Split Second - Catherine Coulter [120]
Ruth said, “Bruce Comafield wasn’t just trying to scare you, Dillon. She must be fixated on killing you, given the chance she took trailing you to the park and opening fire on four armed agents.
“So, you’re not going to be alone until we bring her down. No more playing Frisbee in the park. In fact, we all think you should camp out here in the CAU. We’ll bring in veggie pizzas.”
Like that was going to happen, Savich thought. Then he realized he hadn’t eaten, and he was hungry. One of Dizzy Dan’s pizzas sounded pretty good.
Dane said, “I still don’t understand how you did it, Lucy, how you came to knock Savich down the second before Kirsten fired at him. What did you see?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Beneath the table, Coop took her hand, squeezed it. Her skin was cold—not a surprise, given that death had crouched on her shoulder that morning. And what she’d done, knocking Savich down like that, had scared him just as much. Savich had flirted with shock as well when he was standing there digging out the casing in the oak tree, but he’d focused on his son, jollying him out of fright, telling him what an adventure they’d had, how Marty was going to be so jealous she might not speak to him for a day or two. Still, Coop knew both Savich and Sherlock had to be worried sick about Sean, about how death had brushed too close to their little boy.
“Lucy?” Savich said.
Eric Clapton sang out “Tears in Heaven.”
“Savich here.”
A brief pause, then he said clearly, “You’re talking too fast, Kirsten. Say that again.”
Ollie was out of his chair, racing to trace the call.
Everyone at the conference table leaned toward Savich. Savich’s face, Coop saw, was red with rage, but that rage didn’t sound through in his voice.
“How did you get my number, Kirsten?”
They all stared at Savich’s cell, silently praying that she would keep talking until Ollie located her phone. They could hear her screaming at Savich, something about Bruce Comafield.
“Bruce died because he was with you, Kirsten. It’s on your head, not mine.”
More screaming.
“Truth is, I’m sorry he died. I was thinking I could put it out he was alive and lure you back to the hospital to try to save him. But he didn’t make it.”
More screaming, then a moment of silence before Savich said, “If you were me, you’d have thought about doing the same thing, wouldn’t you?”
That was good, Coop thought, keep her arguing. He saw Ollie was nodding at them through the glass door. Dane and Ruth were out of their chairs, racing to the elevator, Ollie with them, still talking on his cell.
Savich continued after a moment, voice calm and slow, “Would you have come to the hospital to see Bruce?”
Coop heard cursing vile enough to curl his mother’s hair. After she’d run down again, Savich said, “You’re not going to have another try at Ann Marie Slatter. She’s safe now.
“No, don’t congratulate yourself on that, either. The redhead isn’t dead; your drugs didn’t kill her. She’s very much alive, and she will stay that way, just as Ann Marie Slatter will.
“Listen, Kirsten, you need to stop this. What you’re doing isn’t about them, anyway. You need to meet me alone, and we can have it out. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Or do you want to hide and try to shoot me from a hundred yards away again? Yep, we found where you’d been crouched down, waiting to get a good shot at me. But you missed, didn’t you? Why was that? I guess you’re just not good enough.”
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