CHAPTER 32
WASHINGTON, D.C.
LATE FRIDAY NIGHT
IT WAS CLOSE to midnight when Ben Raven brought them home in his Crown Vic. Sherlock, full of pain meds, her right arm in a sling, was singing the theme to Star Wars, but she was so loopy it wasn’t coming out right. She said good night to Ben and let Dillon carry her inside the house. After they had told Graciella what happened, Savich carried her upstairs. He sat her on the side of the bed and started to undress her when his cell phone rang.
Sherlock stopped singing, whispered, “It’s midnight, right on the dot. He has a sense of timing, doesn’t he?”
She watched Dillon nod as he drew a deep breath, saw his control settle in. He let the cell phone ring three times, then nodded to her, and Sherlock dialed the Hoover Building on their land line to alert them that Dillon was on with Moses Grace.
Savich said, “Quite a splash you made, Moses.”
“Lit up the night, didn’t we? And there you and your little wife were. I like that, shows me how important I am to you. Claudia and I had a ball watching all those yahoos blast out of that club, screaming, pushing, knocking each other over. People are so rude, aren’t they? Good manners only on the surface. No such thing as right and wrong when it comes down to survival. I picked the Bonhomie Club just for you, what with all your friends there. I knew you couldn’t stay away.
“And sure enough, here you come roaring up in your shiny red car, just like I knew you would. Claudia saw you jump out and practically licked her lips.”
The old man cackled, hiccupped, and swallowed phlegm. Savich could almost see him rubbing his veiny hand over his mouth. “Hey, a pity about your pride and joy, boy. I believe I had a tear in my eye when it went up in flames.
“Claudia says we’re getting to know each other too well, you know that? Your little wife spots me up in that window. Surprised the hell out of me when she started yelling and firing her gun. She nearly got me, but Claudia pulled me away in time.” The old man sighed. “Then you had to guess what was going to happen.
“Claudia was bummed that your little cutie wasn’t plastered against your Porsche when it blew. She wanted to see her fly through the air, like the pieces of your car.”
Savich let the contempt blast out. “Yeah, you screwed up again, just like at the motel. But you’re an old man, Moses, lost your edge because you’re so sick and weak. You know something else? You’re a liar, a pathetic, twisted liar.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about, boy? We was playing games, we didn’t really want to blow your flesh away from your bones, not at Hooter’s, but if it happened, well then, fun time would have been over, wouldn’t it? What’s this about me lying to you? I ain’t never lied to you, boy.”
“Oh yeah you did. You claimed I tortured a woman, made her scream, and then you said I murdered her. That’s a lie. I never tortured anyone, never murdered anyone, man or woman. Only you and that psychopath Lolita you’re with do that. Why’d you make something like that up, Moses? Are you so pathetic you have to make up ridiculous crap like that to feel important?”
Savich heard the roll of phlegm, heard the old man’s breathing hitch and bubble, then his voice exploded through the phone. “I didn’t make up anything, you bastard! You showed her no mercy, and you’re not going to get any!”
Savich bore down, his voice snarly. “You’re a liar, Moses. Why are you lying?”
“You waited until she was free, and then you murdered her. I’m going to make you sorry for that. Tell you what, boy, I’ll be sure you know who she was before you die. Just before. Everything up to now was for fun, but not any longer. Now I’m going to get to you and I’m going to make you suffer like she did. You’re going to pay.” The phone disconnected, cutting off in the midst of an awful hacking cough.
Savich slipped his cell phone into his shirt pocket and turned to his wife. “He sounds like he’s drowning. You called Agent Arnold, let me call Mr. Maitland so he can get enough cops out when we find out where Moses is. Then I’ll get you out of those clothes.”
She touched her hand to his cheek. “That was very well done, Dillon. Did he tell you enough?”
“Yes, I think I know everything I need to, and not only from what he told me. Moses repeated that I killed the woman he’s connected to. Think about it, Sherlock. Moses planted a bomb in my car tonight, right in the middle of dozens of police. No one saw him at the motel or at the cemetery, or anywhere near the Denny’s, though he had to have been near. Who have we ever known who could pull off something like that? Make people see what he wants them to see, not what’s really there, him included.”