Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)
He saw one of her black sneakers on the floor beneath an old leather chair with a bullet hole in it that looked like a find at Goodwill from her college days—the chair, not the sneakers. He took one last look around. In her kitchen he saw the two washed cups in the drainer near the sink, one for each of them. In the bathroom he saw a black bra hanging over the shower rod along with a pair of abbreviated black panties he’d give just about anything not to have seen, and he remembered her rubbing her foot two nights ago when he’d heard a crash from the bedroom and rushed in, Glock at the ready, to see her on her back on the floor, dressed in red boxers and a red sports bra and nothing else, one leg raised and bent toward her.
He’d slipped his Glock back into the clip at his waist. “What’d you do? What’s wrong?”
“I hit my foot against the dresser doing leg lifts,” she said. “Nothing’s broken. But, hey, you came flying in here to save me. That was fast.” She sounded pleased with herself. “The fact is, I was watching TV with the sound off because it’s usually annoying, and not paying attention. Entirely my fault, like everything else.”
He remembered telling her he liked the boxers and bra, the red looked good against her skin, and if she was finished rubbing her foot, it was time to go to bed.
Yeah, he liked that memory.
He heard the Jeep’s door slam. He followed her out, locked the door behind him, and replaced the crime scene tape.
He was at the end of the block when she said, “Day told me you’d been a horse’s ass.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t dump that entirely on my head. What I mean is I could have been more professional, I’ll admit that, but he was the one who started dishing out the insults.” He sounded, even to himself, like a kid in the schoolyard.
“Insults? Don’t you think you might have scared him? Two FBI agents bursting into his office with no warning? That must have been a huge shock. Listen, Day’s a really nice guy, he’d never—”
“He told me I couldn’t afford to take you to Cannes on a cop’s salary. He said when he was making love to you in Cannes he’d think of me.”
Day had said that? She didn’t want to deal with that right now. She said, “Day told me you were trying to intimidate him, that you threatened to take him down to the Hoover Building.”
“Day thinks I’ve been trying to separate the two of you all week. He’s looking forward to the time when neither of you will ever have to see me again.”
“Why did you go see Day in the first place? I mean, you know as well as I do that he wouldn’t have anything to do with hurting me. For heaven’s sake, Davis, he thinks he’s in love with me.”
“Well, don’t flatter yourself, he’ll probably get over it.” He paused for a moment. “You’re not going to marry the guy, are you?”
“Do you want me to get my Kimber at Mom’s and shoot off your earlobe?”
“Leave my eyebrows and earlobes out of this. Using my interview with Day Abbott as an excuse to ditch Agent Gregory doesn’t fly. I’m surprised you didn’t choke trying to pawn it off on me.”
“How many times do I have to apologize?”
“You might consider saying it like you actually mean it and saying it to Agent Gregory. I gotta tell you, he was relieved to hand you off back to me this evening.”
“He accepted my apology!”
“Not really. He’s a nice guy, too.” He shot her a look, sighed. “Okay, he tried to shove fatherly advice down your throat, didn’t he?”
“Well, yes, and he didn’t let up. This afternoon in the newsroom, it was too much. I couldn’t take it anymore, that’s all—and you’re trying to get me on the defensive again, when you were the ass with poor Day this morning. What did Aunt Arliss do to you?”
“She started out like she was going to tear out our tonsils, but then she backed off. Why, I don’t know. Maybe she saw reason.”
She sighed. “I wish Day hadn’t called her. He had to know it would cause trouble. And you better watch out for my mother, too.” She sighed again. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset with her. She doesn’t need that. She’s got to be on her way to see Hooley at the hospital by now. Can we stop there on the way home?”
Lazy Elf Motel
Morganville, Virginia
Late Monday afternoon
When the whispering call from the manager of the Lazy Elf Motel came to Savich in the CAU that Blessed Backman was there, Savich and Sherlock were in the Porsche within two minutes, siren blaring, headed for Morganville, Virginia.