The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [379]
To his surprise, she nodded. “I would agree with you, Detective, if I’d been wearing your cop’s shoes and not the victim’s.”
It was Sunday, his buddies were waiting for him down at the sports bar with peanuts, beer, and the Redskins game. Then Mr. Kettering had called. He’d been nursing his snit for a good half hour now and he wasn’t about to let go without cutting loose on the woman who’d ruined his day. “You’re a cop, Sheriff, yet you pulled this stunt. You’ve come pretty close to obstructing justice.”
“An interesting point, Detective,” Miles said, his voice mild, really quite reasonable now that he’d gotten over his own snit. He turned slightly in his chair and winked at Katie before he turned back. “I think it was pretty dumb, too, but we’ve already discussed why she did it. Can we move on to something helpful?”
Detective Raven shouted at all of them indiscriminately, “Are all you people nuts? Your macho sheriff here could have bloody bled to death!”
“I really prefer macha, Detective Raven.”
“Don’t you try to jolly me out of this, Sheriff!”
Miles said, “If she’d been shot bad, she would have yelled. She’s not stupid.” He paused a moment. “You would have yelled, wouldn’t you have, Katie?”
“Oh yes. I’ve always believed you’ve got to live to fight another day.” She stared at Miles, then gave him such a brilliant smile he blinked.
“Enough already,” Detective Raven said at last. He snagged a scone off the plate, poured himself a cup of coffee, and said, “If you guys are through praising this crazy woman, why doesn’t somebody tell me who you think fired at you.”
Katie said, “I made a phone call back home to Jessborough just before you got here, Detective. Miles told you yesterday about all the hoopla we went through there. I asked about the congregation, about what was going on with them. Nothing, evidently. Interesting fact though. The place has been a disaster area what with all the storms, but once it started drying out, crews went out to the ruins of the McCamy house to start cleaning everything up and dig out the bodies. It’s still really slow going. There’s no word yet.”
Detective Raven said, “You think one of the McCamys survived?”
“No one could have survived in that house, Detective,” Miles said.
“Then what’s your point?”
Katie said, “I guess maybe I was just surprised that they hadn’t cleaned everything up. It’s just strange, all of it.”
“Basically, we ain’t got anymore diddly than we had yesterday,” Detective Raven said, rising, and dusting off his jeans. “I’ve always hated too many possibilities. It sucks, big time.”
“Yeah,” Miles said, “I agree.”
Savich’s cell phone played the 1812 Overture. He held up a staying hand, listened, and when he hung up, he said, “That was one of my agents. The white Toyota Camry the shooter was driving was stolen two days ago from a Mr. Alfred Morley, in Rockville, Maryland. Right out of his driveway, during the night. He told the local police and they put out an APB on it.”
“I don’t suppose the car’s turned up?” Detective Raven said.
Savich shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Well, like my daddy always says, if things come too easy in life, you have more fun than you deserve. Okay, that’s it then. Thanks for the scones.” He looked down at his watch. “Well, damn, I’ve missed a good half of the game.”
“The Redskins are probably losing anyway,” Savich said. “No fun watching that.”
40
MONDAY EVENING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Savich was depressed, he admitted it. Sherlock was in a meeting when he left headquarters early to stop at the gym. He wanted to sweat out some of the day’s frustrations and see what his back could manage. Maybe he’d find someone he could practice some easy throws with.
What he didn’t want to find at the gym was Valerie Rapper; her eyes were on him the moment he came out of the men’s locker room.
He nodded to her, nothing more, and headed into the big room to stretch. She followed him, stood at the barre in front of the