She saw Sam’s smile before she saw the rest of his face. He was being carried by a big man who was as wet as he was, and who was smiling even bigger than his boy. She liked the looks of him, liked the way he held his boy.
Miles carried Sam up onto the front porch. He saw Beau lying on his back, not even twitching, and he handed Sam to Savich.
He went down on his hands and knees, closed his fist around Beau’s shirt collar, and jerked him up. “Hello, you miserable scum.”
“Get off me, you bastard!”
“Oh, I’m lots more than a bastard. I’m your worst nightmare, Beau. I’m meaner than the man who just kicked your ass. I’m Sam’s father and do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”
“Get him away from me!”
“Oh, no,” Savich said, Sam now hanging about his neck, held real close. “You deserve whatever he wants to do to you. If he wants to, he can kick your tonsils out the back of your neck.”
Miles Kettering pulled Beau to his feet and sent his fist into his jaw. Beau went down and stayed down.
Miles gave him one more dispassionate look, then turned to take Sam from Savich.
“You walloped him good, Papa,” Sam said, and he patted his father’s face, dark with five o’clock shadow. “Can I hit him, too?”
“Nah, he’s had enough. You just stay real close to me until I get over being so scared.”
Sam hugged his father’s neck, really hard. “This is Katie, Papa. She helped me a whole lot.”
Katie stuck out her hand even as she held Keely against her with her other arm. “Mr. Kettering, you’ve got some brave boy here.”
In that instant, Katie saw black smoke billowing up around the front of the van. “Oh no-Fatso, I can’t even see him through that smoke! I forgot about him! I’ve got to get him.” She pushed Keely into Miles Kettering’s arms, and took off running toward the van.
Savich, who saw flames licking up from beneath the van, yelled, “No, wait! No, Sheriff!” He leapt off the porch and ran after her. He yelled over his shoulder, “Miles, protect the kids!”
Katie was no more than twelve feet from the van when she was tackled from behind, hard, and smashed facedown into the wet ground.
In the next instant there was a loud explosion, and the van blew up in a ball of orange, parts flying everywhere. He was covering all of her, his head on top of hers, his arms covering both their heads. The heat whooshed toward them, sucking the air out of their lungs, heavy, scalding.
She heard him grunt. Oh God, something had hit him. She heard him suck in a breath, then she did the same.
Then it was over. Everything was still again, except she could hear Keely crying, “Mama, Mama.”
He’d saved her life. He’d known the van was going to blow, and he’d brought her down.
Katie said, trying to turn over, “Agent Savich, are you all right?”
He grunted again, then she felt his determination as he pulled himself off her.
She was up in an instant, standing over him as he remained on his knees, head down, breathing hard.
“Your back. Oh God, your back!”
She looked up to see that Miles Kettering had both children pressed against the side of the house, protecting them, just as Agent Savich had told him to. Had he known, too, that the van was going to blow?
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” She was on her knees beside him now. “Just hold still.”
But Savich rose slowly, managed to straighten. “I saw the flames, you didn’t. We survived it. I’m all right.” He could feel the rain hitting his back, feel the pain building and building. He could also feel his blood flowing, and that wasn’t good. He looked over at the van, engulfed in bright orange flames, black smoke sizzling into the air, rain mixing with it, making it filthy black soot.
“Yeah, sure you are, Agent Savich. You just come with me.” She was leaning down to grasp him under his arm, when she heard Beau yell, “All right, you jerks, it’s my turn now!”
She whirled around to see Beau leaning against the porch railing, his own gun in his hand. She should have cuffed him-even if she believed he was dead, she should have cuffed him. “You bastard, you killed Clancy! Ain’t nothing left of him but vapor. But now I’m gonna take that boy.”
Sam was tucked against his father’s leg, Keely against him. Miles pressed the children more firmly against the side of the house, shouted over his shoulder, “Give it up, Beau, just give it up.”
“Send the boy over, or I’ll have to kill you, Mr. Kettering.”
“Then do it,” Miles said. “Neither Sam nor Keely is going anywhere.”
Katie could tell that Agent Savich was going to go after Beau again. She couldn’t let that happen. She watched Beau raise his gun, watched him aim that gun at Miles Kettering. She leaned down, smoothly pulled her derringer from her ankle holster, and fired.
She got him through the neck.
“Ah” was all Beau said, clutched his throat, and turned to face her, the gun swinging her way.
She fired again, this time a death shot, even for a derringer, through his chest. Beau fell off the porch, landing on his back, his eyes open to the rainy night. The orange ball of flame flickered in his open eyes.
Miles Kettering said, his arms wrapped tight around the children’s heads, “Sam, I’ve got to see to things here. Promise me that you and Keely won’t move an inch. Keep your faces against the house, that van just might blow up some more. Do you hear me? Not an inch.”
Miles raced down, pulled Savich over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and went into the house. Both children raced after him. Good, she didn’t want them to see Beau.
“Put him on his belly on the sofa. I’ll call nine-one-one,” Katie said and quickly dialed. She got Marge, who always sounded breathless, told her to get an ambulance out here, and Wade, too, then hung up. “Not more than ten minutes. Now, let’s see how bad you’re hurt, Agent Savich.” But first she’d have to move her daughter aside.
Savich said, “You’re Keely?” One of his arms was dangling over the side of the sofa, and his feet hung off the other end.
The little girl gently smoothed her fingertips over his face. “I’m Keely and my mama will take care of you. She takes care of everybody. Do you know they pay her to do that?”
Savich didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of him anyway. It died in a gasp. His back was on fire.
“I’m glad they pay her, Keely. How bad is it, Sheriff?”
It was Miles who said, “You’ve got a long horizontal gash, middle of your back, just above your waist, probably from a piece of flying metal. It doesn’t look too deep, Savich, but it’s nasty. You just hang on. Here’s the sheriff.”
“We need to apply some pressure, Agent Savich-”
“Just Savich. Or Dillon, that’s what my wife calls me.”
“Okay, Dillon, I’ll be right back. I’m going to have to put some pressure on this wound and it’s going to hurt, I’m sorry.”
Savich closed his eyes and willed himself far away, back with Sherlock and Sean, his own little boy.
“Miles?”
“Yes, I’m right here, Savich.”
“You sure Sam’s okay?”
“I’m here, Uncle Dillon,” Sam said, and patted Savich’s shoulder. “Keely and I are both fine. Did you see the sheriff shoot Beau? Whap! She got him right in the neck, then shot him again when he turned that gun on Papa.”
So much for protecting the children, Katie thought as she came back into the living room with a thick towel. She leaned down and pressed the towel hard against the wound.
Savich didn’t know where the moan came from, didn’t know he had it in him. The woman was very strong.
“Tell me what happened, Sheriff,” Savich said.
Keely, her fingers still touching his cheek, said, “I heard that bad man talking to Mama in the living room, and I knew he wanted Sam.”
Katie said, “And so you made a lump in your bed with a pillow, and went to wake up Sam.”
The little girl nodded. She stuck her hand out to Sam, who took it. “He shoved up the window in my room and we climbed out on my oak tree.” She frowned. “Sam wanted to help you but I told him that you’re really tough, Mama, and that you would fix Beau’s hash. Is that Beau out there?”