and the guy tripped all over himself to please her.'
Lacey felt a soft hand lightly stroke her forearm. 'You certainly scared the sense out of Dillon here. I was watching him on the phone, and he turned white, threw the phone down, and ran out of the club. Ms. Lily thought he was so horny he couldn't hold himself back another second. As for Fuzz, the bartender, he just shook his head and said Savich should have a beer occasionally, it would make him more mellow. Marvin, the bouncer, said he was glad Savich didn't drink. He never wanted to have to try to bounce him.'
Lacey said, 'I'd like to meet these people. Dillon said he went there to support Mr. Quinlan.'
'Oh, sure, but it's not just that, he-'
'Now, Sally,' Savich interrupted her without apology, 'Sherlock here is looking as though she's ready to fall through the railing. Let's leave her alone. She needs to rest. Ah, here's Dr. Breaker. Ned, your patient here is looking glassy-eyed.'
'Out,' Dr. Breaker said, not looking at any of them. When they were alone, he said quietly as he took her pulse, 'I didn't intend for you to begin partying so soon, Agent Sherlock. Hey, where'd you get that neat name?'
'My dad. He's a judge. I understand that lawyers hate to be in his courtroom. They say it scares their clients to death, being up in front of a guy named Judge Sherlock.' She smiled up at him, then closed her eyes, her head falling to the side. Dr. Breaker gently laid her hand on the bed. He checked her eyes. He stood quietly and studied her face. Then he nodded. Everything was just fine. She would recover. He had only one foot out her door when Savich was in his face, saying, 'Well?'
'No 'well' about it, Savich. She'll be just fine. She's out now and should stay out until morning, with the medication she's had. Nasty business. The guy could have killed her pounding her head on the floor the way he did, to say nothing of hitting her head with the butt of a gun.'
Savich sighed, looking down at his clasped hands. ' Thanks again for coming so quickly. How long will she be in here?''
'Another day, I'd say. As I told you, the CT scan was normal. No bleeding, no abnormalities that any of the radiologists could see. I'll reevaluate her again in the morning. Now I'm home to bed.'
When Dr. Breaker disappeared into the elevator, Quinlan said, 'This is a strange business, Dillon. You want to tell me about it now?'
Savich looked at two of his best friends and said slowly, 'I'm in deep shit.'
'What does that mean?' Sally said, sitting on the bench beside him.
Savich just shook his head. 'Listen, you guys, thanks for coming down. I think I'll stay here. One of the nurses offered me a bed. I'd feel better with Crammer out here and me inside her room. She'd really be safe then.'
'You've got no idea who's behind all this?'
'It could be someone involved with Marlin Jones, that makes the most sense. But who? He's a real loner from what we know. And why would Marlin care if she left town or not? Other than Marlin, there's no one else out there waving a flag. Well, there is someone else. We'll see. It's a mystery, all deep and winding around and around.' To Savich's relief, neither Sally nor Quinlan asked him more questions.
An hour later, he was lying on his back on a very hard cot, listening to her even breathing. She moaned once, sending him to his feet in an instant and to her bedside, only to see that she was still asleep. He stood there, looking down at her, white and bandaged, an IV in her arm. She twitched, her hand clenching into a fist, then relaxing again. He didn't like any of this. Why did that guy want to hear what she knew about Marlin Jones? It made no sense. If someone else had killed Belinda, one of her family, then it would make sense that they'd want her out of the way. But then why would he or she hire that man to tell Sherlock that Marlin was innocent? Surely if he just thought enough about it, examined every little detail, he would find an answer. But all he could think about now was listening carefully to her breathing. He lightly touched his fingertips to her jaw. It was a khaki green. He stepped back.
He lay back down, felt the smooth cold of his gun next to his hand, and kept listening to her until finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, he fell asleep.
'I want to go home.'
'Now, Agent Sherlock, I think another full day would be just the thing for you. The medical staff likes having FBI agents in here. It makes them feel important. Ah, and a bit on the superior side since they're still on their feet and you, an agent, aren't.'
'You've got to be making that up. The nurse this morning was very sweet when she poked me with a needle. And it wasn't in the rear end, thank God. Listen, Dr. Breaker, it's already four o'clock in the afternoon. I've been counting sheep since nine o'clock this morning. I'm fine. My head hurts just a bit, but nothing else, not even the cut on my head. Please, Dr. Breaker, I want to go home.'
'Let's talk about it a bit more,' he said, backing away from the bed. 'Oh yeah, you can call me Ned.'
She swung her legs over and sat up. 'I need some clothes, Ned.'
'Keep your socks on. I've got clothes for you, Sherlock. Ned told me you'd probably demand to take off.'
She looked down at her bare foot. 'I don't even have any socks, just this flimsy hospital gown that's open in the back.'
Savich just grinned at her. 'Well, Ned, shall I take her off your hands?'
'She's yours, Savich. She'll be fine. She just needs another day taking it easy and these pills for any pain.' He handed Savich the bottle of pills.
'Good-bye, Agent Lacey Sherlock. That's a weird name. If I were you, I'd have it changed. How about Jane Sherlock?'
'That wasn't funny, Ned,' Savich said, but Dr. Breaker was chuckling. 'I've never before had the chance to say that. It's an old joke, you know.'
'Yes,' Lacey said. 'I know.'
'Heard it, huh?'
'I've heard all of them. Thank you, Dr. Breaker. Dillon, give me my clothes and see Dr. Breaker out.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
Savich stayed out until she opened the door. He was talking to Agent Crammer, a ruddy-faced, barrel-chested young man who had a degree in accounting from the University of Pennsylvania.
She eyed them. When Savich looked up, he took in her outfit and grinned. 'Not bad, huh? You won't be arrested by the fashion police.'
He'd brought her a dark green silk blouse and a pair of blue jeans, a blue blazer and a pair of low-heeled boots that she'd only worn one time. She liked the outfit but would never have picked it out. It made her look too-
'You look real sharp, Agent Sherlock,' Crammer said.
'Yeah,' Savich added, ' 'real sharp.' Cute even.'
'A Special Agent shouldn't look anything but competent and trustworthy. I'll go home and change.'
'With that bandage on your head, you're not going to make it into the competence hall of fame. Best settle for cute. At least it's only a big Band-Aid now.'
'I want to go home, sir.'
'Crammer, thanks for keeping watch.'
They made her ride downstairs in a wheelchair.
'You ready?'
She stared at a sexy red Porsche. 'That's yours?'
'Yes, it's mine.'
'How do you fit into it?'
Whatever he'd expected her to say, evidently that wasn't it, because he chuckled. 'I fit,' he said only and opened the door for her.
He did fit. 'This is wonderful. Douglas drives a black 1990 Porsche 911. Every time I drove that dratted car, I got a speeding ticket.'
'They do that to you if you don't watch it. Now, Sherlock, you aren't going home just yet.'
'I have to go home. I have plants to water-'
'Quinlan will water your plants. He's magic with plants. He'll probably even sing to them. Sally says she expects those African violets of his to try to get into bed with them. Don't worry about your plants.'
