Whiplash

wall, wall plaster rained down, and stair railings were splintered and flew everywhere. It looks like a god-awful shoot-out, but as I said, neither Savich nor Sherlock was hit, which seems a miracle. Besides the brass from Savich and Sherlock's SIGs, all the other casings were from a Glock forty and a nine-millimeter Kel-Tec, which does indeed add up to two gunmen."
    "Did Dillon and Sherlock hit anyone?"
    "They don't know. We didn't find any blood, other than in the laundry room. We also found a jumble of footprints below the big window in the laundry room, looked like a dozen people rather than just two, but maybe the CSI people will figure it out. The laundry room where we found Mr. Royal's body is at the opposite end of the corridor from Mrs. Royal's bedroom. It was a huge mess. Our thinking is he was hiding in there and when the men reached the top of the stairs, they turned left instead of right, found him, and shot him dead."
    "So if the gunmen had turned right instead, they would have found Mrs. Royal in the master bedroom. Is that luck, or what?"
    "She said the men did come to the bedroom door, but didn't come in."
    "Did Mr. Royal have a gun?"
    "Not that we could find."
    "That doesn't make sense, Bowie. Why wouldn't he have a weapon? Surely he was afraid they'd come after him, whoever they are."
    "Mrs. Royal had his gun, the S-and-W."
    "But still-"
    "Agreed," Savich said from behind Bowie. "Maybe he thought he was safe enough in the house, just get his passport and some cash-which we found on him-and he'd be on his way to South America. Maybe he didn't want to face his wife. Or maybe he planned to take the gun just before he left."
    Erin said, "On the other hand, maybe Mr. Royal had another gun and the killers took it with them after they killed him."
    Sherlock shook her head. "There were no other casings in the laundry room except the one nine-millimeter we found from the kill shot, so Mr. Royal didn't shoot back. The laundry room door was locked, so while they were kicking it in, he'd have been firing if he'd had a gun. We think he must have been trying to get out the window, but when they crashed through the door, he turned back to them, and was shot in the forehead."
    Bowie said, "Royal had to be very afraid making even this quick foray into his own house, yet he had no weapon at all to defend himself."
    Sherlock frowned. "Now, why didn't Mr. Royal tell his wife he was coming back?"
    "He couldn't face her, that's why," Erin said. "He was running and he wanted to run alone. He didn't want arguments or recriminations, he didn't want to take the chance that she'd call you guys."
    Savich said, "And his kids-did he know they weren't there? I'll tell you, the last place I'd go was where my kids were."
    "Where are the two boys?"
    Sherlock said, "Jane Ann sent them to her sister in Philadelphia. To give Caskie fatherhood points, he might have seen them leave, knew only Jane Ann was there, and he decided to ghost it." Sherlock turned to Erin. "You okay? I gotta say your eyes look bright, but you're hurting, aren't you?"
    "Maybe a little bit," Erin said absently, barely registering that her back was throbbing again. She said, "Seems to me Jane Ann had to know her husband was in the house, no matter how careful he was."
    "Not necessarily," Bowie said. "He obviously didn't plan on staying long."
    "What really bothers me is that the men who killed Caskie didn't seem to care about her," Sherlock said. "Wouldn't the killers be afraid her husband had confided too much to her, the reasons they were after him? She was an unknown, wasn't she? A loose thread? So why didn't they kill her too? One murder, two murders, who cares?" She shrugged. "I guess it's possible, but my gut is singing another song."
    Savich hugged her to his side. "Maybe mine is, too. Or maybe your different song is from exhaustion and being too jazzed on caffeine."
    Erin said, "But what would her husband have confided? That he'd murdered Blauvelt? If he did, then why kill him? He was going down."
    "The someone who killed him was afraid Caskie would talk, that's why," Sherlock said.
    Savich turned to scan the Royal house, the early morning light bathing it in a soft pink glow. If it weren't for all the cops standing around, it would look idyllic.
    After agreeing to some sleep before meeting at the police station, Bowie held open the passenger side door and waited silently for Erin to slide in. She didn't want to, but finally, she did. She buckled her