“You ain’t seen scrutiny until you’ve seen the FBI do it. As for our Norman Lipsy, the plastic surgeon, he won’t be going anywhere even with the best lawyers he can buy. He’ll be questioned by agents until at least next Wednesday. It doesn’t mean a thing that he hasn’t talked yet. He will. Already they’ve found more than enough evidence to convict him on innumerable counts—kidnapping, collusion, conspiracy, that’s just the beginning. Now, Sally, you’re still withdrawn from me. What is it? What’s going on?”
“James, what if I was wrong? What if I was still drugged up so that I saw things that weren’t really there? What if it wasn’t my father running out those French doors? What if it was someone else? What if I didn’t see anybody? What if I did shoot him and all the rest—well, it’s games being played in my mind.”
“Nah,” he said and kissed her again. “Not in a million years. If there’s one thing I know, it’s crazy. You aren’t crazy. I’ll bet you don’t even get PMS.”
She hit his arm—he flexed the muscle—and she giggled.
“Now that’s a wonderful sound. Just forget all that crazy stuff, Sally. You saw your father. There’s not one single doubt in my mind or in Brammer’s mind or in Dillon’s or, I’ll bet, in Ms. Lilly’s, when we tell her.
“Your father must have stopped, seen you throw that prized pistol of his away and gone back to get it. That in itself is convincing, don’t you see? If he didn’t go back for the gun, then where is it? When we find him I’ll bet you a Mexican meal at the Cantina that he’s got that Roth-Steyr.”
She leaned up and kissed his mouth. “Goodness, I hope so. You were so sure I’d remember.”
“I prayed harder than I did when I was seventeen and afraid Melinda Herndon might be pregnant.”
“I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him, regardless of the fact that I would have liked to. I wonder where he is.”
“We’ll find him. His passport’s gone. The agents had Noelle go through his safe at home and his safety-deposit boxes. Chances are he took off to either the Grand Caymans or Switzerland—they found some bank-books from both places. We’ll get him. It won’t take long.”
She was quiet, utterly still against him. He liked to feel her push against him, he liked her touching him. He was still on an adrenaline high, but she had to be exhausted. She’d been through quite an experience. He sighed. He settled for a light kiss on her mouth. “You ready to sleep now?”
“I have this feeling, James,” she said slowly, her breath warm against his neck. “It’s weird and I can’t explain it, but I just don’t think he’s gone anywhere. That is, I don’t think he’s left the country. He’s here, somewhere. I just can’t imagine where. We don’t have a beach house or a mountain cabin that I know of.”
“That’s interesting. We’ll ask Noelle tomorrow. Now come on, Sally, I’m supposed to be the one with the famous intuition, the hyper gut instinct. You trying to show me up?”
Quinlan shifted his weight. He was still wearing his pants and shirt. He wished he wasn’t wearing anything. Sally was in one of her new nightgowns, a cotton thing that came nearly up to her chin and went down to her ankles. He wished she wasn’t wearing anything either. He sighed and kissed her right ear.
He wished all the adrenaline in his body would clear out. He was high and horny. To distract himself, he said, “I forgot to tell you. I got a call from David Mountebank—you remember the sheriff, don’t you?”
“He’s very nice. He took care of you.” He felt her fingertips lightly touch where the stitches had been in his head. “Hardly even a ridge now.”
“Yes, well, he still hasn’t got a clue about the two murders, and yes, Doc Spiver was murdered, no doubt about it. He wants FBI help, officially, and he’ll get it since we’re talking about interstate shenanigans. He’s convinced everybody that the older couple—Harve and Marge Jensen—were killed around there and that all the other missing folks are linked together as well. There’ll be agents up from the Portland office, and I’ll be there from the Washington office. They’ll crawl all over that damned town.”
She was kissing his neck, her fingers lightly tugging on his chest hair. He said slowly, “I’m going, Sally. And yes, Brammer knows I’m going. He thinks it’s a good idea. He wants me to talk to Amabel. We all want to know how she fits into all this. And, believe me, she’s got to fit in somewhere. I think you should consider coming with me, Sally.”