Whiplash

sat perfectly still for an instant, not really believing it. Forever, she thought, it had taken nearly forever, but she'd gotten the duct tape off. She stared down at her bloody hands-just like Lady Macbeth's. She drew a deep breath and shook her hands to get the feeling back, rubbed her hands on her pants. It hurt, but who cared?
    She picked up the stiletto and went to work on the tape around her ankles. She cut through it in an instant. She was in business.
    She stood and stamped her feet until she felt the pins and needles go away. Then she leaned up and pulled a butcher knife off its hooks. It was blunt, but nice and heavy. Best of all, it wasn't retractable. Evidently the actors had to remember not to hack anyone with it in the plays they performed. She held the butcher knife in her left hand and her Lady Colt in her right. She was good to go. She walked quickly through the shadows to the door of the storage room. It was locked, of course. Okay, now what? She had two bullets in her Lady Colt, she could shoot off the lock and-
    She heard footsteps coming. Heavy footsteps. It was a man, and he was coming here.
    Her heart stopped. They were back, to deal with her, probably to kill her. At least she wasn't lying on the floor, helpless. No, she wasn't helpless at all.
    Sherlock eased behind the closely packed clothes racks, and waited. She heard him fiddling with the lock, and then the door was pushed inward.

56

    Bowie shook his cell phone, as if it would give him more information. "It was Sherlock. Something's happened, I can't get her."
    Erin took the cell phone from him, hit some buttons, listened. "It's still open on the other end, but no one's there. You're right, someone's got her, Bowie. Do you know where she was going?"
    "I think she was going to see Jane Ann Royal, but there are loads of crime scene techs over there. I sent Kel and Joel over there to help work the house since you were with me. I know Sherlock asked them to check on the Royal telephone records. She's not there, she can't be."
    "Call them, see what they say."
    He took back his cell and speed-dialed Agent Kel Lewis's cell.
    "This is Bowie. Have you seen Agent Sherlock? Okay, is Mrs. Royal there? I want you guys to keep an eye out. We'll see you as soon as we can. What? Okay, check out that telephone number right now and get back to me. Kel, put an APB out on Jane Ann Royal. Wait, Sherlock asked me where Millstone was. That's it, she went to Millstone. But-"
    Erin grabbed his hand. "Georgie's out of school in ten minutes. We can't leave her standing there. What are we going to do?"
    He thought a moment, then speed-dialed the police station. He looked over to see Erin rotating her shoulders, easing the strain. He said as the phone was ringing, "Erin, you've got to drive, that okay with your back? I've got lots more calls to make." When he connected with Agent Cliff, he asked quickly, "Dolores, do you have any idea where Agent Sherlock is?"
    Bowie jumped into the passenger seat, tucked the phone under his chin, and managed to fasten his seat belt as Dolores said, "She said something about a Mick Haggarty, and I gave her his address in Millstone. Who is that, Bowie? She didn't tell me."
    Bowie said, "Mick Haggarty?"
    Erin nearly side-swiped a light blue Honda as she turned onto Maple Avenue. "Mick Haggarty is Jane Ann's tennis instructor, the one she told Sherlock and me she was thinking about sleeping with. Sherlock must think he knows something."
    Bowie said to Dolores, "Give me Mick Haggarty's address. Okay, yeah, got it. Now, important-would you go to Winston Elementary School and pick up Georgie? Then take her back to the police station with you, keep an eye on her?"
    "Sure thing, Bowie."
    He asked her, "Who else is there?"
    "Cody and Graham. Kesselring left maybe an hour ago. He said he had things to do and he didn't need any assistance, but he wasn't specific."
    "All right. But I told Graham he was to stick close to Kesselring, not let him roam around loose."
    "You could have asked me, Bowie. I've got perspective now, really. He's just another pretty face, right? He's kind of stiff, too, charming because he knows that works for him, but that's on the surface. I don't think down deep he's really that friendly."
    "Where are Dieffendorf and Gerlach?"
    "They're at the Schiffer Hartwin headquarters with their lawyers and two DOJ attorneys. Do you want the local cops to go to Mick Haggarty's apartment in Millstone?"
    "Yes, but have them wait