Asa just snorted. Someone was cursing viciously behind him. He turned to look. It was Zade, standing over Mark’s body, his face a mask of grief and fury.
Noah wished he could get up. “Zade. Listen to me. We’ll find Luke.”
“Mark was the only one who knew where he was, and his brain is smeared all over the fucking room! Even his slaves are dead! How can we find him now?”
“Calm down,” Noah said. “We’ll keep at it. And we’ll find him.”
Zade spun around and punched his fist through the nearest wall, spraying a fresh cloud of plaster powder everywhere.
Sisko hissed, in sympathy. “Ouch.”
“Fuck it,” Zade mumbled. “It’s only my left hand. Feels good. For a couple of seconds, anyhow.”
Sisko flung his arm around Zade’s shoulders. “Let’s get Hannah to your place. Then we park Mark’s truck in your garage and get blind drunk somewhere.”
“Do not draw attention to yourselves,” Noah said, out of force of habit.
“Piss off, Grandpa,” Sisko retorted.
Hannah was sitting up now. Caro made encouraging murmurs as she helped his younger sister onto her feet. Hannah staggered drunkenly, but her sig still looked steady. Pallid and raggedy, but already getting stronger.
Hannah swept the room with her bleary gaze. Her eyes went back to Asa after she’d accounted for them all. “You got shot?” she demanded. “I heard gunfire.”
“I’m OK,” Asa said. “Wore body armor. Just bruises.”
“Bruises,” Hannah repeated suspiciously, seeing the blood on his face. She saw the bodies of the slave soldiers, and turned sharply away. “Oh, God. I gotta get out of here right now.” She lurched forward.
Caro caught her before she fell. “Wait. I’ll help you. Hang onto me.”
Noah watched uneasily as the two women made their careful way out of the room. He knew that he could trust Sisko and Zade’s assessment of the danger level outdoors, but he still disliked having either of them out of his sight.
He tried to help Asa up. His brother shook off his hand. “I’m fine.”
“Like hell, dragon boy,” Noah said. “Probably cracked some ribs.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Asa’s breathing was labored.
“You need a doctor, too,” Noah said.
Asa grunted impatiently. “My men need one more.”
Noah looked around the room. Dust hung in the air, blurring the smeared and spattered blood, the sprawled bodies. “How are we going to clean this mess up?”
“I can send a clean-up team,” Asa said. “Crime scene techs. Very competent.”
“The ones that come in after detectives and coroners are done? Don’t think so.”
“They’re not affiliated with law enforcement,” Asa said calmly. “Private cases only. Discretion assured. Expensive as all fuck.”
“I’m rich, you’re rich,” Noah said. “Do it. But I don’t want the slave soldiers wrapped in plastic and thrown in a muddy hole. Those two did the impossible. They’re heroes.”
“They’ll be handled with respect. I’ll get you their ashes to spread. Will somebody help me get my men out to the van? Or do I have to hold you guys at gunpoint to get that done?”
Sisko and Zade obliged. Fortunately for Noah, since his body did not respond to his brain’s commands. He stood there, empty and hollow. Alone with the corpses.
Caro came back after a few minutes, and found him there. She took his arm and towed him around the cadavers, through the rotting, crumbling house, circling around garbage and tumbled bricks. He left a trail of bloody prints in the dust behind him.
Then she drew him out in to the cold, sweet air of a new day.
Chapter 35
He was so beautiful, it broke her heart. Even ghostly white with plaster dust and smeared with blood. She’d never seen that look on his face. Raw, open and unguarded. The sapling firs that had grown up around the front entrance bent and swayed in the gusts of raw wind. He had to be so cold, wearing nothing but those stretchy boxers.
Then she clutched his arm to steady him on the broken, uneven steps, and realized that he wasn’t cold in the least. He radiated roaring, bonfire heat.
Asa’s van braked abruptly in front of them. His window hummed down.
“I’ll be in touch about the confession,” Asa said. “Give me a day or so.”
Caro looked at him blankly. “Huh?”
Asa’s voice was impatient. “For the police, remember? Four different vantage points, audio and video. We both heard Mark say loud and clear that he killed Dex Boyd. And Tim Wheaton. Now the police can hear him say it, too. Didn’t you want to clear your name? Wasn’t that a thing for you?”
“I forgot all about it,” she said. “In all the excitement.”
“Lucky for you, I didn’t,” Asa said. “Anyway, do what you want with it. I imagine you don’t want the cops to see everything on it, especially that weird shit with the slave soldiers, but you guys can work that out for yourselves. I’m gone.”