Split Second
Page 124
“But—”
“Wednesday,” Savich said very pleasantly, and turned to Lucy. “Lucy, we were so relieved to hear you’re okay. We’re very sorry about your cousin.”
Lucy could only nod. The reality of Miranda’s suicide crashed in again.
“I want you to take the time off, too, Lucy. Stay with Coop. You can help us get a better handle on what happened later. The police detective in charge, Mylo Dwyer, wants to understand what brought all this about, since he only saw the tragic ending. He told me it seemed Miranda became enraged because her mother told her Alan Silverman wasn’t her biological father. There was also mention of a ring. He wants to speak to you again. One thing, though—however did you get away from Miranda?”
“She tied my wrists to the chair arms, but managed to work one hand free. I couldn’t get my SIG or her Kel Tec, but I could run, and so I did.”
“Why did Miranda want the ring so badly?”
Lucy looked him straight in the eyes. “The ring is very old, and it may have been in my family for hundreds of years. She wanted it for herself.”
Enough to kill you? Enough to kill herself ? Savich shot a look at Sherlock, who was patting Coop like she patted Sean when he hurt himself.
He said to Lucy, “It looks like you’re going to have your hands full with John Wayne here. Both of you regroup, take it easy, come to grips with the fact that all of this is over. You ride herd on him until Wednesday, okay? You’re both going to need the rest, because I think you’re going to want to go on a long trip on Wednesday.
“Coop insisted on calling Vincent Delion while we were still hunkered in that tobacco field, told him where Kirsten said she’d buried Arnette Carpenter.
“They found her. Roy Carpenter wants both of you to come to the funeral in San Francisco on Thursday, to thank you for finding his wife, but only if you’re feeling up to it. There’s a visit to Nob Hill you’ll want to make, too, while you’re there.”
Coop said, “I’ll be more than ready to fly out on Wednesday. As for Nob Hill, how did you know, Savich?”
“It only made sense. And we’ve had time to get a good look at the calls Kirsten made from her cell. By the way, Kirsten is out of surgery in North Carolina as of an hour ago. They say she’ll survive her wounds fine, so now it’ll be up to the state and federal courts to decide where they’ll try her first.”
“Amen to that,” Coop said. He stood quietly while Sherlock buttoned his shirt. He gave Savich a big loopy grin. “I’m really glad we all made it out of this. I didn’t like my chances for a while. And that mom, she was so happy her kids are okay she might forget to sue us. She and her kids sure have a story for a lifetime—bringing down Ted Bundy’s daughter. Can you imagine how popular those kids are going to be in school?”
He stopped cold, swallowed. He realized he’d been babbling, when Lucy had almost died as well and had lost yet another family member. Like Savich and Mylo Dwyer, he simply didn’t understand what had driven Miranda to try to kill Lucy, then to kill herself. So who cared if Alan Silverman wasn’t her father? Did it matter so much to her? Evidently so. And that ring. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy interrupted him. “Smile, Coop, and relax, you’re feeling all those meds they gave you. Enjoy not having any pain. That’s a good thing.”
Sherlock leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Well done, Coop. You brought Kirsten down.” Then she clasped Lucy’s shoulders and smiled at her. “I am so relieved you are all right.” And she hugged her.
Sherlock looked after them as they walked to the waiting room, Coop flying high and happy. She could hear him humming from where she stood, his arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “He looks like he should be punching cattle in Wyoming in that shearling coat. I’m glad he didn’t ruin it, only the one little blood spot inside.” She gave Dillon a look. “I’d have to say he looks nearly as hot in it as you do in your black leather.”
He arched a brow at her, then called after them, “Lucy, if you want to talk to me about what happened, give me a call.”
Lucy didn’t slow, said over her shoulder, “I don’t think I’ll ever have anything else to say, Dillon, but thank you.”
Coop stopped humming. “You’ll tell me all about the ring, won’t you, Lucy?”
She didn’t look at him—the horror of what had happened was too fresh, the utter waste of it all. Miranda’s ruined face was clear in her mind; she could still see blind death in her eyes. She cut it off and looked up at Coop, hugged him to her side. “I want to tell you everything that’s important to me, Coop. Always.”
“Wednesday,” Savich said very pleasantly, and turned to Lucy. “Lucy, we were so relieved to hear you’re okay. We’re very sorry about your cousin.”
Lucy could only nod. The reality of Miranda’s suicide crashed in again.
“I want you to take the time off, too, Lucy. Stay with Coop. You can help us get a better handle on what happened later. The police detective in charge, Mylo Dwyer, wants to understand what brought all this about, since he only saw the tragic ending. He told me it seemed Miranda became enraged because her mother told her Alan Silverman wasn’t her biological father. There was also mention of a ring. He wants to speak to you again. One thing, though—however did you get away from Miranda?”
“She tied my wrists to the chair arms, but managed to work one hand free. I couldn’t get my SIG or her Kel Tec, but I could run, and so I did.”
“Why did Miranda want the ring so badly?”
Lucy looked him straight in the eyes. “The ring is very old, and it may have been in my family for hundreds of years. She wanted it for herself.”
Enough to kill you? Enough to kill herself ? Savich shot a look at Sherlock, who was patting Coop like she patted Sean when he hurt himself.
He said to Lucy, “It looks like you’re going to have your hands full with John Wayne here. Both of you regroup, take it easy, come to grips with the fact that all of this is over. You ride herd on him until Wednesday, okay? You’re both going to need the rest, because I think you’re going to want to go on a long trip on Wednesday.
“Coop insisted on calling Vincent Delion while we were still hunkered in that tobacco field, told him where Kirsten said she’d buried Arnette Carpenter.
“They found her. Roy Carpenter wants both of you to come to the funeral in San Francisco on Thursday, to thank you for finding his wife, but only if you’re feeling up to it. There’s a visit to Nob Hill you’ll want to make, too, while you’re there.”
Coop said, “I’ll be more than ready to fly out on Wednesday. As for Nob Hill, how did you know, Savich?”
“It only made sense. And we’ve had time to get a good look at the calls Kirsten made from her cell. By the way, Kirsten is out of surgery in North Carolina as of an hour ago. They say she’ll survive her wounds fine, so now it’ll be up to the state and federal courts to decide where they’ll try her first.”
“Amen to that,” Coop said. He stood quietly while Sherlock buttoned his shirt. He gave Savich a big loopy grin. “I’m really glad we all made it out of this. I didn’t like my chances for a while. And that mom, she was so happy her kids are okay she might forget to sue us. She and her kids sure have a story for a lifetime—bringing down Ted Bundy’s daughter. Can you imagine how popular those kids are going to be in school?”
He stopped cold, swallowed. He realized he’d been babbling, when Lucy had almost died as well and had lost yet another family member. Like Savich and Mylo Dwyer, he simply didn’t understand what had driven Miranda to try to kill Lucy, then to kill herself. So who cared if Alan Silverman wasn’t her father? Did it matter so much to her? Evidently so. And that ring. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy interrupted him. “Smile, Coop, and relax, you’re feeling all those meds they gave you. Enjoy not having any pain. That’s a good thing.”
Sherlock leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Well done, Coop. You brought Kirsten down.” Then she clasped Lucy’s shoulders and smiled at her. “I am so relieved you are all right.” And she hugged her.
Sherlock looked after them as they walked to the waiting room, Coop flying high and happy. She could hear him humming from where she stood, his arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “He looks like he should be punching cattle in Wyoming in that shearling coat. I’m glad he didn’t ruin it, only the one little blood spot inside.” She gave Dillon a look. “I’d have to say he looks nearly as hot in it as you do in your black leather.”
He arched a brow at her, then called after them, “Lucy, if you want to talk to me about what happened, give me a call.”
Lucy didn’t slow, said over her shoulder, “I don’t think I’ll ever have anything else to say, Dillon, but thank you.”
Coop stopped humming. “You’ll tell me all about the ring, won’t you, Lucy?”
She didn’t look at him—the horror of what had happened was too fresh, the utter waste of it all. Miranda’s ruined face was clear in her mind; she could still see blind death in her eyes. She cut it off and looked up at Coop, hugged him to her side. “I want to tell you everything that’s important to me, Coop. Always.”
