Mercy

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Always have a contingency plan. When two police cars came zooming down the drive to the hospital with their lights flashing and their sirens blaring, John knew it was time to leave. He ducked down in his seat-an unnecessary precaution, but instinctive all the same-and turned the ignition, on. He waited a couple of seconds, until he saw the policemen running into the hospital. Then he slowly backed the car out of the parking spot, turned, and eased out of the lot.

He didn't really care if his friends were dead or alive. Why would he? His plans weren't going to be affected, no matter what the outcome.

Even if the police took them alive and they told them everything they knew, it would be too late. And if by some miracle one or two of them escaped, well, that just didn't matter either. John had enough time to get the money from the Sowing Club account transferred to the account in Switzerland he'd set up years ago. He had his laptop with him-he found it curious that Dallas

hadn't questioned him as to why he'd brought it along-and all he had to do was to get to a phone line, type a few commands

on his computer, and he would be set for life.

Getting away quickly was all he cared about now. Within the next few minutes, one of those policemen might come running outside and try to block the main entrance leading into the hospital drive.

"Hmmm," he whispered. There might already be a police car there now. Too risky to chance being stopped, John decided. He backed the car into the lot again, turned around, and then drove at a snail's pace down the tarred service road behind the hospital.

And that was when he spotted Monk hobbling up the hill toward the street. One hand was clutching his side. Had he been shot?

It looked as though he had.

John chuckled. The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. No one was around. No one would see. He owed Monk a considerable amount of money. "Hmmm," he whispered again. Do it, his mind screamed. Do it now.

He seized the moment. Turning the car sharply, he drove over the curb, then pressed his foot down on the accelerator. Monk heard him coming and turned. When he saw John, he stopped and waited.

He thinks I'm going to pick him up. He increased his speed as he got closer. The expression on Monk's face when he realized what was going to happen was hilarious. He looked positively shocked.

John miscalculated, though. He thought Monk would dive to the left and turned the wheel ever so slightly so he could hit him straight on, but Monk leapt the other way, and the car only brushed him as it sped past.

He didn't dare risk backing up and trying again. "Oh, well, you do what you can," he said as he hit the curb and bounced into

the street. Cutting through run-down neighborhood, he reached the main street six blocks away from the hospital and

knew then he was safe.

He picked up his cell phone, dialed the pilot he'd hired months ago, and told him he would arrive at the municipal airport in forty-five minutes. He turned left at the stoplight and headed in the opposite direction from New Orleans. He'd never be able to go back, of course. Even though he had a new identity-the passport was in the case with his computer-he knew he would never return to the United States.

No great loss, he thought. After all, he had millions of dollars to keep him happy. John wasn't one to gloat, but he did just that now. He had, after all, gotten away with murder.

Michelle finished writing orders and then went into recovery to look in on John Patrick. The nurse had led his parents in, and

Daryl and Cherry stood holding hands by their son's bedside. Elliott was outside the door, too upset to do more than peek in at his brother^

"The worst is over," Daryl said. Then he looked at Michelle. "You've been through the wringer tonight too, haven't you? The

police blocked off the steps and the elevators, and we knew something terrible was going on, but we didn't know how bad it was."

"I'm glad we didn't know," Cherry said as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue,

"We could hear the gunshots. Everyone in the hospital could hear them, but we knew you wouldn't let anything happen to John Patrick."

"Dr. Landusky will be here through the night," she said. "But if you'd rather I stay-"

Daryl wouldn't let her finish. "You did your part, and we don't know how we're ever going to repay you. You go on home."

Michelle took the steps down to the emergency room to get Theo. The notion of sleeping for a week sounded glorious. She wondered if he was as tired as she was. She had already stitched his arm again, but he was waiting in the ER, sitting on an exam table with an ice pack on his knee while he talked on the phone.

He hung up as she walked in. "Detectives Underwood and Basham picked up Cameron Lynch. He was in the mood to talk," he added. "First thing he said after they read him his rights was that he wasn't going to take the fall for murdering John's wife. He called it a mercy killing."

"And that made it okay?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I don't know what kind of spin he's putting on it," Theo said. "The bottom line is that he was motivated by money."

He reached out and pulled her into his side and held her around her waist. He needed to have her close, to touch her. There

was a moment upstairs when he had thought he was going to lose her, and he knew he would never ever forget that terror.

He kissed her on the side of her neck. A nurse was standing at the counter watching. He didn't care, and from the way

Michelle leaned into him, he knew she didn't care either.

Noah walked into the ER then.

"What have you got all over your face?" Michelle asked.

He went to the mirror above the sink to look. "Plaster chips and dust I guess," he said as he turned the water on and grabbed a towel.

Theo told him about Cameron while Noah washed his face. "John's already moved the money out of the Cayman account. He

did it with his computer."

"Where'd he transfer it?" Noah asked.

"Don't know yet, but Underwood has people working on it. It's an interesting group," he commented.

"The Sowing Club? What's interesting about four deviants?" Noah asked. He wiped his face dry with the towel and dropped it

into the sink. Then he turned around, folded his arms across his chest, and waited for Theo to explain.

"When John first set the account up, he told his friends that all four of them would have to go to the bank to get any money out.

It was a safeguard, he'd explained, but that obviously wasn't the truth. He played them from the beginning, and Dallas and Preston and Cameron were fools to keep on trusting him after he manipulated them into helping hire the hit on his wife."

"Why did he need their cooperation?"

"Dallas was the connection to Monk," Theo said. "I'm not sure why he wanted to involve the other two. They had all the bases covered. John worked the banking end. He was a lawyer and a VP in the trust department. Cameron used his brokerage firm to screw clients out of their retirement money, Dallas was police, and Preston worked in the D.A.'s office and took care of any problems with the law.

"Dallas was actually telling the truth about the ghost. She did keep a file on him and all his past deeds, just to cover herself. Underwood has the file now. He said Monk killed a young girl a while back and that the father hired him to do the job. There's enough evidence to arrest the father, and they've got detectives picking him up now."

"I hope he rots in prison," Michelle said.

Theo nodded. "Underwood thinks Monk has flair." He lifted the ice pack and put it on the table behind him.

"What did he mean by 'flair'?" Michelle asked. She saw Theo grimace as he lifted his leg. She grabbed the ice pack and put it back on his knee.

"He always places a rose near the victim, usually on the bed, because he prefers killing them at night."

"So Detective Harris wasn't lying about that," Michelle said.

"She was smart," Theo said. "She stuck close to the truth as much as possible so she wouldn't get tripped up on lies."

"How did you know Harris was one of them?" Michelle asked.

"When Noah was in New Orleans, I had him check her out," he said. "I thought it was odd that her captain wouldn't tell Noah anything about the case she was working on. Noah's used to dealing with antagonistic detectives who don't want the FBI working with them, so he assumed the captain was being evasive on purpose. I thought maybe the captain didn't know what Harris was up to, but I didn't take that any further. I just filed it away and moved on."

"I should have taken the time to talk to some of the other detectives," Noah said. "To find out how they felt about working with her."

"They probably would have closed ranks on you," Theo said.

"I still don't understand how you put it together, Theo," Michelle said.

"Catherine told me," he said. "She was a smart woman, so I finally realized why she'd made it so complicated. She didn't have the attorney give the papers to the police because she knew one of the members of the Sowing Club was a detective. She gave the second backup copy to Rosa because she knew the housekeeper would never go to the police. I honestly don't know what she thought Rosa would do, though. Maybe mail the files… I don't know."

He yawned then and said, "Anyway, I'd narrowed it down to Preston and Dallas, knew one of them was a policeman, and then Harris showed up wearing a jacket when it was blistering hot and muggy outside. When she stepped into the hall and turned, her back was to me and I saw her reach behind and unsnap the strap on her gun, but she kept the other hand in her pocket. I figured she was carrying extra firepower."

"I sure would like to know where John Russell is hiding," Noah said.

Theo nodded. "We'll get him eventually." Then he yawned. "Let's go home."

"I'm ready," she agreed.

"Noah's going to sleep in your guest room," he said. "Just as a precaution."

"You don't think that John or Monk-"

He didn't let her finish. "No, but I'll sleep easier, and so will you."

They headed for the exit. Theo looped his arm around Michelle's shoulder as they walked along.

"I've got to stop at the motel and pick up some things," Noah said. "How's that kid doing, Mike? Give me some good news."

"He's going to be fine," she answered. "It wasn't as bad as it looked."

"Are you still chafed you let Monk get away?" Theo asked.

"I couldn't be in two places at once," he replied. "I knew I had to get back and save your sorry ass, and the police had the stairwells blocked off. I figured they'd get him."

"I saved your sorry ass," Theo corrected.

"The hell you did. Where are my car keys?"

"I left them in the car."

"Noah, how do you know you shot Monk?" she asked. "Did you see him fall?"

"No, he didn't go down," he explained. "But there was blood on the door and on the stairs. I either got him in the hip or the side.

He went up to the roof, crossed over, then down the fire escape." He turned to leave. "I'll see you later."

"Could you wait a minute and make sure I can get the pickup started?" Michelle asked.

She was glad she'd asked, because Noah had to hotwire it to get it going. Theo insisted on driving and didn't seem to have any trouble using his right leg to work the clutch.

"I'm going to sleep until noon," she said.

"You can't. You've got to get up and go fishing."

Michelle groaned. "I'm staying home."

"You've got to go with me. You're my partner."

"We don't have a boat, remember? Mine's buried in the shrubs somewhere, and we wouldn't have a chance of winning without one. The best fishing spots are deep in the swamp."

"Your dad made John Paul loan us one of his. It's already docked behind The Swan."

She didn't like hearing that. "I want to stay in bed, but I'll leave the decision to you. You're company, after all." She moved closer, put her hand on his thigh, and tried to sound sultry when she whispered, "I'll do whatever you want."

"That's a tough one," he drawled. "Let's see. I could either get up before dawn-and I really like doing that-and sit in a boat all day long worrying about snakes falling on my head while I'm sweating through my clothes and slapping at mosquitoes, or…"

"Yes?" she said, smiling now.

"I could spend the day in bed fooling around with a beautiful, naked lady. Yeah, that's a tough one, all right."

"Who said anything about me being naked?"

He gave her a look that made her heart race. "Honey, that's a given."

"Oh, boy."

"You're blushing. After everything we've-"

She put her hand over his mouth. "I remember what we did."

She suddenly realized he'd made a wrong turn. "Where are you going?"

"McDonald's. I'm starving."

"We have plenty of food at home."

"A cheeseburger will hold me until we get home."

"Okay, that's fine with me."

A minute later he understood why she was suddenly being so cooperative. She knew McDonald's was closed. By the time they got home, he was in too much of a hurry to get her undressed to think about food. She wanted to shower, and that was fine with him, as long as he could get in the shower with her.

They fell into bed together and made love again. He pressed her down into the mattress, held her hands prisoner above her head, and told her all the loving words he needed to say and she needed to hear.

Then it was her turn. "Say it," he whispered.

She wanted to be practical. "When you get home and get back into your routine-"

"Say it," he demanded.

"You'll look back on this as a… fling."

"Are we going to have our first fight?"

"No, I'm just…"

"Say it."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "We've only known each other…"

"Say it."

"I love you," she whispered.

He was so pleased he kissed her; then he rolled onto his side and pulled her up against him. She cried all over his chest. He knew why. She thought he would return to Boston and go on with his life… without her.

He would have gotten angry if he hadn't remembered that the woman he loved didn't know squat about men. He waited until she was finished crying and was hiccupping. Stroking her back, he said, "I dated Rebecca for a year before she moved in. We lived together for another year before we got married, and you know what?"

She lifted her head so she could see his face. "What?"

"I didn't know her as well as I already know you. Life's too short, Michelle. I want to be with you. I want to grow old with you."

She desperately wanted to believe him. She knew he was telling the truth, but she was also convinced that, once he returned to

his job in Boston and his friends and family, he would realize he belonged there.

"Marry me, Michelle."

"You have to go back to Boston. If you feel the way you do now in six months, then ask me again."

"I can't stay away from you that long."

"I want you to be sensible about this. Six months," she repeated.

He pushed her on her back and rolled on top of her, bracing his weight with his arms. God, how he loved her. Even when she

was being stubborn.

He stopped arguing. He had other things on his mind now. He began to nuzzle her as he nudged her thighs apart.

"You win, sweetheart. Six months."