Bombshell
Page 67
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Griffin nodded. “Everything worked out. I’ll tell you though, I had to think long and hard about the transfer. I really like San Francisco, enjoyed my life there. But Savich and his unit are usually in the eye of the storm, and, I gotta admit it, I like the rush, the challenge.”
“The danger, right?”
“Maybe there’s something else—I called lots of people, and all of them told me you can trust Savich; he’s always got your back.”
He began tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “In the morning I’m going to start talking with everyone who was at the party, including everyone from that catering company. No one will wonder why, since everyone knows we’re conducting a murder investigation.”
“If you can, talk to Salazar again. I’d like to know your impressions of where his mind is at now. Again, I think he’s got to be panicked. All of them must be.”
She took the last bite of the bagel, sighed, and sat back in her chair. “I was raised on bagels. My grandma made them for me the first time when I was maybe four years old. ‘Succor for the soul,’ she’d say when she spread cream cheese on one for me.”
“There were bagels in the South when your grandmother was a girl?”
She grinned at him. “I think the first bagel maker arrived in Louisiana with the carpetbaggers after the war. What’s your favorite eat?”
“I’m a guy. Give me burgers and hot dogs and a grill and I’m a happy camper.”
“Where’d you grow up, Griffin?”
“In Colorado, near Aspen. Yes, I’ve skied all my life, competed throughout high school and college.”
“Olympics?”
“Not in this lifetime. I enjoy skiing whenever I have the chance. I don’t guess you’ve ever done much skiing in Louisiana?”
“I always wanted to learn, usually for a solid three months after watchin’ the winter Olympics on TV.” She grinned. “I’m a water skier. Now, that’s fun.”
He took another drink of coffee. It was pretty bad. The night was quiet, the air still and calm. He looked at her, wanted to run his finger over her mouth. He wanted to taste her. But not now, worst luck. He said, “Maybe we could teach each other.”
“Yeah,” she said after a moment, her dark eyes on his face, “maybe we could.”
Bud Bailey’s B&B
Maestro, Virginia
Delsey dreamed she was skydiving into the very heart of Santiago, tourists and natives alike all staring up at her and pointing. She wondered why all the people were pointing at her when she realized she felt the parachute straps digging into her shoulders and her shoulders were bare. Then she noticed she was wearing only knee-high boots, nothing else. The wind danced wildly in her hair, and she was cold, freezing. Suddenly, she felt something coming close and she tried to move out of the way, jerk on the parachute straps, but she couldn’t move. Something cast a shadow over her face and it was coming at her—not making any noise, but she could feel it, and it was a him, and she felt his breath on her cheek. She couldn’t move, couldn’t—
Delsey jerked awake. She stared up into the face of the man she hadn’t until this moment realized she’d seen just before he’d smashed something down against her head. He was straddling her, holding her down, her arms by her sides under the covers, and his hand was over her mouth. He whispered above her mouth, “You bounced right back, didn’t you, pequeña niña? You were lucky, but not tonight. You recognized me, didn’t you? Can’t let you stay around. Hey, you scared?” He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll just slip it in, it’ll sink right into your heart and you’ll hardly even notice.”
The glimpse she’d gotten of him—she hadn’t realized he was so very young, and his eyes were dead. She couldn’t move. Griffin was across the living room in the other bedroom, sound asleep. She made a sound in her throat and stared at the glittering silver knife coming down.
Three shots rang out, loud as cannons. The man slammed forward on top of her. She opened her mouth to scream and tasted his blood. His blood was everywhere, hot and sticky, on her face, her neck—”
“Delsey, are you okay?”
It was Griffin.
She was frantic, out of control, but her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Get him off me!”
Griffin quickly shoved him off, let him land on the floor on his side, fall slowly onto his back. Griffin switched on the bedside lamp as he sat down to hold her. He saw blood splattered on her face. Then he felt the blast of cold air from the open window.
“The danger, right?”
“Maybe there’s something else—I called lots of people, and all of them told me you can trust Savich; he’s always got your back.”
He began tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “In the morning I’m going to start talking with everyone who was at the party, including everyone from that catering company. No one will wonder why, since everyone knows we’re conducting a murder investigation.”
“If you can, talk to Salazar again. I’d like to know your impressions of where his mind is at now. Again, I think he’s got to be panicked. All of them must be.”
She took the last bite of the bagel, sighed, and sat back in her chair. “I was raised on bagels. My grandma made them for me the first time when I was maybe four years old. ‘Succor for the soul,’ she’d say when she spread cream cheese on one for me.”
“There were bagels in the South when your grandmother was a girl?”
She grinned at him. “I think the first bagel maker arrived in Louisiana with the carpetbaggers after the war. What’s your favorite eat?”
“I’m a guy. Give me burgers and hot dogs and a grill and I’m a happy camper.”
“Where’d you grow up, Griffin?”
“In Colorado, near Aspen. Yes, I’ve skied all my life, competed throughout high school and college.”
“Olympics?”
“Not in this lifetime. I enjoy skiing whenever I have the chance. I don’t guess you’ve ever done much skiing in Louisiana?”
“I always wanted to learn, usually for a solid three months after watchin’ the winter Olympics on TV.” She grinned. “I’m a water skier. Now, that’s fun.”
He took another drink of coffee. It was pretty bad. The night was quiet, the air still and calm. He looked at her, wanted to run his finger over her mouth. He wanted to taste her. But not now, worst luck. He said, “Maybe we could teach each other.”
“Yeah,” she said after a moment, her dark eyes on his face, “maybe we could.”
Bud Bailey’s B&B
Maestro, Virginia
Delsey dreamed she was skydiving into the very heart of Santiago, tourists and natives alike all staring up at her and pointing. She wondered why all the people were pointing at her when she realized she felt the parachute straps digging into her shoulders and her shoulders were bare. Then she noticed she was wearing only knee-high boots, nothing else. The wind danced wildly in her hair, and she was cold, freezing. Suddenly, she felt something coming close and she tried to move out of the way, jerk on the parachute straps, but she couldn’t move. Something cast a shadow over her face and it was coming at her—not making any noise, but she could feel it, and it was a him, and she felt his breath on her cheek. She couldn’t move, couldn’t—
Delsey jerked awake. She stared up into the face of the man she hadn’t until this moment realized she’d seen just before he’d smashed something down against her head. He was straddling her, holding her down, her arms by her sides under the covers, and his hand was over her mouth. He whispered above her mouth, “You bounced right back, didn’t you, pequeña niña? You were lucky, but not tonight. You recognized me, didn’t you? Can’t let you stay around. Hey, you scared?” He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll just slip it in, it’ll sink right into your heart and you’ll hardly even notice.”
The glimpse she’d gotten of him—she hadn’t realized he was so very young, and his eyes were dead. She couldn’t move. Griffin was across the living room in the other bedroom, sound asleep. She made a sound in her throat and stared at the glittering silver knife coming down.
Three shots rang out, loud as cannons. The man slammed forward on top of her. She opened her mouth to scream and tasted his blood. His blood was everywhere, hot and sticky, on her face, her neck—”
“Delsey, are you okay?”
It was Griffin.
She was frantic, out of control, but her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Get him off me!”
Griffin quickly shoved him off, let him land on the floor on his side, fall slowly onto his back. Griffin switched on the bedside lamp as he sat down to hold her. He saw blood splattered on her face. Then he felt the blast of cold air from the open window.
