Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [250]
Savich felt fear twisting in his belly, but when he spoke, his voice was controlled. “The fact that you found the Frasiers’ car there as well as Simon’s—were the Frasiers taken, too? Or were the Frasiers a part of it and just left their car there? If they plan to come back, then why would they leave their car next to Simon’s—that’s a sure giveaway that they were involved.”
“That’s what we think.”
“At least you didn’t find them dead. They’ve been taken. By whom?”
“We’re trying to track down the Frasiers, but nothing yet. They must be with Simon and Lily. Lieutenant Dobbs and I went to the hospital to see Tennyson Frasier. He claimed he didn’t know where his parents were. Seemed to me that he really didn’t care one way or the other. When we told him Lily was gone, I thought he’d go nuts. This Dr. Rossetti—you remember, the shrink who wanted to treat Lily when she was still in the hospital after the accident? The guy Lily didn’t like? Well, he was there with Tennyson. He got all huffy, said Tennyson was a fine man, a great doctor, and his wife was a bitch and didn’t deserve him. He then gave Tennyson three happy pills while we were watching. I’ll tell you, Savich, I think Tennyson really doesn’t know anything about the disappearance.”
Savich was hearing everything, but he wasn’t thinking a whole lot in that instant. He was flat-out scared. He wanted to leave Bar Harbor and fly immediately out to California, but he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t leave. It was that simple and that final. He said, “I’m not sure what I think right at this moment, Clark. And I can’t break free. I’m up to my eyeballs right now.” He drew a deep breath. “Actually, we’re about to confront a psychopathic killer right here in Bar Harbor, Maine, and I’m in charge.”
“Look, Savich, there are a whole bunch of us on this. We’ll find out who took them.”
Yeah, yeah, Savich thought, then said, “If this Olaf Jorgenson is behind this, we’re talking about a lot of resources, like a private Gulfstream jet here, with flight plans out of the country. It won’t be hard to find them.”
“We’re already on that. I’ll call you when we get something. Ah, good luck in Bar Harbor.”
“Thank you. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, I will. Look, Savich, I’m sorry. I was supposed to keep them covered, keep them safe. I’ll do everything I can with this. I’ll call you every hour.”
“No, Hoyt, call me only if it’s an emergency for the next three hours. Otherwise, I’ll get back to you when I can.” Clark Hoyt didn’t know what nuts was, Savich thought, as he punched off his cell phone. He had to call Sherlock, tell her what was going on. Thank God she was home and safe. He didn’t want her to hear about Simon and Lily from Hoyt or Lieutenant Dobbs. He had two hours and forty minutes left to set up the operation. He walked over to Firefly Lane to the Bar Harbor Police Department. He knew he simply had to try to stop thinking about Lily and Simon now. He had to concentrate on killing Tammy Tuttle.
He wanted to press his fingers against the pulse point in her neck and not feel a thing.
LILY heard moaning, then a series of gasping curses that seemed to go on forever. Those curses sounded strange, long and drawn out. Then she heard crying. Crying?
No, she wasn’t crying. Nor was she cursing. She felt movement, but it wasn’t tossing her around; it was just there, all around her, subtle, faintly pulsing.
Simon. Where was Simon?
She opened her eyes slowly, not really wanting to because her head already hurt and she feared it would crack open when she opened her eyes.
There was a woman moaning again. Crying, then more of those soft, slurred curses.
It was Charlotte. Lily remembered now. She’d shot Charlotte, but she was still alive. And hurting. Lily at least felt some satisfaction. If her head hadn’t hurt quite so badly, she would have smiled. She hadn’t saved herself or Simon, but she had managed to inflict some damage.
She moved her head a little bit. There was a brief whack of pain, but she could handle it. She saw that she was sprawled in a wide leather