Hyde kicked the door open. It bounced back, thudding into the wall. He raced inside, crouched low, and Sam swept right in behind him, her body tense, and her weapon ready. Her gaze searched the room, left to right, and her breath hitched when she saw the body.
“Check the room!” Hyde barked as he knelt beside Beth Dunlap.
Sam pulled her gaze from the body and hurried forward. She checked under the bed. Did a sweep of the closets and bathroom. “Clear!” She hurried back to him, already yanking out her radio and calling for backup—backup and an EMT. Though it didn’t look like an EMT would be able to help Beth.
Elizabeth Dunlap lay in the middle of chaos. Shattered furniture. Slashed pictures. A broken mirror littered the floor beside her and her fingertips lay inches away from a long, bloody shard of glass.
Beth’s eyes were closed, but the blood from the gaping wounds on both her wrists stained the floor. So much blood.
Hyde’s dark fingers pressed against Beth’s stark white throat. “Dammit.” He shook his head and rose, staring down at her with shoulders that hunched just a bit. “This wasn’t the way it had to end for her.” His hands tightened into fists. “Death isn’t the only way out.”
Max paced behind the police cruiser. He wanted in that house. Wanted to know what the hell was going on.
Quinlan sat on the hood of a patrol car, his gaze on the house. “What’s taking them so long?”
They’d only been inside mere moments, but it seemed like for-fucking-ever. Max forced his teeth to unclench. “They’re searching for Beth. They have to go over every inch of the house.”
“Man, she really tried to kill you?” Quinlan ran a hand over his face. “Beth?”
“That’s what the Feds say.” He hadn’t seen the footage, but Hyde had been dead certain.
“Aw, man.” Quinlan lowered his head. “What the hell is going on? Nothing seems right anymore. Everything is just so screwed up.” A shuddering breath eased from him. “Beth.”
He stared at Quinlan’s slumped shoulders. They hadn’t talked much since Quinlan had gotten out of the hospital. Every time he approached him, Quinlan seemed to withdraw. “Are you okay?”
Quinlan’s head lifted, and his gaze met Max’s. “I’m gettin’ by.” His lips twisted, and it was a sad sight. “Just when I think everything’s gettin’ back to normal.” A harsh laugh. “But it’ll never be normal again, will it?”
No. Max wouldn’t lie to him.
“How did you do it?” Quinlan asked as he moved away from the cop car. Max caught the slight wince on his stepbrother’s face and knew that the stitches must have been pulling at his skin. “After you killed that guy, how’d you stop the memory from driving you crazy?”
Max tensed. “What are you talking about?” He’d never told Quinlan. There’d never been a need. Frank had made sure his records were sealed. No one in this town—other than the Feds storming his stepfather’s house—knew about his past.
Quinlan crept closer. “I know. I know. Frank told me about you years ago.”
“He shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He thought you were a damn hero.” Max glanced over and caught the narrowing of Quinlan’s eyes. “You killed a man, and he thought you were a hero. Wonder what he’d think of me?”
Max just stared at him.
“No hero.” Quinlan’s hand bunched into a fist. “So what the hell kind of man am I?”
Max tried to figure out what to say.
“Max!” He turned at Samantha’s voice. She ran toward him, her face pale. She dodged a few cops. Slipped past the line of cars.
He left Quinlan and hurried to her. Max caught Samantha’s hands and held on tight. “What is it? What happened?”
Her gaze darted behind him. He glanced back. Quinlan was there and moving slowly toward them. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the words were directed at Quinlan. “But Beth Dunlap is dead.”
Quinlan froze. “What?”
Dead? “What happened?” Max asked. He hadn’t heard any gunshots after the agents went inside.
“It appears that Beth went to your father’s room and killed herself.” Samantha paused. Her gaze was still on Quinlan. “She slit her wrists and died at the foot of his bed.”
CHAPTER Fifteen
When the knock came at his apartment door, Max hurried forward, rubbing grainy eyes. He pulled open the door and found Nathan Donnelley waiting for him.
The doctor had a small black bag in his right hand. So damn typical. “I called you an hour ago,” Max said.
Donnelley grunted as he came inside. “Do I need to remind you that I don’t work for you or your family any longer?”
“Since when? Dammit, Donnelley, you were Frank’s private doctor for years. And you just what—walked away?”
“Frank was dead.” Donnelley shrugged. “Therefore I wasn’t needed any longer.”
Max grabbed the man’s arm and dragged him over the threshold. “You’re needed now.” Max slammed the door shut behind him. “Beth’s dead.”
“I know.” Flat. “I heard the report on the news.”
Right. Hell, everyone knew. “I need you to check on Quinlan, okay? He’s too quiet. Shit, I’m worried about him.”
Donnelley’s green eyes raked him. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Check him. I don’t know; go do whatever it is that doctors do when patients are about to break down.” Helpless, yeah, that’s what Max was, and he hated it. “Just make him better.”
That cold, clinical stare pinned him. “You know as well as I do that sometimes, you can’t make people better.”
Because Donnelley had been there when Max’s mother died.
“But I’ll talk to him and see what I can do.” Donnelley brushed by him. “Which room is he in?”
“Down the hall. Second door.” Max exhaled. “Just so damn much,” he muttered. “Every day, something new. I thought this mess was over.”
“I’m sure it will be over,” Donnelly said, not glancing back. “Soon.”
A soft knock rapped on her office door. Sam glanced up, her mind still on the data that she’d retrieved, and mumbled, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Kim Daniels stood there with her eyes glinting. “I need you to come with me, Sam.”