saying nothing, and she was staring down at the leaf-strewn ground, then over at the oak tree where the bullet had struck, hugging Coop’s jacket around herself.
He walked to the oak tree, dug out the bullet casing. If Lucy had been a second later—a split second—he would be dead.
CHAPTER 60
Three teenage boys had told Coop they’d seen this jazzy woman, carrying something under her arm wrapped in a jacket, jump into a dirty dark blue Chevy Monte Carlo, with a ding on the back passenger-side fender.
They talked over one another until a tall, skinny kid won out because his voice was the loudest. “Short red hair, in spikes like a punk, you know. She was tall, and kind of skinny.”
They’d nailed Kirsten down to the “jazzy.”
“Dude, sir, she was flying. Ponce here yelled after her, and she shot him the finger and was outta here.”
“She nearly clipped a fire plug, you know, headed out of the park on Clotter Street.”
“Clotter’s one-way, heads right to the Potomac.”
“That old Monte Carlo, she floored the sucker, rooster-tailed gravel.”
Coop, the dude himself, looked around now at the half dozen agents sitting at the CAU conference table. “Any ideas where she would go? She should be desperate, low on money, no supports left that we know of, having to rob or steal most everything she needs.” Then he frowned. “Of course, we can’t be sure of that.”
Savich said without hesitation, “She isn’t going anywhere until she kills me. Today she nearly did.” He looked at Lucy, who was sitting silently next to Coop. She looked as if she wasn’t there, as if she were far away, in a world no one else could see.
Ruth said, “Bruce Comafield wasn’t just trying to scare you, Dillon. She must be fixated on killing you, given the chance she took trailing you to the park and opening fire on four armed agents.
“So, you’re not going to be alone until we bring her down. No more playing Frisbee in the park. In fact, we all think you should camp out here in the CAU. We’ll bring in veggie pizzas.”
Like that was going to happen, Savich thought. Then he realized he hadn’t eaten, and he was hungry. One of Dizzy Dan’s pizzas sounded pretty good.
Dane said, “I still don’t understand how you did it, Lucy, how you came to knock Savich down the second before Kirsten fired at him. What did you see?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Beneath the table, Coop took her hand, squeezed it. Her skin was cold—not a surprise, given that death had crouched on her shoulder that morning. And what she’d done, knocking Savich down like that, had scared him just as much. Savich had flirted with shock as well when he was standing there digging out the casing in the oak tree, but he’d focused on his son, jollying him out of fright, telling him what an adventure they’d had, how Marty was going to be so jealous she might not speak to him for a day or two. Still, Coop knew both Savich and Sherlock had to be worried sick about Sean, about how death had brushed too close to their little boy.
“Lucy?” Savich said.
Eric Clapton sang out “Tears in Heaven.”
“Savich here.”
A brief pause, then he said clearly, “You’re talking too fast, Kirsten. Say that again.”
Ollie was out of his chair, racing to trace the call.
Everyone at the conference table leaned toward Savich. Savich’s face, Coop saw, was red with rage, but that rage didn’t sound through in his voice.
“How did you get my number, Kirsten?”
They all stared at Savich’s cell, silently praying that she would keep talking until Ollie located her phone. They could hear her screaming at Savich, something about Bruce Comafield.
“Bruce died because he was with you, Kirsten. It’s on your head, not mine.”
More screaming.
“Truth is, I’m sorry he died. I was thinking I could put it out he was alive and lure you back to the hospital to try to save him. But he didn’t make it.”
More screaming, then a moment of silence before Savich said, “If you were me, you’d have thought about doing the same thing, wouldn’t you?”
Savich continued after a moment, voice calm and slow, “Would you have come to the hospital to see Bruce?”
Coop heard cursing vile enough to curl his mother’s hair. After she’d run down again, Savich said, “You’re not going to have another try at Ann Marie Slatter. She’s safe now.
“No, don’t congratulate yourself on that, either. The redhead isn’t dead; your drugs didn’t kill her. She’s very much alive, and she will stay that way, just as Ann Marie Slatter will.
“Listen, Kirsten, you need to stop this. What you’re doing isn’t about them, anyway. You need to meet me alone, and we can have it out. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Or do you want to hide and try to shoot me from a hundred yards away again? Yep, we found where you’d been crouched down, waiting to get a good shot at me. But you missed, didn’t you? Why was that? I guess you’re just not good enough.”
There was more screaming, and Savich held the phone a bit away from his ear.
“You can try to kill me, Kirsten, but what makes you think you’ll do better next time? How did you get my cell number?” After a pause, he said, “Yes, I did ask our unit secretary to give out my number to any woman who called. Again, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?”
She didn’t answer; she hung up. Savich pushed a button on his cell. “Dane, where is she?”
“She was moving in a vehicle near Arlington National Cemetery. We lost her when she turned off her cell. The cops are on their way. We’ve got to hope she’s still driving the Monte Carlo.”
Savich slipped his cell back into his breast pocket. “Now we wait.” He added, more to himself than to the group, “Sherlock will be back later, after she drops Sean with his grandmother and Senator Monroe. We wanted him as far away from Kirsten as possible.” He paused, remembering the park and how scared he’d been. He drew a deep breath. “Unless we’re lucky, they won’t know what she’s driving, but she’ll call me back after—”
“After what?” Coop asked.
Savich’s voice was utterly emotionless. “She’s in a killing rage. Someone in Virginia will die very soon now.”
CHAPTER 61
Wesley Heights
Lucy sat cross-legged on the bed, her fingers twisting and untwisting the fringe on a bright blue afghan.
Coop said nothing, simply sipped at his coffee and watched her. Finally he said, “Kirsten’s call to Savich this afternoon kept you from explaining what happened in the park this morning, Lucy. You’ve had time to think about it. Want to try out your explanation on me? I’ll give you a fair hearing.”
