But no, he strong-armed the truck left and accelerated into the empty parking lot behind a trio of warehouses, the truck now riding on the rim, the limo not twenty yards away.
Luis slammed on the brakes when they saw the truck with the driver’s-side door open.
Silence: sudden, absolute silence.
Luis pulled up behind the truck and both men carefully made their way toward the front cab. The smell of burned rubber and scorched metal hung in the air. The truck was empty.
Natalie was right on their heels. “He’s gone,” she said. “We’ll never find him, too dark, and too many warehouses along this route.” She nodded to Luis and Davis. “Well, we tried. I’m glad Perry wasn’t with me, she’d have jumped out of the limo and leapt through the cab of the truck and torn the guy apart.”
Savich home
Georgetown
Tuesday night
Gabriella watched Sean downstairs while Savich washed Sherlock’s arm, applied antiseptic cream thickly over the thin red gash, and covered it with a wide adhesive bandage. It had taken only ten minutes, but when they were back in the kitchen, ready to start dinner with Sean, he was too excited to sit because of a big problem at school that Gabriella couldn’t help him with. This last part he told them in a whisper, believing Gabriella couldn’t hear him, though of course she could. Turned out a girl had hit Sean in the shoulder because Sean had beaten her in an Inspector Milo Bork on Planet Tubor computer game. Marty from next door, whom Sean considered his future wife, had jumped on the girl’s back and pulled her hair. Sean said, “Sammy didn’t hit me hard. I mean, I get mad if someone beats me, too, but I suck it up like you told me to. Now Sammy and Marty are mad at each other and mad at me. It’s not fair.”
Ten minutes later, after Sean had called Marty and Marty had called Samantha, and all the respective parents were happy again, all was well in the kingdom.
Sherlock grabbed Sean up when he handed Dillon’s cell back to him and kissed him all over his face before tossing him to his father, who squeezed him until he squeaked, laughing like a loon while Astro barked and jumped manically at Savich’s legs. Her arm didn’t hurt at all. Finally, the eggplant came out of the oven and they sat down for dinner.
Later that evening, once Savich had sung two country-and-western songs for Sean, three verses each, and Sean was down for the count, Sherlock took Savich’s hand and led him to their bedroom.
They sat side by side on their bed, Sherlock looking straight ahead. “It started two days ago. I didn’t tell you because it was so stupid, really, not much of anything, only something a little out of the ordinary.”
“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘not much of anything’? Apparently it wasn’t that because a guy tried to kill you today.” He kept his voice low and calm, hard even though hours had passed since they’d gotten home. He kept looking at her arm, remembering his gut-wrenching fear when she’d been shot in San Francisco. It brought it all back, made it seem like yesterday.
When she only stared at him, he said, “I’m not going to throw a fit like Sammy did with Sean’s computer game. Sweetheart, come on, tell me what you mean.”
She said, “Okay. I was in Chad’s Market, for heaven’s sake, two afternoons ago buying some vegetables. You know that feeling you get that someone is looking at you, checking you out? Well, that’s what I felt. I was deciding between two heads of lettuce when I knew to my gut that someone was staring at me. I looked around at the dozen or so people in my immediate vicinity but didn’t see anyone paying any particular attention to me. I mean, the guy behind the meat counter sometimes flirts with me, called me the hot lady with the badge once, but he wasn’t even around. I forgot about it.
“Yesterday, when I was at the Olive’s Baby Boutique over on M Street buying a present for Lily’s baby, I felt the same thing again—eyes on me. It spooked me this time, and I turned around fast to see who it was. There were four mothers, three of them carrying babies, and one older gentleman inspecting a blue baby blanket. I didn’t see anyone else. Then I looked out the big front glass window and saw a shoulder moving out of sight. I ran out of the store, but whoever the shoulder belonged to was gone. I assumed I was overreacting, Dillon. To be honest, though, I was ready to tell you I might have a budding stalker on my hands.”
“And you didn’t tell me about this budding stalker yesterday because?”
“Because after what happened in San Francisco, I knew you’d lock me in a closet to keep me safe and only let me out to go to the bathroom. I needed time to weigh things out in my mind, Dillon, and decide whether it was worthwhile to worry you about it.”