“What are you doing? Charley, that could be evidence. We’ve got to call the police.”

“They’re going to try to pin this on Harry.”

“Have you thought that maybe he did—”

“Never, not Dad. He sent me that text message because I’m in danger too. Mother was as well. I don’t know why this is happening, but I trust him.”

“With your life? With mine as well?”

“Yes.” She pressed her lips together as the full meaning of what was happening set in. “We’ve got to find him.”

“How?” Perez dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “We’re not wanted by the police, but I’m sure they’re looking for us.”

She looked back at her mother, fighting back despair—and the urge to crawl into her husband’s arms and sob. She was Harold Middleton’s daughter. She would hunt down whoever had done this. And make him—or her—pay.

In the distance came the sound of sirens. “The lake house,” she said, starting for her mother’s bedroom and a change of clothes. “Eventually, Harry will look for us there.”

6 - JOHN RAMSEY MILLER

6

JOHN RAMSEY MILLER

In the Dulles parking lot, FBI Agent In Charge M. T. Connolly watched homicide detectives process a policeman’s corpse. A deep ligature mark around the murdered cop’s neck and blossoms of red in the white of his eyes made cause of death obvious, the same way the security videos made just as obvious the identity of the man who killed him, stole his uniform and stuffed him into the back of a Jeep, where he now lay.

The detectives had arrived in response to the shooting of a state trooper in the concourse. Despite early reports to the contrary, Trooper George was still alive, but in grave condition. Three bullets had deformed against his bulletproof vest and one had gone high and deflected against the collar and severed an artery. He wasn’t expected to live. If he did, he could have serious brain damage from blood loss.