Split Second

CHAPTER 72

Allenby Motel

Lucy and Miranda stared at the smashed electric clock on the ancient rag rug that lay next to the small nightstand.

“You didn’t break it twice, did you?” Lucy asked, though she almost yelled out with relief.

Miranda was shaking her head back and forth. “I don’t understand. Nothing happened. Aunt Helen swore to me it would happen for me. I’m her direct relation, just as you are. She’s my father’s sister; it has to work, it should!”

Miranda grabbed a pillow off the bed and hurled it against the door. She yelled, “SEFYLL!”

Please don’t let it work, please don’t let it.

Both women stared at the pillow, still on the floor against the motel room’s door.

Lucy nearly wept with relief, though like Miranda, she didn’t understand why nothing had happened. Thank you, Sweet Lord, she didn’t shoot me.

The ring is cold for Miranda.

Miranda was moaning deep in her throat, pacing, cursing, shaking the ring, saying “SEFYLL” over and over.

Lucy had the rope loose enough now to slip her hand out of it. Miranda still held the gun in one hand, the ring in the other. But she wasn’t paying attention. Lucy knew she had to act, with the ring or without it, or Miranda would likely kill her out of jealousy and despair.

She whirled to face Lucy. “It has to work for me, Aunt Helen promised me, so that means I’m not doing something right. Tell me, Lucy. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Lucy stared at her. “Miranda, when I hold the ring, when it lies against my throat, it feels warm. Very warm. I don’t do anything different than you did.”

Miranda said slowly, “You said it was cold for you, very cold.”

“It seems I’m not such a crappy liar after all.”

Miranda howled. She flung her tote against the far wall, screamed, “SEFYLL!” Miranda’s tote remained on the floor.

Lucy said slowly, “I can think of only one reason the ring doesn’t work for you, Miranda. It’s not meant to.”

Miranda stared at her. She began shaking her head back and forth. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible. I am Alan Silverman’s daughter!” Miranda ran toward her, waving the ring, beyond herself, beyond reason. “I am Alan Silverman’s daughter!”

When Miranda was close enough, Lucy jerked her right hand free, roared up out of the chair, and smashed Miranda in the face.

She fell hard, and Lucy turned to frantically work the rope loose. She heard Miranda stir just as she pulled her wrist free. She didn’t see her SIG, didn’t see Miranda’s Kel Tec, either, but she saw the ring. She grabbed the ring off the floor and ran out of the motel room.

She heard Miranda screaming after her, ordering her to stop or she’d shoot her.

Lucy ran. She was surprised by the crystal-clear sunlight that nearly blinded her as she ran.

Down the motel steps. She shot one look at Coop’s Corvette, but she didn’t have her purse. A bullet tore through her arm. She whirled around, yelled, “SEFYLL!”

Time stopped, and then she was closer to the motel again, Miranda screaming after her, and she ran again. This time she veered left, behind a steel trash container, and she heard more gunshots, but none were near. She didn’t have her cell phone, but she had her legs, and she had the ring. She remembered Ann Marie running as fast as she could from Kirsten, and she did the same, the air crisp and sharp in her lungs as she ran, keeping her turns random past warehouses and across parking lots. She ran until she reached a rundown shopping district and came across a policeman in his cruiser pulled into a strip mall.

Twenty minutes later, Ruth Warnecki-Noble pulled up at the precinct house in her Silverado. She looked Lucy up and down. “I don’t see any bullet holes, thank the Lord.” Then sheer relief made Ruth hug her. “Sherlock called.”

Lucy pulled away, grabbed her arms. “Have you heard yet, Ruth? Did Dillon and Sherlock catch up to them? Did they bring Kirsten down? Is Coop all right?”

Ruth saw a horrible shot of fear glass Lucy’s eyes, imagined Dix, her husband, being driven around by a madwoman, and said without pause, “Yes, he’s fine.” Truth was, she didn’t know that for sure, but Lucy didn’t need to deal with that uncertainty right now. “Sherlock will call again with all the details. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Ruth, dear God, we’ve got to get to the Silvermans’ house right now!”