Shoot Him If He Runs

52

Stone and Holly lay on the bed, panting and sweaty. The remains of their lunch were on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Once more?” Holly asked.

“You’re killing me,” Stone said. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Only joking.”

“Thank God.” Stone changed the subject. “Have you reported in to Lance?”

“Ah, no, not yet.”

“You’re afraid to tell him we aren’t going to find Teddy, aren’t you?”

“Certainly not.”

“You sound uncertain.”

“I’m not uncertain, I’m lazy. I’d rather fuck you than talk to Lance on the satphone.”

“Well, that would be my choice, too.”

“Then you should be a happy man.”

“Tired, but happy.”

There was a rap on the door, and Stone pulled up the sheet. “Come in.”

Genevieve opened the door. “You two feel like a swim?”

“Not since the shark,” Holly said.

“Oh, come on; the shark’s gone. And you don’t even have to get dressed.”

“That’s a thought,” Stone said. They grabbed towels and followed Genevieve, who was wearing only her towel, too. Dino was already in the water, waving them in.

Stone grabbed Holly’s hand, dropped his towel and ran with her into the light surf.

“What a wonderful temperature!” Holly yelled. “It’s just perfect!”

They swam out to the sandbar and stood up to rest for a minute.

“Look,” Stone said, pointing at a sailboat leaving English Harbour, “it’s Harold Pitts.”

“Pretty boat,” Holly said. “You think he’s leaving St. Marks?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said. “I had the impression Harold had begun to think about staying on here with Irene.” They could see a lone figure at the helm; Stone waved, and he waved back. Then he bore away, tacked and began to recede into the distance.

“I wonder where he’s going,” Stone said.

Lance grew weary of waiting for Holly to return his call. He tossed his satphone into his briefcase, got into his jacket and walked out of his office, running into Carolyn, Hugh English’s secretary, in the hallway.

“Hi,” she said. “I’ve booked your jet; it’s the Hawker, and it will be at the St. Marks airport at noon tomorrow.”

“Great, Carolyn,” he said. “I’m on my way home; would you please call the English Harbour Inn in St. Marks, ask for Ginny Heller or Stone Barrington and tell them about the jet? And ask them to let the Peppers know.”

“Of course, Lance,” she said. “Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I’ll be in tomorrow,” Lance said. “I just have to do some stuff at home this afternoon.” He continued on his way.

Carolyn called the English Harbour Inn, but there was no answer in the room, so she left a message on the voicemail, then she went home, too.

Stone and Holly stood on the sandbar and watched the gray fin cut through the water between them and the beach. “The son of a bitch is back,” he said. Dino and Genevieve were headed for the beach at top speed.

“I hate that thing,” Holly said.

“It’s nothing personal,” Stone replied, not taking his eyes off the fin. “He’s just doing what sharks do.”

“Well, I wish he’d do it somewhere else.”

“You want to make for the beach?”

“Not while that beast is between us and home.”

“Okay, we’ll just wait here for him to come out and take a look at us.”

“We’re not splashing; we’re not bleeding; maybe he’ll just go away.”

“I hope so.” Stone involuntarily reached down and held onto his genitals.

“Are you holding what I think you’re holding?” Holly asked.

“Uh, yes.”

“You think he might find it attractive?”

“I’m not taking any chances; could be a girl shark.”

Once in his car, Lance dialed Holly’s satphone number again. Still no answer. He switched off the phone and tossed it back into his briefcase. There was going to be nothing for her to report, anyway; he felt it. Carolyn would get her the message about the jet, and he could go over everything with Holly on Monday.

Finally, the shark left the area, headed out to sea, and Stone and Holly made for the beach.

“I’d better go call Lance,” she said, toweling herself off and heading for the cottage.

“Kiss him for me,” Stone said.

Holly went into the cottage, got out her satphone, walked outside and dialed Lance’s satphone number. No message, and no voicemail. She dialed his number at Langley; maybe he was working on a Saturday. She got his voicemail. “Lance, it’s Holly; we’re done here, and we’ve come up dry. No leads, no nothing. Get us out of here, will you?” She hung up, then noticed that the message light on the room phone was blinking. She pressed the message button and waited.

“Ms. Heller and Mr. Barrington,” a woman’s voice said, “this is Carolyn Reese, calling for Lance Cabot. Lance would like you to know that a Hawker jet will pick up your party at the St. Marks airport at noon tomorrow, that’s Sunday noon, and he asks that you let the Peppers know. Good-bye.”

Holly called the Peppers.

“Hello?”

“Bill, it’s, ah, Ginny. We’re out of here at noon tomorrow, in a Hawker; meet us at the airport?”

“Well, that’s a relief. You made any progress on the other thing?”

“None, and I don’t think we’re going to.”

“See you at noon tomorrow, then,” Pepper said, then hung up.

Holly showered and put on some clothes, then went outside. Stone, Dino and Genevieve were lying on the beach a few yards away. “Hey, everybody!” she yelled. “We’re out of here at noon tomorrow, and there’s nothing to do but have a farewell dinner tonight!”

She got a round of applause from the beach. “I guess she spoke to Lance,” Stone said.