Split Second
Page 108
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She hung up, cursing him.
A minute later, he got a call from Agent Randy McDowell. “She’s moving, Savich, near Hightown, Virginia. I had local cops following her signal. She was heading toward D.C. I’ll keep you posted.”
Savich punched off his cell, rounded on Sherlock, who was sitting on her knees on top of the bedcovers, her hair tossed around her head, ready to fight, shaking her teacher’s finger at him. “You mess with me on this and I’ll take you down, you hear me?”
“Yeah? Like pull out my teeth?”
“Nice visual, don’t you think? That’s what Kirsten’s all about.”
“You aren’t going anywhere near her again, you hear me?”
“I’m fine physically, and you know it, so don’t try that one.”
“I’m your boss, so listen up. You are not back to one hundred percent, so don’t lie to me. I said you’re not going anywhere near that insane woman again. Even if I have to tie you down, you’ll stay right here.”
She had only a pillow at hand—a pity—but she threw it as hard as she could. He caught it out of the air.
“You try it, hotshot. Now, you listen up. The question is, did it work? Should we make arrangements to have people at Deer Creek Park in the morning?”
He growled at her and lunged. He landed against her, threw her back, and came down over her, jerked her wrists beside her head. She had no leverage, and he knew it. He stared down at her, at a loss for what to say. She looked ready to fight for a second, but then she said on a laugh, “How long are you going to hold me down?”
“As long as it takes me to think of something else. You’re going to clamp your teeth in her neck and chew?”
“Yep. Another good image, don’t you think?”
He was brimming with frustration, and she knew it. What she didn’t know was that he was seeing her lying in the hospital bed after they’d pumped her stomach, so pale and still. The memory of it was too new, too raw, for him.
In that instant, intuition and experience mixed in his mind, and he realized that Kirsten wasn’t about to wait until he was running all by himself in Deer Creek Park on Sunday morning.
He also realized Sherlock would demand to go after Kirsten even if she had to do it in a hospital nightgown. He hated it, but there was no hope for it. He kissed her hard, then helped her sit up. “Here’s what I know in my gut she’s going to do.”
CHAPTER 63
The night was bright and clear, the moon nearly full, and cold enough that Savich was thankful for his heavy leather jacket. Sherlock was bundled up in her own jacket, a wool scarf around her neck, gloves on her hands. They were crouched down behind the thick yew bushes lining the flowerbeds in front of the house.
Savich was starting to get stiff when his cell vibrated. “Yeah?”
“Coop here. They found Kirsten’s cell but not Kirsten. They tracked the cell again when she turned it back on in Fairfax, but the signal stayed stationary. She’d tossed her cell across the street from the house where she murdered Mary Cartwright. I guess she wanted to admire the crime scene tape.”
Coop paused, then said, “You think she’s coming after you, don’t you? Right now. At home.”
“We’re outside waiting for her. It’s a feeling I have; I could be wrong. It’s very possible Kirsten won’t show, and it would be a colossal waste of time for you to come over.”
But the line was dead. Savich punched call back, but Coop didn’t pick up.
Twelve minutes later, Savich heard them creeping up around the house behind him. He whispered, “We’re over here, behind the bushes.”
The four of them crouched down, pressing together for warmth. Savich told them about her call, about how he hoped he’d pushed her over the edge.
Lucy said, “After what you and Sherlock said to her, I think you’re right, she’ll come and she’ll be crazy mad. I hope that gives us the advantage.”
Coop, warm as could be in his shearling coat, whispered, “Yes, she’s coming; my gut’s with yours, Savich. I don’t think she’ll try using a rifle again, either. Kirsten likes to be up close and personal. I think that’s what she’ll do tonight. She’ll come here to face you down.”
Lucy asked, “Where have you stashed Sean?”
Sherlock whispered, “He’s at his grandmother’s, and that’s where he’ll stay until this is over.”
Lucy forced her mind away from Kirsten’s rifle shot in the park that morning. She said, “One thing I’ve learned about Kirsten is that she won’t be straightforward about this. She’ll have something planned, especially for you and Sherlock. She’ll try to fool us somehow.”
A minute later, he got a call from Agent Randy McDowell. “She’s moving, Savich, near Hightown, Virginia. I had local cops following her signal. She was heading toward D.C. I’ll keep you posted.”
Savich punched off his cell, rounded on Sherlock, who was sitting on her knees on top of the bedcovers, her hair tossed around her head, ready to fight, shaking her teacher’s finger at him. “You mess with me on this and I’ll take you down, you hear me?”
“Yeah? Like pull out my teeth?”
“Nice visual, don’t you think? That’s what Kirsten’s all about.”
“You aren’t going anywhere near her again, you hear me?”
“I’m fine physically, and you know it, so don’t try that one.”
“I’m your boss, so listen up. You are not back to one hundred percent, so don’t lie to me. I said you’re not going anywhere near that insane woman again. Even if I have to tie you down, you’ll stay right here.”
She had only a pillow at hand—a pity—but she threw it as hard as she could. He caught it out of the air.
“You try it, hotshot. Now, you listen up. The question is, did it work? Should we make arrangements to have people at Deer Creek Park in the morning?”
He growled at her and lunged. He landed against her, threw her back, and came down over her, jerked her wrists beside her head. She had no leverage, and he knew it. He stared down at her, at a loss for what to say. She looked ready to fight for a second, but then she said on a laugh, “How long are you going to hold me down?”
“As long as it takes me to think of something else. You’re going to clamp your teeth in her neck and chew?”
“Yep. Another good image, don’t you think?”
He was brimming with frustration, and she knew it. What she didn’t know was that he was seeing her lying in the hospital bed after they’d pumped her stomach, so pale and still. The memory of it was too new, too raw, for him.
In that instant, intuition and experience mixed in his mind, and he realized that Kirsten wasn’t about to wait until he was running all by himself in Deer Creek Park on Sunday morning.
He also realized Sherlock would demand to go after Kirsten even if she had to do it in a hospital nightgown. He hated it, but there was no hope for it. He kissed her hard, then helped her sit up. “Here’s what I know in my gut she’s going to do.”
CHAPTER 63
The night was bright and clear, the moon nearly full, and cold enough that Savich was thankful for his heavy leather jacket. Sherlock was bundled up in her own jacket, a wool scarf around her neck, gloves on her hands. They were crouched down behind the thick yew bushes lining the flowerbeds in front of the house.
Savich was starting to get stiff when his cell vibrated. “Yeah?”
“Coop here. They found Kirsten’s cell but not Kirsten. They tracked the cell again when she turned it back on in Fairfax, but the signal stayed stationary. She’d tossed her cell across the street from the house where she murdered Mary Cartwright. I guess she wanted to admire the crime scene tape.”
Coop paused, then said, “You think she’s coming after you, don’t you? Right now. At home.”
“We’re outside waiting for her. It’s a feeling I have; I could be wrong. It’s very possible Kirsten won’t show, and it would be a colossal waste of time for you to come over.”
But the line was dead. Savich punched call back, but Coop didn’t pick up.
Twelve minutes later, Savich heard them creeping up around the house behind him. He whispered, “We’re over here, behind the bushes.”
The four of them crouched down, pressing together for warmth. Savich told them about her call, about how he hoped he’d pushed her over the edge.
Lucy said, “After what you and Sherlock said to her, I think you’re right, she’ll come and she’ll be crazy mad. I hope that gives us the advantage.”
Coop, warm as could be in his shearling coat, whispered, “Yes, she’s coming; my gut’s with yours, Savich. I don’t think she’ll try using a rifle again, either. Kirsten likes to be up close and personal. I think that’s what she’ll do tonight. She’ll come here to face you down.”
Lucy asked, “Where have you stashed Sean?”
Sherlock whispered, “He’s at his grandmother’s, and that’s where he’ll stay until this is over.”
Lucy forced her mind away from Kirsten’s rifle shot in the park that morning. She said, “One thing I’ve learned about Kirsten is that she won’t be straightforward about this. She’ll have something planned, especially for you and Sherlock. She’ll try to fool us somehow.”
