Jeffery Deaver - Edge

“This is Maree,” Joanne said.

“Well, lookit this,” she said. It seemed that she hadn’t quite believed what her sister had been telling her. Sure enough: “I thought you were kidding, Jo. I mean,” looking at Freddy and Garcia, “didn’t I see you in The Sopranos?” She poured some orange juice and added an herbal powdered concoction to it. She drank it down and made a face.

The agents regarded her blankly.

Maree had longer and straighter hair than her sister’s and it was mostly but not completely, or authentically, blond. She wore a full suede skirt and a gossamer floral blouse of yellow and green. Silver jewelry. No wedding ring. I always look, not for availability, of course, but because marital status gives me information about a lifter’s options in getting an edge on the principal.

A fancy camera dangled over her shoulder, and I could see in the foyer her luggage. She had a large wheelie, a heavy backpack and a laptop case, as if she were going away for two weeks. Maree picked up a stack of mail on a table near the kitchen door. The pieces had been sent to her but the printed address-in the North West quadrant of the District-had been crossed out and the Kesslers’ penned in, forwarded here. Maybe she’d lost her job and been forced to move in with her sister and brother-in-law.

As she flipped through the mail, I noted the woman give a slight wince; she moved her left arm more gingerly than her right. I thought I saw a bandage near the elbow, beneath the thin cloth. She took a jacket from a coat rack, tugged it on and turned to her sister. “This looks like it’s shaping up to be a great party but I’m out of here. I’m going to stay in the District tonight.”

“What?” Joanne asked. “You’re coming with us.”

“I don’t see a lot of fun in that option. I’m choosing door number three.”

“Mar, please… You’ve got to come. Where would you go?”

“I called Andrew. I’m going to stay with him.”

“Called him?” I was concerned she had another mobile. “From the house phone?”

“Yeah.”

This didn’t trouble me; while monitoring and tracing mobiles was a piece of cake, tapping into a landline was very difficult, and even if an associate of Loving had done so, Maree couldn’t have given away anything crucial to the job.

She was looking around. “I couldn’t find my cell. You know where it is?”

“I’ve got it.” I explained about the risks of tracing.

“Well, I need it.”

She wasn’t happy when I told her that she was incommunicado. I didn’t have any more cold phones to hand out.

“Well… I’m still going downtown.”

Joanne said, “No, you don’t want to do that.”

“I-”

I said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay with your sister and brother-in-law. And I want to leave now. We’ve waited too long as it is. I mean, right now.”

Maree waved a hand whose fingernails ended in glittery white crescents, French tipped, I thought they were called, though I could have been wrong. She said to me, nodding at her sister, “I don’t want to stay with her . My God, she’s no fun.” Then laughed. “I’m kidding… But really, I’ll be fine.”

“No,” I said firmly. “You’re coming with us and-”

“You guys go on. Let me borrow the Honda, you don’t mind.” She looked at me. “My car’s in the shop. Do you know what they want for a new fuel pump?… Hey, what’re you doing?”

Garcia was taking the luggage out to the Armada. He returned to the kitchen and nodded at me, meaning the yard was clear.

To Maree, Freddy said, “You’ll have to listen to Corte. You need to leave. Now.”

Maree opened her eyes wide. “Wait, wait… I know you.” She regarded me with a frown.

I must have blinked in surprise. Had we met?

The woman added, “You’re on that reality show. The Vacation from Hell . You’re the tour guide.”

“Please, Mar,” Joanne said.

Her sister pouted. “He’s mean. He stole my phone.”

At that moment I was looking out the kitchen window again into the backyard, trying to figure out what was different from when I’d looked earlier. There was something visible now that hadn’t been a half hour ago, because of the shifting angle of the late morning September sun. I called Ryan over and pointed. “Is that a path?”

A line of trampled grass lay between the Kesslers’ house and the one I’d mentioned earlier, kitty-corner to the left. It was Teddy’s, I recalled, the man who’d gone out for coffee.

“Yeah, to the Knoxes. They’re our, I guess, best friends in the neighborhood. We hang out with them all the time.”

The path had been created over the summer, from trekking back and forth for barbecues, borrowing cooking ingredients and tools, birthday parties.

“What is it?” Joanne asked. “You’re making me uneasy.”

“Wow, he does look totally intense,” Maree said.

“Corte?” Freddy grunted.

Grimacing, I nodded.

“Shit,” the agent muttered. He sighed and unbuttoned his jacket. “Garcia!”

“Go dark,” I said.

Freddy and Garcia pulled shades and drapes in the den, TV room and kitchen.

Ryan tensed and Joanne, eyes wide, blurted, “What’s going on? Tell me.”

I could see the palm of Freddy’s hand tap the butt of his Glock. We do this to reorient our muscles and nerves so we know exactly where our weapons are. Like I noted the pressure of the Baby Glock, in the small of my back. I left it in the holster for the moment.

Ryan stepped forward to the window.

“No,” I said firmly. “Get back. Loving’s here.” I herded everyone into the windowless hallway between the kitchen and the front foyer.

“How’d he do it?” Freddy asked. “He should still be halfway from West Virginia.”

I didn’t answer. There were several possible explanations, though none relevant to our goal at the moment: to keep the principals alive and get out of the area instantly.

“What do you have, sir?” Garcia asked me.

“The house that path leads to? The window closest to here? The blinds were down ten minutes ago. They’re about six inches up now. Makes no sense for them to be open only that far, except for surveillance.”

“A spotter?”

“No,” I said. “A spotter would’ve picked the house with the best view. That’s the one directly behind here, or to the right. Loving’s in the left house because he noticed the path and figured the family who lives there’d be good friends with the Kesslers.” I added, “They’d have the best information about you and might know what my SUV was doing in your drive and the sedan parked in front.”

“Teddy and Kath!” Joanne blurted. “You mean he’s there with them?”

“You sure, Corte?” Freddy asked. Meaning, we push the button on this, it’s going to get expensive and possibly messy.

“I’m sure enough… I want people here now. Fairfax County and your folks, whoever’s nearby.”

“Call it in,” Freddy ordered Garcia, who pulled his cell phone out of a holster and hit a speed dial button.

“I’m sorry, this is too weird for me,” Maree said with an edgy laugh. “The tour guide’s freaking us out because somebody opened a window? Good luck, guys.” Maree lifted car keys from a dish on a table nearby. “I’m going downtown.” She started for the front door.

“No,” I told her firmly. “And everybody, get-” The rest of my instructions were cut off at the sound of a huge crash from the street.

Joanne screamed, Maree gasped and stood frozen in front of the door.

I strode forward fast, gripped the young woman by the collar of her jacket and yanked her backward and we fell together onto the tile floor, as the bullets began crashing through the front picture window in the living room.