“No. I expect his flight was delayed. I’m used to that sort of thing with Harry.”

At her response, she felt her husband’s startled glance. She didn’t acknowledge it. “How did you know I was here, Agent Smith?”

He ignored the question. “I’m afraid your father’s in some trouble.”

She noticed that while Agent Smith spoke, his partner studied her reactions. She also noticed that every so often he rubbed the back of his hand against his leg, as if scratching at a bite or wiping at a stain.

Most un-fed like. Feds were trained to be as robotic as possible. Nervous twitches were not an option.

“Trouble? I don’t understand.”

“He was questioned in Warsaw concerning three murders in Europe.”

“Harry?” That incredulous retort came from Perez. “You have the wrong Harold Middleton.”

The agent’s gaze flickered to Perez, then settled on her once more. “Your father was able to catch an Air France flight out of Paris several hours later. He arrived at Dulles—then he shot and killed a police officer.”

She who couldn’t hold back. “Impossible!”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not my father.”

“I understand how you must feel. It’s a shock, but we have witnesses—”

“My father couldn’t have shot anybody. First off, Harold Middleton has spent his life fighting for what’s right. Hunting down and bringing to justice the sorts of monsters who terrorize and murder. That said, where did he get a gun? He’d just gotten off an international flight. Who was this cop? Why would my father want to kill him?”

She held his gaze; the tense silence crackled between them. After a moment, the agent broke the contact, inclined his head. “Those are all questions only your father can answer. We need to speak with him.”

The last thing she was about to do was help them find Harry.

The Feds were like buzzards on road kill—once they made up their mind someone was guilty, they’d move heaven and earth to “prove” it.

“What can I do?” she asked, sounding annoyingly earnest to her own ears.

“Let us know the minute you hear from him.” Agent Smith handed her his card. She gazed down at it, adorned with the Bureau’s familiar red, white, blue and gold seal.

He handed one to Perez. “That’s my cell number. Call anytime, day or night.”

“I will.” She ran her thumb across the business card, heart pounding. “And if you find him—”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“This is all a mistake. You’re looking for the wrong man.”

“For your sake, I hope so.” As the two crossed to the door, Smith turned, meeting her gaze once more. Something in his expression made her skin crawl. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

The moment the door shut behind them, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”