Blowout

about a Porsche—I’d probably get so many speeding tickets I’d get drummed off the force.”
    She laughed again, shook her head, and laughed some more. It felt great.
    “Now, seriously, the thing about Porsches is that the minute your foot connects to the accelerator, it gains weight and pushes down harder and harder. Just look at Savich. You think he’s got a clue how fast he’s going?”
    “Yes, I think he knows exactly how fast he’s going.”
    “Well, maybe you’re right, in this situation. What do you think, one hundred and ten miles an hour?”
    She shook her head, tapped her fingers to her chin. “No, more like one twenty.” She paused, then turned to him. “Okay, I understand now. You’ve been distracting me. And you’ve done it very well. You’ve made me laugh. Thank you. Now, for our first date, I want to ride in the truck. I want to drive out in the wilds of Virginia to some country barbecue place where they don’t have any tablecloths, just long wooden tables, and tubs filled with ice and beer. Hey, you’re losing sight of him.”
    The Crown Vic leapt forward. One hundred miles an hour. Ben heard sirens behind him. Good, their escort was with them. He had to get closer to Savich, or the cops would go nuts at the sight of that speeding Porsche. He got on his radio, called dispatch. “This is Detective Ben Raven, on Highway 270. We’re just past Rockville, Maryland. We’re heading up to Alston, then ten miles west to Petersboro. FBI Agent Dillon Savich is in front of me, driving a red Porsche 911. My siren’s on and I’ve got two cop cars behind me. Alert the highway patrol about our position and the Porsche. This is an emergency.” He listened, said yes a couple of times, and punched off.
    “Okay, if we’re lucky everything should be all right. Let’s hear it for a show of competence.”
    “An amazing thing, competence. I’m always pleasantly surprised when I trip over it.”
    Ben caught sight of the Porsche. “He just passed a patrol car coming off an exit onto the freeway. I’m going to call dispatch again, just to be sure.” Ben memorized the patrol car number and radioed dispatch again.
    They watched the patrol car pull back a bit. “Good.”
    Callie said suddenly, “Why would he go after Fleurette?”
    So much for distracting her, Ben thought, and said, “I’ve been wondering the same thing. Maybe she’s another loose end. Like Eliza.”
    “I don’t think Eliza was just a loose end. Don’t forget, she was calling Savich, to tell him something, maybe something she knew but hadn’t said anything about before. And why not? Because she was afraid? Or because she was a part of something that led to my stepfather’s murder?”
    “Whoa—that’s a giant leap. But you’re a reporter, you’re paid to make wild guesses, right?”
    “Do you really think it’s such a wild guess?”
    “Maybe. Who knows? Hey, I’m trying to keep from killing us here. I’m now going one hundred and ten miles an hour. Keep an eye out for more patrol cars. Or any pedestrians who might be running across the highway.” He laid a gloved hand on her leg as she laughed again. “You really want a down-home, hoe-down kind of country place where you get barbecue sauce all over your face and Billy Bob tries to make a pass at you?”
    She laughed again. “That’s it exactly. And just think, I’ll be with such a guy’s guy—truck, beer, testosterone, nice butt. What more could a girl ask? Look, Alton’s coming up. I’ll keep an eye out for Petersboro.”
    “Just watch the Porsche. Sherlock probably has MAX on her lap and he’s providing them directions.”
    “Nah, she’s a real navigator. I’ll bet she’s using a plain old map.”
    Ben slowed to match the Porsche. The squad cars behind him kept thirty feet back.
    Savich led them directly into a subdivision of ranch-style homes not far from the highway. A half-dozen squad cars were angled around one of them, a dozen or more police huddled behind them, using the cars for shields.

CHAPTER
28
    P ETERSBORO , M ARYLAND
    N EIGHBORS WERE GATHERED , talking and pointing, looking both scared and excited, held behind a police line half a block away from the house. Savich pulled the Porsche behind a squad car three houses away from where Austin Douglas Barrister lived. Ben and the two highway patrol cars pulled in behind him.
    He and Sherlock saw a man in a heavy jacket holding a bullhorn in his hand and ran toward him. Before they could