husband tried it.”
“For God’s sake, Max is sixty-five. He’s lucky if he can walk across the room.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Have you been, uh . . . dissatisfied?”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Of course the last time—”
“That was just once,” Jack said. “I was thinking about those stupid skeletons at the museum.”
“Don’t get upset,” Beth said, rolling over on top of him.
That was when he noticed the front of her robe was undone. He pulled her down to him and kissed her. She responded by pressing her hips into his.
“Oh,” she said, shifting her hips slightly. “It doesn’t seem like you need those pills after all.”
Afterward, Beth stood and languidly stretched in the firelight totally without inhibition. She picked up her robe, but didn’t put it on, draping it over one shoulder instead. Jack lay there waiting for his heart rate to return to normal as she walked to the steps.
“Care to join me upstairs?” she asked.
“Right now? I’m still trying to get my breath back.”
“That was round one, honey. You know how us gals are.”
Chapter 9
Five Days to the Grand Jury
T he Lawrences lived in an upscale subdivision in the middle of Atlanta. Jack and Beth, running a little late that morning, pulled up to the front of the house and parked. Azalea and Camilla bushes, dormant with the approaching winter, lined the home’s foundation. Several hanging flower baskets filled with purple and yellow pansies were suspended from black angle brackets at the corners. The house was a reasonable size, though not ostentatious, and consistent with others in the neighborhood. It appeared to be a pleasant, comfortable home with a lot of nice touches. What it did not have were any police cars in the driveway.
“Damn,” Beth said.
As soon as they exited their vehicle, she moved her suit jacket to the side to allow easier access to the 9 mm semiautomatic Beretta on her right hip.
“Are you carrying?” she asked Jack.
“Actually . . . no.”
“My backup’s in the glove compartment. Doesn’t the FBI have rules about carrying a weapon?”
“They must,” Jack said. “It’s been a while.”
Beth shook her head and waited while he retrieved the gun. As they approached the front door, each moved to opposite sides. Beth knocked. Several seconds passed without an answer.
“Where the hell are they?” she said.
“Call Dwayne Stafford,” Jack said. “He took over for Pappas this morning.”
Beth removed her cellphone and called her secretary for Stafford’s number. She asked if Nolvia knew where the detective was.
It wasn’t possible to hear Nolvia’s answer, but Jack was familiar with the look on Beth’s face. Before he could ask the obvious question, she disconnected and was placing a second call. Her voice remained calm when Stafford answered.
“Dwayne, listen carefully,” Beth said. “You’re in a highly dangerous situation. I’m not exaggerating. More important, the witnesses are in danger. Didn’t Pappas explain what’s going on?” She listened to his reply and then continued.
“I understand you couldn’t stop them from leaving the house, and it’s great the Bureau’s sending marshals. Right now they’re our responsibility. I want you to secure Doctors Lawrence and Landry and keep them away from any windows. You heard the man we’re after killed a priest yesterday?”
More conversation followed.
Beth acknowledged the comments and went on. “I don’t give a damn if they have patients. Arrest them for littering, or looking at you cross-eyed. Just get them someplace safe. We’re on the way.”
*
The medical practice’s office manager, Elaine Reynolds, finally pulled herself together and managed to stop crying. Known to her friends as Lanie, she had been with them for the last five years. Rachel Lawrence sat across from her in Lanie’s office on the eighth floor trying to comfort and assure her that everything would be all right.
“For God’s sake, Max is sixty-five. He’s lucky if he can walk across the room.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Have you been, uh . . . dissatisfied?”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Of course the last time—”
“That was just once,” Jack said. “I was thinking about those stupid skeletons at the museum.”
“Don’t get upset,” Beth said, rolling over on top of him.
That was when he noticed the front of her robe was undone. He pulled her down to him and kissed her. She responded by pressing her hips into his.
“Oh,” she said, shifting her hips slightly. “It doesn’t seem like you need those pills after all.”
Afterward, Beth stood and languidly stretched in the firelight totally without inhibition. She picked up her robe, but didn’t put it on, draping it over one shoulder instead. Jack lay there waiting for his heart rate to return to normal as she walked to the steps.
“Care to join me upstairs?” she asked.
“Right now? I’m still trying to get my breath back.”
“That was round one, honey. You know how us gals are.”
Chapter 9
Five Days to the Grand Jury
T he Lawrences lived in an upscale subdivision in the middle of Atlanta. Jack and Beth, running a little late that morning, pulled up to the front of the house and parked. Azalea and Camilla bushes, dormant with the approaching winter, lined the home’s foundation. Several hanging flower baskets filled with purple and yellow pansies were suspended from black angle brackets at the corners. The house was a reasonable size, though not ostentatious, and consistent with others in the neighborhood. It appeared to be a pleasant, comfortable home with a lot of nice touches. What it did not have were any police cars in the driveway.
“Damn,” Beth said.
As soon as they exited their vehicle, she moved her suit jacket to the side to allow easier access to the 9 mm semiautomatic Beretta on her right hip.
“Are you carrying?” she asked Jack.
“Actually . . . no.”
“My backup’s in the glove compartment. Doesn’t the FBI have rules about carrying a weapon?”
“They must,” Jack said. “It’s been a while.”
Beth shook her head and waited while he retrieved the gun. As they approached the front door, each moved to opposite sides. Beth knocked. Several seconds passed without an answer.
“Where the hell are they?” she said.
“Call Dwayne Stafford,” Jack said. “He took over for Pappas this morning.”
Beth removed her cellphone and called her secretary for Stafford’s number. She asked if Nolvia knew where the detective was.
It wasn’t possible to hear Nolvia’s answer, but Jack was familiar with the look on Beth’s face. Before he could ask the obvious question, she disconnected and was placing a second call. Her voice remained calm when Stafford answered.
“Dwayne, listen carefully,” Beth said. “You’re in a highly dangerous situation. I’m not exaggerating. More important, the witnesses are in danger. Didn’t Pappas explain what’s going on?” She listened to his reply and then continued.
“I understand you couldn’t stop them from leaving the house, and it’s great the Bureau’s sending marshals. Right now they’re our responsibility. I want you to secure Doctors Lawrence and Landry and keep them away from any windows. You heard the man we’re after killed a priest yesterday?”
More conversation followed.
Beth acknowledged the comments and went on. “I don’t give a damn if they have patients. Arrest them for littering, or looking at you cross-eyed. Just get them someplace safe. We’re on the way.”
*
The medical practice’s office manager, Elaine Reynolds, finally pulled herself together and managed to stop crying. Known to her friends as Lanie, she had been with them for the last five years. Rachel Lawrence sat across from her in Lanie’s office on the eighth floor trying to comfort and assure her that everything would be all right.
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