On Fire(52)

"Listen to me," Emile said. His voice was ragged, exhausted.

"Both of you. The police searched the Granger house on Mount Desert.

They found the Encounters engine stashed in an outbuilding. Not the  whole thing--the alarm panel, a ruptured disk, the lube oil drain valve.  The evidence that proves it was sabotaged."

Riley nearly cut herself on a piece of glass. "Emile, good God, how do you know?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Caroline told you," Riley said.

"She knew.

Straker and I just had lunch with her. Why didn't she tell us? "

"Because of me," Sig said, white-faced.

"She thinks Matt--she thinks he and Sam had a falling out and... oh.

God."

Probably true, Riley thought. Caroline knew she and Straker were on  their way to see Sig, wouldn't want to upset her further with more  incriminating evidence against her husband.

Emile's expression softened.

"We can't jump to conclusions. Sam could have brought his evidence there  for safekeeping with or without Matt's knowledge, or Matt could have  brought it there himself."

"Holy shit," Sig breathed, sinking into a chair.

"The stupid bastard has to come in."

"Does this take any heat off you?" Riley asked her grandfather.

He shook his head.

"No. The police are still very eager to talk to me."

Count on Emile for a straight answer. Riley got to her feet, thick  pieces of glass in her palm. "Then let's call them. Right now."

The front doorbell rang. It had to be Straker, Riley thought with mixed  feelings. He'd back her up and Emile would finally be in safe hands, but  she also expected she and Sig had seen the last of maneuvering around  Boston on their own.

Sig, either sharing her expectation or too tired to move, motioned for  her sister to get the door. Riley looked for a place to put the shards  of glass. "Never mind the damned vase," Sig said.

"I don't think I'd even feel it if I stepped on a piece of glass."

Riley let the glass fall back onto the floor and pointed a warning  finger at her grandfather. "Emile, you stay right here. Do not try to  sneak out. I mean it. I'll sic Straker on you."                       
       
           



       

She didn't give Emile a chance to answer. Not trusting him for one  minute, she quickly slipped into the hall and tore open the front door.

Matt Granger fell in on her, his tall, rangy body slumping into her arms.

"Oh, God," she said, catching him as best she could.

Riley saw the smears of blood on the door, on his hand as he tried to  steady himself. He was too big, and all she could do was cushion their  fall as they both sank to the floor.

She screamed.

"Sig! Get out here--Matt's hurt!"

Her brother-in-law was barely conscious, virtually a deadweight on top  of her. He was a lean slab of meat, crushing her as he moaned and  struggled against his own incapacity. She could feel his sweat, his  blood.

"Don't try to move," she said softly, holding him by the shoulders.

He had a bloody scrape on the left side of his face; his left eye was  puffy, bloodshot and bruised, his fair hair caked with blood. He moaned,  and she saw that his left arm was also scraped and bruised.

Sig dropped onto her knees beside her husband, took in his bloodied appearance.

"Matt--oh, Jesus."

Emile was right behind her, swearing under his breath.

"Riley, call an ambulance," Sig ordered, taking charge.

"Emile--Emile, there's a first aid kit in the kitchen. Get it for me.

Hurry."

Mart's good eye focused. He put more effort into sitting up.

"Emile's here?" His voice was rasping, pain racked. "Goddamn it, who do you think did this to me?"

He pushed Sig's hand away and, with sheer force of will, pushed himself  to his feet. Riley slipped out from under him. Except for the blood and  bruises, he had no color in his face. He fell against the hall wall,  just managing to stay upright.

"Where are you, you fucking bastard?"

Riley shot up, touched his arm.

"Matt, come on. Let's get you to a doctor."

He elbowed her back, not gently, and staggered down the hall. She  doubled over, the wind knocked out of her. Sig grabbed her by the  shoulders, her dark eyes focused, intense, in control. "Riley, listen to  me. You need to get the first aid kit. It's in the cupboard above the  refrigerator."

"What about Emile?" "We can't count on him if Matt wants to kill him."

After a few steps. Matt slumped against the wall. He was raging, almost incoherent.

"Emile! I know you did this to me. Damn you! You killed Sam, you killed my father."

"Straker would be out parking the damned car,"

Riley muttered, pushing past her brother-in-law as she made for the kitchen.

Her grandfather was there, had the first aid kit out on the table.

"You take these," he said, shoving gauze bandages, a tube of antibiotic ointment, into her hands.

"I will end this, Riley. I promise you. Take care of Matt and Sig."

"I know you didn't do this to him" -He gave her a quick, fierce hug, ruffled her hair as if she were six again.

"I'm counting on you."

"Emile, damn it, you can't slither out of here now. We need you!"

"I'm one old man. You can go on without me." He sounded fatalistic, even pessimistic.

"Straker's on his way."

"Good."

But that didn't stop him. He slipped out the back door into the  courtyard just as Matthew kicked open the swinging door and staggered  into the spotless kitchen. Blood streamed down his face. He cradled his  left arm, unable to stand up straight. He glared at Riley.

"You let him go?"

"No, I didn't let him go, damn it, he just went. It was follow him or  get some bandages for your stupid head! My God, Matt, Emile's not a  murderer. You have to know that."

Sig slammed into the kitchen behind him. It was a warm, cozy, modem  kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a collection of a half-dozen  different kinds of Depression glass, which she'd said reminded her of  watercolors.

"Matthew, you can't go after him.

You're seriously hurt. Let me take you to the emergency room. "

He stumbled to the back door.

"I don't need a doctor."

But his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fought to stay on his feet  even as he reeled, knocking a chair over, cursing. Sig slipped her arms  around him from behind. Riley dove in to help her, and they got him down  to the floor.

"Asshole," Sig said, crying.                       
       
           



       

"Good for Emile if he did this to him.

It's the first thing he's done in months that makes any sense. "

Straker materialized in the hall doorway, hissed something under his  breath as he quickly assessed the situation. Riley was unreasoningly  relieved to see him. And annoyed.

"Why the hell are you always late?"

He ignored her and dropped down beside Matt. "Is he conscious?"

"Unfortunately," Sig said bitterly.

Riley wet a dishcloth in the sink, handed it to Straker and tried not to notice her own trembling hand.

"We have a first aid kit."

"He needs to get to an emergency room." Straker took the cloth and  dabbed at Matt's bloody face; Riley supposed they'd taught him basic  first aid procedures at Quantico.

"Did you fall?" he asked Matt.

"Hit from behind," Matt mumbled.

"Pushed me down the stairs."

"Where?"

"Abigail's."

"Is she okay?"

He winced.

"She wasn't there. I used my key to get in."

"Why?"

"She's my sister. That's the home I grew up in."

"Oh, horse shit," Sig said.

"You and Emile are the two biggest god damned liars. Like you're  Sherlock Holmes. What the hell were you doing sneaking around Abigail's  house?"

Straker held up a hand, silencing her. For no reason she could fathom,  Riley thought of all the quarters her sister would owe her mason jar.

Straker examined Matt's injured arm.

"Looks as if your forearm's broken. Did you see who hit you?"

"No." He grimaced, his hands shaking.

"But it had to be Emile. I followed him to Abigail's. He shoved me down  the stairs to the kitchen. I was half- unconscious, and he came down and  kicked me in the head and chest a few times. I probably have a cracked  rib or two."

"But you didn't actually see him?"

He closed his eyes, shook his head slightly, painfully.

"That's it." Sig stood up, raked a hand through her hair.

"My car's right outside. If I can have some help, I'll take him to Mass. General myself."

Massachusetts General Hospital was only a few blocks away. Straker set the bloody towel on the floor.

"Come on. Granger." He pulled Matt's good arm over his shoulder and took  his weight. Matt was taller, Straker more thickly built. "You need to  let a doctor take a look at you."