Split Second (28 page)

CHAPTER 65

A car came slowly around the corner, headlights dimmed, a Crown Victoria, the first patrol car.

Coop hadn’t expected anyone quite this fast. At least the officer had come in silently. The car slowed a good distance away from him, stopped. Coop waved toward Savich and trotted toward the car, his gun loose against his side.

He looked into the open driver’s window to see a young man in a WPD uniform, a patrolman’s hat on his head.

The patrolman raised a gun and aimed it right at Coop’s face, and out of the young man’s mouth came, “Well, now, isn’t this the sweetest thing? You came trotting right over to me. Agent McKnight, isn’t that right? For a moment there I thought you were the big dog himself, and I’d gotten real lucky. I saw you bring down whiny little Bobby, then the big dog caught Melody. The little bitch didn’t run very hard, now, did she?”

Coop saw a shadow moving toward them. Savich?

He said calmly, “You sure fooled us, Kirsten; that Crown Vic you’re driving looks just like a police cruiser, and the patrol hat you’re wearing works. But you really should drop the eye makeup when you’re trying to play a cop.”

“I’d shoot you dead, Agent, but I need you to get out of here. Get in the car now, or I’ll shoot you dead anyway, right here. Give me that gun. You’re going to drive.”

Her gun never wavered as she scooted over to the passenger side. Could he bring up his SIG in time? Maybe drop to the ground? No, she had the gun pointed straight at him, and she was too close. He got into the car, handed her his SIG.

“You and I are going on a little road trip, Agent McKnight. Get out of here, now!”

He couldn’t stall. She was pressing the cold, hard steel of her Smith & Wesson against his temple. He pressed on the gas. He saw Savich clearly in the rearview mirror, his SIG drawn—but then an older man stepped out onto his front porch, and Savich lowered his gun.

“Go! Fast! Or I’ll take down that old codger.”

Coop went. Fast.

Savich came to a stop in the middle of the street, kept his SIG pressed to his side. “It’s okay, Mr. McPherson. You should go back inside now.”

When Ollie arrived two minutes later, it was to see Savich’s Porsche peeling out of his driveway, Sherlock beside him, speeding away.

Lucy was left with two terrified children, Ollie beside her.

They both looked up to see Mr. McPherson again on his front porch, watching.

CHAPTER 66

Early Sunday morning

If you don’t survive, Cooper McKnight, I will be well and truly pissed.

It was nearly dawn when Lucy pulled Coop’s Corvette back into his parking place at his condo in Wesley Heights. She was numb with fear because that madwoman had Coop. Had she already killed him? No, he was her hostage; there was no reason to kill him.
Yet. No, Coop’s smart. He’ll be okay.
It was now her mantra. She leaned her head against the steering wheel. Her cell rang, and she grabbed it up.

It was Sherlock. “Lucy, we haven’t seen them yet, but we’ve got an APB out on the Crown Vic. We’ve notified every law enforcement agency in both states to watch out for the car but to keep clear of them.”

Yeah, sure, like that’s going to get any results.
Lucy said, her voice flat, “You know she’s changed out cars.”

“Yes, it’s very probable she has. But listen up, we have an ace in the hole. Kirsten hasn’t taken Coop’s cell phone, and it’s on. The GPS location signal is moving south toward North Carolina, and so are we. We’ll follow the GPS signal until we get to them ourselves. It will be enough, Lucy. Coop is well trained; he’ll do what he needs to do.”

Lucy started to say
But what if she takes his cell?
but she didn’t—those words blighted hope. She said instead, “How can Kirsten possibly expect to control him for long while he’s driving? How many hours can they drive before she has to sleep? What will she do with him then?”

Lucy heard Savich say, “You’re right, but like Sherlock said, we’ve got the GPS signal, and we’re traveling faster than they are. Look, Lucy, Kirsten could drug him, tie him up, whatever.” She could shoot him dead, but he didn’t say those words.

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.”

“Here you are a federal agent, Lucy, yet you’re a crappy liar. Now, let’s get out of here before someone comes out.”

The Corvette roared to life. She backed out of Coop’s parking place.

Miranda gave her directions in a low, intense voice, her Kel Tec aimed at Lucy’s head.

When she pulled in front of the Allenby Motel on Cumberland Street, Miranda directed her to the back. She pulled a key out of her pocket. “We’re going to the second level, to room twenty-two. You’re going to stand in front of me, and you’re going to take the key. Here.”

As Lucy turned to face her, Miranda grabbed the golden chain and ripped it off her neck. Lucy cried out, grabbed at her hand, but Miranda shoved her Kel Tec into her ear.

She smiled, clutching the ring and the broken chain in her hand. “You gave it your best shot, Lucy. Don’t try anything else, or I’ll have to shoot you in the head. I thought I saw something pushing out from under your shirt. Be a good girl, do as you’re told, and you might get out of this alive.”

CHAPTER 67

Outside Fort Grant, North Carolina

Coop was more tired than he was afraid, and he knew that meant his brain wasn’t as sharp as it needed to be. The sun had been up for two hours, and an hour before, Kirsten had directed him off the highway to pull into a 24/7 drive-through. They’d eaten breakfast biscuits, and he’d drunk a ton of coffee. Coop had been afraid she’d hurt the kid who took their orders, a smart-mouthed, freckle-faced little idiot who wondered why Kirsten was wearing a cop uniform with her black hair spiked up like a punker, but she’d laughed and told him he was stupid as spit.

She’d insisted on hot-wiring a ratty Dodge Magnum out of the parking lot of a shoe repair shop across the street from the drive-through, switching out the license plate for a rusty old Virginia plate she’d stashed in the Crown Victoria trunk, and left the Ford around the corner on the street.

Even though she could shoot him in a moment of time, Coop was still filled with hope—Kirsten had forgotten to take his cell phone, and as long as it was on and in his pocket, Savich could track them. All he had to do was keep himself alive until the cavalry showed up.

Kirsten had to be tired, too, and he figured that made them about even. He looked over at her and gave a start.

She was staring at him—her eyes fixed, her black mascara smudged a bit—didn’t she blink? She kept his own SIG pressed against his side; though it was a heavy gun, her hand stayed steady. The white makeup she liked to wear was nearly gone now, along with the bloodred lipstick. She looked older than her years in the harsh morning light.

“Hi, there, handsome. You haven’t said a word in a long time. You’re staring at me. Like what you see? Bruce loved to look at me, and he’d touch me, you know, like he was stroking a cat, and I’d arch my back and purr for him. It’s kind of nice having a man look at me like that again, having someone easy to look at to talk to instead of driving around all on my own.

“Hey, why don’t I call you Coop? That’s what I heard that littlegirl FBI agent call you. You two sleeping together? You are, right? I got that vibe loud and clear. What, you playing at being a gentleman, not saying a word?”

“You’re welcome to call me Coop, Kirsten. I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You need a shave, but that black stubble is pretty sexy. You thinking about your girlfriend?”

“I’m wondering where you’re taking us, Kirsten. It seems to me we’re getting pretty far away from Savich, if there’s where you want to be.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for him. Too many people up there looking for me right now, partner.” She laughed. “I guess you can think of this as a little pilgrimage, back to my daddy’s roots down south. I was slowly heading down the coast, anyway. Daddy always tells me I’ve got to be fast on my feet, be willing to change my plans on a dime.”

“He’d be proud of you, then.”

“I like to think so.” She frowned. “He was smart that way. Remember, he escaped that time in Aspen, jumped from a window two stories up.”

“Yeah, but he got himself caught again because he was driving crazy, weaving all over the road. Why do you figure he was doing that if he was so smart?”

“He was exhausted and probably so hungry he couldn’t think straight, that’s why.” Kirsten pressed the gun harder against his side. “It wasn’t his fault. They had the whole hick town out looking for him. He didn’t have a chance.”

“Why are we traveling south, Kirsten? You said something about a pilgrimage to Daddy’s roots—are we going to visit Starke Prison in Raiford? You want to see your daddy’s cell on death row? But why would you want to see where your daddy got strapped into Old Sparky and had two thousand volts shot through his body?”

She breathed in hard and knuckled away the tears in her eyes, smearing her mascara even more. “It was cruel what those animals did to him, and you know they acted all solemn and moral when they did it.

“Old Sparky! Can you believe that name? I’d like to strap all those animals down and fry them but good.”

“Well, a lot of people agree with you. Old Sparky got retired a long time ago.

“They’re more humane now; with the lethal injection, you’re out and gone in an instant. Still, some people complain the needle hurts going in, and that’s still cruel and inhuman. Go figure.”

She poked him hard with the SIG in his ribs. “Do you honestly believe for a single minute your fed buddies are going to catch me? Do you honestly believe you’ll see me on death row?” She was shaking her head back and forth as she spoke. Then she laughed. “Not in your lifetime, boy.”

“I guess you’re in control of my lifetime right now, Kirsten. I wasn’t the one who flipped the switch on your daddy. Take it easy, okay?”

She laughed again, then turned reflective. “You know, Coop, I always believed it would be nice to visit Daddy’s grave site, say some prayers, since I’ll bet no one else ever has. But he wasn’t buried, they cremated him. They fried him, then they burned him!”

Coop slowed a bit to let a sports car rocket past him. Too bad it wasn’t Savich’s Porsche. He shot a quick look in the rearview mirror. Traffic was getting thicker now, but there wasn’t any sign of a Porsche. Or a police car, for that matter. He had to be patient. He just had to stay alive.

He asked her, “What did they do with his ashes?”

“I couldn’t find out for sure. Some say his ashes were scattered in the Cascades, but I don’t believe that for a minute. They probably made it up, one of those media myths. Yeah, if anything, they threw away his ashes.”

She was angry now, breathing hard, and he didn’t want to get shot. He kept his voice low and calm. “You read all about your daddy on the Internet, right? That’s how you know all about him?”

She turned empty eyes to him. “Yeah, I’m an expert on my daddy, but it wasn’t the same thing as really knowing him, having him hug me, tell me how much he loved me, admired me. I thought about what he and I could have done together, and I got to where I’d ask him his advice, you know, should I put out the lights of that little bitch who disrespected me? Sometimes it was like he answered me; I’d see exactly what to do. But he wasn’t ever really there for me, thanks to my mother.” She paused for a moment, never looking away from him. “I’m thinking maybe we’ll go to Starke Prison, maybe hang out in Raiford; then again, maybe we won’t. I’ll figure it all out; I always do. I’m real lucky that way, lots of brain power. From my daddy, not my bitch of a mother.”

He gave her a smile. “I’ve never been to Starke Prison before. Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

“You think some of those bozo guards are going to rescue you? Fat chance.” She grunted, shoved the SIG against his side again. “I’ll bet you the cell where they locked Daddy was cold and damp, and you couldn’t breathe right, you know?”

“No, I don’t know, and neither do you. Kirsten, you’re going to have to sleep soon, and so am I, or I might wreck us.”

“We’ll take our chances on that, Coop,” she said, looking at all the traffic around them. “We’re going to put some distance between us and that parking lot in Fort Grant. I wouldn’t want any of you feds getting lucky.”

“How could anyone know about this car?”

“It seems to me this Savich guy knows stuff he shouldn’t.”

That was true enough.

She was silent, never looking away from his face. “It was so weird, when I had Savich lined up in my sights, and then your girlfriend slammed into him. It doesn’t make any sense. He was standing there alone, none of you near him, asking for me to shoot him, and I did, but down he went, and my shot was high.”

“Kirsten, you simply missed him, okay? We all thought you’d want to get in his face when you killed him.”

She shrugged. “Shooting him seemed like a decent idea at the time. Hey, I know where I want to go. Did you know I’ve got a little sister? I figure she’s nearly thirty now.”

“Yes, I read about your half sister.”

“I don’t know where she is. When her mama took her away from Raiford way back in the mid-eighties, I’ll bet she changed her name. I always wondered what my sister is like, whether she knows who her daddy was, or whether her mama erased him like mine did?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “For your sister’s sake, I hope she did.”

His SIG slammed hard into his ribs, and he felt pain steal his breath. His hand jerked the steering wheel to the left. Kirsten jerked the steering wheel back, to the sounds of a dozen sharp car horns. “Watch your mouth, boy, if you don’t want me to put three bullets in your side.”

“If you do, I’ll kill both of us. I promise you that, Kirsten.”

“Yeah, you would try that, wouldn’t you? You’d kill both you and me for—what is it?—oh, yeah, the greater good.” Then in the next breath, she said, “I wish I could find out my half sister’s name. Her mama named her Mary Lou—boy, is that ever a stupid name. But like I said, I’ll bet she changed both their names when she left Raiford.

“I’d like to see how Mary Lou turned out, you know? Does she have four little kiddies, live in a dopey house in some stupid suburb, and have a boring accountant for a husband, like that Arnette Carpenter did? What a loss that guy was. I know that for a fact; I had drinks with him after I took care of his wife.”

Coop pictured Roy Carpenter as he’d seen him—
was it only a week ago?
—how devastated he looked three years after his wife’s murder at this psychopath’s hands, the deep abiding pain in his eyes. “Tell me about Arnette Carpenter.”

“Yeah? She was a talented little cow, conceited, full of herself, always lording it over me, adored that loser husband of hers.”

“Where did you bury her, Kirsten?”

Kirsten laughed. “A freebie for you, Coop. I planted her on the VA hospital grounds, under a huge old oak tree facing the ocean. A great view. Too bad she doesn’t care anymore.” She tapped her fingers against her leg, frowned. “You know, it kind of pisses me off that Daddy married that stupid woman but not my own mother.”

“I understand she worked with your father.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe he worked with my mother, too; she wouldn’t tell me, wouldn’t even say how she met him. He must have known Mary Lou’s mother even before he knew my mom. Can you believe that weird Florida law, though—they allowed Daddy to declare in court they were married, and whoop-de-do, the deed was done. They even let him sleep with her in prison lots of times. So my little sister came along in 1982, four years after I did. I really want to find them both. Do you think I’ll like them?”

He kept quiet.

“Well, do you?”

“Sure. Why not?”

She chewed her bottom lip, the last of the dark red lipstick long gone. “I’ll bet you she’d tell me more than my mother ever told me, which is a big fat zero.”

“What would you like her to tell you? That he used a hacksaw to cut off people’s heads?”

She only shrugged. “Who cares? They were dead; they didn’t know.”

“Do you know he confessed to cremating one of his victims’ heads in his current girlfriend’s fireplace?”

His SIG jammed against his ribs again. He managed not to grunt in pain, but it hurt, really hurt.

“He was having some fun, that’s all, just a little fun, and like I said, what did those girls care? They were dead and gone.”

“How many women have you killed, Kirsten? I believe your daddy confessed to thirty-five.”

“After I drop-kick your butt out of here, Agent McKnight, that’ll be one less I’ll have to go.”

“Nah, I won’t count. I’m a guy.”

“You keep driving, you punk. I’ve got me a call to make.”

Coop watched her hit speed dial. Bruce Comafield was dead, so who was she calling?

She never took her eyes off him. “Yeah, it’s me. I wanted you to know I’m heading to Florida. Can’t talk right now, but I’ll call you from there. I’m having fun, got me a big FBI agent driving me. He’s my own personal chauffeur.”

She listened, then said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll be careful. Bye.”

“Who was that?”

“What do you care? I’ve got lots of friends.”

“At least there’ll be someone to scatter your ashes after you’re dead. Who was that?”

“Bruce could have scattered my ashes, if you hadn’t murdered him. He loved me, do you hear?”

“Maybe, but he’s gone now.”

“Shut up! All right, my mother would scatter my ashes, and so would—never mind. Take this exit, and get us out of sight—no cars, no houses.”

Was she going to kill him?

He took the next exit off I-95, drove past a couple of gas stations and fast-food places on the access road. Soon they were in the boonies. There were flat tobacco fields on both sides of the country road, harvested stalks were a golden carpet to the horizon, the few houses and barns set far back from the road.

“Pull over. You and I are going to pee.”

Coop’s heart slowed down a bit.

He knew she was watching him from behind, but he didn’t care. When he was turning, she struck him hard on the back of his head.

When he came to his senses, she was standing over him, whistling “Country Road.”

“Unlike a guy, a girl’s gotta have both hands. Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s get going.”

She had his SIG in her hand, but she knew he was hurt, and she was looking around, checking things out. It was his chance. He started to kick up at her, and she shot him.