Split Second - Catherine Coulter [61]
CHAPTER 29
Chevy Chase, Maryland
Tuesday morning
When her cell blasted out the horse-race trumpet call, Lucy’s hand jerked, sloshing her coffee over the side of her Betty Boop mug.
“Hello, Lucy Carlyle here.”
“Agent Carlyle, this is Dr. Amos Judd. I completed the autopsy on your grandfather’s remains. Agent Savich asked me to call you directly.”
She swallowed. “Yes, Dr. Judd, thank you. What can you tell me?” Remains—that’s what her grandfather was now.
“I found scoring on two of the back ribs, consistent with a large smooth blade, such as a butcher knife, that penetrated the chest. There was also sharp scoring of a thoracic vertebra, indicating the thrust was deep, the blade headed straight for the heart. He died quickly, Agent Carlyle.”
Lucy thanked Dr. Judd, punched off her cell, and poured more coffee into her mug. She didn’t drink, just cupped the mug in her hands to warm them.
Her cell rang again.
It was their longtime family lawyer, Mr. Bernard Claymore.
His old voice sounded surprisingly strong and firm. He asked how she was doing, then immediately said, “I called, Lucy, to tell you I need to see you immediately. Your grandfather left me an envelope twenty-two years ago, told me to give it to you only after your own father died. This, unfortunately, happened much too soon. Come by and I will give it to you.”
She stared at her cell phone. An envelope from her grandfather? Her heart began to pound. Answers, she thought, perhaps at last she would have answers.
An hour later, she walked out of Mr. Claymore’s elegant suite of offices in the Claymore Building on M Street, an envelope clutched in her hand. Mr. Claymore told her he had no idea what was in the envelope; he’d simply kept it in his safe for the past twenty-two years. He assured her he had, indeed, followed her grandfather’s instructions to the letter.
Another thirty-five minutes, and she was maneuvering her Range Rover into a space that was really too small for her baby, but she was used to that, and she was good. She settled in with a few precious inches to spare. Her cell rang again, and she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, sighed, and picked up. “Carlyle.”
“Hi, Carlyle. It’s McKnight.” A brief pause, then, “Is something wrong?”
Why did everyone assume something was wrong? Surely she sounded fine and normal, thank you very much. Well, being hypnotized, remembering things that curled her toes whenever she thought too closely about it, that had been bizarre. She could picture Coop in her mind, an intense look on his lean face, focusing all his intelligence on the tone of her voice. This guy wasn’t a dog, no doubt in her mind now. She knew to her bones that once Coop found someone, made a commitment, he’d stick. She smiled at that thought. Focus away, boyo, there’s nothing for you to hear. “Not a thing, Coop, not a single thing’s wrong. I’ve—well, I’ve got some stuff I have to do this morning. You know, concerning my grandfather. I’ll be in about noon, okay?”
“Tell you what, why don’t I meet you, help you take care of this stuff? Then you and I can talk a little about how you’re really doing.”
Yeah, right. Still, what could she say? Coop didn’t have to know what was in the safe-deposit box; it wasn’t his business. She could be silent as the Sphinx if she wanted to. She felt filled with energy, excited about what she would find in that box. But it was more than that. She felt revved, ready to take on the world, even Kirsten Bolger. “Sure, Coop, that’ll be fine. I’m, ah, in front of the First National Bank here in Chevy Chase.”
“Wait for me.”
Lucy punched off her cell, sighed again, and closed her hands tightly around the steering wheel. Should she wait, or go into the bank? She saw there was a Starbucks across the street with not much of a line.
When Coop arrived in his blue Corvette, people rubbernecking to get a better look, she smiled. She stepped out of her Range Rover as he navigated his splendid machine into a parking space nearly as small as hers.
She knew he was studying