“I'm real sorry about Greg. Wish I'd known him better. Any people?”
“No family. His mother abandoned him. He was raised by his grandmother. She's dead. Nobody closer than me, far as I know.”
“You going to tell Rush?”
“I shouldn't until they release the names.” Winter knew that he wasn't up to that yet. It just didn't seem right for someone so young to have been through so much suffering, to have lost so much.
“I doubt it'll be a secret for long, media being the way it is.”
Winter walked Hank out to his car and stood in the driveway watching him drive away.
After he locked the back door, Winter went to his room and lay in bed, tired but unable to sleep. The rain started to fall in torrents. Thunder crashed and the sky lit as though artillery shells were being lobbed. Winter's door opened slowly and he turned and stared at the shapes framed in the doorway.
“What's up, Rush?”
“Aw, Nemo's scared. You can't reason with him when he's like this.”
“I imagine I can bunk down a good deputy and his sidekick.”
Winter knew the dog could sleep on an operating rifle range. Rush wasn't going to admit his fear of lightning. From the time he was an infant he had never stayed in a room alone during a storm. Not being able to see the flashes made it worse because there was no warning of any kind for him before the crashing booms.
Winter threw the covers back for Rush. Nemo curled up on the floor. Father and son lay shoulder to shoulder listening to the storm rage outside.
50
USMS headquarters
Arlington, Virginia
It was dark outside. Sean tried not to yawn, but she did anyway. Richard Shapiro's office was one enormous space divided into three areas. In the five hours she had been there, she had read through a stack of magazines, eaten a ham sandwich, and drank more coffee than she usually did in a month.
The chief marshal's conference room was enclosed by a wall of soundproof glass. Through it, Sean could see Shapiro railing at his men like a basketball coach. She'd seen and heard enough to know that the marshals had been shut out of the investigation into the murders. And nobody at 600 Army Navy Drive was at all pleased about having to wait for the FBI to share the information it was compiling. Sean had seen Shapiro on the phone, his face so red she was sure he would blow an artery. For the past hour his staff had been in the glass room and she had watched them like fish in an aquarium.
Bored, she went into her briefcase, took out her computer, and turned it on. She opened the nasty note Dylan had sent her. She closed the document and, dragging it into the garbage deleted it. If only she could only erase memories as easily as she had Dylan's final message to her.
She was beyond ready to leave. She looked up and waved at the marshals behind the glass wall. One saw her and spoke to Shapiro, who looked wearily out at her. She waved good-bye to him.
He said something to his men and they all seemed to relax.
Richard Shapiro came out and sat near her on the couch. “I'm sorry,” he said.
“I'm tired,” she said, thinking how stress might trigger a migraine.
“Listen, Mrs. Devlin. We want to do everything we can to help you through this. I have a few thoughts.”
“Can we discuss it later? As I said, I'm quite tired.”
“Sure. You don't have to make any decisions right away. I think we can give you the equity in your house.”
Sean made her voice firm. “I'm not your witness. I am not changing my name, and I want my belongings put back in my house, which did not belong to my late husband.”
“Let's discuss all of that tomorrow, okay? We'll get you a death certificate so you can get to your husband's bank accounts, which as his widow, you are entitled to.”
“Do you seriously think I would take money he made murdering people?”
“I assumed you could use it.”
“I don't need it and I'd sweep streets before I accept one cent of that blood money.”
“We intend to compensate you for what you went through.”
“Do that. Figure out what keeping my husband's killings a secret from me, and what I have been through in the past few days is worth. In the meantime, I want to go to a hotel and sleep.”
“I'll have a couple of deputies-”
“No! No more deputies, no guns, no protection. If you want my cooperation, I demand some consideration. I am not testifying against anyone. I will not agree to be watched over or followed. I do not want the United States Marshals Service knowing where I am. If no one here knows where I am or what I'm doing, nobody can tell anybody anything.” Sean was reaching the absolute limit she could take. She had to get away.
“I'm sorry you feel that way.”
“Tell me the truth. Do I have to accept your protection?”
“No, I can't force you to. You can decline it, but I can't emphasize strongly enough how dangerous that might be. Mrs. Devlin, please-”
“I am officially declining protection of any kind. Do I need to sign anything for that?” she said briskly.
Shapiro's eyes hardened. “We can't force our protection, but the FBI can decide that you are crucial to the investigation, declare you a material witness, and take you into custody. Obviously, I'd hate to see that happen, even if it was for your own safety.”
“I suppose if the FBI decides to do that, there's nothing I can do to prevent it,” she replied. “I'd be happy to relive that night over and over, if you'll treat me like a friend and not a prisoner. You can start by calling me a cab. I will return first thing tomorrow if you like.”
“Very well. I accept that you have declined our protection and I will see you first thing in the morning. Fact is, we have a hotel suite reserved for you.”
“I'll stay in the suite if you'll give me your word you won't have deputies hanging around. I've had it with being spied on.”
Shapiro stood and nodded decisively. “I'll call you a cab.”
Shapiro strode into the conference room and conferred with his assistant. He went to his desk, pulled open a drawer, then returned with a cell phone, which he handed to her.
“If you need anything at all, just press star eighty-one to reach me. I can have people outside your room in minutes.”
Sean nodded and slipped the phone into her coat pocket. She knew that, despite giving his word, Shapiro wasn't about to let her leave his office without having her followed and watched over. Now, that was something she couldn't allow.
At the hotel, the cabdriver popped the trunk and set her suitcases on the carpeted stoop. She tipped him, as well as the doorman who carried her suitcases into the hotel lobby and placed them before the counter.
“Sean Devlin,” she told the clerk.
The clerk typed in her name into the computer and watched the screen. “You'll be in…” She penned the room number-1299-inside the little folder.
Sean slipped her Visa card onto the desk.
“That's not necessary,” the woman said. “It's been taken care of.”
Sean left the credit card where it was. “I'd like another room for my mother, who is arriving later this evening.”
“Your suite has two bedrooms with private baths.”
“A single on a lower floor. My mother has a fear of fire, so nothing higher than an extension ladder can reach,” Sean said firmly.
The clerk typed again, then ran Sean's card. She placed an electronic room key into a folder and wrote 321 inside it.
