“Okay,” Tepper said without enthusiasm. DC and the surrounding area had more black SUVs than bicycles. “Put out a BOLO for a large, dark SUV, possibly a Suburban or Tahoe. Have someone at the station alert the hospitals for a possible gunshot victim showing up at an emergency room. And tell everybody to boot up and string a perimeter. We’re now a murder scene. The murder scene of a federal officer.”

Garcia hurried away to radio from his patrol car.

Jesse shivered. “Can I go put some clothes on?”

“A few more questions first. That bloody robe by the victim. Is that yours?”

Jesse hesitated, remembering Ethel’s instructions to hold back information that the Secret Service would want to know first. Part of that effort was Ethel exaggerating her image as an elderly woman distressed by what she’d witnessed.

“It’s my landlady’s. She followed me out here but then went back inside to phone for help. She left the robe with me. I tried to use it as a bandage.”

Tepper’s eyes widened. “So Finch was alive?”

“Just barely. His breaths were quick and ragged. I used the robe as a compress on his chest.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He might have whispered something. I was focused on trying to stop the bleeding and telling him to hold on.”

“But he whispered something?” Tepper pressed.

“Right before he died. A syllable or two, but he didn’t say who attacked him.”

Tepper studied Jesse for a few seconds. “Your landlady. What’s her name?”

“Ethel. Ethel Crestwater.”

“And you and Finch are boarders?”

“Yes, sir. There are two others, but they’re out of town.”

“If Mr. Finch was Secret Service, do you have any idea what he was working on?”

“No. He never talked about his work.”

Tepper nodded. “They don’t call it Secret Service for nothing. Would your landlady know?”

Without thinking, Jesse said, “You’ll have to ask her.”

“All right. I take it she’s withdrawn to the house.”

Jesse mentally kicked himself for accelerating rather than delaying the police coming to Ethel.

“She’s seventy-five, Officer Tepper. She might not be up for questioning.”

“If she’s seventy-five, she might not be up for a murder in front of her house. I at least want to check on her.” Tepper scanned the scene to make sure everything was proceeding as he’d instructed. He knew homicide detectives would soon take over the case, and they might not have it long once the feds parachuted in. Tepper didn’t want to have anything botched up in the meantime, including a seventy-five-year-old woman dying of shock.

“Lead on, Mr. Cooper.”

Jesse walked as slowly as he could, hoping his bare feet would explain the snail’s pace. He stepped up on the front porch, found the door unlocked, and walked into the foyer with Tepper close on his heels.

“Ethel, the police would like a word.”

Chapter 5