“Hey, you want to eat that, baby?” Trini smirked as she felt him up.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, “there’ll be a lot of guys who’ll want it where you’re going, and you’ll find yourself on the receiving end, too. You’ll end up as some big guy’s bitch.”
Trini began kicking and spitting at her, until Stone hit him in the crotch. Then he became more manageable.
“Did I mention,” Holly said, “that you’re under arrest and that you have the right to keep your mouth shut?”
“Let’s get him downstairs,” Dino said.
Two of Vito’s men materialized and hustled Trini down to the basement. Vito beckoned Dino into a corner, and the two men began to talk earnestly. Holly and Stone were left at the counter.
“I can’t believe it,” Holly said. “Just like
But Stone was watching Dino and Vito as their conversation, though whispered, became more animated. “Maybe it’s not over yet,” he said, nodding toward the two men.
Holly watched them for a moment. “What’s going on?”
Dino turned and began walking toward them.
“I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” Stone said.
Dino looked embarrassed. “There’s a problem,” he said.
“What problem?” Holly asked.
“A problem about Trini.”
“What, do they want to put him in that grave downstairs?” Stone asked.
Dino shook his head. “No, they want him alive. They want the reward.”
“What reward?” Holly asked.
“The hundred grand the FBI is offering for Trini.”
Holly seemed to be hyperventilating.
“Hey, wait a minute, Dino,” Stone said, “we had a deal.”
Dino looked away. “Apparently, we don’t have a deal anymore.”
Holly found her voice. “Dino, you tell Vito…” She stopped. “Never mind, I’ll tell him myself.”
“Holly…” Dino made a grab for her arm, but she shook him off and walked toward Vito, who didn’t seem glad to see her coming.
Stone steered Dino away from them. “Let her try. It can’t hurt.”
“No, I guess it can’t hurt. I’m really embarrassed about this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Vito says we didn’t close the deal; we never shook on it.”
“Shook on it? What is this, high school?”
“Apparently. Anyway, the hundred grand seems to overrule any argument I could make.”
Stone glanced at Holly and Vito, though he couldn’t hear them. They were talking earnestly, but Holly wasn’t waving her arms or shouting. “Look at that,” he said.
Dino looked toward the two. “She seems awfully calm,” he said. “I was afraid she’d shoot him.”
“Now she’s smiling.”
“Vito is smiling, too.”
Then, to the mutual astonishment of Stone and Dino, Holly and Vito shook hands.
Holly walked back to where they stood. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
They walked back to the car, and Stone waited until they were inside before he began talking. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Dino echoed, “what did you two have to say to each other?”
Holly looked smug. “I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Stone and Dino, who were in the front seat, looked at each other.
“What the fuck?” Dino said.
“Dino, would you do me a great big favor?” Holly asked, digging her cell phone out of her purse and dialing a number.
“Sure, anything.”
“Would you take me by Stone’s house, wait while I throw my stuff into a bag, then drive me to LaGuardia?”
“Why not?” Dino said.
Holly began talking to an airline reservations clerk.
Stone looked at Dino. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Dino shrugged. “I think the lady is sick of you, and she’s going home.”
“Holly,” Stone said, “what’s going on?”
She waved him quiet. “I’m on the phone,” she hissed.
59
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, back in Orchid Beach, Holly left her office at dusk and drove north on A1A, with Daisy in the passenger seat, her nose out the window, sniffing the damp Florida air.
Holly turned left down a side road and, after half a mile, came to the rear gate of the real estate development that had once been called Palmetto Gardens, and later, Blood Orchid, and which was now in federal hands. She stopped and, leaving the motor running and the lights on, got out and went to where the gate was chained and locked. She knew the combination to the lock because she had locked it herself. A moment later, she took off the chain, then drove her car inside. She locked the gate behind her and bore to her left, along a road that ran alongside the golf course.
The course looked good, since the Feds had kept on the grounds crew until they could sell the place. The auction was scheduled for a week hence, and they had been working hard to make the grounds look good.
Holly pulled into a dirt road and drove fifty yards, then stopped the car, switched off the engine, and got out, followed by Daisy. Using her SureFire tactical flashlight, she walked purposely through the woods, switching on the light a second at a time to find her way. Daisy ran ahead, scaring up rabbits and sniffing at everything.
She came to a live oak tree about thirty feet tall, then stopped. She stood quietly for a few minutes, letting her night vision develop and looking around for other human beings. The property seemed deserted, and as she waited, a full moon rose in the east, making the flashlight unnecessary.
She put the light back into its holster, took off her heavy gun belt, and began climbing the tree, while Daisy watched, baffled. A little more than halfway up, at about twenty feet, she stopped. The case was still there, though it was covered in pine pollen. She looked down. “Daisy,” she said, “go over there.” She pointed, and Daisy followed her instructions. “Sit.” Daisy sat. “Stay.” Daisy stayed.
What the hell, she thought, it was a sturdy case. She took it by the handle, dangled it for a moment, and let go. The case hit one limb, slowing it, then it fell unimpeded to the pine straw-padded floor of the woods. It bounced once, then fell on its side, intact.
Holly climbed down the tree, picked up the case, and put it into the trunk of her patrol car. Then she got Daisy back inside, let herself out the gate, and headed toward town.
She drove into the basement garage under the police station, parked the car, and got the case out of the trunk. It was heavier than she had remembered, and it was something of a struggle to get it upstairs and into her office. There were only two people in the squad room, a duty officer handling the phones and radio and a detective catching up on his paperwork. The rest of the night shift was on patrol.
She got the case into her office, dampened some paper towels, and wiped the pine pollen off the case, making its black aluminum surface look nearly like new. Then she hoisted the case onto a table and opened it. She was greeted with the sight of rows of hundred-dollar bills, sorted into stacks of one hundred, each secured with a heavy rubber band. She counted out twenty of the stacks and packed them into a small zippered duffel from her locker. Then she counted out another ten stacks, dropped them into a Federal Express envelope, and wrote out a note on
