The Cove

her. "Just rest," he said. He looked at Dillon. "How about finding us a nice motel?''

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

    "Hell, I'm rich now that I've got my credit cards back. It's on me, all except your room, Dillon."

    "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. Just look at you, the very image of long-suffering Job."

    A bruise was coming up along her jaw. He wondered just 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."

    "It was a slick spot. 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."

    Dillon was carrying a big bag from Burger King and a container holding three big soft drinks. He set them down on the table and threw himself 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 the hell 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 just 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?"

    Dillon 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," Dillon 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." Dillon said. He took a big bite of his burger, saying with his mouth full, "I'm stressed. I need to work out. Thank God tomorrow's Saturday. But damn, 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 that 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 just 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 that 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