Lisa Scottoline - Killer Smile

Mary shuddered. “He seemed so charming. Smart. Good-looking. I can’t believe I was fooled.”

“He’s a Ted Bundy type, but a hired gun.”

“Definitely. Chico’s replacement. Do you have any idea where that bad boy is? I didn’t see him or his car, when I served Saracone with the papers.”

“No.” Gomez shook his head, buckling his lower lip. “Haven’t been able to find him. We have called the father’s house, and Mrs. Saracone said he’s gone and she doesn’t know where he is.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We’re over there first thing in the morning, and we’ll stop by Justin Saracone’s, too.”

“He’ll be in court in the morning.”

“You going forward with that lawsuit, after this?” Gomez asked, surprised.

“Of course,” Mary said, without batting an eye. It hurt to bat her eye anyway.

“Just the same, we’ll go to Justin’s house and look around. Talk to his wife.” Gomez shot a look at Judy, who managed not to flip him the bird. He shifted his pants up by the belt. “I’d like to show you a photo array for ID purposes. Can we arrange that?”

“For the Lexus driver? Why do you need me to ID him? You have his body, right?” Yuck .

“We batten down all the details.” Gomez rose to go. “When’s a good time to call? Noon?”

“Try my cell,” Mary answered.

“Shall we go? I can give you and your family a lift home. You’ll need us to get through the press, and of course, we would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make any statements tonight.”

“Of course.” But tomorrow, all bets are off.

“I’ll even take Judy along, if she’ll let me.” Gomez glanced over at Judy, whose blue eyes frosted over. The girl had learned something about vendettas over the years, but Mary decided on the spot to use their feud as an excuse.

“No, thanks,” Mary answered quickly. “Judy and I will go together, she can give me a lift. But maybe you could give my parents a ride now, and I’ll meet them at home, after I sign the form for the nurse. I would really appreciate it, if you could get them home right away and tell them I’ll be right there.”

“Sure. What about the press?”

“We can handle them.”

“Okay. See you later. Rest easy, now.” Gomez smiled and touched Mary’s shoulder like Dr. Weaver had.

“Thanks, doc,” she said, managing to return the smile. She was beginning to hate being a Crime Victim. Everybody was looking at her funny since she had Survived a Brush With Death.

Judy closed in, eyes narrowed, as soon as Gomez had left. “That jerk.”

“He’s doing his best.”

“It’s not good enough.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I have a secret plan.”

Judy burst into a grin. “I knew it! What are we up to?”

“We’re escaping from my parents. You have to take me to a hotel tonight so I can work. They’ll know if I go to your house or to the office, and so will the press. Where are you parked?”

“Outside, illegally. But the press is out there.”

“Okay.” Mary thought fast. “Maybe we can get you some scrubs and you can go and get your car, then meet me out front. I’ll go through the hospital.”

“Sounds like us!” Judy’s eyes lit up. “We’re back in business! I bet I can find a nurse to lend me some scrubs. And maybe one of those puffy hats! I need a puffy hat!”

I’ve created a monster. “Whatever. Go. I’ll meet you out at the main entrance. Don’t let my parents see you.”

“Okay, got it.” Judy hustled out of the room, and Mary eased off the bed, her head spinning a little. She held on to the bed for a moment, hoping the dull pain throbbing in her temple would stop, but it didn’t. She tiptoed out of the room anyway, making sure the coast was clear. To her left was the nurses’ station, bright but still and empty. Beyond the station was a large plastic window, and she could see her parents being led out by Detective Gomez and his partner.

Excellent . Down the hall to her right was a single white exit door, beside a sign that read RADIOLOGY. Presumably it was another way out of the emergency department and would get Mary back to the hospital, where she could find her way to the main entrance by the time Judy scored a new wardrobe.

She snuck out of the room and made a beeline for the door. She almost had her hand on the doorknob when she heard a noise behind her.

And she turned.

“MARE!” It was her father, hailing her with a smile. “YOU’RE GOIN’ THE WRONG WAY! WE’RE OUT FRONT!”

Busted again . “Dad, Jeez. Oh. Right.”

“HOLD ON A MINUTE, I FORGOT MY LUCKY CAP. SEE, IT WORKED GOOD TONIGHT, DIDN’T IT?” He gestured at the door to the examining room, where his grimy tan cabbie hat hung on the doorknob. His lucky cap, easily older than she was, was the only dirty article of clothing in the house, because her father refused to let her mother wash the luck out. Mary had long ago forgotten why it was lucky, but she realized that he had worn it tonight for her. Her father plucked the cap from the doorknob and flopped his cap on his head, where it landed a little off center. “MARE, IT’S THIS WAY, THE EXIT!”

“Pop, I know, I just -”

“HOLD ON TO ME SO YOU DON’T FALL OVER.” He shuffled to her and offered her his arm, bunchy at the elbow, where his brown car coat wrinkled in its worsted way.

Mary stopped, struck. It was just the way he always offered his arm, down the shore, when they were about to walk the boardwalk to get soft ice cream. Or when they were about to walk down the aisle, on her wedding day. Or at Mike’s funeral. Now, he offered it to steady her. Pick her up. Retrieve her. Help her. He had always been there, offering his arm. When she was little, it was practice, and later, it was support. That arm was the greatest gift a father can give a daughter, and he gave it to her, without question, and always. Suddenly his arm sank slowly, his expression bewildered.

“WHAT? WHAT’SA MATTER? LET’S GO! YOUR MOTHER’S IN THE COP CAR, WAITIN’!”

“Pop, there’s something I have to do tomorrow, on the Saracone case.” Mary collected herself. “I was gonna meet Judy out front and have her drop me off at a hotel or something. If I come home tonight, you and Mom will never let me do it.”

“WHA’?” Her father blinked, then understood. She saw the realization creep over him, and his gaze traveled from her to the exit door and back again. “You were sneakin’ away from us ?” he asked, his voice incredulous, his tone a fresh wound.

“I had to. I have to.”

“I’m surprised at you, Mare.” His brown eyes went round. “I can’t believe you would do that.”

“I’m sorry, Pop.” Sorrysorrysorry . “But I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do.” His forehead wrinkled with the only disapproval she had ever seen on his face. “Lemme ask you somethin.’ Were you doin’ somethin’ wrong?”

“No. I’m doing something I have to do.”

“Then why you hidin’ it?”

Mary didn’t have an immediate answer.

“You don’t sneak. You never sneak.” Her father pointed a thick finger at her, and his eyes flashed. “You have to do somethin’ tomorrow? Then, when the time comes, you stand up straight and you talk to us.”

“But, Pop, Mom’ll never go for it.”

“You show your mother the respect she deserves. You talk to her. Tomorrow. But tonight, you come home and sleep.” He sighed, his heavy shoulders letting down. “You’re sick and you shouldn’t be runnin’ around, Mare. I signed the paper for you, they gave me the pills for your head. You gotta rest. Tonight you stay home .”