He went to the other room off the playroom. A girl’s room, messy, with movie posters and lots of little things, trinkets and perfume bottles and lip gloss and books and baseball trophies. One of the girls pitched on a Little League team.

“PJ, are you in here? I’m an FBI agent. That’s like a policeman. I’m here to help you. You can come out now.”

Silence.

He opened the closet. It was a mess. He moved some things around but didn’t see anyone hiding.

He was about to close the door when he heard a small cry. Where was the light switch? He found it and stared. Didn’t see two kids. It could have been his imagination.

“PJ? Are you in here?”

Something moved. Just a little.

Matt moved aside clothes, an old blanket, and a baseball bag. In the far corner of the closet a little boy was holding his sleeping sister. He was half-asleep and had a bat in his hands. Relief flowed through Matt, and he spontaneously crossed himself, though he hadn’t been to church in years.

Gracias a Dios.

He squatted to be closer to the child’s eye level. “PJ. You’re safe now. Are you okay?”

PJ opened his eyes, then rubbed them. “My daddy.”

“Your mommy’s outside. Do you want to see her?”

He nodded. “A bad man hurt my daddy.”

Matt prayed that this little boy hadn’t seen what happened. “Did you see the bad man?”

He shook his head and hugged his sister tighter. She gave out a half squeak, half cry.

“I heard them fighting. And things were breaking and I was scared so I took Sheila and hid.”

“You did the right thing, PJ.” Matt helped PJ and his sister out of the closet, then picked them up. He hugged them. “I’ll find that bad man and put him in jail. I promise.”

In jail or in the ground.

46

Spokane
11:15 a.m.

He’d fucked up. He’d really fucked up. And now he had a bullet in his arm and it hurt and he hadn’t killed the cop who stole his house.

Glen Hamilton sat in the kitchen of his rental. He hadn’t been tailed—he knew that—but he didn’t know how long he would be safe here. How did they know about his car?

That bitch cop.

How long would it take for them to trace his car to this house?

How did they know about the house on Vine? Did they know his identity?

Glen didn’t turn on the television, instead he went online, where he was more comfortable and news broke faster. He had all the local news sites bookmarked and he scrolled through.

His heart nearly stopped beating.

He saw his picture—his image, really—in a sketch. The police had released his driver’s license photo along with a sketch that looked exactly like him.

Spokane Police Department issued a statement this morning. They are looking for this man, Glen Vincent Hamilton. They indicated that he is wanted for questioning as a possible witness in the two recent murders in Liberty Lake. Contact the Spokane Police Department at their 24-hour hotline.