any of those, she’ll catch us in no time.” Will stopped beside Watkins’s Lincoln. Patty limped over to it and drove the pitchfork through the tire.
“Why don’t you just shoot it?” Will called down.
“I may need what’s in here.” It took two tries, but she stabbed through the left rear tire of Susan’s nifty Porsche. Then she climbed back onto the step. “Over there, the Jaguar!” she cried.
They were still twenty feet away from the car when Susan appeared at the corner of the house. She was bathed eerily in the light from the windows, her lips pulled back in a snarling, wolflike rictus as she fired.
“Go!” Patty cried.
She fired once at Susan and once at the Jaguar’s tire, missing both times. The third shot produced only an impotent click. With the cracks from Susan’s gun growing fainter, Will steered the tractor around two huge oaks and back onto the gravel driveway. One of the only things he remembered from the drive to Roxbury with Watkins was the right turn he took at the base of the drive.
“Even Boyd Halliday might have difficulty explaining that mess back there,” Will said as he made the right and they rumbled off down a narrow, deserted country road.
He was feeling absolutely buoyant.
“You have this thing wide open?” Patty asked grimly.
“Full speed ahead. Why?”
“I don’t think we can chance being on this much longer. Dammit, I should have taken more time for that shot at the Jaguar’s tire.”
“Nonsense.”
“Just the same, assuming Hollister limps inside, finds the keys to the Jag, and limps back out, she’ll be on top of us before you know it. Then there’s the people she told Watkins to call. They could come driving down this road at any second.”
Will rapidly deflated.
“So what should we do?”
“I’d rather take our chances in the dark in the woods than out here on this noble steed. You want your sneakers back?”
“No way. You’ve earned them. Besides, given where my socks have been, I don’t think I want to risk even touching them.”
“We should get off this thing soon,” she said. “One more minute, two at the most. I’m out of bullets, but I guarantee you that your pretty practice partner has plenty. I’ll get off and move inside the tree line. You drive about a hundred more yards, then ditch the tractor, get into the woods, and work your way back here. I’ll go straight in, twenty or twenty-five yards. That’s where we’ll meet.”
Without questioning, Will did as he was told, nosing the tractor off into the edge of the woods, then gingerly hiking back to where he estimated Patty was waiting. In just a few minutes, he heard her harsh whisper, calling him to the right. He was holding her tightly, concealed in a dense grove of young beech trees, when they heard a car skid to a halt by the tractor. Another minute and it accelerated, headlights slicing through the blackness as it sped past them toward the farm.
“Once again the woman in the pajamas proves her worth,” he whispered, genuinely impressed as he had been so many times this night. “You are the master. Speak, and so it shall be.”
“Well, I say we head diagonally away from the tractor and away from the farm. They’ll be back as soon as they meet up with Hollister. If we can put some distance between us and that road, I think we’ve got a chance. It’s cold out here, but not cold enough to kill us. As long as you can walk, if we just keep putting one foot in front of the other, sooner or later we’ve got to run into some sort of civilization. Massachusetts isn’t that big. Your feet okay?”
“I can manage. How about yours?”
“The right one where I stepped on the glass is starting to kill, but I can handle it. The sneaks are a godsend.”
“And they really look good on you, too.”
As rapidly as they could manage, they pushed deeper and deeper into the forest. At one point early on they both heard voices, but those quickly died away. Soon, there was only silence, intense darkness, and the damp chill of night. After an hour, they sank down at the base of a tree and held each other.
“Should we keep going, or try to wait until morning?” Will asked.
“I don’t mind resting for a bit, but I think we should push on. Halliday has a big meeting in the morning. He spoke about it when he thought I was in a coma. A number of companies are going to sign themselves into a merger with Excelsius. The way corporate lawyers operate, these sorts of business dealings are much easier to stop before they happen than they are to untangle afterward. If we can’t stop it, Halliday may not only get away with murder, but he’ll get away richer than ever.”
“I see what you mean. We really have no proof of anything. We may not even be able to find our way back to the farmhouse.”
“I think with a chopper we’ll be able to, but I’d be surprised if Hollister and Sanderson and the rest didn’t have the place cleaned up by then.”
She sighed.
“What? What?”
“I have a feeling it’s going to come down to our word against Halliday’s. Without those X-rays we don’t have much in the way of hard evidence. I suspect the fake slides have already been taken care of, and the pathologist who cooperated with Hollister and Newcomber dealt with one way or another. So at the moment, there’s nothing tangible to connect Excelsius and Halliday to the killings, or even to the breast-cancer scam.”
“We’ll come up with something,” Will said. “That bastard isn’t going to get away with what he’s done, even if he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. Come on. If you’re up for it, let’s keep going.”
Will helped Patty to her feet, then kissed her softly.
“You’re right,” she said. “One way or another we’ll get him. Just the same, I hate that we don’t have one hard piece of evidence. . Will? Will, are you all right? What did I say?”
Will was smiling down at her in an I-know-something-you-don’t-know way. He had just brushed his hand across his pants pocket and remembered, for the first time since Roxbury, what he had thrust in there. He slid his hand into the pocket and slowly withdrew the creased, damp, sweat-stained letter Charles Newcomber had sent him in the envelope of mammograms. He had no doubt that it contained the link between Halliday and the cancer scam.
“Merry Christmas, Sergeant,” he said.
Bullock and Carruth, widely referred to as B amp;C, had been the brightest star in the Boston legal firmament for 150 years. Ed Wittenburg, in his twenty-fifth year with B amp;C, was the senior partner in charge of acquisitions and mergers. Now, he looked across the fortieth-floor conference room, past the massive floor-to-ceiling windows with their grand view of the harbor islands, and silently asked Halliday when the show was going to get under way.
Janet Daninger was worried. She had come over to Excelsius Health along with Halliday and Gold after Halliday had been wooed away from Bowling Green Textiles to become the new CEO. Marshall Gold had been his executive assistant at Bowling Green, just as he was now. It was absolutely out of character for Gold to keep his friend waiting-especially for a meeting as significant as this one, which represented the pinnacle of Boyd Halliday’s career to this point. Janet smiled inwardly at the objections from those who initially opposed his appointment as CEO by pointing out that successfully repositioning a textile manufacturer did not necessarily translate into dealing with the highly competitive and volatile managed-care industry. How wrong they had proven to be.
“Try once more, Janet,” Halliday said. “I think we’ve got to get going. It’s just that Marshall did so much to ensure that this day came to pass, it seems only fitting that he should be here.”
He turned to the twenty men and women seated a comfortable distance apart from one another around the massive mahogany table. In front of each of them was an elegant name plate with their name and the name of the company they would be bringing into the Excelsius family. Premier Care, Unity Comprehensive Health, Steadfast Health, Coastal Community Care. In front of each of the attendees was an inch of documents, flagged where signatures would be needed. Beside those documents was a glossy brochure, trumpeting the new corporation: Excelsius National Health.
