The Beginning (19 page)

“What are you doing to her?”

“I'm a doctor—well, not fully trained, but I am an intern. Simpson's the name. I'm trying to see how badly hurt she is.”

“Since you're the one that knocked her off the road, that sounds weird.”

“We didn't force her off the road. She went into a skid. Actually, we followed because we saw you go back after her. Hey, man, we want to help her.”

“As I said, we're FBI,” Quinlan repeated, looking at the man. “Listen, she's a criminal. A big-time counterfeiter. Is she going to be all right? Can you tell if she broke anything? Savich, keep an eye on these bozos.”

Quinlan dropped to his knees. “Can I take off her helmet?”

“No, let me. I guess maybe we should wear helmets. If she hadn't had one on, she might have scrambled her brains, and not necessarily left them inside her head. You're really FBI? She's really a criminal?”

“Of course she is. What are you doing? Okay, you're seeing if her arms are broken. She'd better be all right or I'll have to flatten you. You scared her to death. Yeah, she's your typical criminal type. Why isn't she conscious yet?”

At that moment Sally moaned and opened her eyes. It was dark. She heard men's voices, lots of them. Then she heard James.

“No,” she said. “No, it's not possible you caught me. I didn't think it could be you. I was wrong again.”

He leaned down over her and said one inch from her nose, “I caught you, all right. And this is the last time I'm going to do it. Now be quiet and lie still.”

“I wouldn't have guessed she was a criminal,” Simpson said. “She looks as innocent and sweet as my kid sister.”

“Yeah, well, you never know. It's taken us a long time to catch up with her. We didn't know she'd gotten ahold of a bike. She was in a car six hours ago.

“All right, Sally, are you all right? Anything hurt? Nothing's broken, right? Can't you take off her helmet now?”

“Okay, but let's do it real carefully.”

Once the helmet was off, she breathed a sigh of relief. “My head hurts,” she said. “Nothing else does except my shoulder. Is it broken?”

The biker felt it very gently. “No, not even dislocated. You probably landed on it. It'll be sore for a while. I think you should go to the hospital and make sure there are no internal injuries.”

“No,” she said. “I want to get on my bike and get out of here. I've got to get away from this man. He betrayed me.”

“What do you mean, he betrayed you?”

“He drew me in and made me trust him. I even slept with him one night, but that was in Oregon. Then he had the gall to tell me he'd lied to me, he was an FBI agent. He told me that here, not in Oregon.”

“You're sure her brains aren't scrambled?” Savich asked, pressing a bit closer.

“She made perfectly good sense,” Quinlan said. “If you can't add anything sensible, Savich, keep quiet.”

Quinlan touched the biker's arm. “Thanks for your help. The four of you can go now.”

“Can I see identification?”

Quinlan smiled through his teeth. “Sure thing. Savich, show the man our ID again. He didn't get a good enough look the first time.”

The biker studied it closely, then nodded. He looked back down at Sally, who'd propped herself up on her elbows. “I still can't believe she's a crook.”

“You should see her grandmother. A glacier, that old lady. She's the head of the counterfeiting ring. Leads her husband around by the ear. She's a terror, and this one is going to be her spitting image.”

Once the bikers had roared off, Quinlan said to Sally, “We're going to take you to the hospital now.”

“No.”

“Don't be an idiot. You could have hurt your innards.”

“If you force me to a hospital, I'll announce to the world who I am and who you are.”

“No, you won't.”

“Try me.”

He realized he was being blackmailed, but not for anything he had done. She would be the only one to be hurt if she did as she promised. He believed her.

“How are you, Sally?”

“Agent Savich? You were the jerk driving the Porsche? And James was sitting right beside you telling you what to do. I should have known. Well, I did know, deep down.”

“Yeah,” Savich said, wondering why it didn't occur to her to give him any of the credit. “Let me help you up. You don't look half bad in Quinlan's coat. A little long, but other than that, it's a perfect fit. Anyone who can ride a motorcycle like you do has to have the broadest shoulders in the land.”

“How did you find me? Oh, dear, my head.” She shook her head, then blinked her eyes. “It's only a bit of a headache. My shoulder hurts a little, but that's all. No hospital.”

Quinlan couldn't stand to see her weaving around, his coat torn at the left shoulder, two buttons popped on her blouse. “You're not wearing a bra.”

Sally looked down at the gaping blouse. There was no way she could pull it together. She buttoned James's coat. “This blind man here got me a training bra when he went out, and bought all these charming duds that are three sizes too small. I couldn't even get the thing fastened.”

“Well, I didn't know what size. Sorry it didn't get the job done.”

She kicked him in the shin.

“I didn't mean it like that,” Savich said, rubbing his leg. “I'll think of something and tell you later.”

“You'd better not.”

Quinlan took her arm and gently pulled her toward him. “It's all right now, Sally. It's all right.”

He pulled her against him. “Are you sure you don't want to have a doctor check you out?”

“No doctor. I hate doctors.”

That made sense to him. He didn't point out that a doctor wasn't the same as a shrink. He wondered in that moment if Beadermeyer even was a doctor. He said to Savich, “When you get a minute, do some checking on Beadermeyer. I'm beginning to wonder if he's just a ruthless crook.” To Sally he said, “All right. But you need to rest. Let's find a place to stay the night.”

“How did you find me?”

“We just missed you at your grandparents' house, just as we did at your mother's. We figured you had to be as tired as we were, so we called all the motels in this area. It was easy. You've got a lot to learn about running, Sally.”

She realized then that she'd lost, she'd really lost. And it had been so easy for them. If they hadn't tracked her down on the highway, then James would have come into her motel room. Easy, too easy. She was a turkey. She looked down at her dead Honda 350, at its twisted frame and blown back tire.

“My bike is ruined. I just bought it. I was getting it broken in.”

“It's all right. It doesn't matter.”

“That bike cost me nearly all my money.”

“Since it was my three hundred dollars, I'm willing to write it off.”

Everything had turned upside down. Nothing was as it should be. She eased her hand into the coat and pulled out his gun. She pressed it against his lower ribs.

“Not again, Sally,” he said, but still he was careful not to move.

“She's got your gun on you again, Quinlan?”

“Yes, but it's okay. I think she's learned a bit more since the last time she did it.

“Sally, it's over now. Come on, sweetheart, pull that sucker back. Whatever you do, don't forget that hair trigger. I think I'll have it modified a bit next time I'm at Quantico. Actually, if you could slip it back into my shoulder holster once we're in the car, I'd appreciate it. My shoulder holster's been empty since you stole my gun. I feel half-dressed.”

“I don't want to shoot you, James, but I do want to get away from you. You did betray me. You know I can't trust you. Let me go, please.”

“Nope, not ever again. You know you can trust me. It pisses me off that you're even questioning that. Listen up, Sally. You're with me now until all this is over. Would you rather trust your mother or your grandparents? Oh, yeah, your sweet little granny is a piece of work.”

“No, I don't trust any of them. Well, I do trust Noelle, but she's all confused and doesn't know what to believe—whether I'm a lunatic or not. I'd bet that all of them have called Beadermeyer, even Noelle. If she called him it wasn't to turn me in, it was to get some answers. Oh, no, do you think Beadermeyer would hurt her?”

Quinlan didn't think he would hurt her unless her own skin was in really deep trouble, which it would be shortly, but not yet. But he said, “I don't know. Beadermeyer could do anything if he felt threatened, which he probably does, since we busted you out of his sanitarium. Hey, did you know I even threw meat to those dogs to save you?”

She looked up at him in the darkness. “What dogs?”

Savich said, “There were guard dogs at the sanitarium, Sally. James tossed meat to them so they wouldn't tear our throats out. One of the dogs was leaping up trying to get James's ankle when he was carrying you up that fence.”

She could see the shadows and blurred lines of his face. “Well,” she said at last, aware that she couldn't hold that gun up for much longer because her shoulder hurt like the very devil, “damnation.”

“That's what we've been thinking for the past six hours,” Savich said. “Come on, Sally, give it up. Quinlan's determined to help you. He's determined to protect you. Let him be possessive. I've never before seen him like this. It's a real treat.

“Come on, you guys. Let's get out of here before some motorists come by and stop or worse, someone calls the local cops.”

Quinlan didn't even think about it: he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the Porsche.

“You're no he-man,” she said in the bitterest voice he'd ever heard. “It was only a six-foot walk. A nerd could have carried me that far.”

“It's my gun,” he said, leaning down and lightly kissing her ear. “It's heavy.” When he settled her on his lap in the passenger side of the Porsche, he held out his hand for the gun.

She looked at him for a very long time. “You're really feeling possessive about me?”

“You stole my money, my credit cards, my car, and the photos of my nieces and nephews. I had to catch you so I could get that stuff back.”

“Jerk.” She gave him the gun.

“Yeah, that's me,” he said. “Thanks, Sally. No more trying to run away from me?” he asked as he tossed the gun into the back seat.

“I don't know.”

“Tell you what, I won't strain your options. I'll handcuff you to me, how's that?”

She didn't answer, her head pressed against his shoulder. She hurt, he realized, and here he'd been teasing her. “Rest,” he said. He looked at Savich. “How about finding us a nice motel?”

“Contradiction in terms. Are you paying or is the FBI?”

“Hey, I'm rich now that I've got my credit cards back. It's on me, all except your room.”

 

“TOMORROW
we'll buy you some clothes that fit.”

She was standing there, staring at the large motel room. There was a sitting area and a TV and a king-size bed.

She turned to look at him. “It's payback time?”

He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

She nodded toward the bed. “I gather I'm to sleep with you in that bed.”

“I was going to ask that you take the sofa. It's too short for me.”

She gave him a baffled look, then walked to the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, “I don't understand you. Why aren't you furious with me? Why aren't you yelling? I'm not used to reasonable people, particularly reasonable men. Look at you, the very image of long-suffering Job.”

A bruise was coming up along her jaw. He wondered 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.”

“I hit gravel. 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.”

Savich was carrying a big bag from Burger King and a container holding three big soft drinks. He set them down on the table and sat down 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 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 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?”

Savich 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,” Savich 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,” Savich said. He took the beef patty out of his hamburger bun, took a big bite, and said, with his mouth full, “I'm stressed. I need to work out. Thank God tomorrow's Saturday. But 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?”

“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 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 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 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 happened to spot you leaving the motel on that motorcycle, I 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. Savich 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.”

“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 Ogilvee Harrison and wife watching that plebian 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?”

“Only 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 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 his white undershirt. He pulled the cover 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 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 Quantico. 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 smidgen of material away from her, that was all, and he knew that composure was a big thing at this point.

“Sally?”

“Hmm?”

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, where it belonged.

What was poise anyway? It didn't seem too important right at that 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?”

Her eyes came open in a flash. “What did you say?”

“I asked you to marry me.”