Backfire
Page 76
Now he’d murdered Milo.
“Hey, you hadn’t heard? That’s amazing. The lieutenant burps and everyone in this place knows a meatball sub was delivered before he’s finished it off.”
“No, I hadn’t heard,” Cindy said, and she thought, Screw the twenty-five years. She suddenly didn’t care how old she’d be when she got out of prison. At least she’d have a chance of getting out. Were she and Clive really safe here? If Xu really wanted them dead, could he somehow make it happen? She felt fear so corrosive it was like her stomach was turning in on itself.
“I need to use the phone. I need to call Agent Savich at the FBI.”
Annette gave Cindy her patented “I can do whatever I want with you since I’m the boss” look and shook her head. “Nope, sweetheart, you can make your call to Agent Savich during business hours tomorrow. This isn’t a hotel. Come on, time for you to shower and get your butt to bed.”
“But it’s urgent; it’s a matter of life and death—”
Annette simply sneered at her. “Like I said, Cindy, this isn’t a hotel. Let’s go.”
Cindy knew Annette wouldn’t budge, and so she bowed her head and followed her to the showers. She’d call Savich first thing in the morning.
She didn’t pay attention any longer to the guards seeing her naked; it hardly even registered. There were several other women in the showers before lights-out, some of them sullen and quiet, others usually loud and foulmouthed. She’d learned to avoid the two or three bullies, to stick with those who stayed quiet and left her alone.
How could she get Savich to agree to fifteen years now he knew she was terrified of Xu?
She managed a bit of lather out of the crappy soap bar as she considered what she’d say to Savich. Better to leave Clive out of it, let him deal on his own. She’d known yesterday Clive wanted to tell Savich and Barbieri everything he knew, down to Xu’s sock size. And she’d stopped him. Had that been a mistake? No, no, tomorrow morning it would be fine. She knew Savich would interview Clive separately soon enough after her to make sure she’d told him the truth.
She’d still try to bargain for fifteen years. No more, fifteen years. It wasn’t a lifetime of years. She could get through it, she would get through it. If only Mark Lindy hadn’t found out what was happening and freaked out—
Cindy put the bar of soap back on the shelf and turned to see a tiny Asian woman she’d noticed hovering in the background since yesterday, always deferential and polite to her, trying to get Cindy into a conversation. What was her name? She couldn’t remember. The woman was standing naked in front of her, something in her hand. In a blur Cindy saw it was a blade. She jumped back, but she wasn’t fast enough. The blade sank into her chest even as she slipped and fell on her back onto the wet tiles. She stared at the woman, whispered, “Why did you do that?”
The woman said, “For my son. I’m sorry.”
Xu, she thought. Xu had done this. Her last thought was of Clive. Was he dying, too?
San Francisco General
Monday night
Clive Cahill was dead, and Cindy Cahill was fighting for her life in surgery because of a stupid mistake, and it was all her fault, no one else’s.
Eve sat in the waiting room with Harry, playing the “if only” game—if only she’d stayed longer with the Cahills at the holding cells on the twentieth floor of the Federal Building, if only she’d thought to read the Cahills’ transfer papers from San Francisco jail carefully enough, Xu would never have found them.
No, Miss Brilliance had looked with only one eye and half a brain at the transfer papers, never seen the error that had to be there that returned the Cahills to the San Francisco jail instead of leaving them right here. She had only glanced at the paperwork, really, then trotted out with Harry, excited to think she’d finally see his house. She hadn’t even thought to double-check; no, she’d happily hopped into Harry’s Shelby and gone with him without another thought about the Cahills’ safety. Her fault. She’d fire herself if she were her own boss.
Cheney walked into the surgical waiting room with Sherlock and Savich behind him. Before Eve or Harry could open their mouths, Cheney said, “We don’t know yet who got to Clive. It was clean and fast, and before anyone knew anything, the guard heard a yell and there was Clive lying dead on the shower floor, a shiv lying beside him in bloody water.
“They found an Asian woman by the name of Lin Mei standing over Cindy, crying, still holding a bloody homemade blade. Lucky for Cindy she stuck her in the chest just once with it, then jerked the blade right out.”
“Hey, you hadn’t heard? That’s amazing. The lieutenant burps and everyone in this place knows a meatball sub was delivered before he’s finished it off.”
“No, I hadn’t heard,” Cindy said, and she thought, Screw the twenty-five years. She suddenly didn’t care how old she’d be when she got out of prison. At least she’d have a chance of getting out. Were she and Clive really safe here? If Xu really wanted them dead, could he somehow make it happen? She felt fear so corrosive it was like her stomach was turning in on itself.
“I need to use the phone. I need to call Agent Savich at the FBI.”
Annette gave Cindy her patented “I can do whatever I want with you since I’m the boss” look and shook her head. “Nope, sweetheart, you can make your call to Agent Savich during business hours tomorrow. This isn’t a hotel. Come on, time for you to shower and get your butt to bed.”
“But it’s urgent; it’s a matter of life and death—”
Annette simply sneered at her. “Like I said, Cindy, this isn’t a hotel. Let’s go.”
Cindy knew Annette wouldn’t budge, and so she bowed her head and followed her to the showers. She’d call Savich first thing in the morning.
She didn’t pay attention any longer to the guards seeing her naked; it hardly even registered. There were several other women in the showers before lights-out, some of them sullen and quiet, others usually loud and foulmouthed. She’d learned to avoid the two or three bullies, to stick with those who stayed quiet and left her alone.
How could she get Savich to agree to fifteen years now he knew she was terrified of Xu?
She managed a bit of lather out of the crappy soap bar as she considered what she’d say to Savich. Better to leave Clive out of it, let him deal on his own. She’d known yesterday Clive wanted to tell Savich and Barbieri everything he knew, down to Xu’s sock size. And she’d stopped him. Had that been a mistake? No, no, tomorrow morning it would be fine. She knew Savich would interview Clive separately soon enough after her to make sure she’d told him the truth.
She’d still try to bargain for fifteen years. No more, fifteen years. It wasn’t a lifetime of years. She could get through it, she would get through it. If only Mark Lindy hadn’t found out what was happening and freaked out—
Cindy put the bar of soap back on the shelf and turned to see a tiny Asian woman she’d noticed hovering in the background since yesterday, always deferential and polite to her, trying to get Cindy into a conversation. What was her name? She couldn’t remember. The woman was standing naked in front of her, something in her hand. In a blur Cindy saw it was a blade. She jumped back, but she wasn’t fast enough. The blade sank into her chest even as she slipped and fell on her back onto the wet tiles. She stared at the woman, whispered, “Why did you do that?”
The woman said, “For my son. I’m sorry.”
Xu, she thought. Xu had done this. Her last thought was of Clive. Was he dying, too?
San Francisco General
Monday night
Clive Cahill was dead, and Cindy Cahill was fighting for her life in surgery because of a stupid mistake, and it was all her fault, no one else’s.
Eve sat in the waiting room with Harry, playing the “if only” game—if only she’d stayed longer with the Cahills at the holding cells on the twentieth floor of the Federal Building, if only she’d thought to read the Cahills’ transfer papers from San Francisco jail carefully enough, Xu would never have found them.
No, Miss Brilliance had looked with only one eye and half a brain at the transfer papers, never seen the error that had to be there that returned the Cahills to the San Francisco jail instead of leaving them right here. She had only glanced at the paperwork, really, then trotted out with Harry, excited to think she’d finally see his house. She hadn’t even thought to double-check; no, she’d happily hopped into Harry’s Shelby and gone with him without another thought about the Cahills’ safety. Her fault. She’d fire herself if she were her own boss.
Cheney walked into the surgical waiting room with Sherlock and Savich behind him. Before Eve or Harry could open their mouths, Cheney said, “We don’t know yet who got to Clive. It was clean and fast, and before anyone knew anything, the guard heard a yell and there was Clive lying dead on the shower floor, a shiv lying beside him in bloody water.
“They found an Asian woman by the name of Lin Mei standing over Cindy, crying, still holding a bloody homemade blade. Lucky for Cindy she stuck her in the chest just once with it, then jerked the blade right out.”
