The Bad Sister. Kevin O'Brien
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Название: The Bad Sister
Автор: Kevin O'Brien
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Триллеры
Серия: Family Secrets
isbn: 9780786045112
isbn:
Nate shivered. He could see his breath. He gazed inside toward the desk, where, as a kid, he used to draw. He was horrified to see what they’d done to his brother.
Stripped down to his underwear, Gil was tied to the desk chair. He looked like a defeated boxer slouched in the corner of the ring. His handsome face was a swollen, bloody pulp. Cuts covered his body. On his right arm and shoulder were square patches where it looked as if they’d carefully cut off some layers of skin.
The woman was sitting on the edge of the desk, her back to them.
Tightening his grip on Nate’s arm, the man knocked on the window.
The woman quickly turned, the gun readied in her hand.
“Open the window,” the man called. “I want Gil to hear his brother beg for his life.”
The woman nodded—almost as if she approved of the idea. She moved to the window and opened it a crack.
The man jabbed the muzzle of the revolver against Nate’s temple and then took a step away.
Trembling violently, Nate realized the guy didn’t want to get splattered with blood. Nate remembered that image from the Vietnam War—of the prisoner being shot in the head. He was certain he was going to die. “Goddamn it, Gil!” he cried out. “Tell them what they want to know!”
“I’m really tired of this,” the woman announced. Returning to the desk, she started hunting through her purse. “We’re giving you ten seconds. If you don’t start answering our questions, my friend is going to shoot him. Do you understand, Gil? You have ten seconds to start talking or you’ll see your brother’s brains all over that window.”
One of Gil’s eyes was swollen shut, but he seemed to focus on Nate with his one good eye. He winced and slowly shook his head.
The woman pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her bag. “Ten . . . nine... eight . . .”
“Your brother’s a real asshole,” the guy muttered, the gun just inches from Nate’s skull. “It’s too bad for you . . .”
“Gil, for God’s sake!” Nate yelled. “Cooperate with them!”
Her butt against the edge of the desk, the woman kept counting as she tried to light her cigarette. But the lighter didn’t seem to be working. Nate could almost hear the failed clicks.
Then he remembered the gas.
“Four . . . three . . .”
“No, wait!” Nate screamed.
She clicked the lighter one more time.
It sparked a flame that erupted into a deafening blast. The windows shattered as flames and fiery debris spewed out of the cabin. Everything shook. The blaze shot up higher than the treetops. Logs, cinders, splintered wood, and glass flew through the air.
The explosion knocked Nate off his feet; it all happened in a flash, so fast he barely had time to realize that everyone inside the cabin was now dead.
Then, all at once, something hard and heavy fell on top of him.
Buried under the scorched, smoky wreckage, Nate knew that he was as good as dead, too.
CHAPTER TWO
Two years later: Thursday, September 3, 4:04 P.M.
Lake Forest, Illinois
Hannah O’Rourke had made it her mission to learn everything she could about Rachel Bonner.
Seated in the upper deck of the North Suburban Chicago commuter train, the willowy, dark-haired eighteen-year-old studied her phone screen—and Rachel’s photo. Hannah hadn’t met Rachel yet, and she felt a bit like an online stalker. But she had a good excuse. Rachel Bonner was going to be her college roommate.
Hannah was on her way to start freshman year at Our Lady of the Cove University in the small town of Delmar, two stops from now. Thanks to Google and Instagram, Hannah had already learned that Rachel Bonner was twenty, extremely pretty, and extremely rich. She was the only child of Richard and Candace Bonner of the Chicago Stock Exchange, Lake Shore Drive, and North Shore Country Club. Rachel was all over the Internet, mostly because of her parents’ wealth, but also due to her involvement in a lot of high-society charity work. A junior at Our Lady of the Cove, she would be living with Hannah in one of the dorm “bungalows.” Rachel would be acting as their “big sister” and adviser. Hannah had been worried that her big-sister-roommate might turn out to be a first-class snob, a goody-two-shoes Patty Simcox (Oh, we’re going to be such good friends!), or maybe just a major drip.
Taking off at eight-forty this morning, Hannah had flown from Seattle to Chicago, accompanied by her half-sister, Eden, who, much to Hannah’s chagrin, would also start her freshman year at the university.
For the trip, and to make a good impression on the kids at Our Lady of the Cove, Hannah looked pretty smashing in khaki slacks, a new blue sleeveless top, and blue flats. Meanwhile, Eden wore a black tee under a pair of hideous, unflattering yellow overall shorts, with red sneakers—just what every fashion-forward lesbian was wearing in Wyoming eleven years ago. Hannah had been totally embarrassed sitting next to her on the plane. And there was just enough family resemblance between them for people to figure out they were related.
Together, they’d taken the CTA from O’Hare to Union Station and then caught the Metra commuter train from there. It had been a long, grueling day so far. Eden had picked these seats on the upper deck because she’d thought it would be cool to sit above everyone else in the train car. But it wasn’t so cool lugging four big pieces of luggage up the winding, narrow metal staircase. No sooner had they gotten settled in their upper-level seats and secured the suitcases on the luggage rack than Eden promptly got to her feet again. She announced that she wanted to “explore” and then disappeared, leaving Hannah alone to look after all the bags.
That had been forty-five minutes ago. So typical. Eden had driven Hannah’s parents crazy by disappearing for hours at a time—or even for a day or two—without telling anyone. She was always off on some stupid, Kerouac-like mini-adventure, hitchhiking or taking the ferry someplace, and switching off her phone so no one could reach her. During spring vacation last year, Hannah’s parents had called the police when Eden disappeared. It had been three whole days before she finally called them from Oregon, where she’d been picking apples on some farm.
So Hannah told herself not to be too alarmed that her half-sister had wandered off. Still, it was unnerving. Every time Hannah heard the doors between cars whoosh open, she’d anxiously glance down in that direction, hoping to see Eden returning.
It was weird, because months back, when she’d learned that Eden would be going off to college with her, Hannah had been horrified. After the last two awful years at home, she’d desperately wanted to leave Seattle and start fresh someplace where no one knew her. Then, it turned out, the person who had caused her so much grief, humiliation, and shame was accompanying her to Our Lady of the Cove. So much for a fresh start. Hannah had hoped something would happen—like maybe her half-sister would pull another one of her disappearing acts and this time, not come back. Hannah didn’t want Eden dead or anything. She just wanted Eden out of her life. Why couldn’t her half-sister just run away and join a cult or something?
Now, СКАЧАТЬ