Split Second
Page 115
“Bruce could have scattered my ashes, if you hadn’t murdered him. He loved me, do you hear?”
“Maybe, but he’s gone now.”
“Shut up! All right, my mother would scatter my ashes, and so would—never mind. Take this exit, and get us out of sight—no cars, no houses.”
Was she going to kill him?
He took the next exit off I-95, drove past a couple of gas stations and fast-food places on the access road. Soon they were in the boonies. There were flat tobacco fields on both sides of the country road, harvested stalks were a golden carpet to the horizon, the few houses and barns set far back from the road.
“Pull over. You and I are going to pee.”
Coop’s heart slowed down a bit.
He knew she was watching him from behind, but he didn’t care. When he was turning, she struck him hard on the back of his head.
When he came to his senses, she was standing over him, whistling “Country Road.”
“Unlike a guy, a girl’s gotta have both hands. Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s get going.”
She had his SIG in her hand, but she knew he was hurt, and she was looking around, checking things out. It was his chance. He started to kick up at her, and she shot him.
CHAPTER 68
Allenby Motel
Lucy froze. “Give me back the ring, Miranda. Grandfather left it for me.”
Miranda laughed, slipped the ring off the chain and into her pocket. “It wasn’t his to give to you. He stole it from Aunt Helen.”
When Lucy unlocked the motel room door, Miranda shoved her inside with such force she fetched up to the bed and sprawled over it. Miranda stood far away from her, the gun pointed at her chest. “I’ve never disliked you, Lucy, at least not until recently, even though you were always everyone’s little princess. You were too young to be jealous of, and then after Uncle Milton and the ring disappeared, it didn’t really matter, anyway. You stayed my little cousin, and I watched you grow up.
“Even now I don’t really dislike you; this is simply necessary. And necessary means I will kill you if I have to. Stay put.”
She pulled two loops of skinny rope out of a big black tote with a bookstore logo on the side. “I want you to sit on that chair.”
Lucy knew in her gut she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to be here to welcome Coop when he got back. She sat down in the single chair.
“Put your hands on the arms of the chair, I’m going to tie your wrists to the arms.” She carefully pulled the ropes taut and knotted them, always watchful. “I’ve heard Court talk about all that martial arts stuff you do in the gym, so I’m not taking any chances with you. Hold still.”
When she moved to Lucy’s right wrist, Lucy made a fist, which lifted it a bit from the chair arm when Miranda tied the rope around it. It worked, the rope ending up not all that tight, not like her left wrist. Lucy immediately began working it, slowly, easily, so as not to draw Miranda’s attention.
Miranda placed her black tote onto the bed, shrugged out of her black coat, and sat down facing Lucy.
“Miranda, tell me what this is all about. What do you mean the ring is yours?”
Miranda didn’t answer. Lucy watched her pull the ring out of her pocket and caress it like a lover. She pressed it lightly against her chest, then brought it down again to study it. She whispered, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen this ring, since I’ve touched it, more than twenty-two years now since my Uncle Milton stole it and went walkabout—that’s what my father called it. I wonder if he ever really accepted that Uncle Milton simply walked out, left his son, his wife, his precious little granddaughter. I was a teenager at the time, all into myself, the way teenagers are, but I remember Dad saying over and over, ‘But why? It doesn’t make sense. Why?’ My mom and Court believed he’d just left, and so did I, simply because it was easier to believe he’d run away instead—instead of what? You were too young to know anything. Turns out Dad was right, it didn’t make sense, and Uncle Milton never left.
“When I found out you turned up his skeleton in Aunt Helen’s attic, we all realized the supposed walkabout was a big whomping lie. Aunt Helen hadn’t driven him away, she’d murdered him, and your father must have helped her hide his body. They lied about all of it. I wonder what else was a lie? Aunt Helen told me your grandfather had stolen the ring and taken it with him when he left. All those years I thought I had lost the ring forever, and then suddenly anything was possible.
“I started searching your grandmother’s house for the ring as soon as the police left, and whenever I saw you leave for work. Father told me you’d been looking around in her study, and that’s where I found Uncle Milton’s letter to you, his precious granddaughter, in one of Aunt Helen’s books.”
“Maybe, but he’s gone now.”
“Shut up! All right, my mother would scatter my ashes, and so would—never mind. Take this exit, and get us out of sight—no cars, no houses.”
Was she going to kill him?
He took the next exit off I-95, drove past a couple of gas stations and fast-food places on the access road. Soon they were in the boonies. There were flat tobacco fields on both sides of the country road, harvested stalks were a golden carpet to the horizon, the few houses and barns set far back from the road.
“Pull over. You and I are going to pee.”
Coop’s heart slowed down a bit.
He knew she was watching him from behind, but he didn’t care. When he was turning, she struck him hard on the back of his head.
When he came to his senses, she was standing over him, whistling “Country Road.”
“Unlike a guy, a girl’s gotta have both hands. Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s get going.”
She had his SIG in her hand, but she knew he was hurt, and she was looking around, checking things out. It was his chance. He started to kick up at her, and she shot him.
CHAPTER 68
Allenby Motel
Lucy froze. “Give me back the ring, Miranda. Grandfather left it for me.”
Miranda laughed, slipped the ring off the chain and into her pocket. “It wasn’t his to give to you. He stole it from Aunt Helen.”
When Lucy unlocked the motel room door, Miranda shoved her inside with such force she fetched up to the bed and sprawled over it. Miranda stood far away from her, the gun pointed at her chest. “I’ve never disliked you, Lucy, at least not until recently, even though you were always everyone’s little princess. You were too young to be jealous of, and then after Uncle Milton and the ring disappeared, it didn’t really matter, anyway. You stayed my little cousin, and I watched you grow up.
“Even now I don’t really dislike you; this is simply necessary. And necessary means I will kill you if I have to. Stay put.”
She pulled two loops of skinny rope out of a big black tote with a bookstore logo on the side. “I want you to sit on that chair.”
Lucy knew in her gut she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to be here to welcome Coop when he got back. She sat down in the single chair.
“Put your hands on the arms of the chair, I’m going to tie your wrists to the arms.” She carefully pulled the ropes taut and knotted them, always watchful. “I’ve heard Court talk about all that martial arts stuff you do in the gym, so I’m not taking any chances with you. Hold still.”
When she moved to Lucy’s right wrist, Lucy made a fist, which lifted it a bit from the chair arm when Miranda tied the rope around it. It worked, the rope ending up not all that tight, not like her left wrist. Lucy immediately began working it, slowly, easily, so as not to draw Miranda’s attention.
Miranda placed her black tote onto the bed, shrugged out of her black coat, and sat down facing Lucy.
“Miranda, tell me what this is all about. What do you mean the ring is yours?”
Miranda didn’t answer. Lucy watched her pull the ring out of her pocket and caress it like a lover. She pressed it lightly against her chest, then brought it down again to study it. She whispered, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen this ring, since I’ve touched it, more than twenty-two years now since my Uncle Milton stole it and went walkabout—that’s what my father called it. I wonder if he ever really accepted that Uncle Milton simply walked out, left his son, his wife, his precious little granddaughter. I was a teenager at the time, all into myself, the way teenagers are, but I remember Dad saying over and over, ‘But why? It doesn’t make sense. Why?’ My mom and Court believed he’d just left, and so did I, simply because it was easier to believe he’d run away instead—instead of what? You were too young to know anything. Turns out Dad was right, it didn’t make sense, and Uncle Milton never left.
“When I found out you turned up his skeleton in Aunt Helen’s attic, we all realized the supposed walkabout was a big whomping lie. Aunt Helen hadn’t driven him away, she’d murdered him, and your father must have helped her hide his body. They lied about all of it. I wonder what else was a lie? Aunt Helen told me your grandfather had stolen the ring and taken it with him when he left. All those years I thought I had lost the ring forever, and then suddenly anything was possible.
“I started searching your grandmother’s house for the ring as soon as the police left, and whenever I saw you leave for work. Father told me you’d been looking around in her study, and that’s where I found Uncle Milton’s letter to you, his precious granddaughter, in one of Aunt Helen’s books.”
