The FBI Thrillers Collection(211)

They heard voices outside. Quinlan raised an eyebrow and said, “I think my whirlwind of a wife has just blown in. The guard you’ve got out there doesn’t stand a chance, Dillon.”

“No indeed,” said a very pretty young woman about Lacey’s own age as she came into the room. She had dusty blond hair, clasped with barrettes behind her ears, and blue eyes that looked soft and tender, and had seen too much. She was slender and looked very small next to the two men. She didn’t, however, look like a skinny little wench. “Don’t blame Agent Crammer. He knows me. He helped me barbecue those half a dozen corn on the cob last month, remember, James?”

“Our venture into vegetarian barbecuing,” James Quinlan said with disgust and poked Savich’s arm. “Just for you I had to barbecue corn on the cob. I lost more of my manhood that day.”

“Your manhood seems to be a lot in question lately,” Savich said. “Hey, Sally, this is Sherlock. She’s the one who needed your decorating help until she had it done herself. She just called up one of those expensive designers and the guy tripped all over himself to please her.”

Lacey felt a soft hand lightly stroke her forearm. “You certainly scared the sense out of Dillon here. I was watching him on the phone, and he turned white, threw the phone down, and ran out of the club. Ms. Lily thought he was so horny he couldn’t hold himself back another second. As for Fuzz, the bartender, he just shook his head and said Savich should have a beer occasionally, it would make him more mellow. Marvin, the bouncer, said he was glad Savich didn’t drink. He never wanted to have to try to bounce him.”

Lacey said, “I’d like to meet these people. Dillon said he went there to support Mr. Quinlan.”

“Oh, sure, but it’s not just that, he—”

“Now, Sally,” Savich interrupted her without apology, “Sherlock here is looking as though she’s ready to fall through the railing. Let’s leave her alone. She needs to rest. Ah, here’s Dr. Breaker. Ned, your patient here is looking glassy-eyed.”

“Out,” Dr. Breaker said, not looking at any of them. When they were alone, he said quietly as he took her pulse, “I didn’t intend for you to begin partying so soon, Agent Sherlock. Hey, where’d you get that neat name?”

“My dad. He’s a judge. I understand that lawyers hate to be in his courtroom. They say it scares their clients to death, being up in front of a guy named Judge Sherlock.” She smiled up at him, then closed her eyes, her head falling to the side.

Dr. Breaker gently laid her hand on the bed. He checked her eyes. He stood quietly and studied her face. Then he nodded. Everything was just fine. She would recover. He had only one foot out her door when Savich was in his face, saying, “Well?”

“No ‘well’ about it, Savich. She’ll be just fine. She’s out now and should stay out until morning, with the medication she’s had. Nasty business. The guy could have killed her pounding her head on the floor the way he did, to say nothing of hitting her head with the butt of a gun.”

Savich sighed, looking down at his clasped hands. “Thanks again for coming so quickly. How long will she be in here?”

“Another day, I’d say. As I told you, the CT scan was normal. No bleeding, no abnormalities that any of the radiologists could see. I’ll reevaluate her again in the morning. Now I’m home to bed.”

When Dr. Breaker disappeared into the elevator, Quinlan said, “This is a strange business, Dillon. You want to tell me about it now?”

Savich looked at two of his best friends and said slowly, “I’m in deep shit.”

“What does that mean?” Sally said, sitting on the bench beside him.

Savich just shook his head. “Listen, you guys, thanks for coming down. I think I’ll stay here. One of the nurses offered me a bed. I’d feel better with Crammer out here and me inside her room. She’d really be safe then.”

“You’ve got no idea who’s behind all this?”

“It could be someone involved with Marlin Jones, that makes the most sense. But who? He’s a real loner from what we know. And why would Marlin care if she left town or not? Other than Marlin, there’s no one else out there waving a flag. Well, there is someone else. We’ll see. It’s a mystery, all deep and winding around and around.” To Savich’s relief, neither Sally nor Quinlan asked him more questions.

An hour later, he was lying on his back on a very hard cot, listening to her even breathing. She moaned once, sending him to his feet in an instant and to her bedside, only to see that she was still asleep. He stood there, looking down at her, white and bandaged, an IV in her arm. She twitched, her hand clenching into a fist, then relaxing again. He didn’t like any of this. Why did that guy want to hear what she knew about Marlin Jones? It made no sense. If someone else had killed Belinda, one of her family, then it would make sense that they’d want her out of the way. But then why would he or she hire that man to tell Sherlock that Marlin was innocent? Surely if he just thought enough about it, examined every little detail, he would find an answer. But all he could think about now was listening carefully to her breathing. He lightly touched his fingertips to her jaw. It was a khaki green. He stepped back.