already been moving away, it would have gone right through your heart and none of us would have been able to stop it. What you did really makes me mad. I never should have trusted you, never. I was sure you knew what you were doing, but you didn't. You turned those green eyes of yours on me and that super-sincere FBI voice, and I bought everything you told me. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did, so it's my fault too. Damn you, you lost it with that murdering bastard and you didn't even care. You pushed him and pushed him. He could have forgotten all about his act. He could have just killed you without following his script. That was stupid. That really pisses me off, Sherlock.'
'It hurts, doesn't it?' said Mrs. Jameson, drawing Savich off. 'But I can't give you any pain medication. We'll have to let the doctor decide on that. Your blood pressure's just fine. Now, just hang in there. We'll be there in just a few minutes.'
At that moment, when she thought her arm would burn off her body, she said, 'I'm sorry, Dillon, but I had to.'
'Why did you shoot him in the gut? Why didn't you go for his chest?'
Her eyes were vague, filled with blurred shadows, but she knew there were no more ghosts to weave in and out of her mind, tormenting her. No, everything was all right now. His voice seemed farther away than just an instant before. What had Dillon wanted to know? Oh yes. She licked her lips, and whispered, 'I wanted him to suffer. Through the heart would have been too easy on him.'
'Finish it, Sherlock.'
'All right, the truth. He hasn't told us everything. If I could have gotten all of it out of him, then I would have shot him clean. Well, maybe. Yes, we have to get him to tell us everything, then I'll shoot him in the chest, I promise.'
She was utterly serious. On the other hand, she was woozy from pain and shock. He said slowly, smiling at her, 'Actually, if you hadn't shot him at all, if the bullet hadn't thrown him a good three feet backward in the same instant, he would have had at least thirty rounds pumped into him. So, Sherlock, the bottom line is that you really saved his life.'
'Well, damn,' she said, then smiled back up at him.
'If he pulls through, you can question him and get everything you want out of him. We'll do it together. Don't worry now. Despite the fact that I'm going to throw you across the gym when you're okay again, you still got the bastard.' But it had been close, far too close, unnecessarily so. She'd totally disobeyed orders. She'd been a loose cannon. On the other hand, he doubted she'd have ever done that if it hadn't been the psycho who had killed her sister. He'd chew her up some more when she was well again. He hoped it would be soon. She could have died so easily.
She said, 'Thank you, Dillon. Give me a while before we go to the gym and you tromp me into the floor. I don't feel so good right now.'
She leaned up and vomited into a basin quickly put under her face by Mrs. Jameson.
'You'll do, Agent Sherlock. Hey, you're not related to Mo-hammad Sherlock, that famous Middle Eastern sleuth?'
She wanted to shriek at him for the ghastly pain of those six stitches in her upper arm, but she wasn't about to make a peep. He'd given her a pain shot before he'd ever touched her with that needle, but it hadn't helped all that much. Savich was sitting in a chair by the small cubicle door, his legs crossed, his hands folded across his chest, looking at her, daring her to wuss out on him. She said between gritted teeth, 'That's one of the best ones I've heard yet, Dr. Ashad.'
He swiftly knotted off the thread. 'I pride myself on not being too trite. There, all done. Now, let's pour some stuff on this, sorry, but it'll really sting, then give you three more shots in the butt-tetanus, an antibiotic, and another pain med. Then you'll be out of here. Do go see your doctor down in Washington in a couple of days. The stitches will resorb. You can just forget about them. A great detective like you, I don't suppose you want anything for the pain?'
'I still have the strength to give you a good kick, Doctor. If you don't give me a shot, I'll do it.'
'I thought for sure that local would be strong enough for a big FBI agent, particularly one with such a flamboyant name.'
'I'm a new agent. It'll take a while to get to full pain-absorbing capacity, like that guy over there who could have his head kicked in and still sing and crack jokes.'
Savich laughed. 'Yeah, go ahead and give her a shot of something to knock her out. Otherwise she's so hyped up she won't shut up until I gag her.'
Dr. Ashad, thin, dark-skinned, yellowish teeth from too much smoking, said as he prepared three needles, 'Are you really a new agent, or is that a joke? Come on, you guys have worked together for a long time, haven't you?'
'No, I never saw her before in my life until a month ago. Now I'm going to kill her as soon as she's fit again, so our total acquaintance will have been very short in cosmic terms.'
'You're funny, Agent Savich.'
'No, I'm not.'
'Drop your pants, Agent Sherlock.'
'In the arm, please, Dr. Ashad.'
'No can do. In the butt, Agent.'
'Not until he leaves the room.'
Savich stood right outside the door. He smiled grimly when he heard her yell. Then she yelled again. Two shots. Another yell. There, that was all of them. That should fix her up. She'd nearly died. He should have known that she'd lose it and do just what she'd probably planned to do for the last seven years. He looked up to see Ralph Budnack and Captain Dougherty walking toward him.
'How is she?'
'Just fine. Back to being mean again.'
'That woman likes to dance right up to the edge,'' Captain Dougherty said. 'You need to talk to her about that, Savich.' Then he smiled. 'Got him,' he said, and rubbed his hands together. He didn't look at all old or worn out tonight. Indeed, there was a bounce to his step. As for Ralph, he couldn't hold still, just jumped from one foot to the other, his hands talking faster than his mouth moved.
There was another yelp.
'Four shots,' Savich said. 'In the butt. She deserves all the jabs the doctor gives her. I wonder what that last one was for? Maybe part of her punishment.'
A few minutes later, Lacey came out of the small cubicle tucking in her blouse with one hand since her other arm was in a dark blue sling. 'He's a sadist,' she said to Savich before she saw the two cops. 'He's not trite, but he is a sadist. I think I might invite him to dinner just so I can poison his food.'
'You look pretty fit, Agent Sherlock,' Captain Dougherty told her, and patted her good shoulder with a beefy hand. 'We thought maybe you guys wanted to come upstairs to see about Marlin Jones's condition.'
'As of now I'm officially discharged and I wouldn't miss it,' Lacey said, then looked up at Savich. 'What about you, sir? Are you feeling better too? Not quite as violent as you were five minutes ago?'
He wanted to wrap his hands around her skinny neck and squeeze. But it would have to wait. 'Allow me the courtesy of processing my violent thoughts without further comment from you, Sherlock. Trust me, it's to your benefit.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You're not going to collapse or anything, are you, Agent Sherlock?'
'No, Ralph, I promise. I'm just fine.' She lasted until they got to the OR waiting room. No one could tell them anything. Jones was still in surgery. They settled in, Savich sitting next to Sherlock. She crashed two minutes later.
'I think she's out,' Savich said. 'Tell you what, I'll take her back to the hotel. Call me in the morning with Jones's condition and when the doctors think we'll be able to talk to him. Sherlock will be mad as hell to miss anything, but I doubt the dead could rouse her right now.'
Ralph Budnack reached back and lightly shook her shoulder. She fell more onto Savich.
'Yeah, she's out like a light. Keep an eye on her, Savich. She scared the hell out of every cop in that warehouse, but she sure got the job done. Funny thing how her shooting him saved his life. If you hadn't called a
