Tommy grinned at her, shook her hand. “You’re Juliet Calley, right? I’m Thomas Maitland though Mia still insists on calling me Tommy.” He paused a moment, grinned. “Actually, all my friends and family do too.”

Mia walked over, poked him in the side. “He tells me no self-respecting FBI agent is called Tommy so he insists crooks call him Thomas. Juliet, come in. I’m so glad you decided to come stay with me.”

Juliet said to the big man, “Mia didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

“One of my snitches gave us the break we really needed, so we closed the case faster than expected.”

“Where’s Sherlock?”

Mia said, “She’ll be back later. She volunteered, well, really, she insisted she be the one to follow Kent since she’s certain he’ll hightail it right to Alex Harrington. She’ll call us later with an update.

“As for the big guy here, Tommy pulled some strings and arrived an hour ago. Come in, Juliet. Tommy, please put Juliet’s carry-on in the bedroom and I’ll hang up all her winter gear.” Mia leaned forward, hugged Juliet, whispered in her ear, “Everything will work out, you’ll see.” She leaned back. “You got checked out of your hotel all right? You left your forwarding address for curious minds?”

“Yes, just as Sherlock told me to. You think someone might come here?”

Mia said as she hung Juliet’s coat and scarf in the small entrance hall coat closet, “Sherlock believes it’s possible. But we’ll have Tommy now and both of them later, and they’re as tough as his hiking boots, so Tommy says. Come in, come in.”

Like everyone else who visited Mia, Juliet walked directly to the wide picture window and stared down at Central Park. “It’s beautiful even though you know you’d freeze in a Boston minute if you were out there.”

Tommy said, “Boston minute? That’s not right, it’s stealing. Even in Washington, we call it a New York minute. There’s the doorbell again, that’s got to be the pizza.”

While Tommy was at the door, Juliet said, “It’s very kind of you to let me stay here.” She huffed out a breath. Even at the hotel I felt antsy, jumped at every noise.”

“Not a problem. Do you know what Sherlock said about you? She said she wasn’t surprised you’re so brave, that after listening to you play Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique, someone with your passion could face down the devil.”

“Me? Brave? Passionate?” Juliet looked surprised and delighted. “That’s the nicest thing anyone could say to me. But the truth? If it weren’t for you and Sherlock, I might have never confessed to anyone what they did to me.”