He went to Sherlock, saw her give a little shudder of reaction. The words burst out, low and controlled, but Savich heard the thick fear coating every word. “He was standing over Sean, Dillon, a gun in one hand, a Ka-Bar in the other.” She swallowed. “He wouldn’t tell me who he was. I couldn’t shoot him—he said he would kill Sean. Then he ran to the window. Was he a pedophile who wanted to steal him? Or someone who wanted to kidnap him for ransom? Or some random crazed lowlife?”
His brain immediately latched onto pedophile, a word that scared every parent to his toes. He didn’t want to say it aloud, or it would bow him to his knees. He felt violence stir in his gut, rancid and black. He pulled her close, whispered against her curly hair. “No,” he said, more to himself than to her, “whoever he is, he had to believe we’re rich because of my grandmother’s paintings.”
“Well, your Sarah Elliott paintings do make you rich, and a lot of people know it. They also know you’d sell one or all of them in a flash to save Sean.”
“No matter who or what he is, we’ll get him, I promise you. You saved our boy. Sean’s safe. You’re my hero.”
That brought a hiccupping laugh. “I tried to shoot him, but he got down that tree in a flash.” Her breathing hitched. “I wondered why he had both a gun and a Ka-Bar, but he needed the knife to slit the screen. Was he going to kill Sean?”
They held each other, saying nothing now, their eyes on their sleeping son, but only for a moment. The Metro cops would be here very soon.
While they stood in the open front door, waiting, Savich said, “I asked the dispatcher—it was Jordan Kates—to send them in silent.” He kissed her forehead. “They’ll be here any minute now. Did anything about him seem familiar to you or strike you as different?”
“It happened so fast—I don’t think so. Wait, his voice was young, Dillon, and he moved young, too. Something else—when he told me he could kill Sean even if I shot him, I think I heard fear in his voice. But then again, he hadn’t expected any trouble.”
“Maybe he’d talked himself into coming after Sean, but he didn’t have another plan if he was challenged.”
She nodded. “Well, at least we have the knife, for all the good it will do us. He was wearing gloves. Dillon, I went after him, emptied my magazine, but I missed him. I actually missed him—me!—can you believe that?”
He loved hearing the outrage in her voice. It meant she was getting back on an even keel. “Even you have to miss sometimes. You were terrified for Sean, pumping out adrenaline, and so hyped you could have rocketed yourself to the moon. I hear a car coming. You can fill in the blanks when we tell the police what happened.”
“Okay, I’ve got it together—well, I’m close. Thank heavens we had a plan in place if those three beeps ever sounded, otherwise—” She paused, then, her voice shaking. “Without the suppressor, I think Sean would have freaked. Even so, it was loud. So fast, Dillon, it all happened so fast. I wonder why he never fired back at me.”
“He knew if he hesitated, turned back to you, you’d nail him.”
A Metro squad car pulled into their driveway, cut its lights, and two officers climbed out. “Agent Savich?”
After introductions, Sherlock gave them a quick rundown, then Officers Pattee and Paulette headed out to search the neighborhood. They were back ten minutes later. No sign of their intruder, not that Savich or Sherlock expected them to spot him.
Paulette said, “No lights on in any houses, so the sound of the car engine didn’t wake anybody up.”
“And no neighbors standing on their porches to tell us anything,” said Pattee.
Savich was studying his security system beside the front door. He called, “Come look at this.” Both Paulette and Pattee looked over his shoulder to where he pointed.
“That’s more wires than the back of my TV,” Paulette said.
“Looks untouched to me,” Pattee said, leaning in. “But how can that be possible? The guy got into your son’s window. It’s alarmed, right?”
“Oh yes,” Sherlock said.
Dillon said, “I’m thinking we’ve got a guy with major computer skills.”
“You think he disabled the alarm system remotely, using his computer?”
Savich nodded. “To do it, he’d have to be very good, because I upgraded the system myself. But he succeeded, and now I’ll have to figure out how he did that and fix it.”
The three men studied the complex mess of wires for another couple of seconds, then Paulette turned to Sherlock. “Could we go inside? You can tell us exactly what happened.”
They went into the living room and Officer Paulette switched on a recorder. Sherlock went through it all again, answered their questions, and finished with “I can’t tell you what he looked like. He wore a stocking mask, but I do believe he was young, twenty-five at most. When he ran across the yard, I saw he was limping a bit. From the jump? Maybe. I didn’t notice a limp when he was in Sean’s bedroom.” She closed her eyes, pictured him. “It was his left leg.”
They asked questions, Sherlock gave more details, and finally Officer Paulette switched off his phone recorder and smiled at her. “You really told him you’d shoot his head off?”
Paulette, no more than twenty-five himself, had a great smile, and Sherlock found herself smiling back as she nodded. “That’s what came out of my mouth, yes. Come on, guys, if someone was leaning over your sleeping child with a gun and knife, what would you say?”
“I don’t know if I’d say anything,” Pattee said. “I’d probably just shoot him.”
“Yeah, sure, Joel,” Paulette said, and smacked him on the arm. “That’s what you’d want three-year-old Janet to wake up and see—blood and gore all over her bed.”
Pattee pointed. “Yeah, okay, you have a point. I see a dog toy over there. But no wild barking?”
Savich said, “Astro would have brought the house down if he’d been here. But he’s in love with a neighbor’s new puppy, so our son let him do a sleepover.”
Paulette said, “From now on out, I’ll bet it’ll be the new puppy sleeping over here.”
“You’re right about that,” Sherlock said, “and yes, we’re going to cut those branches off first thing tomorrow.”
Officer Pattee said, “You guys had this plan in place in case something like this happened?”
“Yes,” Sherlock said. “It sure paid off tonight.”
“Now that’s something I’m going to talk about with my wife,” Pattee said. “You know, it would have been easier and cheaper for him to snatch your son off the sidewalk or out of a neighbor’s yard or from the playground at school.”
Sherlock said, “Yes, it would. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Pattee said, “You said, Agent Sherlock, you heard fear in his voice?”
She nodded.
Paulette said, “Well, he wasn’t expecting her to walk in on him with a gun.”
Pattee said, “That isn’t the point. This doesn’t sound like a pro someone hired to kidnap your son for ransom. Those guys have metronomes for hearts, nothing shakes them.” No one had to say it, but everybody was thinking it—maybe the guy was a pedophile.
Savich said, “Officers, we’d like to speak to Detective Ben Raven in the morning. Will that be a problem?”
It wasn’t a problem. Savich wanted Raven to check for any recent break-ins remotely like this one.
Pattee paused at the front door. “I’ve got to say something you already know. The guy who tried to take your son? I’ll wager he’ll keep trying. All his preparations show a big commitment. I’d say he’s in for the long haul.”
Both Savich and Sherlock hated it but knew he was right. Sherlock said, “At least we have the Ka-Bar. I’ll get it to our FBI lab people in the morning.”
Paulette said, “You’ll let us know when you catch the guy?”
What faith. Sherlock smiled. “Yes, of course we will.”
1
* * *
WILLICOTT, MARYLAND
FRIDAY MORNING