Split Second - Catherine Coulter [144]
“I would like to be alone now, if it is all right with you, Agent Savich and Detective Raven. I would like not to have to look upon either of these men’s faces again. As it is, I will still see them in my dreams, and that is a great pity.”
Savich took Mr. Patil’s hands in his. “I am so sorry about all of this, Mr. Patil.”
Mr. Patil raised pain-deadened eyes to Savich’s face. “I know that you are. You are that kind of man.”
CHAPTER 80
Nob Hill, San Francisco
Wednesday evening
Inspector Vincent Delion was curious but was content to sit back in an elegant wing chair worth more than his son’s used Honda and stare out the huge glass window of Clifford Childs’s living room at the view of San Francisco Bay. And watch Agents Cooper McKnight and Lucy Carlyle both turn their laser intelligence loose on Sentra Bolger.
Sentra Bolger sat on a lovely blue-patterned brocade sofa, her very nice legs crossed, a cup of green tea in her hand. She was wearing very high heels with open toes, showing off her lovely French pedicure. She looked expensive all over, Delion thought, in a long black gown that left one white shoulder bare, her dark hair pulled back in a polished chignon. She also looked like the queen of her kingdom, her consort guarding her back.
Clifford Childs stood behind her, his hand resting possessively on her bare shoulder. Childs said, impatience making his voice sharp as glass, “We agreed to see you on short notice, but we are expected shortly at Davies Hall. The symphony performs Mendelssohn this evening, and Sentra is very fond of Mendelssohn. I would like to know what this is all about, why you wish to speak to her.”
Coop pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. The movement brought only a slight pull in his side, better every day now, thank the Lord.
Both Sentra Bolger and Clifford Childs looked at the purple cell phone, then at Coop’s face.
Lucy said, “Ms. Bolger, Kirsten called you over a dozen times over the past two months. The last time she called you, Agent McKnight was in the car, as Kirsten’s hostage. I understand you gave her some advice?”
Sentra’s elegant white hands were still, her fingers relaxed. Her expression didn’t change. She sighed. “I didn’t say anything to Clifford, because I didn’t wish to worry him, but the truth is, Agents, I wondered when you would arrive. I had thought about calling you to ask about Kirsten’s real condition, since the media is spouting so much nonsense about her.”
Childs picked it up, disgust thick in his voice. “Including interviews with each celebrity attorney who wants to represent her, probono, the jackals. Is that the truth?”
Coop said, “I will tell you exactly what I know, Ms. Bolger, Mr. Childs, and then we will speak about your conversations with your niece. As a matter of fact, Kirsten’s injuries are responding well to treatment. She may be suffering psychologically, though. She hasn’t said a word for several days. Our psychologists have tried, and can’t get her to speak. Her being depressed would be understandable, what with getting shot and captured, her boyfriend, Bruce Comafield, dead. The last thing she said was to me in Florida when we captured her: ‘I wonder what Daddy would say.’”
Sentra shook her head, and her voice was filled with sorrow. “Poor child. She idolized the man and started thinking she could talk to him at times. Perhaps it was her reaction to Elizabeth—her mother. How she never said a word about Bundy to Kirsten, indeed, not even telling her who her father was until, well, Kirsten already knew and