Chương 2
Margaret turned her pale eyes toward it.
No one moved.
The front doors opened somewhere beyond the library. Men and women entered with the quick, controlled steps of people who had already been told there was a weapon inside. Wade stared at the pistol as if it had fallen from someone else’s hand.
“Federal protection detail,” a woman called from the hall. “Identify yourself.”
Wade swallowed.
“County marshal.”
“Step away from the weapon.”
He did not answer.
“Step away now.”
He moved backward. One boot caught the edge of the carpet, and he nearly lost his balance. His hands lifted to shoulder height.
Three agents entered. Their winter coats were open over dark suits and protective gear. The first was Special Agent Mara Ruiz, a compact woman with gray beginning at her temples and a voice that never needed to rise. Her gaze took in the room in pieces: Wade’s raised hands, the handgun on the carpet, Margaret in cuffs, the phone on the desk, the two witnesses beside the fireplace.
“Witnesses,” she said, “stay where you are. Do not touch anything.”
“We won’t,” Claire whispered.
Mara approached Wade from the side.
“Is that your service weapon?”
He nodded.
“I need words, Marshal.”
“Yes.”
“Any other weapons?”
“Duty belt. Backup on my ankle.”
Mara signaled to another agent, who removed Wade’s side equipment while a third photographed the gun where it lay. Only after the room had been fixed in images did the agent lift the pistol from the carpet with gloved hands.
Mara knelt beside Margaret.
“Ambassador, are you able to breathe normally?”
“Yes.”
“Any neck pain?”
“No.”
“Shoulder?”
“Yes.”
“Head?”
“My pride made most of the impact.”
Mara’s expression did not change, but Claire gave a sudden, strangled laugh. It came from the wrong place and frightened her. She pressed a hand over her mouth.
Margaret looked at her.
“That was not intended as humor.”
“I know.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know that too.”
The handcuff key was still on Wade’s belt. An agent brought it over. Mara unlocked the steel cuffs and eased Margaret’s arms forward one at a time. Red bands circled both wrists. Margaret flexed her fingers, then touched her lip. When she saw the blood on her glove, she stared at it longer than anyone expected.
Wade lowered his hands.
An agent immediately told him to raise them again.
“I had an order,” Wade said.
Mara stood.
“Keep your hands visible.”
“There’s an order on the property.”
“Then you will have an opportunity to produce it.”
“She refused commands.”
Mara looked at the handgun being sealed into an evidence bag.
“She was handcuffed when we arrived.”
“She resisted.”
“I said you’ll have an opportunity.”
Wade’s face reddened again, though the anger had become defensive and uncertain. He glanced toward Claire and Jonah. Neither met his eyes.
Mara turned to Margaret.
“Your phone line remained open. We heard the command and part of the struggle. The audio is incomplete.”
Margaret looked at the desk.
“Is the phone damaged?”
“We haven’t checked it yet.”
“It contains classified contact protocols.”
“We’ll secure it.”
Margaret pushed herself up with Mara’s help. Her right shoulder protested, and for one instant her face tightened. Jonah saw it and crossed half the room before an agent’s raised palm stopped him.
“That’s my aunt,” he said.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. She’s hurt.”
Margaret settled into the upright chair by the desk rather than the leather one on the floor.
“Jonah, do as she says.”
He stopped. His chest rose and fell under the charcoal shirt.
Wade looked at Margaret as if obedience from the young man proved some private accusation.
“You told me they were inside,” Wade said.
Margaret turned her head.
“What?”
“On the phone. You said, ‘They are inside the house.’”
“I was referring to two men who entered through the service corridor twenty minutes before you arrived.”
Claire stared at her.
“You said you thought they’d left.”
“I hoped they had.”
Wade’s jaw moved.
“Dispatch reported three intruders.”
“Dispatch reported what someone wanted reported.”
“The caller identified himself as a trustee.”
“My nephew has identified himself as many things this month.”
For the first time, Wade looked truly afraid.
Mara caught the change.
“What is the trustee’s name?”
Margaret held a folded handkerchief against her lip.
“Thomas Vale.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Jonah looked toward the fire.
Mara spoke into the microphone at her collar, requesting a sweep of the house, a medical team, and preservation of county dispatch records. She did not ask anyone to explain further. The room was no longer a confrontation. It had become a scene, and scenes belonged to people with gloves, cameras, evidence markers, and patience.
Wade stood near the doorway while an agent watched him. Without the gun, he seemed both larger and less substantial. His duty belt hung unevenly after the weapons had been removed. The metal star on his shirt was crooked.
The search team found no intruders in the house.
They found a service door forced at the latch, wet footprints on the stone floor, and an open cabinet in the estate office. Two file boxes were missing. A pair of muddy work gloves lay beneath the back stairs. Outside, tire tracks cut across the frozen lawn to a maintenance road.
Mara received the information without looking at Wade.
He looked at Margaret.
“You could have had people in here.”
“They were not my people.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I saw one of them.”
“Who?”
“A man who worked for Thomas last summer.”
Wade breathed through his nose.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No,” Margaret said. “It does not.”
Her restraint bothered him more than anger would have. She was bruised, bleeding, and still refusing to give him the comfort of becoming unreasonable.
May you like
The medical team entered with two black bags and a folding stretcher. Margaret declined the stretcher, accepted an examination, and objected only when a paramedic tried to cut the sleeve of her uniform.
“It is tailored,” she said.
