Blowout

eased up the window a crack and yelled out, “We’re okay in here. Spread out and check the neighborhood, we’ll be leaving here soon.”
    “That you, Ben?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Keep down. There’s no sign of anyone here, but we’re on it.” He recognized Sergeant Teddy Russell’s voice.
    Ben held his gun at his side. “Fleurette, push your twenty-two over to me.”
    He heard the small gun slide across the marble tile. It hit his boot. He put it in his belt holster.
    “Detective—”
    “No, no, stay quiet for a while longer.” He pulled out his cell and called Captain Halloway, who answered like he’d been awake for hours. Ben quickly told him what was happening.
    “Just keep the women safe, Ben. I’ll handle everything else. Do you know the lead officer at Ms. LaFleurette’s house?”
    “It’s Sergeant Teddy Russell.”
    “He’s a good man. He’ll get things done. Hang tight, Ben, hang tight and protect the women. We’ll get you out of there soon enough.”
    Ben punched off his cell, then leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes a moment and let the events of the evening race through his brain. Incredible, all of it. At least Fleurette was alive. He said, “Let’s stay down, and stay quiet. We don’t know if the guy’s out there yet. He’s good at losing himself in the shadows.”
    Ben heard Callie moving toward Fleurette. “Stay down,” he said. He opened his cell to call Savich while they waited. “We made it, Savich. Yes, I told her about Eliza. She’s holding up. We’ll be at your house as soon as I’m certain it’s safe to take Fleurette outside.” He heard Savich speaking to someone in the background, Sherlock, probably. “Okay, I hear the cops coming up the stairs. I’ll see you at your house.” Ben slowly rose. He went to the front door, stood to the side, and identified himself as he opened it. “Hey, Teddy, good to see you. Is it clear?”
    “Not yet, Ben. Stay inside a few minutes longer until the rest of my men check in.”
    Ben nodded. “I spoke to Captain Halloway. He said he told you he was sending more squad cars.”
    “Yes, we’re all spread out now, canvassing everything within a mile of the house, but it’s tough, folks who live in this area like to party on Friday night.”
    “The guy we’re looking for is American, probably in his fifties, white.”
    Sergeant Teddy Russell, a twenty-four-year veteran, put his beefy hand on the butt of the Smith & Wesson 1911 holstered at his belt, and looked from Ben to the two women. “Boy, you guys in Metro sure like to live on the edge.”

CHAPTER
27
    G EORGETOWN
W ASHINGTON , D.C.
E ARLY S ATURDAY MORNING
    F LEURETTE SAT at the kitchen table, a hot mug of coffee held between her hands, her head down, her blond hair straggling out of its ponytail. She was wearing an oversized cable knit navy sweater, blue jeans, and boots. An orange duffel bag and oversized purse lay at her feet.
    “Thank you, Agent Savich,” she said at last, still not looking up. “You probably saved my life.”
    “I’m just happy that Ben got there in time. You’ll be staying with my wife and me for a while, all right?”
    Fleurette shuddered. “Thank you.” She raised her head and looked from him to Sherlock. “Do you often have people like me staying with you?”
    “No,” Sherlock said, pouring more hot coffee into her mug, “not often. Here, drink this down, Fleurette, you need it.”
    Callie was leaning into Ben. She looked dazed and absolutely exhausted. She said, “I’ve got to call Mom, tell her what’s happened.”
    Savich said, “No, not yet, Callie. She doesn’t need to know right now. Let her rest, let her have a bit more recovery time before we hit her with Eliza’s murder. We’ll go over tomorrow.” He watched Sherlock walk quietly out of the kitchen. He nodded to Ben, said to Fleurette, “Keep drinking that hot coffee.”
    He found his wife sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her face in her hands. He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.
    In the kitchen, Lily and Simon were cutting slices of apple pie and heating them in the microwave. Lily said, “Fleurette, you need sugar, it will help calm you.”
    “I really don’t want—”
    “I know it’s not chocolate,” Simon Russo said, “but it’s a good excuse to eat the best apple pie in the universe and not feel guilty about the calories.”
    Fleurette actually smiled. It fell off her face quickly enough, but it was a start. There