"Don't worry about me, Lacey," Danny Elbright said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. "I know that if I ever opened my mouth your daddy would send me up the big river.
I won't say a word. I just want you to catch this creep. Wasn't Isabelle a kick? I'll bet she'll be all over the news."
Lacey said, "Thanks, Danny. Hey, maybe Marlin's been caught as we speak."
"Let's see." Danny turned on the radio and began station surfing.
By the time their plane left San Francisco International, Marlin Jones was still on the loose. He'd been free for five hours and twenty minutes. There were two seats left in First Class, and Judge Sherlock had snagged them. Both Dillon and Lacey were relieved when no one recognized them at the airport.
"You'll be staying with me," Savich said as he took a glass of orange juice from a flight attendant. "We're not going to take any chances."
"All right," she said, and stared down at where Yosemite would be if only they had been sitting on the right side of the airplane instead of the left.
"I know you're scared. Don't be."
"Actually I'm furious, not scared. There's no reason why Marlin would come after me. You know he's not crazy, and he'd have to be totally off the deep end to fixate on getting back at me.
"What I can't believe is that a judge-a person who's supposed to have a tad of common sense-would even listen to those idiot shrinks and their ridiculous demands."
"Well, I'll just bet you no judge is going to pull that kind of stunt again anytime soon. This was an aberration, Sherlock, an unfortunate blip. Everyone will raise hell and the ACLU will look like idiots for defending the judge's ruling.
"Also, it turns out that one of the doctors might not make it. The other doctor has a severe concussion, according to the news. As for the orderly, his jaw's broken and he has a lump over his left ear the size of a hockey puck. You can bet next week's paycheck that restraints will be left on prisoners in the future. If that doctor dies, the shit Marlin's in is so deep he'll never see the sunshine again."
Savich took her hand. "We'll see. I do wonder where Marlin's daddy is. I have this feeling he's still out there, still kicking around. What's he doing, I wonder? Does Marlin know where he is? Is Marlin going to see him? Could Erasmus have been the one to come after you in Washington? Could he have been the one to hit me in Boston? Have Marlin and his daddy possibly been in contact and maybe even now are in cahoots?''
She sucked in her breath. "I was thinking the same thing. But as to the father-and-son-duo idea, I don't know if it's just another seemingly random piece to the puzzle or a major gluing piece."
"I think it says a lot about how well we're suited that I understand exactly what you just said." He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. He looked deep into her eyes. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers lightly caressed her ear. "Hey, gorgeous, what do you want from this gourmet lunch menu?"
Marlin Jones was still free when they arrived at Savich's house at seven-thirty that evening.
There were no reporters waiting for them.
"If they're anywhere, it's at your town house. Another excellent reason for staying here with me."
"Yes," she said and followed him in. "I hope Hannah doesn't tell them where I probably am."
"I'm going to call Jimmy Maitland and let him know we're back. And Ollie. Yeah, I think I'll give Hannah a ring. Yes, I think you're right. She's probably behind the leak. I'm beginning to think this might be a good time for her to transfer to another section. She'd better keep her mouth shut from now on or she'll be out of the Bureau."
"Maybe she's not the one who talked."
"We'll see. You unpack and then relax, Sherlock. We'll have dinner in. I've got some great spinach lasagna in the freezer that I made just a while back. You'll love it."
"I think I'd rather have Dizzy Dan's pizza. Do they deliver?"
"They will for me." He frowned at her, then strode back to her, grabbed her and pulled her tightly against him. "It's going to be all right. We'll get through this. Marlin will be in jail again by tomorrow morning, you'll see. All the FBI's in on this whole thing, big-time. I don't think I've ever seen Jimmy Maitland so pissed. No, Marlin doesn't stand a chance."
But she didn't know if she agreed. Marlin Jones was out there. She nodded though, saying nothing, and laid her cheek against his shoulder.
Her clothes went into his closet, her shoes on the floor beside his size-twelve wing tips and gym shoes. Her underwear went in the second drawer of the dresser. And when he was kissing his way down her body, finally holding her hips, his mouth against her, she forgot everything but him and what he was making her feel. The deep, tearing pleasure roared through her and she yelled and arced upward and told him between gasping breaths, "I love you, Dillon. Just in case you didn't hear me the first time, I'll marry you. You're the best."
"Good. Don't forget it," he said, staring down at her, and came into her.
It was nearly morning when Savich came slowly awake, aware that something strange was happening, something that was probably better than any pesto pasta he'd ever made, better even than having won a huge bet off one of his relatives. The something strange suddenly intensified and he lurched up, gasping. She was leaning over him, her tangled hair covering his belly, her mouth on him.
All he could do was moan, clutch her hair as he moaned, and twitch and heave.
And when he kissed her mouth, she said, "If you could do that to me, surely you had to like it too. It only makes sense, doesn't it? I've never done that before. Did I do it okay?"
"It was okay," he said. "Yeah, I think just maybe it was okay. Really not bad for your first time." She slid down his chest again. Then it was all over for him.
Ollie said, "Jimmy Maitland has a representative speaking to the media downstairs, sir. Sherlock, don't worry, they'll lay off, that was the deal Maitland struck with them."
"Good," Savich said.
"But there's lots of gossip, lots of innuendo," Hannah said, tapping her pen against the conference table. "Marlin Jones's lawyer is making hay with Sherlock here being one of the murdered women's sisters."
"That's true," Savich said. "Does anyone know how the media found out about that?"
No one said a word.
"Hannah?" Savich said, looking at her.
She looked right at Lacey. "No, certainly not. But I don't think it's bad that the media found out what she did. It's possible that the case against Jones could be tossed out as entrapment." She shrugged. "You knew it was going to come out anyway. At least now there's time to get the media through chewing on it by the time Marlin Jones is recaptured."
She was lying, but how could he prove it? Savich smiled at her, a smile cold enough to freeze water. He said, his voice so gentle it made the hair rise on the back of Lacey's neck, "1 wonder that it didn't occur to the one who told the press that Sherlock wasn't the one who made the decision? That both the Bureau and the local cops all discussed her as bait for Marlin and okayed it?"
"I bet you talked him into it," Hannah said to Lacey. The other agents were squirming, looking off, wishing, Savich knew, that they were anywhere but seated here at the conference table.
Savich raised his hands. "All right, that's enough. As most of you know, Sherlock is at my place. Not a word about this to anybody outside this room. Okay, we'll have our regular status meeting tomorrow. I just wanted everyone up to speed on this debacle. Hannah, I'd like to see you in my office."
The meeting broke up. Ollie collared Lacey. "I've been working through MAXINE's protocols using a different slant with the Florida nursing home killings. Come and see where I'm at. I'd like your input. Besides, it'll get your mind off Marlin Jones. You're looking hunted."