Split Second - Catherine Coulter [105]
Once she took a pain pill and drank half the orange juice, she laid her head back against the chair. She watched him walk to one of the windows and stand silently, looking out, his arms loose at his sides. Time passed, and she realized she was beginning to feel better, except for the light throb where the bullet had kissed her scalp. She suspected her other aches and pains would get worse as the day went on.
She said, “Dillon told me Kirsten dumped the Chevy Cobalt. Now she’s driving a motorcycle.”
“Hopefully the cops will see it and report it.”
“She’ll drive it in some bushes soon, anyway, and steal another car.” Lucy drank the rest of the orange juice.
“Probably. Bedtime for you now.”
She slept throughout the afternoon. When she awoke, she smelled Chinese, and smiled.
She walked to his kitchen, yawning. He was laying out plates and silverware. “Thanks, Coop, for taking care of me.”
“You’re pretty easy. Sit down, and we can eat.”
“I guess you’re right, going home wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
“I wanted you to see my place, anyway,” he said, and handed her the carton of fried rice. Lucy saw there was Szechuan beef, her favorite moo shu pork, pot stickers, everything she liked. While she spooned up hot-and-sour soup, Coop said, “While you were asleep, Savich and I discussed who could have tried to kill you. Forensics is still at that van we left on Country Route Thirty-five. You know we’re going to trace the van, and sooner or later ID the driver. Then we’ll be able to find the other van and the guy driving it. The two men have a history, that’ll make it easier to find him.”
“I agree they were pros, Coop. They knew what they were doing.”
“Can you think of anyone from a former case who could be behind this attempt on your life?”
She slowly shook her head.
He took her hand. “Hard as it is to think about, there’s always family. We have to start there. We’re thinking your uncle as well as your cousins, Court and Miranda, would stand to inherit a big chunk of money if you died, wouldn’t they?”
“I suppose so, since I don’t have a will. But I could make a will tomorrow, leave everything to an animal shelter if I want. Listen, Coop, my uncle is very rich. I can’t believe it’s about my money.”
He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest. “The gorilla in the room, Lucy, is that you found your grandfather’s murdered remains in your attic five days ago. Could someone be trying to hide something about that murder, something they don’t want you to find, or something they think you could possibly know? And what about that strange ring your grandfather left you?”
So, it’s obvious, even to Coop, Lucy thought as she slowly chewed a moo shu pork pancake. She knew to her soul the ring had to be the key. Someone knew she had the ring, and they knew it was important enough to kill her for it. How could she hope to prove that; how could she protect herself or anyone else around her if she kept the letter a secret from everyone, even Coop? She had to tell him some of it; it was the only way to move forward. The letter, then, and what it said. But she wouldn’t tell anyone now about what she could do when she held the ring and said that word; maybe she never would.
“Coop, there’s something I haven’t told anyone yet, something I thought was private, between my grandfather and me. There was more than the ring in that safe-deposit box, there was a letter written to me by my grandfather, probably not long before he was killed. I think it’s time for us to speak to Uncle Alan.”
Ten minutes later, Coop followed Lucy out of his condo, his hand beneath her elbow, just in case.
CHAPTER 51
Washington, D.C.
Thursday evening
Huge yard, Coop thought, when he pulled into the Silverman driveway. Way too much work. Evidently, Mr. Silverman agreed, since the yard as well as the flagstone walkway were covered in six inches of sodden leaves left to rot from the last rain.
At least it wasn’t raining now.
Coop scraped wet leaves off his boots on the front porch.
Lucy rang the doorbell. She waited