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“Just get me a few napkins and some water,” he requested. “The cuts are clean. No pieces of glass. A little direct pressure should stop the bleeding. I’ll go to the men’s room and take care of it. Then I’ll construct a makeshift bandage and we can forget the whole incident.”
Sloane hurried over to the table, grabbed a few napkins and a glass of water, and brought them over to Luke. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you still bleeding?” Lillian asked anxiously.
“Nope.” Luke lied through his teeth as the blood soaked through the first napkin. “It’s slowing down.”
“Wash it with soap and water anyway.” Lillian fumbled through her purse, and handed Luke a compact first-aid kit, complete with a bandage and a tube of Neosporin. “Then use the Neosporin and bandage it up.”
“Consider it done.”
While Luke went off to tend to his hand, Elliot took over, wheeling Lillian over to talk to Jimmy O’Donnelly. She and Jimmy were in the middle of round two of their heated debate, when Luke rejoined them.
“Thank God.” Elliot rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “I was afraid your mother and Detective O’Donnelly were about to come to blows.” A quick glance at Luke’s neatly bandaged hand. “How’s it doing?”
“Good as new,” Luke assured him. “I’ll take over from here.”
“Great. Because my vibrating BlackBerry is telling me that I need to go to my office.”
“Feel free. Everything here is under control.”
Elliot made his way across the room, stopping near the entrance, where Sloane and Derek were involved in what was clearly a heated, and not amicable, conversation. “I’m dashing upstairs to my office for a quick check-in on our progress,” he told them, waving his BlackBerry in the air. “If Deborah, my grad student, is holding up, I think I’ll pack a doggie bag—including a whopping slice of your strawberry cheesecake—and go home to get some sleep. I’ve got the predawn shift. I want to be wide awake during my watch.”
“Our follow-up meeting’s coming up,” Sloane remembered aloud.
“Don’t remind me. I’m under enough pressure. My entire life has become watching that d
amn screen, praying for something useful to appear.”
“You’re doing everything you can,” Derek assured him. “We all are. Something will break.” He cleared his throat. “But in the meantime, I do have one mandate I need to reiterate and to stress. I know how psyched you are about applying your program to solve these crimes, but it’s crucial that—”
“Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have shot off my big mouth,” Elliot finished for him. “You’re right, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
“Enough said,” Derek replied. “Fortunately, you were pretty vague, and at least we’re among friends.”
“I appreciate your letting me off the hook.” Elliot gave a self-deprecating grimace. “But from now on, mum’s the word.” His glance flickered from one of them to the other. “Now go ahead and resume your argument. If you don’t hear from me, it means there’s nothing to tell. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
Four hours later, Elliot had polished off his doggie bag and was sound asleep, when there was a knock at the door of his apartment.
Half out of it, he shrugged into a robe and went to see what was up. As always, he peered through the keyhole, then opened the door with a groggy, puzzled expression.
“Did I forget something?” he asked, seeing his name typed on the large Tyvek envelope his visitor was carrying.
“Just to press the delete key.” Shutting the door behind him, he reached into the envelope with one gloved hand, and extracted a large combat knife. “But not to worry,” he said, madness glistening in his eyes. “I’ll take care of that for you.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
DATE: 30 April
TIME: 0600 hours
This drive never ceases to take my breath away.
The Kittatinny Mountains are exquisite in springtime. Lush, green, towering over the ground below. Gripping the steering wheel, I stare out the window, marveling at the countryside, and the sunrise over the mountains. I downshift, urging my car to climb the steepest incline—the mountain upon which, concealed by a thick cluster of trees, New Olympus stands.
