name—Martin Thornton—got a social security number, a driver’s license, everything I needed, and then I hitchhiked out of Boston, didn’t tell a single person where I was going. Actually, I didn’t know myself.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went out to Seattle at first, got a job pumping gas, started working my way through school. The dreams stopped then. It seemed that when I found out about my mother’s murder, I didn’t need to dream about it anymore. The funny thing is, I wanted to remember my mother, I wanted to know what she was like. I wanted to know who murdered her and why. But the dreams never told me that.” He stopped suddenly, stuck out his hand for Janet to take, and said, “I dated. I slept with my first girlfriend when I was nineteen. I felt like a man. I felt normal.”
“You are normal,” Janet said, and there was absolute conviction in her voice. “What happened to you, Martin—your mother’s murder, being uprooted, not having your father tell you the truth—you dealt amazingly well with all of it. If I’d started having those dreams, I would have ended up in Boston Harbor or slitting my wrists. You didn’t do either of those things. You survived.
“I don’t blame you for leaving your father, for chucking all of it. The only thing is, I wish you had told me. We’ve been married eleven years, and you never told me. What Agent Savich said about the truth—he’s right, only the truth will do. I wish you’d told me so I could have helped.”
“I couldn’t,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “I never wanted to think about him again. I never wanted it to touch our lives. I didn’t want it to hurt you, or us.”
“Well, aren’t you a bloody fool!?”
He actually grinned, squeezed his wife’s hand. Savich held very still, knowing he was invisible to them in this moment.
A few moments later he brought them back.
“Martin, the first episode, when was that?”
Janet Thornton sucked in her breath. “What a horrible word.”
Savich shrugged. “But I think it fits, more or less, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Martin said. “Now I can say that. Six months ago, it just hit me like a hammer. All sorts of wild things careened through my head. I thought I was going crazy. It lasted only a couple of hours, but I scared the hell out of Janet. She talked me down, thank God. The girls weren’t here that time or the second time either. That was about two months ago, and that one lasted longer.”
“You were here, at home?”
“Yes, Janet and I were having dinner—hot dogs and baked beans, potato chips—all my favorites. It was the day after my birthday. Janet thought we should have our own private celebration, without the girls. They were at a sleepover at a friend’s house. I suddenly remembered this was exactly what I always loved to eat when I was little. I started crying. Janet held me, didn’t stop talking to me, and finally, after a while, everything began to fade.”
Savich looked thoughtful. “The day after your birthday. You nearly remembered something.”
“You think so?”
“Maybe. Then what, Martin?”
“I—I was going to go to a doctor, really I was, to a shrink, but I didn’t know anyone and I was, well, I was ashamed. No, I was afraid of what a shrink would say, afraid I’d end up in a padded cell and my life would be over, all except for those horrible dreams. Believe me, Janet’s been on my case, but—I didn’t go, just didn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter now. If it’s okay with you, Martin, I’m getting rid of that shotgun. I want you to promise me you’ll never as long as you live have another gun in your home.”
Martin looked over to where Janet had laid the shotgun on the floor beside the front door.
“All right. Yes, I promise, Dillon.” He rose, but Savich held out his hand.
“Let me tell Chief Gerber that I’ll be handing out the shotgun so they don’t get nervous.”
When Savich walked back into the living room a few minutes later, he said, “All done. Everything’s fine now. We’ve got a lot of relieved people out there. Now, you guys got a good babysitter?”
They both stared at him. Janet nodded. “Well, yes, my mom. She lives in Rockville. She loves having the girls. When Martin had the second breakdown, I made an excuse and they stayed with her for three days.”
“Good. Both of you are coming with me now, back to Washington. We’ll drop the girls off at your mom’s. You’ll be staying tonight at the Jefferson Dormitory at Quantico. You’ll be safe there, Martin. If something pops again in your brain, there’ll be people there to control things.
“Where do you work, Martin?”
“I work in the IT section at the Giant corporate office.”
“Really? I have some interest in computers myself. Maybe we can talk about that later. Anyway, we can call your boss and get you some leave.
“After what’s happened here, I’ll have to take you into my own custody. We’ll call it a temporary commitment. That should keep Chief Gerber from filing any charges.
“Tomorrow morning, you’re going to meet Dr. Emanuel Hicks. I’d like him to try to hypnotize you, see if we can learn anything more about what happened to you when you were six years old. And he’ll be recommending a psychiatrist to you who’ll know all the facts. Sound okay?”
“It sounds like a miracle,” Janet said.
Martin searched Savich’s face, and slowly nodded. “Yes, it sounds okay to me, too.”
Janet looked at Savich, held his eyes, and said simply, “Thank you so much for coming into our lives, Dillon. I’ll go get us and the girls packed and call my mom.”
Savich said, “Maybe the one to thank is Samantha Barrister. Yeah, I know how strange it all sounds, and maybe I dreamed some of it. But I’ll tell you guys, she was as real to me as it gets. I’ll tell you more about it after we get to Quantico.
“Right now, I’m going to bring in my wife—she’s the one who found you, Martin—and Detective Raven and Ms. Markham. They’ll help get us on the road. The thing is, I’m heading up the investigation of Justice Stewart Califano’s murder, and I’ve got to get back to Washington.”
They both stared at him. Janet walked over to him and hugged him. “Bring on your wife. I can’t wait to meet her.”
CHAPTER
31
GEORGETOWN WASHINGTON, D.C.
SATURDAY NIGHT
IT HAPPENED SO fast that Sean, playing with Legos on the floor, didn’t have time to react. Fleurette was sitting on the sofa, laughing at something Callie had said, when suddenly, one of the front windows shattered and a bullet slammed into the wall not six inches above Fleurette’s head.
Savich was just coming through the kitchen door, carrying tea and coffee on a tray. “Everyone down! Sherlock, get Sean!” He dropped the tray, ran to Fleurette, and dragged her off the sofa. He fell on top of her, drawing his gun at the same time. He looked toward the shattered glass in the front window. Close, too close. He said, “Nobody move. Sherlock, you’ve got Sean. Ben, yeah, kill the lights, then pull all the drapes, call 911.”
“Got it.”
“Callie, get your nose pressed into the floor.”
Callie was already down, in front of the sofa, not moving.
Sherlock had Sean beneath her. He was howling under her, but she didn’t let him up, kept pressing him into the carpet, covering all of him. Ben crawled to the switch, went up on his knees, and punched off both light switches. There was still light arrowing in from the kitchen. He was crawling to the front windows to pull the heavy drapes when another shot rang out, shattering what was left of the front glass window, hitting low, then another and another.
Finally it was silent, except for the breathing in the living room. Savich said, “Everyone okay?”
Sean’s yell was muffled from beneath his mother, “Daddy!”
“Sean is, but he sounds pissed,” Ben said, and punched 911. They heard him give fast, terse instructions.
