Split Second
Page 94
There was a shocked silence until Jennifer said, “How many times did I tell both you and your father, dear, that being an FBI agent was a ridiculous choice for you, and it’s no big surprise that criminals are after you. I’ve always felt the only reason you went into the FBI was because your mother—”
Lucy felt a flash of pain, then calm. “No, not at all, Aunt Jennifer. I applied to the bureau before Dad even told me that my mother had.”
“I thought I heard voices. It’s you, Lucy. Thank God you’re okay.”
Jennifer jumped to her feet. “Oh, Alan, do come in. Lucy and her friend are here. They say it wasn’t an accident—”
Alan Silverman raised his hand. “Yes, I know, Jennifer. I called Agent Savich, Lucy’s boss, and he told me straight up what happened.” He leaned over her, eyed the bandage on her head, and carefully hugged her. “I have no doubt the FBI will find out who did this. Mr. Savich assured me they would protect you until they do. I’m so sorry, Lucy. I hope it’s not too bad?”
“No, a bullet just took off a bit of my scalp, nothing serious,” Lucy said, smiling up at him. “We’ll find out the truth.” She introduced Coop to him, then, “Where’s Miranda?”
Jennifer said, “She didn’t know you were coming, Lucy. She was leading the discussion at her book club this evening.”
Lucy asked, “What book is that, Aunt Jennifer?”
“She never tells us,” Alan said easily, sitting back in the matching chair next to his son’s, his eyes on her face. She saw deeper lines etched by his mouth. “I kid her about the club reading erotic novels, but she denies it.”
Court laughed, a false, practiced sound that got to Coop like fingernails on a blackboard. “I caught her reading Portnoy’s Complaint last week. You might be right, Dad.”
Jennifer slapped her hands together. “Stop it, both of you. What will Agent McKnight think of us?”
Agent McKnight thought the book club sounded pretty interesting. He said, “Your daughter lives here?”
Jennifer said, “Why, yes, she moved back maybe three months ago, but only until she finds a place she likes. They’re hard to come by in the right neighborhood—too much crime elsewhere.”
Coop looked at each of them in turn. “Do any of you have any ideas about who tried to kill Lucy today?”
There was a babble of voices, all of them horrified, all eyes soon turning to him. Alan said, “How would you think we would know anything about such a thing? We’re the only family Lucy has left. We love her. Hurt her? That’s ridiculous.”
Coop said easily, “It’s what we do, sir, ask questions until the answers fit together to solve the puzzle. It seems probable the attempt on Lucy’s life is directly tied to finding her grandfather’s remains.”
Alan said, “For heaven’s sake, Lucy, you don’t think finding your poor grandfather had anything to do with these madmen trying to run you off the road today, do you? I mean, why?”
“Actually, they didn’t seem like madmen, Uncle Alan. They were organized, both driving identical white vans. They tried to accordion me between them, and they shot at me.” She lightly touched her fingertips to the bandage. “They were pros, and someone hired them to kill me.”
“Two white vans?” Court frowned at her, confused. “Who on earth would try to run you down with two white vans? Postal workers gone berserk?”
Coop wanted to send his boot into Court’s right kidney.
Lucy said very seriously, “That doesn’t seem likely, Court.”
Coop said, “Like I said, the other guy turned tail and ran. We’ll find out soon who owns the white vans.”
Court said, “I think I’d like a cup of coffee, Mom, if you don’t mind.”
Jennifer flew to her feet. “Of course, sweetheart.” She patted Court’s arm, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll bring everyone some. Anyone for a snack?”
She’s talking cookies when Lucy nearly got murdered today? Coop said, “No, thank you, Mrs. Silverman. Why don’t you leave the coffee for the moment? I would appreciate your telling me what you thought about Lucy’s murdered grandfather. Surely all of you have some thoughts about that.”
Jennifer walked slowly back to the sofa and sat down, her eyes on her clasped hands.
Alan said finally, “We’ve already discussed that tragedy with Lucy, and at length with the police. I suppose I must accept the unavoidable truth that my sister was involved, as was my nephew, Josh. It is painful, but there is no other conclusion. Helen killed her husband, and we may never know why.”
Lucy felt a flash of pain, then calm. “No, not at all, Aunt Jennifer. I applied to the bureau before Dad even told me that my mother had.”
“I thought I heard voices. It’s you, Lucy. Thank God you’re okay.”
Jennifer jumped to her feet. “Oh, Alan, do come in. Lucy and her friend are here. They say it wasn’t an accident—”
Alan Silverman raised his hand. “Yes, I know, Jennifer. I called Agent Savich, Lucy’s boss, and he told me straight up what happened.” He leaned over her, eyed the bandage on her head, and carefully hugged her. “I have no doubt the FBI will find out who did this. Mr. Savich assured me they would protect you until they do. I’m so sorry, Lucy. I hope it’s not too bad?”
“No, a bullet just took off a bit of my scalp, nothing serious,” Lucy said, smiling up at him. “We’ll find out the truth.” She introduced Coop to him, then, “Where’s Miranda?”
Jennifer said, “She didn’t know you were coming, Lucy. She was leading the discussion at her book club this evening.”
Lucy asked, “What book is that, Aunt Jennifer?”
“She never tells us,” Alan said easily, sitting back in the matching chair next to his son’s, his eyes on her face. She saw deeper lines etched by his mouth. “I kid her about the club reading erotic novels, but she denies it.”
Court laughed, a false, practiced sound that got to Coop like fingernails on a blackboard. “I caught her reading Portnoy’s Complaint last week. You might be right, Dad.”
Jennifer slapped her hands together. “Stop it, both of you. What will Agent McKnight think of us?”
Agent McKnight thought the book club sounded pretty interesting. He said, “Your daughter lives here?”
Jennifer said, “Why, yes, she moved back maybe three months ago, but only until she finds a place she likes. They’re hard to come by in the right neighborhood—too much crime elsewhere.”
Coop looked at each of them in turn. “Do any of you have any ideas about who tried to kill Lucy today?”
There was a babble of voices, all of them horrified, all eyes soon turning to him. Alan said, “How would you think we would know anything about such a thing? We’re the only family Lucy has left. We love her. Hurt her? That’s ridiculous.”
Coop said easily, “It’s what we do, sir, ask questions until the answers fit together to solve the puzzle. It seems probable the attempt on Lucy’s life is directly tied to finding her grandfather’s remains.”
Alan said, “For heaven’s sake, Lucy, you don’t think finding your poor grandfather had anything to do with these madmen trying to run you off the road today, do you? I mean, why?”
“Actually, they didn’t seem like madmen, Uncle Alan. They were organized, both driving identical white vans. They tried to accordion me between them, and they shot at me.” She lightly touched her fingertips to the bandage. “They were pros, and someone hired them to kill me.”
“Two white vans?” Court frowned at her, confused. “Who on earth would try to run you down with two white vans? Postal workers gone berserk?”
Coop wanted to send his boot into Court’s right kidney.
Lucy said very seriously, “That doesn’t seem likely, Court.”
Coop said, “Like I said, the other guy turned tail and ran. We’ll find out soon who owns the white vans.”
Court said, “I think I’d like a cup of coffee, Mom, if you don’t mind.”
Jennifer flew to her feet. “Of course, sweetheart.” She patted Court’s arm, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll bring everyone some. Anyone for a snack?”
She’s talking cookies when Lucy nearly got murdered today? Coop said, “No, thank you, Mrs. Silverman. Why don’t you leave the coffee for the moment? I would appreciate your telling me what you thought about Lucy’s murdered grandfather. Surely all of you have some thoughts about that.”
Jennifer walked slowly back to the sofa and sat down, her eyes on her clasped hands.
Alan said finally, “We’ve already discussed that tragedy with Lucy, and at length with the police. I suppose I must accept the unavoidable truth that my sister was involved, as was my nephew, Josh. It is painful, but there is no other conclusion. Helen killed her husband, and we may never know why.”
