Split Second

There wasn’t a taxi in sight. “Well, we’re not far from your place, right, Genny?”

Genny couldn’t answer, she was too busy simply keeping herself upright, putting one foot in front of the other.

It took a long time to get to her building on Pine Street, since every single step was a trial and error, but finally, with Monica supporting her, she managed to get her key into the outside lock.

It was past midnight. No one was around at that hour, certainly not the doorman, Sidney, who liked to snooze the night away in the storage room behind the counter.

Monica helped her onto the elevator. Genny studied the board, finally punched the button for the fourth floor. When the elevator doors opened, Genny was wheezing, barely able to walk. “I’m not going to make it.”

“Sure you will. Hang in there, Genny, you’re doing fine. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

Monica took the key out of Genny’s hand when they reached her door at the end of the corridor, opened the door, and eased her inside.

“Yes, Genny, you made it. I’m proud of you. Now let’s get you inside, and everything will be all right, I promise.”

CHAPTER 29

Chevy Chase, Maryland

Tuesday morning

When her cell blasted out the horse-race trumpet call, Lucy’s hand jerked, sloshing her coffee over the side of her Betty Boop mug.

“Hello, Lucy Carlyle here.”

“Agent Carlyle, this is Dr. Amos Judd. I completed the autopsy on your grandfather’s remains. Agent Savich asked me to call you directly.”

She swallowed. “Yes, Dr. Judd, thank you. What can you tell me?” Remains—that’s what her grandfather was now.

“I found scoring on two of the back ribs, consistent with a large smooth blade, such as a butcher knife, that penetrated the chest. There was also sharp scoring of a thoracic vertebra, indicating the thrust was deep, the blade headed straight for the heart. He died quickly, Agent Carlyle.”

Lucy thanked Dr. Judd, punched off her cell, and poured more coffee into her mug. She didn’t drink, just cupped the mug in her hands to warm them.

Her cell rang again.

It was their longtime family lawyer, Mr. Bernard Claymore.

His old voice sounded surprisingly strong and firm. He asked how she was doing, then immediately said, “I called, Lucy, to tell you I need to see you immediately. Your grandfather left me an envelope twenty-two years ago, told me to give it to you only after your own father died. This, unfortunately, happened much too soon. Come by and I will give it to you.”

She stared at her cell phone. An envelope from her grandfather? Her heart began to pound. Answers, she thought, perhaps at last she would have answers.

An hour later, she walked out of Mr. Claymore’s elegant suite of offices in the Claymore Building on M Street, an envelope clutched in her hand. Mr. Claymore told her he had no idea what was in the envelope; he’d simply kept it in his safe for the past twenty-two years. He assured her he had, indeed, followed her grandfather’s instructions to the letter.

Another thirty-five minutes, and she was maneuvering her Range Rover into a space that was really too small for her baby, but she was used to that, and she was good. She settled in with a few precious inches to spare. Her cell rang again, and she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, sighed, and picked up. “Carlyle.”

“Hi, Carlyle. It’s McKnight.” A brief pause, then, “Is something wrong?”

Why did everyone assume something was wrong? Surely she sounded fine and normal, thank you very much. Well, being hypnotized, remembering things that curled her toes whenever she thought too closely about it, that had been bizarre. She could picture Coop in her mind, an intense look on his lean face, focusing all his intelligence on the tone of her voice. This guy wasn’t a dog, no doubt in her mind now. She knew to her bones that once Coop found someone, made a commitment, he’d stick. She smiled at that thought. Focus away, boyo, there’s nothing for you to hear. “Not a thing, Coop, not a single thing’s wrong. I’ve—well, I’ve got some stuff I have to do this morning. You know, concerning my grandfather. I’ll be in about noon, okay?”

“Tell you what, why don’t I meet you, help you take care of this stuff? Then you and I can talk a little about how you’re really doing.”

Yeah, right. Still, what could she say? Coop didn’t have to know what was in the safe-deposit box; it wasn’t his business. She could be silent as the Sphinx if she wanted to. She felt filled with energy, excited about what she would find in that box. But it was more than that. She felt revved, ready to take on the world, even Kirsten Bolger. “Sure, Coop, that’ll be fine. I’m, ah, in front of the First National Bank here in Chevy Chase.”

“Wait for me.”

Lucy punched off her cell, sighed again, and closed her hands tightly around the steering wheel. Should she wait, or go into the bank? She saw there was a Starbucks across the street with not much of a line.

When Coop arrived in his blue Corvette, people rubbernecking to get a better look, she smiled. She stepped out of her Range Rover as he navigated his splendid machine into a parking space nearly as small as hers.

She knew he was studying her face through his dark sunglasses as he walked toward her with that lazy walk of his. He was in his prized shearling coat, since it was chilly today. She gave him a big grin and handed him a covered cup of coffee—black, the way he liked it. She saluted him. “Thanks for coming to me, Coop.”

He slipped his sunglasses in his coat pocket. “Yeah, well, it’s my pleasure, Agent Carlyle. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you today. Sherlock and I are flying up to New York City in a couple of hours. There was another Black Beret killing up there last night, and we have a good witness—a guy who talked to her.”

“Savich didn’t call me. Why aren’t I going?”

“Savich wants you here with him after what happened. Don’t look blank, Lucy, you know exactly what I mean. You found your grandfather in a steamer trunk, and got yourself hypnotized. Dr. Hicks’s orders, Savich said. He’ll probably call you.” He took a sip of the sinful coffee, gave a little shudder. “This perks my chest hair right up.”

“I was just thinking that.”

He eyed her. “I might need some clarification. You were thinking exactly that?”

She laughed. “I’m here to look in a safe-deposit box that belonged to my grandfather, Coop.”

“Really? You’re going in to see what’s in the box? Right now?”

“You got it.”

She was excited, nervous, he read it clearly on her face, and there was something else in her eyes as well. Was it fear? Fear of finding something else that would wreck her world, something about why her grandfather’s body was in that steamer trunk?

She tried to leave him in the main lobby inside the bank, but he stuck with her. He said nothing at all when the bank employee looked up the box number on the computer and told her there was a note that she could be coming, even though this was the very first visit to this particular safe-deposit box in twenty-two years, and wasn’t that a kick?

Yeah, Coop thought, a real kick, but then again, her grandfather had been dead for twenty-two years. He had a good dozen questions ready to trip off his tongue, but Lucy was doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there. She followed the woman to the elevators, and disappeared.

Who had kept the box open, he wondered, standing against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and why hadn’t she come to the bank before and opened the box rather than waiting until today? Had she just found out