“I’ll come for you. I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Annie didn’t wait for a response. She hung up the phone and grabbed her bag, marveling at her good luck that day. I should have bought lottery tickets today. First, I get a call from Connor with a tip that could lead to something on Evan’s case, and now this. If my luck holds, maybe I’ll get into the office and find that John is back and I can get my hands on that Santa Estela case.
She all but whistled all the way to Brendan’s house, a neat little bungalow set back on a narrow lot on a pretty street halfway between her apartment and the office. She parked in the drive and turned off the ignition, then followed the brick walk to the front door.
She rang the bell and waited for him to answer. When he did not, she rang it again, then a third time.
“Strange,” she muttered aloud. “He knew I was on my way…”
Annie pushed against the half-open door and called Brendan’s name. She stepped inside and called again. He stepped out of the kitchen, his cell phone to his ear. He waved to Annie to give him a minute, then walked toward the back of the house. At one point, he raised his voice, but quickly lowered it. When he came back into the living room, his phone had already disappeared into the pocket of his jacket. He smiled at Annie and apologized for not having let her in.
“Sorry. I was on the phone.”
“Hey, it happens. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, just one second.”
Brendan left the room for a minute, then came back in, tucking something into his belt.
“Don’t trust my driving, eh?” she asked playfully.
“What?” He frowned.
“The Glock.” As her duties were primarily those of a profiler, Annie rarely carried a weapon, but she knew that many of the other agents could not step outside their homes without one. She rarely thought anything of it.
“Oh. I just…” He stood in the middle of the room, and for the first time since she arrived, she took a good look around. There were piles of newspapers, magazines, and mail on the floor around the sofa. An empty pizza box and several empty beer bottles stood on the coffee table.
“Brendan, is everything all right?” She turned to him.
“Sure. Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Whenever Dylan had something on his mind, he forgot to pick up after himself. I was just wondering if it was a family trait.” She tried to make a joke out of it, but she knew it fell flat and had sounded more like criticism than observation. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like your mother.”
“Oh, that.” He waved off the mess. “I started cleaning up earlier, didn’t get to finish. I’ve just been so busy lately, running from one job to the next, it seems-”
“Hey, I understand. We all have weeks like that.” She jingled her car keys. “Shall we go?”
He stared at her for a moment, then said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Brendan followed her out the front door and down the steps. They had just started down the walk when a man in a dark suit stepped out from behind a car parked in front of the house and called out.
“Brendan! Let her go!”
“Wha…?” Brendan grabbed Annie by the arm and held her protectively.
“Put the gun down, Brendan, and let her walk to me.”
Brendan stood stock-still.
“It’s no good, Brendan. Let her go!” The man was shouting as he came slowly up the walk, his gun drawn.
“Brendan…” Annie tried to twist away from him, but his grip on her right arm tightened. When she turned, she saw the gun in his hand. “Brendan, for God’s sake…”
“Luther, you bastard.” Brendan raised the gun, but before he could get a shot off, the man on the sidewalk fired twice, striking him in the chest.
Brendan crumbled to the ground, the gun still in his hand, and Annie screamed.
“Dr. McCall, are you all right?” the man asked anxiously.
He removed his glasses, and Annie recognized her savior.
“Luther,” she gasped. “What the hell…?”
“Just tell me you’re all right, that he didn’t hurt you.”
“No, no. But I don’t understand…”
Luther Blue knelt down next to Brendan’s body and sought a pulse. “He’s dead.”
“Oh my God… Brendan…” Annie’s knees began to shake.
“Come on, here, sit.” Luther led her gently to the steps and helped her to sit, even as he was calling for backup on his cell phone.
Annie began to sob. “I don’t understand…”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but he had his gun up to your back, and I was afraid he was going to kill you…”
“No, no, he and I were going in to the office, he found reports I’ve been looking for, about Dylan’s death, he left them locked in his desk-”
“Dr. McCall, Brendan didn’t have these reports. I do. Believe me when I tell you, he wasn’t going to turn them over to you or to anyone else.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I believe the report implicates Brendan in Dylan’s death.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s the truth.” He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her as the first of the unmarked cars pulled up in front of the house. “Brendan Shields shot and killed his cousin and fellow agent Dylan Shields. The proof is in that envelope. And if I hadn’t arrived when I did, I’m afraid he would have killed you as well…”
“Isn’t John here yet?” A shaken Annie met Will Fletcher in the office lobby. She’d called him because, with John out of town, Will was the acting supervisory agent in charge.
“Yeah, I called him the minute I heard. He should be back anytime now.” Will put his arm around her. “What do you want to do? Do you want to go upstairs and wait in the office, do you want to get something to eat while we wait for John? What do you want, Annie?”
“Maybe we can just get something cold to drink.”
“When did you last eat?”
“Lunch, I think.”
“It’s almost midnight. Let’s walk across the street and grab a sandwich or some soup or something. You look real shaky.”
“I am real shaky.”
“Did you give a statement to anyone yet?”
“Not a formal one. They’re waiting for John.”
They stepped outside into a muggy D.C. night. Will took her arm to steady her and they walked across the street to the all-night deli on the corner.