Split Second
Page 93
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Coop, there’s something I haven’t told anyone yet, something I thought was private, between my grandfather and me. There was more than the ring in that safe-deposit box, there was a letter written to me by my grandfather, probably not long before he was killed. I think it’s time for us to speak to Uncle Alan.”
Ten minutes later, Coop followed Lucy out of his condo, his hand beneath her elbow, just in case.
CHAPTER 51
Washington, D.C.
Thursday evening
Huge yard, Coop thought, when he pulled into the Silverman driveway. Way too much work. Evidently, Mr. Silverman agreed, since the yard as well as the flagstone walkway were covered in six inches of sodden leaves left to rot from the last rain.
At least it wasn’t raining now.
Coop scraped wet leaves off his boots on the front porch.
Lucy rang the doorbell. She waited nervously, knowing Coop had told them only that she’d had an automobile accident, but they shouldn’t worry, she was okay and wanted to come by to visit. Even Savich had agreed that an impromptu visit with her aunt and uncle might knock loose a lead or two, if Lucy felt up to it. More important, he wanted the Silvermans to know the FBI were looking at them and knew about the ring. He thought it might protect her. She hated this, hated that it had to be done, that her family’s involvement had to be faced.
They heard the click of heels. Her Aunt Jennifer opened the door. “Lucy, my poor child!” And she enfolded Lucy in her arms and rocked her. “Agent McKnight promised us you were all right, but I’ll tell you, we’ve still been worried sick. Oh, you’ve got a bandage on your head!”
“I’m all right, Aunt Jennifer, really.”
“Come in, sweetheart, sit down, and I’ll get you some hot tea. And you are Agent McKnight?” A lovely arched dark brow shot up. “Oh, yes, I remember you from Josh’s funeral. It’s hard to believe he’s gone, but Lucy, you’re what’s important now. Come in, come in. Thank you, Agent, for calling us before we heard it on the news.”
Lucy’s cousin Court was standing in the living-room doorway, smiling toward her.
Lucy had told Coop about Court Silverman—that he was thirtysix, had never been married, owned vitamin stores, and was quite successful. He was tall, buff; he looked sleek. Yes, that was the word, sleek—like a freaking otter, Coop thought, and nearly smiled. He looked closely and saw the arrogant tilt to Court’s head that seemed to go naturally with his soft white shirt and expensive gray wool slacks. With his hands in his pockets, jiggling change, he looked sort of bored and weary, as though it was no big deal his cousin had almost been killed this afternoon. You’re a conceited little prick, aren’t you, Court?
Coop saw Mrs. Silverman was beaming at her son. He shook Court’s hand after he extended it, almost unwillingly, Coop thought, as if Coop wasn’t worth the trouble.
Coop said, “You guys aren’t first cousins, you’re what, once removed or something?”
Court said, “Something like that, but unfortunately never kissing cousins, right, Lucy?”
“I’m too staid and boring for you, Court; always have been.” She turned to Coop. “Court likes to play on the wild side—bungee jumping, skydiving, skiing the Alps, you name it. If there’s a chance he can break his neck, he’ll try it.”
When they were all seated, Court opposite the rest of them in a beautiful French antique chair, swinging an Italian leather loafer, Jennifer Silverman said, “I’d hardly say you’re boring, Lucy. I mean, you’re a federal agent and all. But tell us what happened today! Agent McKnight said you lost control of your car and you were hurt? I told your Uncle Alan when you bought that monster that it wasn’t for a single girl, it didn’t make sense.”
Lucy smiled. “Actually, my Range Rover was a hero, Aunt Jennifer, executed an amazing U-turn to save me. Unfortunately, he was totaled, so I am now officially without wheels. I was thinking about buying something really different from a Range Rover, something to help make me a little less boring. What do you think of a snazzy red Corvette?”
Court stirred, and a dark brow went up. “You’re a cop, Lucy, but even you would find out you can’t drive a car like that without other cops stopping you for blowing your nose, just to get up and close and personal to it. You’d spend your time wiping their fingerprints off the hood.”
Coop heard a kind of slimy charm in that. He decided he never wanted to play basketball or drink beer with Court Silverman. He said, “I gave you both the impression that Lucy was in an accident. We wanted to tell you in person that wasn’t what happened. Someone tried to kill her. But she was smart, took care of business. One of the men involved is dead; the other turned tail and ran. We’re looking for him now.” Coop looked straight at Court.
Ten minutes later, Coop followed Lucy out of his condo, his hand beneath her elbow, just in case.
CHAPTER 51
Washington, D.C.
Thursday evening
Huge yard, Coop thought, when he pulled into the Silverman driveway. Way too much work. Evidently, Mr. Silverman agreed, since the yard as well as the flagstone walkway were covered in six inches of sodden leaves left to rot from the last rain.
At least it wasn’t raining now.
Coop scraped wet leaves off his boots on the front porch.
Lucy rang the doorbell. She waited nervously, knowing Coop had told them only that she’d had an automobile accident, but they shouldn’t worry, she was okay and wanted to come by to visit. Even Savich had agreed that an impromptu visit with her aunt and uncle might knock loose a lead or two, if Lucy felt up to it. More important, he wanted the Silvermans to know the FBI were looking at them and knew about the ring. He thought it might protect her. She hated this, hated that it had to be done, that her family’s involvement had to be faced.
They heard the click of heels. Her Aunt Jennifer opened the door. “Lucy, my poor child!” And she enfolded Lucy in her arms and rocked her. “Agent McKnight promised us you were all right, but I’ll tell you, we’ve still been worried sick. Oh, you’ve got a bandage on your head!”
“I’m all right, Aunt Jennifer, really.”
“Come in, sweetheart, sit down, and I’ll get you some hot tea. And you are Agent McKnight?” A lovely arched dark brow shot up. “Oh, yes, I remember you from Josh’s funeral. It’s hard to believe he’s gone, but Lucy, you’re what’s important now. Come in, come in. Thank you, Agent, for calling us before we heard it on the news.”
Lucy’s cousin Court was standing in the living-room doorway, smiling toward her.
Lucy had told Coop about Court Silverman—that he was thirtysix, had never been married, owned vitamin stores, and was quite successful. He was tall, buff; he looked sleek. Yes, that was the word, sleek—like a freaking otter, Coop thought, and nearly smiled. He looked closely and saw the arrogant tilt to Court’s head that seemed to go naturally with his soft white shirt and expensive gray wool slacks. With his hands in his pockets, jiggling change, he looked sort of bored and weary, as though it was no big deal his cousin had almost been killed this afternoon. You’re a conceited little prick, aren’t you, Court?
Coop saw Mrs. Silverman was beaming at her son. He shook Court’s hand after he extended it, almost unwillingly, Coop thought, as if Coop wasn’t worth the trouble.
Coop said, “You guys aren’t first cousins, you’re what, once removed or something?”
Court said, “Something like that, but unfortunately never kissing cousins, right, Lucy?”
“I’m too staid and boring for you, Court; always have been.” She turned to Coop. “Court likes to play on the wild side—bungee jumping, skydiving, skiing the Alps, you name it. If there’s a chance he can break his neck, he’ll try it.”
When they were all seated, Court opposite the rest of them in a beautiful French antique chair, swinging an Italian leather loafer, Jennifer Silverman said, “I’d hardly say you’re boring, Lucy. I mean, you’re a federal agent and all. But tell us what happened today! Agent McKnight said you lost control of your car and you were hurt? I told your Uncle Alan when you bought that monster that it wasn’t for a single girl, it didn’t make sense.”
Lucy smiled. “Actually, my Range Rover was a hero, Aunt Jennifer, executed an amazing U-turn to save me. Unfortunately, he was totaled, so I am now officially without wheels. I was thinking about buying something really different from a Range Rover, something to help make me a little less boring. What do you think of a snazzy red Corvette?”
Court stirred, and a dark brow went up. “You’re a cop, Lucy, but even you would find out you can’t drive a car like that without other cops stopping you for blowing your nose, just to get up and close and personal to it. You’d spend your time wiping their fingerprints off the hood.”
Coop heard a kind of slimy charm in that. He decided he never wanted to play basketball or drink beer with Court Silverman. He said, “I gave you both the impression that Lucy was in an accident. We wanted to tell you in person that wasn’t what happened. Someone tried to kill her. But she was smart, took care of business. One of the men involved is dead; the other turned tail and ran. We’re looking for him now.” Coop looked straight at Court.
