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Sean had seen Marty, not only his best friend but, he’d told them many times, his future wife. Sean sniffled and whispered fiercely against Sherlock’s cheek, “Mama, Marty’s here. I can’t cry in front of her. She’ll think I’m a sissy and she won’t marry me. She’s going to be really mad when she finds out I don’t have my basketball anymore. Don’t tell her, Mama, promise.”
About his crying or his basketball? She heard Griffin stifle a laugh. She wanted to laugh, too, but knew this was serious business for a five-year-old. “I promise, on both counts. Look, Sean, she’s bringing you some of your clothes.” Some of Sean’s clothes hung in Marty’s closet from their sleepovers, just as Marty’s jeans and T-shirts were in Sean’s closet.
Sherlock watched Sean run to his five-year-old soul mate. She waved and shouted a thank-you to Marty’s parents, the Perrys. Astro struggled out of Lauren Mason’s arms and dashed after Sean.
Sherlock pulled out her cell and dialed their longtime insurance agent’s number. Sure it was late, but she was up and so she figured Ethan Brothers should be, too. When she punched off, she said to Griffin, “Ethan, our insurance agent, will be here in thirty minutes.”
Griffin said, “Is he afraid Savich will arrest him if he doesn’t drive right over and give you a check?”
“I hadn’t thought that far. Maybe he will. That’d be good. Dillon’s called me three times, so I know he’s driving like a maniac. It shouldn’t be long now.” She looked down at her watch.
Griffin said, “I’ve spoken to him as well. And no, I didn’t mention arson. He’s scared enough as it is. Knowing him, he’ll have a police car on his bumper.”
Luke Mason, his face blackened, ran around the side of the house toward them, still wearing his civvies. He smelled like nasty smoke, but he was smiling. “Sherlock, it looks like we’ve got the fire under control, and your neighbors’ houses are safe. First, let me say the kitchen’s gone, but the guys assure me the fire didn’t gut the rest of the house.” He started to pat her shoulder, realized he was filthy, and drew back his hand. “All I know is the fire started at the back of the house. Hang in there, Sherlock. I’ll be back when I have more to tell you.” Lauren handed her and Griffin each a cup of coffee, strong and sweet, from her mother, Lauren told them, to ward off shock.
A red Porsche roared around the corner.
Griffin smiled when he saw a Metro car pull in behind the Porsche. He checked his watch and grinned. “Thirty-seven minutes from St. Lumis. That’s pretty impressive, maybe a record.”
Savich jumped out of the Porsche and turned off his flasher, yelled, “Sherlock!”
Sherlock held tight to the blankets wrapped around her and ran to meet him. She saw his face was hollowed and grim in the light from the neighboring houses. She’d been willing him to hurry, to run every red light in Maryland and in the District. She felt everything inside her break apart. She shucked off the blankets and threw her arms around him, squeezed him as tightly as Sean had squeezed her. “I’m all right, really, I’m okay. So is Sean, and Astro. Sean’s not crying because he doesn’t want Marty to make fun of him, but he’s upset because he lost his basketball. I remembered MAX and ran back to get him. Griffin brought out your grandmother’s painting. I called Ethan Brothers, and he’s on his way.” She realized she was spurting it all out a mile a minute, stopped, panting, and hugged him tight again. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thirty-seven minutes. I bet dispatch knew about the fire and told them to let you through.”
Of course he fastened on to the most critical thing she’d said. He spoke calmly, but he was so scared he wanted to shake her. “You went back into a burning house for a fricking computer?”
She smiled up at him. “No, not just any fricking computer. I went back for MAX. He’s your creation, Dillon. I didn’t even think about it. I pulled my Redskins sweatshirt over my nose, and I was in and out fast. Dillon, I hardly even breathed.”
He wanted to yell at her for what could have happened, but he didn’t. He drew a deep breath and hugged her close again. He wouldn’t let her go, even though she’d assured him she was all right when he’d called her several times on his mad drive to Washington. He called out, “Griffin, thank you for saving my grandmother’s painting.” At the moment, he didn’t even wonder why Griffin was there.
“Papa!”
He turned to see Thomas Perry holding Marty’s hand on one side, Sean’s on the other. Alice Perry was rocking their small baby boy, keeping away from the smoke a breeze was blowing toward them. Thomas gave Sean a hug. “Your daddy’s here. Go.” Sean shouted and ran full tilt toward him. Sean was fully dressed, and how could that be? Astro was barking his head off, and now Gladys joined in. The black Labrador Boris from down the street filled out a trio. Savich felt his throat close as he scooped Sean up in his arms and hugged him close. All the while Sean was talking nonstop. “Mama carried me, Papa, and she was fast. She wrapped me up like a hot dog so I wouldn’t get smoke up my nose, and Astro was barking and jumping. And Mama leaped down the stairs, and we ran outside.” Sean stopped, studied his father’s face, and patted his cheek. “It will be okay, Papa.” Had Sean seen the empty fear? “Marty said I could sleep with her new little brother tonight if I wanted to. She said he’d wake me up every ten minutes because he was hungry. Mama, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”
She gulped but managed to smile. “Happy tears, Sean. We’re all safe and together.” She hadn’t thought of where they’d sleep tonight, or for that matter, for the foreseeable future. Not in their own house, that was for sure. It didn’t matter. They were together; they were safe.
Savich continued to hold Sherlock and Sean against him until Luke Mason trotted over to them. It took Savich a moment to recognize him, as his face was black, his clothes filthy. Why wasn’t he in his fire gear? Luke raised his voice. “Folks, all your houses are safe. The firefighters got here fast enough.” He turned to Savich and Sherlock. “As I told Sherlock, the kitchen’s destroyed, but nothing else structural is burned, only smoke and water damage that couldn’t be avoided. Savich, I’m glad you’re here.” He beamed at the three of them. “Your family’s all right, and that’s the most important thing. It’s good Sherlock got out so fast, didn’t try to fight it. A house is only a house, after all—well, in this case, a kitchen is only a kitchen. Tell you what, let’s get a little away from your neighbors.”
Luke walked them toward one of the ladder trucks. “Good, no one else can hear us here. I’m sure you’re wondering, so let me spit it out. The fire inspector will make the final decision, but I can tell you now this was no accident. Sherlock was right. We found a can of gasoline behind the kitchen, and one of the guys found one of the kitchen windows smashed. Someone started this fire. And whoever it was also left the gasoline can there on purpose. They wanted you to know.”
“Not an accident,” Savich said slowly. He felt a cold rage, nearly shook with it. Sherlock and Sean could have died. Whoever had set the fire had brought a war to his home. He would make sure he finished it. He looked at Sherlock’s face. Of course, she’d already known. He looked at Griffin. He nodded.
