Stephen Cannell - The Tin Collector

Shane got the door open quickly and looked back at her. "I'm getting better at this, refining my technique," he said.

"I'll add it to your charge sheet."

"I'm gonna find a nice quiet place below. Why don't you see if there are keys in that thing? We may need to make a fast exit," he said, pointing over the rail at a small red-hulled Scarab speedboat tied to bumpers against the side of the yacht.

"How'm I supposed to get down there?" she complained, looking over the rail at the Scarab ten feet below.

"Climb over the side, stand on the rub rail, then lower yourself down. Lotta people keep the spare ignition key in the engine compartment, hanging on a hook. Lift the cowling and take a look."

"The nautical equivalent of the back-door flowerpot?"

"Exactly."

He paused inside the main salon while she pulled up her short dress to climb over the side. Her toned, shapely legs were straddling the rail. She glanced up and caught him staring. "What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," he said too quickly, then ducked inside. He heard her drop down into the small boat as he moved through the magnificent yacht. Beautiful antiques and silk fabrics adorned the classic interior. He went below to the crew's quarters.

A few moments later he found the engine room behind a pair of soundproof double doors. It spanned the whole width of the boat. He turned on the lights. White-painted machinery glistened in the strong bluish neon. A hook, used to winch up heavy equipment so it could be worked on, hung between two large 2300-horse Caterpillar engines. Shane found a coil of rope on the engineer's bench, stowed it nearby, turned off the lights, and left.

When he got back to the rear deck, he found Alexa with a strange expression on her face. "You find the key?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was there, right where you said." She held up the ignition key.

"What's wrong, then?"

"I think I just saw Sandy. I went off the boat for a minute. I was trying to spot Logan Hunter… and I think I saw her with Calvin Sheets, walking up the path. She didn't look too happy about it."

"Sandy must've hooked up with her friend Melissa," Shane said. "Got herself invited to this party. But how the hell did she get all the way to Florida in ten hours?"

"Logan Hunter has his own jet," Alexa volunteered.

Shane nodded and walked out onto the fantail. "Let's see if we can find her."

They moved off the boat, rejoining the party, then walked along the carefully manicured path across the lawn, toward the house. Shane and Alexa were both scanning for familiar faces. Shane spotted Tony Spivack with a group of men and women, still wearing his quarterback jersey. He saw Coy Love over by the bar and grabbed Alexa's arm, turning her away.

"What?"

"Coy Love."

They got to the path that Sandy and Calvin Sheets had taken moments before, then started down it. The path wound around and finally ended about a hundred yards from the dock, down by a chauffeur's stone house on the east side of the property. The two-story stone house was connected to a six-car garage and separated from the rest of the property by a stand of mango trees. As they moved around the side of the house, they heard moaning. Shane stopped and looked at Alexa, who raised her eyebrows.

They couldn't determine the nature of the sound yet, so they stood by the house and listened. Suddenly they heard a hard slap, and a woman cried out in pain. Shane recognized the voice.

Alexa pulled her Beretta as they moved toward the front door. Shane, without a gun, felt vulnerable and exposed. He paused by the back door.

"Okay," he whispered. "Standard SWAT kick-down. I'm going right on three. One… two…"

Then he stepped back, kicked the door, and dove inside to the right, sideways and low. He hit the floor and was unable to see the room as he rolled, but he heard Alexa dive in behind him, going left and yelling, "Freeze, asshole!"

Then two shots blasted from the opposite side of the room. Shane finished his roll and came up behind a couch. The bullets thunked into the wall over his head. Alexa rolled to the left, then fired twice. Her first shot took Calvin Sheets high in the chest. He flew backward and hit the far wall, leaving a streak of blood on the white plaster as he slid down.

Shane came up in time to see Don Drucker move into the room, pulling his gun. Sandy was darting right just as Drucker fired. She passed through his sight and was hit in the back, screaming in pain. Shane watched in horror as the bullet went directly through her abdomen, exploding out the front, leaving an exit wound the size of a Softball. Sandy looked down in abject terror as blood and stomach contents streamed out of her, staining her light-green cocktail dress. Then she slumped to the floor, groaning.

Drucker turned his gun on Shane, who dove right just as the rookie cop fired. Shane felt the 9mm whiz by, inches from his head. He heard Alexa's gun discharge twice more, then Drucker flew out of Shane's field of vision and hit the floor. It was quiet for a second, but as Shane came up, he could see Drucker lying on his back, his mouth gaping open, dead. Alexa had hit him in the center of his forehead.

She was still low against the wall on the left side of the door, grim-faced and sweaty. Suddenly they heard footsteps on the path.

"Bolt the door," he ordered.

Alexa slammed it shut and threw the latch while Shane checked Drucker and Sheets. "These two are history," he said.

Shane snatched up Calvin Sheets's Smith amp; Wesson and tucked it away in his belt, then moved to Sandy, who was lying in an expanding pool of her own blood. It was widening beneath her, staining her dress a dark crimson, soaking the sides around her waist. He knew instantly that she probably wouldn't make it. The wound was fatal; she was already shivering, turning cold as her blood left her.

"Sandy… Sandy… it's me. Can you hear me?" he said, kneeling beside her.

When Sandy looked up, her face had lost its shape; her eyes were dimming as blood pumped out of her onto the tile floor. "I know… where… Chooch… is… Calvin told me… after we… we had sex and… and… he told…" She was shaking badly, struggling for breath. "Then… Clark Crispin came… seen my file… knew I was… Black Widow…" She started to choke, blood flowing from her mouth now, running down her chin.

"Shit," Shane said. "Let's get you outta here, to a hospital."

"No… " she said as he tried to lift her. "No… Please… listen. In Arrowhead… Sheets said… they're holding him there…"

Sandy's strained words were overwhelmed by a heavy pounding on the front door.

"Open the fucking door, Cal! Open up!" Coy Love shouted.

"Give that asshole something to think about," Shane barked. Alexa turned and fired her fifth shot through the bolted wood door.

"Shit," they heard Coy say angrily from the porch outside.

"Shane… you've gotta listen…" Sandy whispered.

When he looked back down at her, she seemed smaller than she had just a moment before, as if she were losing volume, a pint at a time.

"Shane… you get him back… you take… take care of Chooch…" she rasped.

"I'll get him."

"He's yours… Shane… yours and mine." She was almost whispering now, her voice so small that he had to bend down to hear her.

"I was wrong…" She reached up and clutched his collar, pulling him down closer. "I didn't think you'd want him… I wanted him but couldn't raise him… You gotta do better." Her voice was so weak now, he placed his ear almost on her lips to hear. "He needed… his father… It's why… I made you take him… It's why… it's why… I…" And then she was looking at him, but her gaze had turned empty. Her heart had stopped beating. Those flashing black eyes went dead and stared up at him, damp and blank as licked stones.