Catherine Coulter - Split Second

There was more screaming, and Savich held the phone a bit away from his ear.

“You can try to kill me, Kirsten, but what makes you think you’ll do better next time? How did you get my cell number?” After a pause, he said, “Yes, I did ask our unit secretary to give out my number to any woman who called. Again, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?”

She didn’t answer; she hung up. Savich pushed a button on his cell. “Dane, where is she?”

“She was moving in a vehicle near Arlington National Cemetery. We lost her when she turned off her cell. The cops are on their way. We’ve got to hope she’s still driving the Monte Carlo.”

Savich slipped his cell back into his breast pocket. “Now we wait.” He added, more to himself than to the group, “Sherlock will be back later, after she drops Sean with his grandmother and Senator Monroe. We wanted him as far away from Kirsten as possible.” He paused, remembering the park and how scared he’d been. He drew a deep breath. “Unless we’re lucky, they won’t know what she’s driving, but she’ll call me back after—”

“After what?” Coop asked.

Savich’s voice was utterly emotionless. “She’s in a killing rage. Someone in Virginia will die very soon now.”

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.”

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?”