Split Second (27 page)

CHAPTER 61

Wesley Heights

Lucy sat cross-legged on the bed, her fingers twisting and untwisting the fringe on a bright blue afghan.

Coop said nothing, simply sipped at his coffee and watched her. Finally he said, “Kirsten’s call to Savich this afternoon kept you from explaining what happened in the park this morning, Lucy. You’ve had time to think about it. Want to try out your explanation on me? I’ll give you a fair hearing.”

The light touch of sarcasm floated through her brain, then wafted away, not really touching her. She looked up, smiled at him. “What a day.”

A dark eyebrow cocked up.

“You know, Coop, I’d rather haul you to the bedroom and take you down on that rock-hard mattress.”

He eyed her, not changing expression. “As a distraction, that’s a perfect ten.”

She kept twisting and knotting the fringe, all her attention on her fingers. She drew a deep breath. “Okay, give me your fair hearing. I saw Kirsten, saw the glint of her rifle, saw she was aiming at Dillon. I ran my heart out and managed to get to him in time.”

He rose and looked down at her. “All right, the verdict. That would sound plausible enough to anyone who wasn’t there, but not to me, or to Savich or Sherlock, either. At that distance, there’s not a chance in a million you would have seen enough to make that connection, or get to Savich in time. Did you have some kind of premonition?”

“I’m a fast runner, did you know? I ran track in high school, like Ann Marie Slatter. Not in college, though, too many boys.” And she laughed.

His cell phone rang. After a minute, he slipped it back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, Savich was right. Kirsten’s killed again, a young woman in her home in Fairfax. Strangled her. Her boyfriend found her body. We need to go.”

He tossed her his jacket as he strode to the door, and said over his shoulder, “Saved again by a phone call.”

CHAPTER 62

Georgetown
Saturday night

It was midnight when “Tears in Heaven” filled the silent bedroom.

“Hello, Kirsten. I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Savich quickly pressed two buttons, heard a low “Got it,” and switched to speakerphone.

Kirsten’s voice was high and wild. “Yeah, well, I can’t sleep, now, can I? Not with you still pulling air into your lungs, you murdering cop bastard.”

“Me? Now, that’s funny, Kirsten. Do you even know the woman’s name you strangled today?”

“Yeah, something dippy, like Mary. Who cares? Suspicious little bitch, didn’t want to let me in even though I was smiling really big and offering her a totally free trial of my company’s new vacuum. I had to kick her backward, then she started crying, trying to run, but I caught her fast enough.”

Savich felt the familiar feeling of dread pass through him—her madness, he knew, and now she’d lost any semblance of control.

Push her, push her.
“You were too afraid to meet me, weren’t you, Kirsten? So you went after another innocent who didn’t have a clue how crazy you are. Does it make you feel powerful? Strong?”

“I’m not crazy!” She began cursing him again.

“What would you say you are, then?”

She fell silent. Seconds ticked by. Didn’t she know he was tracing her cell?

“How about this—you’re the daughter of one of the craziest, most perverted and depraved lunatics in history. Since your dad took the names of many of his victims to his grave, no one knows how many women he murdered. So how will you ever know when you match up to Daddy? Did you ever play with all those girls and women you murdered in San Francisco? Like Daddy did?”

“Shut up! Just shut up about Daddy! I’m going to make you suffer, suffer, suffer—” She was gasping for breath. “I should have nailed you right through your black heart at the park. I had you all lined up. I don’t know what happened—”

“Yeah, yeah. So when are you going to come after me again, Kirsten? You want me to make it easy for you? Tell you what, tomorrow morning, real early, I’ll go for a run in Deer Creek Park. You care to join me? Try to take me down again?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ll have the place crowded with cops, one behind every bush. No, I’m thinking I’m going to kill that little redheaded bitch next—you know, the one you told me survived? Like you killed Bruce? I know she’s not just another one of your agents; she’s your wife. You know how I know that? You’re even on YouTube. Hey, why don’t you hand her your cell. I’ll bet she’s listening, right?”

Even though Savich was shaking his head at her, Sherlock said, loud and clear, “Hey, Kirsten, when we were bellied up to the bar together in Baltimore, you sounded sane, like you were even fun. I can see how the other women thought you were fun, too. Boy, we were all wrong, weren’t we? You’re as crazy as one of those rabid bats that hang in the Ozark caves. You want to play with me again? What makes you think you’ll have any better luck with me than you did with my husband? He’s nice, my husband, but I’m nasty, Kirsten, mean as a pit snake. I’ll kick your bony butt through your backbone, then I’ll clamp my teeth in your neck and chew. When you’re hollering and begging, I’ll hold you down and jerk out all your teeth. Yeah, you keep cursing, it’s all you know how to do. Why don’t you come to Deer Creek Park, Kirsten? I’ll be there, too.”

Savich jumped up from the bed, turned the cell away from Sherlock. He looked furious, but when he spoke to Kirsten, he sounded calm as a judge. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kirsten. Don’t let me down or I’ll know you’re not your father’s daughter; I’ll know when it comes to the sticking point, you’re just a wannabe, a no-guts failure.”

She hung up, cursing him.

A minute later, he got a call from Agent Randy McDowell. “She’s moving, Savich, near Hightown, Virginia. I had local cops following her signal. She was heading toward D.C. I’ll keep you posted.”

Savich punched off his cell, rounded on Sherlock, who was sitting on her knees on top of the bedcovers, her hair tossed around her head, ready to fight, shaking her teacher’s finger at him. “You mess with me on this and I’ll take you down, you hear me?”

“Yeah? Like pull out my teeth?”

“Nice visual, don’t you think? That’s what Kirsten’s all about.”

“You aren’t going anywhere near her again, you hear me?”

“I’m fine physically, and you know it, so don’t try that one.”

“I’m your boss, so listen up. You are not back to one hundred percent, so don’t lie to me. I said you’re not going anywhere near that insane woman again. Even if I have to tie you down, you’ll stay right here.”

She had only a pillow at hand—a pity—but she threw it as hard as she could. He caught it out of the air.

“You try it, hotshot. Now, you listen up. The question is, did it work? Should we make arrangements to have people at Deer Creek Park in the morning?”

He growled at her and lunged. He landed against her, threw her back, and came down over her, jerked her wrists beside her head. She had no leverage, and he knew it. He stared down at her, at a loss for what to say. She looked ready to fight for a second, but then she said on a laugh, “How long are you going to hold me down?”

“As long as it takes me to think of something else. You’re going to clamp your teeth in her neck and chew?”

“Yep. Another good image, don’t you think?”

He was brimming with frustration, and she knew it. What she didn’t know was that he was seeing her lying in the hospital bed after they’d pumped her stomach, so pale and still. The memory of it was too new, too raw, for him.

In that instant, intuition and experience mixed in his mind, and he realized that Kirsten wasn’t about to wait until he was running all by himself in Deer Creek Park on Sunday morning.

He also realized Sherlock would demand to go after Kirsten even if she had to do it in a hospital nightgown. He hated it, but there was no hope for it. He kissed her hard, then helped her sit up. “Here’s what I know in my gut she’s going to do.”

CHAPTER 63

The night was bright and clear, the moon nearly full, and cold enough that Savich was thankful for his heavy leather jacket. Sherlock was bundled up in her own jacket, a wool scarf around her neck, gloves on her hands. They were crouched down behind the thick yew bushes lining the flowerbeds in front of the house.

Savich was starting to get stiff when his cell vibrated. “Yeah?”

“Coop here. They found Kirsten’s cell but not Kirsten. They tracked the cell again when she turned it back on in Fairfax, but the signal stayed stationary. She’d tossed her cell across the street from the house where she murdered Mary Cartwright. I guess she wanted to admire the crime scene tape.”

Coop paused, then said, “You think she’s coming after you, don’t you? Right now. At home.”

“We’re outside waiting for her. It’s a feeling I have; I could be wrong. It’s very possible Kirsten won’t show, and it would be a colossal waste of time for you to come over.”

But the line was dead. Savich punched call back, but Coop didn’t pick up.

Twelve minutes later, Savich heard them creeping up around the house behind him. He whispered, “We’re over here, behind the bushes.”

The four of them crouched down, pressing together for warmth. Savich told them about her call, about how he hoped he’d pushed her over the edge.

Lucy said, “After what you and Sherlock said to her, I think you’re right, she’ll come and she’ll be crazy mad. I hope that gives us the advantage.”

Coop, warm as could be in his shearling coat, whispered, “Yes, she’s coming; my gut’s with yours, Savich. I don’t think she’ll try using a rifle again, either. Kirsten likes to be up close and personal. I think that’s what she’ll do tonight. She’ll come here to face you down.”

Lucy asked, “Where have you stashed Sean?”

Sherlock whispered, “He’s at his grandmother’s, and that’s where he’ll stay until this is over.”

Lucy forced her mind away from Kirsten’s rifle shot in the park that morning. She said, “One thing I’ve learned about Kirsten is that she won’t be straightforward about this. She’ll have something planned, especially for you and Sherlock. She’ll try to fool us somehow.”

Coop said, “You’re right. It’s time we split up.” Coop pressed a button on his watch, and a green light glowed. It was exactly two a.m. He started to move, then stilled, placed his finger against his lips. They barely breathed, just listening.

There was the sound of a light footfall coming up to the side of the house. None of them moved.

Savich whispered, “I turned off the alarm.”

They couldn’t believe it—the sound of a window breaking. Straightforward enough, and how could that be right? Wouldn’t Kirsten expect the alarm to be set? But here she was, trotting right to the wolf’s house. Had they built Kirsten up into some sort of invincible monster, since they hadn’t managed to catch her until now?

Something wasn’t right—Savich knew it. He imagined all of them did.

In the next instant, they were up and running around the side of the house.

CHAPTER 64

Coop grabbed Kirsten’s shoulder and spun her around, his SIG against her throat. He heard a squeak, then a boy’s high, trembling whisper. “Wait, don’t kill me! I had to check out your security. It sucks, dude, it sucks; there isn’t any. Please don’t shoot me, I’m only doing what she made me do, I swear.”

Coop whispered in the boy’s ear, “Why?”

“She hit our mom, tied her up, and stuffed her in a closet. She forced us to come with her.”

“Who’s
us
?”

Savich shouted, “Down!”

Coop pulled the boy down with him as Savich shoved both Lucy and Sherlock back into the bushes. In the next instant, a half dozen fast shots cracked loud and sharp in the silent night. They heard bullets hit the side of the house, way too close.

They didn’t return fire, since they didn’t see her. The last thing any of them wanted was for neighbors to come out of their houses to see what was going on and step into the line of fire.

Savich whispered, “All of you, stay put.”

The shots had come from somewhere on the other side of the street. She was close, probably had her car parked on the next block. Savich saw a shadow. It paused, then moved out fast. It was Kirsten, had to be.

Savich ran hard after her, all the while praying his neighbors would stay in their houses.
Another shoot-out,
he thought—that would be all their neighbors needed in their sedate Georgetown neighborhood.

She was running hard, bent as low as he was, and Savich thought she was heading toward her car. He heard Sherlock behind him, running all out. Kirsten didn’t turn to fire at them, she ran.

He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her down. He flipped her onto her back and slammed down on her. She didn’t fight him, didn’t do anything. He pulled the gun easily from her hand. She still didn’t fight, just lay there, panting.

“That’s it, Kirsten, fun time’s over.” He came up over her. Something was wrong—she sobbed, then, “Please don’t kill me, mister, please. Let me up, I won’t do anything, please, let me up. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t. She lied. Now she’ll kill my mom.”

Savich stared down into the face of a terrified young girl, maybe twelve, thirteen, tops. Sherlock came down on her knees beside them. “It’s okay,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Melody. She made us come, swore she’d kill our mom if we didn’t do exactly what she said, said she’d know if we screwed up. She told Bobby to break a window, then told me to fire the gun at you when I saw you get Bobby, and keep firing, then run away when the gun was empty. She said they weren’t real bullets, so I shouldn’t bother trying to shoot her with it.”

Sherlock took the empty magazine out of the Glock 17.

Savich heard Coop running toward them, dragging Bobby with him, Lucy beside them.

Savich looked around but couldn’t see any movement. Still, Kirsten could start shooting again at any moment, and they were all in the open. He wondered if she’d been the one shooting the real bullets at them, not this young girl.

It was quiet. Where was she? His skin crawled. “Let’s get back to cover,” he said, and they herded the kids back to the house.

Savich said low, “Lucy, I want you inside with the kids. No telling what she might try. Protect them.”

“Where is she?” Lucy asked. “Why didn’t she shoot us when we came running out?” There wasn’t an answer to that. Lucy fanned her SIG around her as she pushed the kids inside the house, closed the front door, and told them to hunker down. She crouched next to them. “Give me your address so I can get people there to help your mom.” When Lucy punched off her cell, she said, “You guys did good. We’re going to wait right here until we hear your mom’s okay.” The little boy was sobbing. Lucy watched Melody pull him against her and rock him.

Outside, Coop said in a whisper to Savich and Sherlock, “Agents and police are on their way. They’re supposed to come in silent. They know who’s here, and that should make them real careful.”

Sherlock nodded, her SIG trained on Coop as he juked across the street to take up position by the McPhersons’ house directly opposite Savich’s house.

Where was Kirsten?