Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

shoved him around so that he was facing the door and shielding most of D'Angelo's shorter, heavier body.
    David felt the gun barrel jab the nape of his neck and tried again. "Look, I don't know—"
    "Shut the fuck up! You think I'm too stupid to recognize a fucking trap when I'm standing in it?"
    David figured panic would be appropriate about now, but he didn't have time to let it show before the door to the room was kicked open.
    "Come out with your hands up," a man's voice demanded from outside. David was fairly sure it was Agent Quick.
    "I'm coming out all right," D'Angelo said in a mocking tone. "Right behind your stooge. Either you back off and let me leave here safely or I blow him away."
    David couldn't hear anything for several seconds. While the Feds were deciding how to play it, his sweat glands lurched into overdrive.
    "We don't know who you have in there D'Angelo, but he's not one of ours. We're here because of an anonymous tip."
    "Yeah, right," D'Angelo countered. "And I'm the tooth fairy. Now either you can all back clear across the parking lot so I can get to my car—it's the black Lincoln—or I can take you guys out one at a time as you come through this door. But Wells here is gonna get the first bullet."
    Another pause had David frantically trying to recall an appropriate prayer, but his childhood hadn't included much religious education. Now I lay me down to sleep...
    "We're moving away." Moments later the same voice called out from a distance. "Come on out. You've got an open path to your car. Just let your hostage go free."
    D'Angelo grabbed a fistful of David's hair as he poked the gun into his neck again and cocked it. "Okay, asshole, the rules here are real simple. You behave, you live. You fuck up, you die. Now walk nice and steady out that door and turn when I tell you to so I can keep you in front of me while I back up to my car."
    David saw Butch's bullet-ridden body as he stepped over the threshold. But he also glimpsed two agents pressed flat against the walls on each side of him.
    "Shit!" was the last thought he had before all hell broke loose.

Chapter 18

    Holly awoke Saturday morning filled with a whole spectrum of emotions. She was satisfied with the way last night had gone. She and Philip had had a pleasant time chatting over a good dinner, laughing over a political satirist's jokes at The Improv, having a nightcap in her apartment, then saying good night without any excessive intimacy—all the way friends should. She had intentionally made an extra effort to put everything out of her mind except treating Philip nicely and he had clearly done the same. The evening had almost gone the way their dates used to go—before the Ziegler hearing triggered the events that had turned her life inside out.
    Initially, Philip had not wanted her to contact any of the Little Sisters, but he admitted he could see for himself how much Holly's last weekend with Dr. MacLeash had helped her. He actually encouraged her to return and spend more time with the woman. The guilt Holly had felt over telling that lie had practically vanished.
    On the other end of the spectrum, she was tense over not hearing from David again and anxious to find out what April thought about the murders. Holly was over halfway to Newark, Delaware, when she heard the brief report on the radio. The names she heard caused her to come to a skidding, fishtailing halt at the side of the highway.
    Mick D'Angelo and Butch Olkowski, killed in a shoot-out with the FBI in Miami late Thursday night. Two FBI agents and a police officer injured but in stable condition.
    Publisher Jerry Frampton arrested hours ago.
    Reporter David Wells critically wounded.
    Wounded? Critically'? What did that mean? Holly's mind whirled with questions.
    Should she go back home, stay where David would know where to reach her, and hope to receive word, or go on to April's and make inquiries from there?
    How had it happened? From the extremely brief overview it sounded like it had happened yesterday morning but she hadn't heard about it. Had the news been withheld for some reason or had she just missed it? Who wounded David? The FBI? D'Angelo? Or the person who had killed Ziegler and O'Day? Was it her fault for sending him on the chase, or for not warning him about the Little Sister Society? Dear Lord, don't let him die.
    Frustrated with the sketchiness of the radio news report, she pulled the car back onto the road and continued on to April's considerably