Free Split Second by Catherine Coulter Page B

police department will want to come with us.”
    “I’ll work with MAX to find out what I can about Kirsten Bolger and her family, and send the info on to Delion. He’ll uncover more about Kirsten with some local phone calls, you can count on it. Vincent’s smart, he’s got a canny sort of intuition, though he likes to play gruff and tough. He’s bald as a shiny egg, and you won’t believe his mustache; it’s his pride and joy. Say hello to him for Sherlock and me.”
    “You know the media’s going to get hold of this and go wild with it. It’ll be a sensation—Ted Bundy’s daughter, another serial killer. It ain’t going to be pretty. Every police department in the country is going to get flooded with calls claiming she bags groceries at Food Lion.”
    “There’s nothing we can do about it, as usual. We’ll keep forging ahead until it happens, and then we’ll deal with it when we have to.”
     
    When Lucy came into the CAU at noon on the dot, Coop said, “Tell me if this girl dyes her hair.”
    Lucy took the photo and looked down at the young face. “Yes,” she said.
    “Okay, now we’ve got the expert’s opinion. You wanna go on a honeymoon trip with me?”
    She cocked her head. “Don’t you think we should get married first, Coop? Oh, wait, I bet you’ve used that line on a dozen women. Does that one work for you?”
    “I should have said pre-honeymoon trip, and it isn’t a line. It’s business. We’re going to San Francisco, Savich’s orders. It could be a line, I guess, but I just made it up, actually. I repeat, Lucy, there aren’t dozens of women waiting to jump me, okay? Interesting idea, though, taking a little trip to San Francisco as a trial run to see if we can last several stress-filled days in each other’s company without physical violence on either side. Actually, a pre-honeymoon might save some parents a lot of money for a fancy wedding.”
    Lucy had to laugh, and it felt good for a minute, but then she thought about the three hours she’d spent that morning going through a half dozen rooms at her grandmother’s house, with nothing to show for it except, literally, an aching back. She said as she stretched a bit, “If I end up smacking you, I swear you’ll deserve it.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Oh, my back. My grandmother’s got so much stuff, it’s taking me forever.”
    “You need some help with that?”
    Are you nuts? Shut up, shut up. “No, that’s not why I said it, merely an observation. The longer you live, the more stuff you collect, I guess.”
    Coop, who had grade-A cop radar, wondered why she was doing all that work by herself, but he let it go. The fact was she looked wrung out, not from a hangover from too much wine at The Swarm last night but from grief for her father. The last thing she needed was for him to start questioning her. At least he’d gotten a little laugh out of her, and maybe she didn’t think he was such a loser playboy anymore. He heard himself say, “I told you I’m not a dog when it comes to women.”
    She didn’t blink. “We’ll see.”
    That was something, he thought. “Okay, like I said, we’re going to San Francisco. Here, let me show you the rest of the photos of Kirsten Bolger, then let’s get packed. Shirley made reservations for the four-o’clock flight to SFO.”
    Lucy’s heart leaped when she saw the photos side by side. Kirsten Bolger—was she really the killer? She thought briefly of all the thousands of square feet she still had to search in her grandmother’s house, and the hundreds of books in the study. That all paled in comparison to this. Whatever was in her grandmother’s house could wait. It had already waited twenty-two years; what was a couple more days? Nothing was going anywhere.
    She asked, “So, where are we staying in San Francisco?”
    “I’ll go butter Shirley up, see if she can’t get us an upgrade from the usual Motel Four and a Half. Hey, what’s the matter?”
    “I was thinking