The light touch of sarcasm floated through her brain, then wafted away, not really touching her. She looked up, smiled at him. “What a day.”
A dark eyebrow cocked up.
“You know, Coop, I’d rather haul you to the bedroom and take you down on that rock-hard mattress.”
He eyed her, not changing expression. “As a distraction, that’s a perfect ten.”
She kept twisting and knotting the fringe, all her attention on her fingers. She drew a deep breath. “Okay, give me your fair hearing. I saw Kirsten, saw the glint of her rifle, saw she was aiming at Dillon. I ran my heart out and managed to get to him in time.”
He rose and looked down at her. “All right, the verdict. That would sound plausible enough to anyone who wasn’t there, but not to me, or to Savich or Sherlock, either. At that distance, there’s not a chance in a million you would have seen enough to make that connection, or get to Savich in time. Did you have some kind of premonition?”
“I’m a fast runner, did you know? I ran track in high school, like Ann Marie Slatter. Not in college, though, too many boys.” And she laughed.
His cell phone rang. After a minute, he slipped it back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, Savich was right. Kirsten’s killed again, a young woman in her home in Fairfax. Strangled her. Her boyfriend found her body. We need to go.”
He tossed her his jacket as he strode to the door, and said over his shoulder, “Saved again by a phone call.”
CHAPTER 62
It was midnight when “Tears in Heaven” filled the silent bedroom.
“Hello, Kirsten. I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Savich quickly pressed two buttons, heard a low “Got it,” and switched to speakerphone.
Kirsten’s voice was high and wild. “Yeah, well, I can’t sleep, now, can I? Not with you still pulling air into your lungs, you murdering cop bastard.”
“Me? Now, that’s funny, Kirsten. Do you even know the woman’s name you strangled today?”
“Yeah, something dippy, like Mary. Who cares? Suspicious little bitch, didn’t want to let me in even though I was smiling really big and offering her a totally free trial of my company’s new vacuum. I had to kick her backward, then she started crying, trying to run, but I caught her fast enough.”
Savich felt the familiar feeling of dread pass through him—her madness, he knew, and now she’d lost any semblance of control.
“I’m not crazy!” She began cursing him again.
“What would you say you are, then?”
She fell silent. Seconds ticked by. Didn’t she know he was tracing her cell?
“How about this—you’re the daughter of one of the craziest, most perverted and depraved lunatics in history. Since your dad took the names of many of his victims to his grave, no one knows how many women he murdered. So how will you ever know when you match up to Daddy? Did you ever play with all those girls and women you murdered in San Francisco? Like Daddy did?”
“Shut up! Just shut up about Daddy! I’m going to make you suffer, suffer, suffer—” She was gasping for breath. “I should have nailed you right through your black heart at the park. I had you all lined up. I don’t know what happened—”
“Yeah, yeah. So when are you going to come after me again, Kirsten? You want me to make it easy for you? Tell you what, tomorrow morning, real early, I’ll go for a run in Deer Creek Park. You care to join me? Try to take me down again?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ll have the place crowded with cops, one behind every bush. No, I’m thinking I’m going to kill that little redheaded bitch next—you know, the one you told me survived? Like you killed Bruce? I know she’s not just another one of your agents; she’s your wife. You know how I know that? You’re even on YouTube. Hey, why don’t you hand her your cell. I’ll bet she’s listening, right?”
Even though Savich was shaking his head at her, Sherlock said, loud and clear, “Hey, Kirsten, when we were bellied up to the bar together in Baltimore, you sounded sane, like you were even fun. I can see how the other women thought you were fun, too. Boy, we were all wrong, weren’t we? You’re as crazy as one of those rabid bats that hang in the Ozark caves. You want to play with me again? What makes you think you’ll have any better luck with me than you did with my husband? He’s nice, my husband, but I’m nasty, Kirsten, mean as a pit snake. I’ll kick your bony butt through your backbone, then I’ll clamp my teeth in your neck and chew. When you’re hollering and begging, I’ll hold you down and jerk out all your teeth. Yeah, you keep cursing, it’s all you know how to do. Why don’t you come to Deer Creek Park, Kirsten? I’ll be there, too.”
Savich jumped up from the bed, turned the cell away from Sherlock. He looked furious, but when he spoke to Kirsten, he sounded calm as a judge. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kirsten. Don’t let me down or I’ll know you’re not your father’s daughter; I’ll know when it comes to the sticking point, you’re just a wannabe, a no-guts failure.”
She hung up, cursing him.
A minute later, he got a call from Agent Randy McDowell. “She’s moving, Savich, near Hightown, Virginia. I had local cops following her signal. She was heading toward D.C. I’ll keep you posted.”
Savich punched off his cell, rounded on Sherlock, who was sitting on her knees on top of the bedcovers, her hair tossed around her head, ready to fight, shaking her teacher’s finger at him. “You mess with me on this and I’ll take you down, you hear me?”
“Yeah? Like pull out my teeth?”
“Nice visual, don’t you think? That’s what Kirsten’s all about.”
“You aren’t going anywhere near her again, you hear me?”
“I’m fine physically, and you know it, so don’t try that one.”
“I’m your boss, so listen up. You are not back to one hundred percent, so don’t lie to me. I said you’re not going anywhere near that insane woman again. Even if I have to tie you down, you’ll stay right here.”
She had only a pillow at hand—a pity—but she threw it as hard as she could. He caught it out of the air.
“You try it, hotshot. Now, you listen up. The question is, did it work? Should we make arrangements to have people at Deer Creek Park in the morning?”
He growled at her and lunged. He landed against her, threw her back, and came down over her, jerked her wrists beside her head. She had no leverage, and he knew it. He stared down at her, at a loss for what to say. She looked ready to fight for a second, but then she said on a laugh, “How long are you going to hold me down?”
“As long as it takes me to think of something else. You’re going to clamp your teeth in her neck and chew?”
“Yep. Another good image, don’t you think?”
He was brimming with frustration, and she knew it. What she didn’t know was that he was seeing her lying in the hospital bed after they’d pumped her stomach, so pale and still. The memory of it was too new, too raw, for him.
In that instant, intuition and experience mixed in his mind, and he realized that Kirsten wasn’t about to wait until he was running all by himself in Deer Creek Park on Sunday morning.
He also realized Sherlock would demand to go after Kirsten even if she had to do it in a hospital nightgown. He hated it, but there was no hope for it. He kissed her hard, then helped her sit up. “Here’s what I know in my gut
