A bruise was coming up along her jaw. He wondered just how badly her shoulder was hurt. "I would be pissed at you if I hadn't seen you go flying off that motorcycle. You gave me a gray hair with that stunt."
"It was a slick spot. There was nothing I could do."
"Take a nice long shower. It should help your aches and bruises."
Five minutes later there was a knock on the adjoining door.
Quinlan opened it up. "She's in the shower. Come on in."
Dillon was carrying a big bag from Burger King and a container holding three big soft drinks. He set them down on the table and threw himself on the sofa.
"What a mess. At least it seems like she's not going to try to run again. I didn't know you had such charm."
"Hang around and maybe you'll get a few pointers."
"What the hell are we going to do, Quinlan? We've got to call Brammer. We don't even know what's going on with the rest of the investigation."
"It just occurred to me that it's the weekend. This is Friday night-well, actually Saturday morning. We're sort of off duty. We've got until Monday before we have to be the good guys again, right?"
Dillon was leaning back against the sofa, his eyes closed. "Brammer will have our balls for breakfast."
"Nah. He would have had our balls if we'd lost Sally. But we didn't. Everything will be fine now."
"I can't believe your wild-eyed optimism," Dillon said, opening his eyes and sitting up when he heard the shower turn off. “They have all sorts of those little shampoos and conditioners and stuff in the bathrooms."
"Your point?"
The blow-dryer went on.
"No point, really. Let's eat." Dillon said. He took a big bite of his burger, saying with his mouth full, "I'm stressed. I need to work out. Thank God tomorrow's Saturday. But damn, the gym will be crowded."
It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. It was quiet and dark in the room. He knew she was still awake. It was driving him nuts.
"Sally?" he said finally. "What's wrong?"
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"What's wrong?" She started to laugh. "You have the feelings of a rhino. You ask me what's wrong?"
“Okay, you have a point, but you need to sleep and so do I. I can't go to sleep until you do."
"That's nonsense. I haven't made a sound."
"I know, that's what's so crazy about it. I know you're scared to death, but if you'll remember, I promised you that I'd protect you. I promised that we'd get this mess all cleared up. You know I can't do it without you."
"I told you, James, I don't remember that night. Not a single thing. There are just images and sounds, but nothing solid. I don't know who killed my father. He may not even have been killed when I was there. On the other hand, I could have shot him. I hated him more than you can begin to imagine. Noelle swore to me that she didn't kill him. There was more, but she didn't have time to tell me-if, that is, she would have told me in any case."
"You know you were there when he was shot. You know very well you didn't shoot him. But we'll get back to that later."
"I think my mother didn't tell me the truth because she knows I did shoot him. She's trying to protect me, not the other way around."
"No, you didn't shoot him. Maybe it was because she didn't have time since we showed up. Or maybe it was because she's protecting somebody else. We'll find out everything. Trust me. She told the cops and us that she'd been out all evening, alone, at a movie."
"Well, she told me she'd been with Scott. Which means she had a witness to prove she didn't kill my father."
"Scott? Your husband?"
"Don't be cute. You know he's my husband, but for only a very short time longer."
"All right. We'll take care of things. Now, it's late. We've got to get some sleep.
"I just wanted to tell you that you ran a good race, Sally, real good. When I just happened to spot you leaving the motel on that motorcycle, 1 nearly dropped my teeth. That was real smart of you to ditch the car and buy a bike. It took us totally by surprise."
"Yes, but it didn't matter when it came right down to it, did it?"
"No, thank God. Dillon and I are good. That and lucky as dogs on the loose in an Alpo factory. Where were you going?"
"To Bar Harbor. My grandfather gave me three hundred dollars. It was all he had in his wallet. When I counted it, I became aware of a certain irony."
"You're kidding. Three hundred exactly?"
"Right on the button."
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"I didn't particularly care for your grandparents. The maid showed us into this back study. They were watching some Home Shopping show. I've got to say that was a surprise. Mr. Franklin Oglivee Harrison and wife watching that plebeian show."
"That would have surprised me too."
"Sally, would you like to come here to the big bed? No, don't freeze up on me. I can see you freezing from here. I'll bet your shoulder aches too, doesn't it?"
"Just a little bit. More sore than aches. I was very lucky."
"You're right about that. Come on now, I promise not to attack you. Remember how well we both slept in The Cove in my tower bedroom? It can't have bothered you all that much, since you were willing to tell the bikers about it quick enough."
The silence lasted for a full minute. She said, "Yes, I remember. I don't know why I opened my mouth and blabbed it to total strangers. I had that horrible nightmare."
"No, you remembered what had happened to you. It was a nightmare, but it was real. It was your father.
At least you finally told me that.
"Come here, Sally. I'm exhausted and even you-super female-have got to be teetering on the edge just a bit."
To his relief and pleased surprise, she was standing beside the bed in the next moment, looking down at him. She was wearing one of his white undershirts. He pulled the covers back.
She slipped in and lay on her back.
He lay on his back four inches away from her.
"Give me your hand."
She did. He squeezed her fingers. "Let's get some sleep."
Surprisingly, they did.
When Quinlan awoke early the following morning, she was sprawled on top of him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs parted, lying directly on top of his. The undershirt had ridden up to her waist.
Oh, damn, he thought, trying not to move, trying to tell himself that this was just something else a professionally trained FBI agent had to learn how to deal with. So it hadn't been covered in the sixteen-week training course at Qutsitico. No big deal. He had experience. He wasn't sixteen. He breathed through his teeth.
Yes, he would handle this situation with poise and composure. He felt the heat of her through his boxer shorts. He was just a smidgeon of material away from her, that was all, and he knew that composure was a big thing at this point.
"Sally?"
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"Hmmmm?"
He was harder than his uncle Alex's divining rod. No way he was going to scare her. As gently as he could, he pushed her off him onto her back. The only thing was that she didn't let go of him. He had no choice but to come down over her. Now Uncle Alex's divining rod was between her legs, just where it belonged.
What the hell was poise anyway? It didn't seem too important right this moment.
"Sally, I'm in a bad way. Let me go, okay?"
Her arms eased around his neck but she kept her fingers laced.
He could have easily pulled away from her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was slight and warm and he thought where he was and where she was a very nice thing. He loved the feel of her arms tight about his neck. He liked her warm breath against his neck.
He thought having her here beneath him until he croaked would be a very nice thing.
He was staring down at her. He opened his mouth and said, "Sally, would you marry me?"