rickert, and where’s his shop?” Detective Pierce growled.
Turner gasped, blood flowing from his gut. “The other night after the party, we were drunk at a bar across town. Just goofing off and not thinking. Denny and I started talking about Rickert’s accounts, and I forgot that Marlie was even there. I don’t think she was listening, but Denny told Rickert we’d discussed him, and the guy has guns, man. He threatened us.”
“Daniel Rickert?” Detective Pierce snapped. “From McDougal’s Accounting Firm?”
Bosco partially turned. “That ring a bell with you?”
“Yeah,” Pierce said, reaching for his phone at his belt. “We’ve been investigating him for embezzlement for the last month.”
Well, shit. “I need an address,” Bosco snapped, heading for the door. “Now.”
Marlie watchedRickert as he finished loading his truck with several suitcases while Denny bled on the floor. She wanted to check on him, but Rickert kept his gun pointed at her, promising to shoot her if she moved. Even so, she slowly stood, keeping her back to the wall and the blanket in front of her. The floor was piercing cold on her bare feet. She’d drop the blanket if she got the chance to attack him, but he was too far away.
He finally finished and looked at her, his gun hand level. “Come here.”
She blinked. Her knees trembled, and her legs locked so she could jump out of the way if he fired. “Why?” The guy had just shot his friend, probably killed him. He would most likely want to kill her, as well.
“Insurance.” He reached into the back of the truck and drew out what looked like regular rope. “Now. Don’t forget that I will shoot you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He motioned her. “I can just shoot you now, if you want.”
“No.” She moved toward him, tripping over the bottom of the blanket. Could she get the gun? He was bigger and not shaking from the cold like she was right now. Even so, she had to steal that weapon. She reached him.
“Hold out your hands,” he said, an odd light in his eyes, the gun pointed at her chest.
She couldn’t do that without letting go of the blanket. “You don’t have to tie me up. I’ll come with you.”
