Кэтрин Коултер - Whiplash

"Savich, would you please hand me that leather purse of hers that's nearly big enough to cover an entire cow, and dig out her cell phone?"

Bing Crosby sang out "Jingle Bells." Bowie felt around for his own cell phone in his pants, then his jacket, and frowned, trying to follow the sound of Crosby's perky voice.

Erin said, "It's under those papers on the corner of the table."

Bowie's cell phone went silent.

Erin grabbed her purse, ran to the guest bathroom, and slammed the door. They heard the lock click into place.

"Well, Bowie," Sherlock said, "I guess you either break the door down or let her make the call in private."

Bowie returned to the sofa, sat down, and didn't say a word. Savich calmly began reading the Culovort papers.

A few minutes later, Erin walked back into the living room. She said without hesitation, "Dr. Kender is a professor of archaeology at Yale University. I told him about my Hummer blowing up, and he agreed it was time to bring you guys into it. You can talk to him whenever you wish."

She drew in a deep breath. "He wants to know if he can release the Culovort papers to the media tomorrow?"

Sherlock said as she watched Dillon place the Culovort papers in his briefcase, "This concerns the Department of Justice, so we need to show them the papers and ask them how they think it best to proceed. We'll let you know tomorrow, Erin."

Sherlock shot Bowie a look, but didn't say anything. She gave Savich a light punch on the arm and rose. "I think it's time Dillon and I took our leave. Why don't you guys thrash this out between you."

They were out the front door in under a minute flat.

When the front door closed, Bowie stood in the center of the living room, still silent as a stone. If he'd had a stone, Erin thought he'd probably have hurled it at her.

"I'm sorry, Bowie," she said. "I really am."

"Are you? Are you really? You must have thought you'd won the lottery when I showed up on your doorstep and asked you to watch Georgie."

"I said yes because I wanted to help, because I'm very fond of her. All right, yes, I also wanted to learn more about the case. Really, Bowie, I'm sorry."

"But you'd do it again."

"I don't know. Well, yes, I probably would do it again. I wouldn't have any choice. I guess it's looking to you like I've betrayed you."

"You think?" He walked away from her, nearly tripped over the big red beanbag, and after windmilling his arms, finally made it to the window, his back to her. She saw he was stiff, knew in that moment he was trying to keep control of himself. He said without looking at her, "I couldn't for the life of me figure out why someone would want to kill you. I mean, I figured it had to do with Blauvelt's murder, but I couldn't make my way through the maze."

He turned quickly, steering clear of the beanbag this time. His anger had slipped its leash. "You did betray me. You've been playing us. Curse me for an idiot since I'm the one who invited you right in, encouraged everyone to speak to you openly. We told you every single thing you could possibly want to know. Sherlock even took you on an official interview with Jane Ann Royal."

He grabbed her arms and shook her once, just a little shake to make sure he had her full attention, not to hurt her. "Dammit, Erin Pulaski, you betrayed me!"

She felt tears coming and swallowed. "Bowie, I'm sorry, really. I didn't know what to do-"

"Oh, yes, you did, you knew immediately what you were going to do."

"All right, but I didn't think I had a choice. I don't know how the person who blew up my Hummer knew I was involved."

"I'll bet whoever it was followed you to your lunch with Dr. Kender. That's who you had lunch with on Wednesday, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but who do you think followed me?"

"Probably Caskie Royal."

"Or it could have been Carla Alvarez. I overheard her and Royal speaking before they came into his office. He'd brought her into it, Bowie."

"Something else we didn't know. It occurs to me we need to sit down and talk, right now." He sat down on the sofa, folded his arms over his chest, still royally pissed, and motioned for her to sit in front of him. He eyed her and then said, his voice sharp, "I want you to start again, at the beginning. And don't leave anything out."

Twenty minutes later, Bowie leaned back. "Is that all of it?"

"You asked me that three times."

"Is it?"

"Yes, I've told you everything."

"I don't want you killed. I don't want my daughter in danger. There's only one way I can keep you safe now. Even though I've got two agents outside in a car across the street, I'm staying here." He nodded toward the sofa.

"And I'm thinking when this is over, I may just have to haul your butt to jail."

Bowie heard Georgie give a sound, a yip that sometimes came out of her dreams. No, there was no way he could hear her if she was in bed asleep. He slowly dropped his arms to his sides and turned. Georgie wasn't in bed. She was standing in the doorway, her thumb in her mouth, only half asleep, and she looked scared. She yipped again.

NORMAN BATES INN

Thursday night

Sherlock was gliding smoothly in a half-pipe on her skateboard, Sean behind her, laughing, when her cell phone woke her up at exactly three o'clock in the morning. "Yes?"

"Agent Sherlock? Help me, you have to help me!"

"Jane Ann? What's wrong? Come on, calm down. Talk to me."

"Someone's in the house, I-I can hear them, I-"

"Is it your husband? Is it Caskie?"

"Caskie? No, Caskie would call out to me, he'd tell me right off he was here. No, it's a stranger, it's someone here to hurt me. Help me!"

"Do you have a gun?"

"What? Yes, it's in Caskie's bedside table."

"Get it out and get yourself in a closet and close the door. I'll be right there. Don't shoot me! If it's your husband, don't shoot him either. Stay calm, Jane Ann, and get moving!"

There was sharp intake of breath, but nothing more from Jane Ann Royal. The line went dead.

Savich was already out of bed, pulling on his pants, Sherlock behind him, grabbing clothes.

As they ran to the small parking lot behind the B&B, she shouted, "I'll drive, I know where she lives. Do you want to call backup?"

"No, not yet. Let's wait and get the lay of the land first."

As they swerved out of the parking lot, Sherlock said, "It's my fault. I put her in danger by simply visiting her. I drew a circle on her back, and someone knows I met with her at her house. That same someone is afraid of what Jane Ann Royal told me. Or might tell me." She banged her fist against the steering wheel and took a corner too fast. "Is it Caskie there in the house? Maybe he's hiding and Jane Ann simply doesn't know it? Is he the one she heard?"

Savich lightly touched her leg. "Cut the guilt or you'll piss me off. Now, tell me about the house, everything you can remember. I don't want to go in there blind."

Sherlock talked nonstop, describing what she'd seen of the Royal house as she sped through the dark streets toward that lovely neighborhood with its big graceful houses and huge grounds, repeating herself, she knew, but she didn't care. "It is my fault if something happens to her," she said again. "You can't jolly me out of it."

Savich said sharply, "Of course I can. I'm your boss, you have to follow orders. Cut that nonsense out, right now."

She screeched into the large driveway. The house was dark, completely and utterly dark, not a single light on inside.

The alarm system wasn't on. Sherlock was breathing fast and hard, praying for all she was worth. Savich turned the doorknob. It was open.

He swung the door back, smoothly and silently. He went in high, Sherlock low, something they'd done often, both in and out of Quantico, their movements practiced and fast.