The Cove
Page 127
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“I’ll get her,” Thomas said. “Don’t worry, Sally. I won’t hurt her.”
Sally got to her feet. She was sore, her scalp hurt, and she felt better than she’d ever felt in her life. “James,” she said, “I’m so glad to see you. You, too, Corey. Amabel said the three of you were in that shed behind Doc Spiver’s cottage.”
“Yeah,” Quinlan said, “but we’re special agents. We got out. Well, actually, it’s Corey who’s the hero. You know, Sally, I noticed a gray hair. Let Corey untie your hands.”
When she had feeling back in her wrists, she went and stood over the man who’d been her father for so many years, the man she’d hated for so long, the man who hated her. He was on the floor, at her feet.
She got down on her knees. She smiled. “Now it’s my chance to tell you what I think of you. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing. You’ll never have a hold over anybody again for as long as you live. I hate you. More than that, I despise you.” She drew back her fist and slammed it into his nose.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.” She rubbed her knuckles.
He was quivering with rage. His nose began to bleed. He quieted only when he felt the gun press still harder against his temple.
“You want to know something else? Noelle is ecstatic that you’re gone. She hates you as much as I do. She’s free of you. I’m free of you. Soon you’ll be in a cage where you belong.”
She stared down at him, at the blood seeping out of his nose, at the rage in his eyes. “Fucking bastard.” She rose and kicked him in the ribs.
“Shut up, you crazy bitch. Hey, you’re a cop. Don’t let her beat me.”
“I’ll let her shoot you in the balls if she wants to,” Quinlan said. “Sally? Would you like to shoot him?”
“No, not now. Well, just not this exact minute. You know what, old man? Noelle looks utterly beautiful. I’ll bet she’ll be going out again very soon. She’ll have any man she wants.”
“She won’t dare. She’d know I’d kill her if she even looked at another man. Yes, I’d kill both of them.”
“You aren’t going to kill anybody,” Sally said, eyes mean and bright, joy in her voice. “You’re going to jail for the rest of your miserable life.” She patted his face. “You’re an old man. Think of how much faster you’ll sag and wrinkle in prison.”
“I won’t go to prison. God, I’m going to get you. I played with you for six months. I should have strangled you.”
“Just try it, you old bastard.” She smiled down at him, lifted her foot, and landed it square in his groin.
He screamed, clutching himself.
“Well done, Sally,” Quinlan said. “You sure you don’t want to shoot him?”
There was a shot from upstairs.
32
QUINLAN STRUCK AMORY St. John hard on his jaw.
One down, he thought, as St. John’s head lolled to the side. They had only one weapon—Quinlan’s gun, taken off old Purn Davies, the one that Quinlan had pressed to Amory St. John’s temple.
When Thomas had gone upstairs unarmed, Sally hadn’t thought, hadn’t imagined that her aunt could shoot someone.
Suddenly Corey moved like lightning, throwing herself into the shadowed recess just to the side at the base of the stairs.
They watched in silence as Thomas, his arm bleeding rivulets through his fingers, came down the stairs, Amabel behind him with a pistol to the back of his head.
“Throw that gun toward the living room, Mr. Quinlan.”
Instead, Quinlan slid it across the highly polished oak floor right toward the spot where Corey was crouched.
“You don’t have such a good aim, do you? No matter. Now, move away from him. That’s right. Go stand by Sally.
“You, sir, keep moving or I’ll shoot you in the back of your neck. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“No,” Thomas said, sounding dazed, “I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“You’re bleeding all over my floor. Well, who cares? I doubt we’ll ever come back here anyway. Now, Mr. Quinlan, you and Sally just take two more steps back. Good. Don’t try anything. You’re always bragging about FBI agents, but this one’s just like you, Mr. Quinlan, he’s just a man. Look at all that blood—and it’s only a little wound in his arm. He’s not whining, I’ll say that for him. Now don’t move.” She looked down. “Amory, you can get up now.”
Sally got to her feet. She was sore, her scalp hurt, and she felt better than she’d ever felt in her life. “James,” she said, “I’m so glad to see you. You, too, Corey. Amabel said the three of you were in that shed behind Doc Spiver’s cottage.”
“Yeah,” Quinlan said, “but we’re special agents. We got out. Well, actually, it’s Corey who’s the hero. You know, Sally, I noticed a gray hair. Let Corey untie your hands.”
When she had feeling back in her wrists, she went and stood over the man who’d been her father for so many years, the man she’d hated for so long, the man who hated her. He was on the floor, at her feet.
She got down on her knees. She smiled. “Now it’s my chance to tell you what I think of you. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing. You’ll never have a hold over anybody again for as long as you live. I hate you. More than that, I despise you.” She drew back her fist and slammed it into his nose.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.” She rubbed her knuckles.
He was quivering with rage. His nose began to bleed. He quieted only when he felt the gun press still harder against his temple.
“You want to know something else? Noelle is ecstatic that you’re gone. She hates you as much as I do. She’s free of you. I’m free of you. Soon you’ll be in a cage where you belong.”
She stared down at him, at the blood seeping out of his nose, at the rage in his eyes. “Fucking bastard.” She rose and kicked him in the ribs.
“Shut up, you crazy bitch. Hey, you’re a cop. Don’t let her beat me.”
“I’ll let her shoot you in the balls if she wants to,” Quinlan said. “Sally? Would you like to shoot him?”
“No, not now. Well, just not this exact minute. You know what, old man? Noelle looks utterly beautiful. I’ll bet she’ll be going out again very soon. She’ll have any man she wants.”
“She won’t dare. She’d know I’d kill her if she even looked at another man. Yes, I’d kill both of them.”
“You aren’t going to kill anybody,” Sally said, eyes mean and bright, joy in her voice. “You’re going to jail for the rest of your miserable life.” She patted his face. “You’re an old man. Think of how much faster you’ll sag and wrinkle in prison.”
“I won’t go to prison. God, I’m going to get you. I played with you for six months. I should have strangled you.”
“Just try it, you old bastard.” She smiled down at him, lifted her foot, and landed it square in his groin.
He screamed, clutching himself.
“Well done, Sally,” Quinlan said. “You sure you don’t want to shoot him?”
There was a shot from upstairs.
32
QUINLAN STRUCK AMORY St. John hard on his jaw.
One down, he thought, as St. John’s head lolled to the side. They had only one weapon—Quinlan’s gun, taken off old Purn Davies, the one that Quinlan had pressed to Amory St. John’s temple.
When Thomas had gone upstairs unarmed, Sally hadn’t thought, hadn’t imagined that her aunt could shoot someone.
Suddenly Corey moved like lightning, throwing herself into the shadowed recess just to the side at the base of the stairs.
They watched in silence as Thomas, his arm bleeding rivulets through his fingers, came down the stairs, Amabel behind him with a pistol to the back of his head.
“Throw that gun toward the living room, Mr. Quinlan.”
Instead, Quinlan slid it across the highly polished oak floor right toward the spot where Corey was crouched.
“You don’t have such a good aim, do you? No matter. Now, move away from him. That’s right. Go stand by Sally.
“You, sir, keep moving or I’ll shoot you in the back of your neck. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“No,” Thomas said, sounding dazed, “I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“You’re bleeding all over my floor. Well, who cares? I doubt we’ll ever come back here anyway. Now, Mr. Quinlan, you and Sally just take two more steps back. Good. Don’t try anything. You’re always bragging about FBI agents, but this one’s just like you, Mr. Quinlan, he’s just a man. Look at all that blood—and it’s only a little wound in his arm. He’s not whining, I’ll say that for him. Now don’t move.” She looked down. “Amory, you can get up now.”
