Greg Iles - 24 Hours

Karen wanted to scream, Who takes you to the bathroom and wipes your behind for you, Stephanie? But the sound of the Expedition’s door stopped her cold. She turned and saw Hickey walking toward them, a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, hello again, Mr. Hickey,” Stephanie said with a Teflon smile. “I’m sorry to hold you up.”

“Call me Joe, please.”

Karen interposed herself between them. “I told her we have to get right to the airport.”

Hickey looked puzzled; then he smiled. “We are late for my flight. They make you check in so early now.”

Stephanie’s eyes went wide. “I’ve got it! I can run you out to the airport. That way Karen can get right over to the Colisseum. Things are absolutely falling apart over there. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“No,” Karen said quickly. “Joe and I still have some talking to do. The estate things. I told you last night. It can’t wait.”

Hickey looked amused by Karen’s fabrication, but Stephanie’s face darkened, and her voice lost its sorority-girl veneer.

“You’re the chairman of this show, Karen. You volunteered for it. That means it’s your job to-to make sure…”

Karen followed her gaze. Stephanie was staring at the right leg of Hickey’s khakis. A bright-red bloodstain ran from above the knee down to his ankle. There was blood on his Top-Siders as well. Some of the stitches must have broken loose.

“What happened to you?” Stephanie asked.

Hickey looked down at his leg.

“Joe hurt himself,” Karen said quickly. “Doing some work for me.”

“That looks serious.”

“It’s not, really,” Karen said.

Hickey was watching Stephanie, his dark eyes glittering. Karen took her by the arm and started walking her back toward the Lexus.

“I’ll get down there as soon as I can, Steph. You go back and slap those people into shape. And call Coach Rizzi about the tables. Okay?”

Stephanie looked back over her shoulder. “Is your cousin all right? He looks…” She slowed down and looked into Karen’s eyes. Something was stirring in her Zoloft-padded brain. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Karen pushed her toward the car, but she refused to be pushed.

“You don’t look fine. In fact, you look like hell.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Stephanie looked over Karen’s shoulder. Whatever she saw convinced her that something was very wrong. She took hold of Karen’s wrist and, in an almost comic reversal of their previous motion, began pulling her toward the Lexus.

“Keep walking,” she whispered. “When I start the car, jump in the backseat.”

“I can’t. Get your butt out of here, Steph. Now.”

Karen risked a glance back at Hickey. His pant leg was completely soaked with blood now, and his right hand was behind his back. She turned back to Stephanie and said in a bright voice: “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

Stephanie’s brow was knotted in puzzlement. Why didn’t she just go? Was she trying to work out if Hickey was Karen’s lover after all? Whatever was occupying her brain cells, self-preservation finally overrode it. Karen actually saw Stephanie write her off. She whirled and yanked open the door of the Lexus, all pretense of normalcy gone.

Hickey shot her through the window. A crimson flower bloomed on her upper chest, and her mouth formed an almost comical “O.” Karen screamed and leaped forward, but not in time to catch Stephanie as she slid down the rear door of the car, leaving a bright trail of arterial blood on the white paint. Her eyes were closed, and blood pulsed steadily from a hole in her sternum. Karen felt her brain clicking into crisis mode, all the skills she’d learned as a nurse infusing her mind and hands. But even before she could check Stephanie’s airway, Hickey’s rough hands jerked her to her feet.

“Get your ass in the truck!”

“You shot her,” Karen said, still not quite believing it.

Hickey aimed the. 38 down at Stephanie’s head. “If you don’t get into that Expedition, I’ll shoot her again.”

His enraged eyes left no doubt that he would put a bullet in Stephanie Morgan’s brain. Karen backed toward the Expedition, Hickey following with the gun.

“You said nobody was going to die!”

“She called that play. She should’ve handled those damn cows herself.”

“She has two kids!

“You’d better start thinking about your kid, Mom.”

Karen’s mouth went dry. Abby’s death had suddenly become real in a way that juvenile diabetes had not prepared her for. She climbed up into the driver ’s seat and sat there, trying to hold herself together. Will often joked that she could remain calm in the middle of an earthquake, but Hickey was proving him wrong. Her quest for some source of strength brought an image of her father to her mind. He had fought in Korea, then in Vietnam during the early years. God, how she wished he was here. He would know how to deal with a bum like Hickey. Hickey wouldn’t know what hit him. But her father was gone, taken by cancer five years ago-

“Take hold of the gear shift and pull it over to D,” Hickey said, as though talking to a child.

“You lied to me,” Karen said. “Everything you’ve told me was a lie. You’ve been planning to kill us all along. You’re going to get your money and kill us.”

“Listen to me. Because your stupid gene is really showing through. Remember Costa Rica? By tomorrow night, I’ll be sipping umbrella drinks in paradise. I’m not worried about who saw me shoot some air-head in a Lexus. What I am worried about is getting my money. And that’s what you need to focus on. Are we on the same page?”

Karen took a deep breath, then reached down and punched 911 on the Expedition’s cell phone.

Hickey jammed the gun into her ribs, driving the breath from her lungs. “Your friend is dead. So hang up and start driving. Or the only mother Abby will ever know is the twenty-two-year-old Will marries after you’re dead.”

The 911 line rang once before Karen pressed END. She hated herself for being a coward, but she could not die here. Not in this truck, over an acquaintance who was almost certainly dead already. She had a child to raise. Nothing else mattered. She and Abby had to get through the day alive.

She put the Expedition into gear, backed onto the lawn, and drove around the Lexus and the body of Stephanie Morgan.

When the phone rang in the suite at the Beau Rivage, Will pounced on it. Now that he’d given Ferris the go-ahead to call the FBI, he wanted to hear the man report that a fleet of helicopters was combing the forest around Hazlehurst, flying at treetop level over every road and path, not a dog or a cow moving unseen. He jerked up the receiver, aware that his sleep-deprived brain was slowly but surely slipping off its tracks.

“Will Jennings.”

“What are you doing answering the phone?” Hickey asked. “You expecting a call?”

“No,” he stammered. “I’m just ready to move. Ready to get your money and get Abby back.”

“That’s good, Doc. Because it’s time to leave for the bank.”

“I’m ready.”

“You sound sleepy. Cheryl’s got some pep pills if you need them. I don’t want you messing up because you can’t think straight.”

“I’m not going to mess up. But I need to talk to my daughter, Joe. I’m not going to the bank until I do.”

“Is that right? Huh. Maybe you should talk to your wife a minute. We just had a little social call at your house.”

Sweat beaded on Will’s forehead. “Karen?”

“I’m here,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

“Will, he just shot Stephanie Morgan.”

Will blinked, certain that he’d misheard. “Did you say-”