Catherine Coulter - Split Second

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?

A car came slowly around the corner, headlights dimmed, a Crown Victoria, the first patrol car.

Coop hadn’t expected anyone quite this fast. At least the officer had come in silently. The car slowed a good distance away from him, stopped. Coop waved toward Savich and trotted toward the car, his gun loose against his side.

He looked into the open driver’s window to see a young man in a WPD uniform, a patrolman’s hat on his head.

The patrolman raised a gun and aimed it right at Coop’s face, and out of the young man’s mouth came, “Well, now, isn’t this the sweetest thing? You came trotting right over to me. Agent McKnight, isn’t that right? For a moment there I thought you were the big dog himself, and I’d gotten real lucky. I saw you bring down whiny little Bobby, then the big dog caught Melody. The little bitch didn’t run very hard, now, did she?”

Coop saw a shadow moving toward them. Savich?

He said calmly, “You sure fooled us, Kirsten; that Crown Vic you’re driving looks just like a police cruiser, and the patrol hat you’re wearing works. But you really should drop the eye makeup when you’re trying to play a cop.”

“I’d shoot you dead, Agent, but I need you to get out of here. Get in the car now, or I’ll shoot you dead anyway, right here. Give me that gun. You’re going to drive.”

Her gun never wavered as she scooted over to the passenger side. Could he bring up his SIG in time? Maybe drop to the ground? No, she had the gun pointed straight at him, and she was too close. He got into the car, handed her his SIG.

“You and I are going on a little road trip, Agent McKnight. Get out of here, now!”

He couldn’t stall. She was pressing the cold, hard steel of her Smith & Wesson against his temple. He pressed on the gas. He saw Savich clearly in the rearview mirror, his SIG drawn—but then an older man stepped out onto his front porch, and Savich lowered his gun.

“Go! Fast! Or I’ll take down that old codger.”

Coop went. Fast.

Savich came to a stop in the middle of the street, kept his SIG pressed to his side. “It’s okay, Mr. McPherson. You should go back inside now.”

When Ollie arrived two minutes later, it was to see Savich’s Porsche peeling out of his driveway, Sherlock beside him, speeding away.

Lucy was left with two terrified children, Ollie beside her.

They both looked up to see Mr. McPherson again on his front porch, watching.

Early Sunday

morning

If you don’t survive, Cooper McKnight, I will be well and truly pissed.

It was nearly dawn when Lucy pulled Coop’s Corvette back into his parking place at his condo in Wesley Heights. She was numb with fear because that madwoman had Coop. Had she already killed him? No, he was her hostage; there was no reason to kill him. Yet. No, Coop’s smart. He’ll be okay. It was now her mantra. She leaned her head against the steering wheel. Her cell rang, and she grabbed it up.

It was Sherlock. “Lucy, we haven’t seen them yet, but we’ve got an APB out on the Crown Vic. We’ve notified every law enforcement agency in both states to watch out for the car but to keep clear of them.”

Yeah, sure, like that’s going to get any results. Lucy said, her voice flat, “You know she’s changed out cars.”

“Yes, it’s very probable she has. But listen up, we have an ace in the hole. Kirsten hasn’t taken Coop’s cell phone, and it’s on. The GPS location signal is moving south toward North Carolina, and so are we. We’ll follow the GPS signal until we get to them ourselves. It will be enough, Lucy. Coop is well trained; he’ll do what he needs to do.”

Lucy started to say But what if she takes his cell? but she didn’t—those words blighted hope. She said instead, “How can Kirsten possibly expect to control him for long while he’s driving? How many hours can they drive before she has to sleep? What will she do with him then?”

Lucy heard Savich say, “You’re right, but like Sherlock said, we’ve got the GPS signal, and we’re traveling faster than they are. Look, Lucy, Kirsten could drug him, tie him up, whatever.” She could shoot him dead, but he didn’t say those words.

After a moment of silence, Sherlock said, “I think Coop is more valuable to her alive. Lucy, there’s no reason for you to follow us down here. Get some sleep. Ollie is sending Agent Keppel over to stay with you.”

“I don’t know him.”

“Keppel’s a woman. You’ll like her; she’s hard-nosed, funny. And she’ll make sure you get into bed. You hunker down—I’ll call you when we catch up to them.”

“What if Kirsten doubles back? What if—”

“She won’t. Have a cup of tea and rest for a couple of hours, okay?”

Lucy flicked off her cell, sat for a moment in Coop’s Corvette, smelling the wonderful new-leather smell, and tried to dial up some optimism.

There was a tap on her window.

She hadn’t heard anyone come up. Agent Keppel? She whipped around to see Miranda smiling at her through the closed window.

“Lucy?”

Lucy pressed the down button. Because Miranda was a Silverman and because Lucy wasn’t an idiot, she kept her SIG under her right hand.

She looked up at her cousin. “Miranda? What are you doing here at dawn? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. What happened to your bodyguard?”

“He’s tied up.”

“Well, that’s dandy, isn’t it?” Miranda brought up an old Kel Tec nine-millimeter pistol and shoved it into Lucy’s face. “At last you’re alone. I’ve been waiting here for the past couple of hours. I nearly gave it up, but his car wasn’t here, and I knew you had to be with him, and sure enough, you drove right in, all alone. I see you’ve got your gun. I want you to throw it over on the floor. If you don’t, I’ll have to shoot you right here.”

Lucy had known Miranda all her life; she meant it. She threw her SIG onto the floor in front of the passenger seat.

“That’s good. I see you’re not wearing the ring, but I wager you have it with you. Whether you do or not, if I think you’re trying to get it out, I’ll shoot you before you can touch it, you got that?”

The ring? “Why do you think I have the ring? Why would you care?” Lucy stared up into her cousin’s face in the early-morning light. She was hunched over in a black wool coat. Her dark hair was pulled back, fastened with a clip. She said, “You look like a nun, Miranda, I’ve always thought that. What is this all about?”