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
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?”
