The Maze
Page 116
Lacey was washing her hands when she looked up to see Hannah in the mirror, standing behind her. She didn't say anything, just looked at her reflection.
"Your lover didn't want to take the chance I'll slap him with a sexual harassment complaint so he couldn't fire me." "I thought you denied leaking my relationship to a murder victim to the press." "I did deny it."
"Then how could Savich have fired you without proof? Oh enough, Hannah. Say what you have to say and go about your business."
"You're really cute, you know that? Tell me, Sherlock, did you set your sights on Savich while you were still at Quantico?"
"No."
"He'll screw your eyes out but he won't marry you. Has he made love to you in the shower? He loves that."
"Hannah, it's none of your business what either of us does. Please, let it go. Forget him. You know I'm irrelevant in all this. Even if I weren't here, Savich still wouldn't be going out with you."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Good-bye, Hannah."
Ollie was waiting outside for her. He said only, "I just didn't want her to shoot you."
"So you were waiting out here to see if a gun went off?"
"Something like that."
"I'm fine, Ollie. Any word yet on Martin Jones?"
"Nope, nothing. Oh yeah, your father called, asked that you phone him back. He said it was really important."
She didn't want to pick up that phone. She didn't want to, but she did. She felt an urgency that she'd never felt before. Even as she was dialing her parents' home number, she was terrified.
"Isabelle? It's Lacey."
"Oh God, Lacey, it's your mama. Let me get your daddy on the phone. You just caught him in time. He's just leaving now for the hospital."
"The hospital? What happened to Mother?" But Isabelle had already hit the hold button. "Father?''
"Lacey? Come home, my dear, it's your mother. There was an accident. She's in the hospital. It doesn't look good, Lacey. Can you get some time off?''
"What kind of accident? What is her exact condition?"
"I was backing out of the driveway. She darted out from the bushes that line the street. I hit her. It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. There was even a passerby who saw the whole thing. She's not dead, Lacey, but her spleen is ruptured and they're taking it out as we speak. I feel terrible. I don't know what's going to happen. I think you should come home now."
Before she could say anything, he hung up. She stared down at the receiver, hearing the loud dial tone. What more could happen?
At nine o'clock the next morning she was on a nonstop flight to San Francisco. Dillon took the Dulles shuttle with her to the terminal to catch her United flight, using his FBI identification to get through the gate. "You'll call me," he said, kissing her hair, just holding her against him, his hands stroking down her back. "It will be all right. We'll get through it. Remember in the Bible how God kept testing Job? Well, these are our tests. Call me, okay?" And he kissed her again. He watched at the huge windows until her plane took off.
He didn't like her to go alone but he couldn't just pick up and leave, not now. Everything was coming to a head, he knew it. More important, she knew it. It was just a matter of time. Actually he was rather relieved that she'd be three thousand miles away, although he'd never tell her that. She'd blow a fuse because he wanted to protect her and she was a professional and could take care of herself.
He stepped back onto the shuttle, realizing, as he stared blankly at a businessman with a very packed briefcase, that she would be justified smacking him but good if he'd said that to her. He had to remember that she was well trained. She was a professional. Even if his guts twisted whenever he thought of her going into the field, he'd just have to get used to it.
He shook his head as he walked to his Porsche. Could her father have deliberately hit her mother?
For the first time that Lacey could remember, her mother looked all sixty-one of her years. Her flesh seemed loose, her cheeks sunken in. And so white and waxy, tubes everywhere. Mrs. Arch, her mother's ten-year companion, was there, as was Lacey's father, both standing beside her bed.
"Don't worry," her father said. "The operation went well. They took out her spleen and stopped the internal bleeding. There's lots of bruising and she'll have some sore ribs, but she'll be all right, Lacey."
She looked over at her father. "I know. I spoke to the nurse outside. Where were you, Mrs. Arch, when this happened?"
"Your lover didn't want to take the chance I'll slap him with a sexual harassment complaint so he couldn't fire me." "I thought you denied leaking my relationship to a murder victim to the press." "I did deny it."
"Then how could Savich have fired you without proof? Oh enough, Hannah. Say what you have to say and go about your business."
"You're really cute, you know that? Tell me, Sherlock, did you set your sights on Savich while you were still at Quantico?"
"No."
"He'll screw your eyes out but he won't marry you. Has he made love to you in the shower? He loves that."
"Hannah, it's none of your business what either of us does. Please, let it go. Forget him. You know I'm irrelevant in all this. Even if I weren't here, Savich still wouldn't be going out with you."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Good-bye, Hannah."
Ollie was waiting outside for her. He said only, "I just didn't want her to shoot you."
"So you were waiting out here to see if a gun went off?"
"Something like that."
"I'm fine, Ollie. Any word yet on Martin Jones?"
"Nope, nothing. Oh yeah, your father called, asked that you phone him back. He said it was really important."
She didn't want to pick up that phone. She didn't want to, but she did. She felt an urgency that she'd never felt before. Even as she was dialing her parents' home number, she was terrified.
"Isabelle? It's Lacey."
"Oh God, Lacey, it's your mama. Let me get your daddy on the phone. You just caught him in time. He's just leaving now for the hospital."
"The hospital? What happened to Mother?" But Isabelle had already hit the hold button. "Father?''
"Lacey? Come home, my dear, it's your mother. There was an accident. She's in the hospital. It doesn't look good, Lacey. Can you get some time off?''
"What kind of accident? What is her exact condition?"
"I was backing out of the driveway. She darted out from the bushes that line the street. I hit her. It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. There was even a passerby who saw the whole thing. She's not dead, Lacey, but her spleen is ruptured and they're taking it out as we speak. I feel terrible. I don't know what's going to happen. I think you should come home now."
Before she could say anything, he hung up. She stared down at the receiver, hearing the loud dial tone. What more could happen?
At nine o'clock the next morning she was on a nonstop flight to San Francisco. Dillon took the Dulles shuttle with her to the terminal to catch her United flight, using his FBI identification to get through the gate. "You'll call me," he said, kissing her hair, just holding her against him, his hands stroking down her back. "It will be all right. We'll get through it. Remember in the Bible how God kept testing Job? Well, these are our tests. Call me, okay?" And he kissed her again. He watched at the huge windows until her plane took off.
He didn't like her to go alone but he couldn't just pick up and leave, not now. Everything was coming to a head, he knew it. More important, she knew it. It was just a matter of time. Actually he was rather relieved that she'd be three thousand miles away, although he'd never tell her that. She'd blow a fuse because he wanted to protect her and she was a professional and could take care of herself.
He stepped back onto the shuttle, realizing, as he stared blankly at a businessman with a very packed briefcase, that she would be justified smacking him but good if he'd said that to her. He had to remember that she was well trained. She was a professional. Even if his guts twisted whenever he thought of her going into the field, he'd just have to get used to it.
He shook his head as he walked to his Porsche. Could her father have deliberately hit her mother?
For the first time that Lacey could remember, her mother looked all sixty-one of her years. Her flesh seemed loose, her cheeks sunken in. And so white and waxy, tubes everywhere. Mrs. Arch, her mother's ten-year companion, was there, as was Lacey's father, both standing beside her bed.
"Don't worry," her father said. "The operation went well. They took out her spleen and stopped the internal bleeding. There's lots of bruising and she'll have some sore ribs, but she'll be all right, Lacey."
She looked over at her father. "I know. I spoke to the nurse outside. Where were you, Mrs. Arch, when this happened?"
