Then, no guarantees. Oh yes, Sherlock, we're all alone here in the corridor. I think now's the time. Will you marry me?'
'Yes, I will.'
He kissed her. It was sweet and warm and he tried very hard not to overwhelm her with his need, which was growing by leaps and bounds. But then she pushed him against the wall, pressing herself up tight against him. 'You feel delicious,' she said into his mouth, her breath warm and dark from the espresso. 'You taste even better. Dillon, are you sure you want to marry me? We haven't known each other all that long. We've been stressed-out since we met, nothing's been normal or natural.'
'Sure it has. I kicked your butt in Hogan's Alley and at the gym. What's more natural than that? I've cooked my pasta for you, I've fed you pizza at Dizzy Dan's. You've slept in my house. I think we've got great experience going into this. Besides, the sex isn't bad either, except it's been so long that I'm having a tough time remembering all the details, any of the details, actually.'
She kissed his chin, his jaw, lightly bit his earlobe. 'I don't understand how you've managed to stay footloose for five whole years.'
'I run fast and I don't chase too well. Actually, I guess I was waiting for you. Nobody else, just you. I'm more surprised that no one snapped you up.'
'I was just so locked in the past, locked into only one path, all of it focused on Belinda. What will we do?'
He said as he slowly traced the buttons of her blouse, 'I have this inescapable feeling that everything revolves around Belinda, not Marlin, not Douglas, not anybody else, just Belinda. I don't think anyone ever really knew who she was. I'd like to see pictures of her around the time she was killed. Do you have any albums?'
'Yes. I hope Mother didn't throw them away. Would you like to see them now?'
'Nope. We're still on East Coast time, so it feels like three hours later than it is. I want to get some sleep. Actually I want to sleep with you, but that wouldn't be right, not in your parents' house. Besides, your mother is so worried that we're shacking up, she just might go on patrol tonight to make certain we're separated.'
She laughed. 'Mother is a hoot, isn't she? You never know what will come out of her mouth. But it seems she's gone even more around the bend just lately. Lots of it might be an act, who knows? She's not going to change. But it still scares me because some of what she says just might be true. Did my father really try to kill her? Run her down in his BMW?'
'God knows, I don't. If he did do it on purpose, at least he knows she's told us about it. Your father isn't stupid. If he did do it deliberately, it won't happen again.'
'I don't want my mother to die, Dillon.'
He brought her close. 'She won't. Everything will be all right. I'll even have a chat with your father, just to make sure he understands completely.'
Much later, when Lacey was on the edge of sleep, she thought, Who were you, Belinda?
29
IT WAS DAWN, THE BEDroom a soft, vague gray, and chilly. She woke up slowly. Someone was shaking her arm, someone speaking to her. 'Sherlock, we've got a problem. Come on, wake up.'
He was lightly caressing her upper arms, then lightly tapped her face. She blinked up at him. 'Dillon? I'm so glad it's you. I thought it was someone else, another nightmare. What's wrong? Did Mother try to run you off the property?''
He sat down beside her and she reached for him. He took her hands in his and held them tightly. 'No, that I could have handled. Listen to me, Sherlock. It's Martin Jones. Brace yourself-he's escaped.'
She stared up at him, slowly shaking her head on the pillow. 'No, that's just impossible. A prisoner doesn't escape nowadays, except in the movies. There's no way Marlin could have gotten away. There were cops all over him. He even went to the bathroom with a cop on either side of him. Besides, he was wearing more shackles than an Alabama chain gang. This has to be an early-morning joke, right, Dillon?''
'I'm sorry, Sherlock, he's gone. The court had ordered him taken to the Massachusetts State Institute for more psychological testing. The doctors there blew fits when they saw the guards and all the restraints-he had full leg shackles. They complained that they'd never get anything meaningful out of him, that they'd never gain any true and accurate testing results unless Marlin could trust them, the doctors. The cops refused, naturally. The doctors then called the judge who'd dictated more testing. The judge then ordered the cops to remove the shackles, even the handcuffs. The cops were even ordered to wait outside the room. The long and the short of it-Marlin hit two doctors over the head, smashed an orderly's jaw, knocked him unconscious, and got out through a bathroom window that was right off the office. They haven't recaptured him yet. They didn't know he'd escaped until the orderly regained consciousness and staggered out to tell them.'
She was fully awake now, sitting up, rubbing her arms with her hands. 'How did you find out?'
'Jimmy Maitland called me about thirty minutes ago. He said the cops called him, but it had been on TV even before they bothered to telephone. He got hold of the FBI in Boston and put them in on it big-time. He made it sound like everything was in complete disarray.'
'Do you think just maybe that judge who ordered Marlin Jones released will now be under the bench instead of sitting on it?'
'There'll be big-time fallout. Hopefully that nitwit judge will either swear he's seen the light or he'll go down, which is what he deserves. Get on your robe and let's get downstairs. Isabelle's made us some coffee and warmed up some rolls.'
Ten minutes later they were downstairs in Judge Sherlock's lair watching TV. They'd just turned on the big set when a news bulletin flashed on. A big black-and-white photo of Marlin Jones filled the screen. A newswoman's voice said, '... The manhunt has extended in all directions now. The FBI, state and local police are all trying to find the alleged killer of more than eight women.' The picture then flashed to the newsroom. A beautiful blond woman, not more than twenty-eight, was beaming at the camera, saying in her happy, perfect voice, 'It's just been learned that the FBI agent, Lacey Sher-lock, who was instrumental in catching Marlin Jones in Boston, is the sister of one of the women he allegedly murdered in San Francisco seven years ago. What this means isn't exactly clear, but John Bullock, Marlin Jones's lawyer, has said his client was entrapped all along by the FBI.'
'It's out,' Savich said, and sighed. 'I wonder who told them.'
'Oh no.' A photo of Lacey appeared on the TV screen.
The newswoman was saying, 'Ms. Sherlock has been with the FBI for only five months now. It's said that the reason she joined was to catch her sister's killer.' The newswoman gave a dazzling smile to the people watching her. 'It appears she succeeded, but now, no one can say what will happen once Marlin Jones is recaptured. Let's switch to Ned Bramlock, our affiliate in Boston. Ned?'
They watched in silence as the cops in the Boston PD stood in stiff and angry silence. The local FBI representative stood behind the small group, saying nothing.
Ned Bramlock, who wore Italian tasseled loafers and had a full head of beautiful chestnut hair, said as he managed to furrow his brow in concern, 'We've tried to speak to Judge Sedgewick who issued the order to the police officers to release Marlin Jones, but he's refusing comment at this time.' They switched to an ACLU lawyer, who claimed that what the judge did was exactly correct, since to have refused to allow the alleged killer privacy for the testing would have been a violation of his civil rights. They switched to another judge, this one retired, who said flatly that Judge Sedgewick was an idiot without a lick of judgment or sense.
Savich turned off the TV set. He stretched. 'Let's go work out.'
She rose. 'Yes, let's go. There's a World Gym just two blocks from here, down on Union Street. It's open at 6:00 A.M. It's nearly seven-thirty now.'
By the time they'd finished, Lacey was so exhausted, even her rage was dampened somewhat, at least until she could breathe normally again. They walked home, holding hands.
'It's going to be a beautiful day.'
'It usually is in San Francisco,' she said. 'Even when the fog comes rolling through the Golden Gate, it's breathtaking. The fog makes it more lovely.' She fell silent.
'They'll catch him. He's got no money, no transportation. Everyone is looking for him. His photo is all over the TV. Someone will see him and they'll call the cops. Don't worry, Sherlock.'
Lacey was thinking about Judge Sedgewick and what she'd like to do to the guy as they walked back to her parents' home. As they turned onto Broadway, she spotted three local TV station vans and a good dozen people
