TailSpin - Catherine Coulter [143]
Stefanos took her hand, kissed it, then smoothed his thumbs over her eyebrows. “All will be well now, matia mou. Quincy and I will take the ladies to the agent’s car and send them on their final journey. The FBI will howl and bitch, but what can they do? They have no proof against us. They have suppositions, they have a wish list, but nothing our lawyers can’t handle.”
Stefanos turned to look at Rachael and Sherlock. A dark brow went up. “Time to see if there’s an afterlife, ladies,” he said, and raised his .38.
SIXTY-TWO
Savich saw the woman’s deathly white face the instant before he would have slammed into the driver’s side of her Chrysler. He turned the Porsche’s steering wheel hard to the left, pumped the brake, fed in a bit of gas, and that magnificent machine responded perfectly, but the road simply wasn’t wide enough.
The Porsche came to a stop, the front wheels dangling over a ditch.
The ancient Chrysler slowly moved forward again. Savich looked up to see the woman give him the finger. He laughed, couldn’t help it.
Jack was cursing as he opened his door and looked out. “Well, the damned ditch is only six feet deep. We’ve got to get the Porsche out of here fast, Savich.”
Savich carefully opened the driver’s door and eased out. “Stay put, Jack, we’re a bit wobbly.” He dialed 9ll, asked for immediate assistance. He punched off, punched in Sherlock’s cell. She didn’t answer. He looked around, watched at least six cars roll by, people looking, but nobody stopped. Savich raised his face. “Where’s a cop when you need one?”
Time, Jack thought, time was running out. Savich dialed Sherlock’s cell once again.
There was no answer.
SIXTY-THREE
Rachael said, “There’s something I don’t understand. When you broke into my house, you weren’t there to kill me, were you? I mean, there was no reason any longer. You took a huge risk.”
Stefanos said, “We needed to replace the forged will with the will the senator had made and told you about. When we believed you dead in Black Rock Lake, disappeared forever, it was all much simpler. The forged will was in place—with no mention of you. You know the rest of it. We had to salvage what we could. We had to protect ourselves. But it didn’t work out, did it? Why the hell did you scream? I was nowhere near you.”
Rachael said, “I was having a drowning nightmare, thanks to all of you.”
The ropes on Sherlock’s wrists split apart. Her wrists hurt, her hands were numb.
She didn’t look at Rachael. It was all on her, no one else.
Stefanos said, “All right, no more talk. Quincy, let’s get this over with. We’ll haul them out to the car. Don’t you move, Agent, or I’ll kill you here.” And he raised his .38.
When he bent over to grab Sherlock’s feet, she kicked him hard in the chest. He couldn’t yell, he had no breath. He fell backward, grabbing his chest, and the .38 flew out of his hand. Sherlock flipped open her Swiss Army knife and sliced through the ropes on her ankles in a single motion.
She heard the .38 hit the carpet but didn’t know where it landed. There wasn’t enough time. Quincy was on her, yelling, hitting her, then his hands were around her neck. She sent the back of her hand into his Adam’s apple. Quincy fell back, gagging, clutching his throat.
Sherlock rolled over to Rachael, flicked the knife over the ropes tying her ankles, then sliced through the ropes on her wrists.
Laurel was moving, fast, but Sherlock didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop.
“That will be quite enough.”
Rachael was finally free. They both looked to see Laurel holding Stefanos’s .38. Sherlock said right in Rachael’s face, “Get out of here. Now.” She rolled upright and threw her knife at Laurel.
The knife went deep into Laurel’s shoulder and she screamed.
“You bitch.” Tears streamed down her face as blood flowed down her chest. Laurel made a strange growling sound, and pulled the trigger.
Sherlock