Blowout

I’m not lying, Martin. Why would I?”
    Savich knew that the cops couldn’t hear either of them.
    Martin Thornton’s voice was hesitant. “I didn’t mean to call out that other name, it just came out of my mouth. What are you saying? There’s no such thing as ghosts. My mom couldn’t come back—how could she?”
    “I don’t know, but she did come to me, then she was in my dreams. Martin, I’m here to help you, but I can’t until I know what’s changed in your life, what’s happened to you to make you do this. Let me come inside. I’m not about to hurt you or your family. I’m here for you, but mainly I’m here for your mother, Samantha, and not as an FBI agent.”
    The door eased open and a man appeared in profile. Then he turned to face him. Savich knew Austin Douglas Barrister was only a couple of years older than he, about thirty-seven, but he appeared older. He had thinning black hair, a very pale face, and his mother’s incredibly beautiful eyes. But his pupils were dilated, huge and black with fear, just as hers had been. He was thin, a bit stoop-shouldered, and wore dark brown corduroy trousers, sneakers, and a white shirt beneath a dark brown V-neck sweater. He heard his wife Janet say, “Let him in, Martin. I believe him. It sounds too crazy not to be true. Come, we’ll work this out. Let him in.”
    Savich saw that Martin was holding a shotgun at his side, a weapon that could blow a hole through a man, Kevlar vest or not.
    Martin slowly nodded. He looked out toward all the cops, shrank back a bit. “All right, you can come in, but I still think you’re nuts.” Then he laughed. “I said you’re nuts? That makes both of us nuts. What did you say your name is?”
    “Dillon Savich.”
    “Did the cops give you a gun?”
    “I already told you I’m an FBI agent. Of course I have a gun. It’s in the holster at my belt. Would you like me to drop it out here?”
    Martin Thornton stared at him, the shotgun held tight in his right hand. Savich was close enough to see that it was an SKB model 785, a beautiful weapon, finely tooled with an automatic ejector, and with a silver nitrite finish. It was expensive, and it was deadly.
    Martin Thornton said slowly, “No, leave it holstered. Come on in.”
    “Would you like to send Janet and the girls out?”
    Suddenly a woman was standing at Martin’s right shoulder. “No, I don’t want to leave Martin. I’m fine right here. The girls are locked in a bedroom. They’re all right too.” She drew a deep breath. “This has happened twice before. We got through it. Come in, Agent Savich.”
    “Yeah, all right, come in,” Martin said and stepped back, careful not to show himself fully in the doorway. Savich didn’t blame him for that. Savich looked back to nod toward Chief Gerber before he stepped through the front door and waved his hand.
    He stepped inside the house. It was dim and shadowy. He could barely see the woman standing beside Martin. He said, “Can we turn on some lights?”
    Martin shut and locked the front door, then flicked on the light switch.
    Savich looked into a good-sized living room, a long, narrow space with two thick carpets on the hardwood floor, comfortable furniture, a lot of chintz. Feminine, but inviting. It looked like a home, a happy contented home. This had happened twice before? And Janet had hung in there? That said something about her, about them. She was nearly as tall as her husband, plump, big-breasted, with long, naturally curly dark brown hair.
    Savich saw the gaping hole in the living room wall where Martin had fired a blast at close range. So that’s what the neighbors had heard, why they’d called the police.
    Savich sincerely hoped Martin Thornton didn’t lose it like that again, and put the same size hole through him. But suddenly, he wasn’t sure. Martin’s eyes had gone hot and dark.

CHAPTER
29
    S AVICH DIDN ’ T MOVE . He nearly stopped breathing. He wondered in that instant what that SKB shotgun fired at this close range would do to his chest. Probably shred both the vest and him, and he’d be dead so fast he wouldn’t even realize it. He smiled at Martin Thornton. “This hole in the wall. Do you know what it made me think about?”
    Martin blinked, his eyes slowly focused. He looked over at the wall. “What?”
    “I was thinking that this was the very first time I’ve seen what a shotgun blast could do to a wall, and I was wondering what it would do to a human body. I’m wearing