“You think some of those bozo guards are going to rescue you? Fat chance.” She grunted, shoved the SIG against his side again. “I’ll bet you the cell where they locked Daddy was cold and damp, and you couldn’t breathe right, you know?”
“No, I don’t know, and neither do you. Kirsten, you’re going to have to sleep soon, and so am I, or I might wreck us.”
“We’ll take our chances on that, Coop,” she said, looking at all the traffic around them. “We’re going to put some distance between us and that parking lot in Fort Grant. I wouldn’t want any of you feds getting lucky.”
“How could anyone know about this car?”
“It seems to me this Savich guy knows stuff he shouldn’t.”
That was true enough.
She was silent, never looking away from his face. “It was so weird, when I had Savich lined up in my sights, and then your girlfriend slammed into him. It doesn’t make any sense. He was standing there alone, none of you near him, asking for me to shoot him, and I did, but down he went, and my shot was high.”
“Kirsten, you simply missed him, okay? We all thought you’d want to get in his face when you killed him.”
She shrugged. “Shooting him seemed like a decent idea at the time. Hey, I know where I want to go. Did you know I’ve got a little sister? I figure she’s nearly thirty now.”
“Yes, I read about your half sister.”
“I don’t know where she is. When her mama took her away from Raiford way back in the mid-eighties, I’ll bet she changed her name. I always wondered what my sister is like, whether she knows who her daddy was, or whether her mama erased him like mine did?”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “For your sister’s sake, I hope she did.”
His SIG slammed hard into his ribs, and he felt pain steal his breath. His hand jerked the steering wheel to the left. Kirsten jerked the steering wheel back, to the sounds of a dozen sharp car horns. “Watch your mouth, boy, if you don’t want me to put three bullets in your side.”
“If you do, I’ll kill both of us. I promise you that, Kirsten.”
“Yeah, you would try that, wouldn’t you? You’d kill both you and me for—what is it?—oh, yeah, the greater good.” Then in the next breath, she said, “I wish I could find out my half sister’s name. Her mama named her Mary Lou—boy, is that ever a stupid name. But like I said, I’ll bet she changed both their names when she left Raiford.
“I’d like to see how Mary Lou turned out, you know? Does she have four little kiddies, live in a dopey house in some stupid suburb, and have a boring accountant for a husband, like that Arnette Carpenter did? What a loss that guy was. I know that for a fact; I had drinks with him after I took care of his wife.”
Coop pictured Roy Carpenter as he’d seen him—was it only a week ago?—how devastated he looked three years after his wife’s murder at this psychopath’s hands, the deep abiding pain in his eyes. “Tell me about Arnette Carpenter.”
“Yeah? She was a talented little cow, conceited, full of herself, always lording it over me, adored that loser husband of hers.”
“Where did you bury her, Kirsten?”
Kirsten laughed. “A freebie for you, Coop. I planted her on the VA hospital grounds, under a huge old oak tree facing the ocean. A great view. Too bad she doesn’t care anymore.” She tapped her fingers against her leg, frowned. “You know, it kind of pisses me off that Daddy married that stupid woman but not my own mother.”
“I understand she worked with your father.”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe he worked with my mother, too; she wouldn’t tell me, wouldn’t even say how she met him. He must have known Mary Lou’s mother even before he knew my mom. Can you believe that weird Florida law, though—they allowed Daddy to declare in court they were married, and whoop-de-do, the deed was done. They even let him sleep with her in prison lots of times. So my little sister came along in 1982, four years after I did. I really want to find them both. Do you think I’ll like them?”
He kept quiet.
“Well, do you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
She chewed her bottom lip, the last of the dark red lipstick long gone. “I’ll bet you she’d tell me more than my mother ever told me, which is a big fat zero.”
“What would you like her to tell you? That he used a hacksaw to cut off people’s heads?”
She only shrugged. “Who cares? They were dead; they didn’t know.”
“Do you know he confessed to cremating one of his victims’ heads in his current girlfriend’s fireplace?”
His SIG jammed against his ribs again. He managed not to grunt in pain, but it hurt, really hurt.
“He was having some fun, that’s all, just a little fun, and like I said, what did those girls care? They were dead and gone.”
“How many women have you killed, Kirsten? I believe your daddy confessed to thirty-five.”
“After I drop-kick your butt out of here, Agent McKnight, that’ll be one less I’ll have to go.”
“Nah, I won’t count. I’m a guy.”
“You keep driving, you punk. I’ve got me a call to make.”
Coop watched her hit speed dial. Bruce Comafield was dead, so who was she calling?
She never took her eyes off him. “Yeah, it’s me. I wanted you to know I’m heading to Florida. Can’t talk right now, but I’ll call you from there. I’m having fun, got me a big FBI agent driving me. He’s my own personal chauffeur.”
She listened, then said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll be careful. Bye.”
“Who was that?”
“What do you care? I’ve got lots of friends.”
“At least there’ll be someone to scatter your ashes after you’re dead. Who was that?”
“Bruce could have scattered my ashes, if you hadn’t murdered him. He loved me, do you hear?”
“Maybe, but he’s gone now.”
“Shut up! All right, my mother would scatter my ashes, and so would—never mind. Take this exit, and get us out of sight—no cars, no houses.”
Was she going to kill him?
He took the next exit off I-95, drove past a couple of gas stations and fast-food places on the access road. Soon they were in the boonies. There were flat tobacco fields on both sides of the country road, harvested stalks were a golden carpet to the horizon, the few houses and barns set far back from the road.
“Pull over. You and I are going to pee.”
Coop’s heart slowed down a bit.
He knew she was watching him from behind, but he didn’t care. When he was turning, she struck him hard on the back of his head.
When he came to his senses, she was standing over him, whistling “Country Road.”
“Unlike a guy, a girl’s gotta have both hands. Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s get going.”
She had his SIG in her hand, but she knew he was hurt, and she was looking around, checking things out. It was his chance. He started to kick up at her, and she shot him.
CHAPTER 68
Allenby Motel
Lucy froze. “Give me back the ring, Miranda. Grandfather left it for me.”
Miranda laughed, slipped the ring off the chain and into her pocket. “It wasn’t his to give to you. He stole it from Aunt Helen.”
When Lucy unlocked the motel room door, Miranda shoved her inside with such force she fetched up to the bed and sprawled over it. Miranda stood far away from her, the gun pointed at her chest. “I’ve never disliked you, Lucy, at least not until recently, even though you were always everyone’s little princess. You were too young to be jealous of, and then after Uncle Milton and the ring disappeared, it didn’t really matter, anyway. You stayed my little cousin, and I watched you grow up.