Split Second
Page 111
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
After a moment of silence, Sherlock said, “I think Coop is more valuable to her alive. Lucy, there’s no reason for you to follow us down here. Get some sleep. Ollie is sending Agent Keppel over to stay with you.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Keppel’s a woman. You’ll like her; she’s hard-nosed, funny. And she’ll make sure you get into bed. You hunker down—I’ll call you when we catch up to them.”
“What if Kirsten doubles back? What if—”
“She won’t. Have a cup of tea and rest for a couple of hours, okay?”
Lucy flicked off her cell, sat for a moment in Coop’s Corvette, smelling the wonderful new-leather smell, and tried to dial up some optimism.
There was a tap on her window.
She hadn’t heard anyone come up. Agent Keppel? She whipped around to see Miranda smiling at her through the closed window.
“Lucy?”
Lucy pressed the down button. Because Miranda was a Silverman and because Lucy wasn’t an idiot, she kept her SIG under her right hand.
She looked up at her cousin. “Miranda? What are you doing here at dawn? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. What happened to your bodyguard?”
“He’s tied up.”
“Well, that’s dandy, isn’t it?” Miranda brought up an old Kel Tec nine-millimeter pistol and shoved it into Lucy’s face. “At last you’re alone. I’ve been waiting here for the past couple of hours. I nearly gave it up, but his car wasn’t here, and I knew you had to be with him, and sure enough, you drove right in, all alone. I see you’ve got your gun. I want you to throw it over on the floor. If you don’t, I’ll have to shoot you right here.”
Lucy had known Miranda all her life; she meant it. She threw her SIG onto the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“That’s good. I see you’re not wearing the ring, but I wager you have it with you. Whether you do or not, if I think you’re trying to get it out, I’ll shoot you before you can touch it, you got that?”
The ring? “Why do you think I have the ring? Why would you care?” Lucy stared up into her cousin’s face in the early-morning light. She was hunched over in a black wool coat. Her dark hair was pulled back, fastened with a clip. She said, “You look like a nun, Miranda, I’ve always thought that. What is this all about?”
“A nun?” Miranda laughed, but she shoved the Kel Tec against Lucy’s nose. “Yes, well, nuns serve God, other people, and the greater good. I personally can’t imagine anything more boring than that. I’m here for the ring, Lucy. My ring. And you’ll give it to me. First, though, we have to get out of here. We’re going to drive to a lovely little motel tucked into the middle of Cumberland Street in the warehouse district.
“I’m going to walk to the passenger side. If you so much as whisper or move a finger, I’ll kill you. Keep your arms around the steering wheel. That’s right, hug it close and don’t move.”
“But why do you want the ring? Is it for Uncle Alan? What is going on here, Miranda?”
Miranda laughed. “What? Get the ring for my father? What would he do with it? You know very well why I want the ring. Do what you’re told, Lucy, and only what you’re told, or you’ll be very dead.”
Miranda, her arty, eccentric cousin, was responsible for all this? Miranda, with the magical name and the slouchy clothes and no interest in making her own way in the world? Lucy nearly laughed at herself—she had stopped trying to really engage Miranda years ago, simply because Miranda had resisted any personal attention from her. If Lucy hadn’t finally stepped back from her, she might have realized what Miranda was capable of.
She felt the ring’s now familiar warmth against her throat. If she grabbed it through the material of her shirt, was there time to use it before Miranda shot her? Would it even work if she couldn’t clutch it in her hand? Even if it did work, Miranda was already holding a gun to her face eight seconds ago. It was a huge risk, and it would accomplish nothing.
She looked at Miranda, at the steel in her eyes, and kept her hands on the steering wheel. She had not a single doubt Miranda would kill her.
Miranda slipped in beside her, closed the door. “Nice car. I love that new-leather smell. Your boyfriend’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“And where is Agent McKnight?”
“He’s out checking into something, with another agent. They’ll both be here anytime now.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Keppel’s a woman. You’ll like her; she’s hard-nosed, funny. And she’ll make sure you get into bed. You hunker down—I’ll call you when we catch up to them.”
“What if Kirsten doubles back? What if—”
“She won’t. Have a cup of tea and rest for a couple of hours, okay?”
Lucy flicked off her cell, sat for a moment in Coop’s Corvette, smelling the wonderful new-leather smell, and tried to dial up some optimism.
There was a tap on her window.
She hadn’t heard anyone come up. Agent Keppel? She whipped around to see Miranda smiling at her through the closed window.
“Lucy?”
Lucy pressed the down button. Because Miranda was a Silverman and because Lucy wasn’t an idiot, she kept her SIG under her right hand.
She looked up at her cousin. “Miranda? What are you doing here at dawn? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. What happened to your bodyguard?”
“He’s tied up.”
“Well, that’s dandy, isn’t it?” Miranda brought up an old Kel Tec nine-millimeter pistol and shoved it into Lucy’s face. “At last you’re alone. I’ve been waiting here for the past couple of hours. I nearly gave it up, but his car wasn’t here, and I knew you had to be with him, and sure enough, you drove right in, all alone. I see you’ve got your gun. I want you to throw it over on the floor. If you don’t, I’ll have to shoot you right here.”
Lucy had known Miranda all her life; she meant it. She threw her SIG onto the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“That’s good. I see you’re not wearing the ring, but I wager you have it with you. Whether you do or not, if I think you’re trying to get it out, I’ll shoot you before you can touch it, you got that?”
The ring? “Why do you think I have the ring? Why would you care?” Lucy stared up into her cousin’s face in the early-morning light. She was hunched over in a black wool coat. Her dark hair was pulled back, fastened with a clip. She said, “You look like a nun, Miranda, I’ve always thought that. What is this all about?”
“A nun?” Miranda laughed, but she shoved the Kel Tec against Lucy’s nose. “Yes, well, nuns serve God, other people, and the greater good. I personally can’t imagine anything more boring than that. I’m here for the ring, Lucy. My ring. And you’ll give it to me. First, though, we have to get out of here. We’re going to drive to a lovely little motel tucked into the middle of Cumberland Street in the warehouse district.
“I’m going to walk to the passenger side. If you so much as whisper or move a finger, I’ll kill you. Keep your arms around the steering wheel. That’s right, hug it close and don’t move.”
“But why do you want the ring? Is it for Uncle Alan? What is going on here, Miranda?”
Miranda laughed. “What? Get the ring for my father? What would he do with it? You know very well why I want the ring. Do what you’re told, Lucy, and only what you’re told, or you’ll be very dead.”
Miranda, her arty, eccentric cousin, was responsible for all this? Miranda, with the magical name and the slouchy clothes and no interest in making her own way in the world? Lucy nearly laughed at herself—she had stopped trying to really engage Miranda years ago, simply because Miranda had resisted any personal attention from her. If Lucy hadn’t finally stepped back from her, she might have realized what Miranda was capable of.
She felt the ring’s now familiar warmth against her throat. If she grabbed it through the material of her shirt, was there time to use it before Miranda shot her? Would it even work if she couldn’t clutch it in her hand? Even if it did work, Miranda was already holding a gun to her face eight seconds ago. It was a huge risk, and it would accomplish nothing.
She looked at Miranda, at the steel in her eyes, and kept her hands on the steering wheel. She had not a single doubt Miranda would kill her.
Miranda slipped in beside her, closed the door. “Nice car. I love that new-leather smell. Your boyfriend’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“And where is Agent McKnight?”
“He’s out checking into something, with another agent. They’ll both be here anytime now.”
