Eleventh Hour (39 page)

“Oh no,” Nick said. “It wasn’t Senator Rothman. You guys were right all the time. It was Albia, and this is the man who tried to kill me three times.”

“Four times,” Sherlock said.

Dwight groaned, then slumped back on the deck.

“Hey, Dwight,” Nick shouted to him. “Am I lucky, or what?”

Dwight didn’t answer. With a scream of rage, he jerked upright, grabbed a knife out of his boot, and went after Nick. She froze. That knife was up, coming toward her, arching downward to her heart, and suddenly she was thrown to the deck onto her back. Dane was on him, both hands locked around his wrist, shaking, tightening.

Dwight screamed in his face, “You’re the Fed cop. Hey, I nearly got you once, I’ll do it again.”

“Oh no,” Dane said, let Dwight draw him in closer, then he drove his knee up into Dwight’s groin. He screamed, fell back. Dane slammed his fist into his belly, shoved him down. He was on top of him, slamming his head on the deck. Vaguely, he heard Savich call out. He saw the blur of the knife, realized he’d let his own rage get the better of him. He rolled off Dwight, came up, and when the man came at him again, crouched over, still in bad pain, Dane kicked him in the jaw. He went down like a rock.

This time he didn’t move. They all watched the knife slowly fall from his fingers.

“Good move,” Savich said, and squeezed his shoulder. He watched, smiling, as Dane turned, looked at Nick, then slowly brought her against him. They didn’t move for a very long time.

Sherlock said, “You know what, Dillon? I want to go buy some fat rollers this afternoon. We’ve put it off long enough, don’t you think?”

Savich laughed.

EPILOGUE

She watched Dane place the single white lily on top of Father Michael Joseph’s grave. He straightened, his head down. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying to his brother.

Finally, he raised his head and smiled at her. He said simply, “Michael loved Easter, and that means lilies.

” He paused a moment. “I will miss him until I die. But at least he’s been avenged.”

“It isn’t enough,” she said. “It just isn’t enough.”

“No, of course not, but it’s something. Thank you for coming with me, Nicola.”

“No, please, just call me Nick. I don’t think I ever want to be called that other name again.”

“You got it. Whatcha say we go take Inspector Delion to lunch?”

“I’d like that.” She took his outstretched hand. He turned once to look back at his brother’s grave. The single lily looked starkly white atop the freshly turned dirt. Then he looked back at her and smiled.

Nick said, “Inspector Delion told me about this Mexican restaurant on Lombard called “La Barca.” Let’s go there.”

He grinned down at her. “You mean all I’ve got to do is give this girl a taco and she’s a happy camper?”

They walked in silence to the rental car. He said, “I just heard from Savich. Albia Rothman’s hearing was this morning. She pleaded not guilty. And you know what? Dwight Toomer isn’t rolling on her, at least not yet. We’ll have to see how tough the DA is. You’ll have to testify, Nick. It won’t be fun.”

“No, but maybe we can get justice for Cleo.”

“It’ll take a long time to come to court. Albia Rothman’s got big-tag lawyers. They’ll stall and evade and file more motions than O.J.’s lawyers. But it will happen. She will go down. It’s not enough, but it’s all we can do. Now, what are you planning on doing, Nick?”

“You know I resigned from the university.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, and waited, and thought of the huge box of condoms he had in his briefcase. He smiled even as she said, “I’ve been thinking I’d like to come east, maybe to Washington, D.C., see what’

s available for an out-of-work college professor.”

He stopped, lightly touched his fingers to her cheek, smelled the fresh salty air, and said, “Yes, I think that’s a fine idea. Given your record for getting into trouble, it’s probably smart of you to get as close as possible to the biggest cop shop in the U.S.”

“I sure hope you’re wrong about that. I don’t even plan on getting a parking ticket. Dane, remember you wanted the next fifty years?”

“Yes, and then we’ll negotiate for more. I was thinking that someday Sean Savich will be a grown man and just maybe, if we have a girl, she and Sean could get together. What do you think?”

“Good grief. We’re not even married and you’ve already got our daughter married! Hmmm. To Sean Savich. We’ll have to speak to Savich and Sherlock about some sort of nuptial contract, what do you think?”

He laughed, took her hand, and felt a bolt of happiness fill him, deep and bright. He turned back once more to see the lily atop Michael’s grave lightly waving in the salty breeze.