Tail Spin

meal, maybe the cioppino they talked about. Jack and I need to head out, find out who served him his lunch yesterday.”
    The three federal prosecutors began debating alternatives again. Dickie was saying, “I was thinking it’s time we simply hauled the Abbotts’ butts down here. We can handle their lawyers.”
    Janice Arden, the veteran of the three, said, “Or we could wait to see if Savich finds proof of who poisoned Nichols.”
    Savich wasn’t listening. He was too worried. “Jack, try Rachael’s cell phone.”
    “I did. She’s not picking up.”
    “Try her landline.”
    There was no answer. Savich didn’t say a word, simply dialed his own landline.
    Again, no answer. “Sherlock said she might go over to see how Rachael was doing when I told her you and I would probably be late. I wanted coverage even though it’s daylight. I was hoping maybe she brought Rachael back to our house.” He drummed his fingers against the conference table. “Evidently not.”

FIFTY-NINE
    Sherlock didn’t want to open her eyes. She knew if she did, she’d want to vomit, or pass out again from the god-awful pain, or both. Well done, kiddo, you let the nice lawyer pull you right in with that will business. A civilian, no, less than a civilian — a lawyer. But who had struck her? Stefanos, she thought—or Quincy—but there was Stefanos Kostas’s face in her mind. She knew somehow it had been him, she could hear the echo of his voice. She’d been hit on the head before, a long time ago, really, but the pain was familiar, like an old enemy. She recognized it instantly, and hated it. Don’t open your eyes, let it stay dark a moment longer. Don’t open your eyes.
    “Sherlock?”
    Rachael’s voice, far away—blurred, vague. She was alive, thank God. Sherlock wanted to forget she heard her, but her quiet voice came again. This time, she heard fear in it. “Sherlock. Please, wake up. Talk to me.”
    One eye opened, and Sherlock shuddered with the pain of it.
    “I’m sorry, but you’ve been unconscious too long. Wake up, please wake up.”
    “Well, all right,” Sherlock whispered, and opened both eyes. Flashing pain sliced through her head, and rising bile clogged her throat. She swallowed, still wanted to vomit, and swallowed again.
    Rachael said, “I was nauseous, too, but it’s almost gone now. At least I can control it. You will, too.”
    “Rachael?” Was that her voice? That thin little thread of sound?
    “Yes, I’m right beside you. I woke up maybe five minutes ago. Are you all right?”
    Now that was a joke. “Yes, but give me another moment.”
    “We’re both tied up.”
    “Yes.” Sherlock felt the ropes digging into her wrists. They’d tied her ankles, too, but around her slacks, so there was some protection. “Brady Cullifer,” she said, “he’s a real showman—all that concern about your father’s will. He staged it like a pro, sucked me in like a raw rookie. I’m sorry, Rachael, I didn’t protect either of us.”
    “Stefanos Kostas hit you.”
    “I know. I wasn’t fast enough.”
    “I’m the lousy judge of character here. I trusted Brady completely,” Rachael said. “He seemed to like me, right from the beginning, and he’d worked for Jimmy for at least two decades. Jimmy trusted him, felt he was completely loyal.”
    She sighed. “I never believed for a second he was involved. I liked him so much, he was so comforting, so sympathetic. It’s beginning to look like every single person Jimmy introduced me to is involved in this thing. And Brady Cullifer’s in the thick of it. He sucked Jack in, too.”
    “Yes, he got all of us. I wonder where we are?”
    “I woke up briefly. Before I went under again I realized we were moving, in a car. I think we were stuffed in a trunk. This room is too dark to see much of anything, so I don’t know where we are. Has Brady brought us to his office? His house?
    Sherlock heard voices. “Keep quiet. Play dead.”
    A door opened and light speared into the dark.
    “Looks like they’re still out,” Stefanos said, and came down on his knees. He placed two fingers against the pulses in their necks. “Strong. They’re not dead.”
    Laurel said, “All right, then. They’re alive, no bullet wounds or injuries, we can go through with what we discussed. It will be an auto accident. It is too bad, though, that we now have to deal with this damned FBI agent, as well.”
    Stefanos said, “I didn’t have a choice. But we’re good at this.