In the other room she heard her phone ringing. Kayleigh debated. Ignore it. Four rings, then voicemail.

“I love the summer rain … It’s an antidote to pain….” Hm, she thought wryly. Awful! Just because some lines come fast doesn’t mean they’re any good. But part of being a pro is knowing what sucks and what doesn’t. She’d work on it.

Then, hearing the mobile trill again, she thought of Mary-Gordon. Was Suellyn calling because she was sick, did she want Kayleigh to bring a special toy from the house? Concern for the little girl was what prodded Kayleigh out of the tub. She dried off and dressed fast in jeans and a blouse. Pulled on socks. And her glasses.

Maybe it was Alicia calling back. What exactly did she want to talk to her about, out of Bishop’s hearing?

Could be anything, she decided. The assistant and Bishop had never really gotten along. Her father liked women who fawned. Alicia did what she was supposed to for him—he was the head of the company—but there was always some tension between them because she would not kowtow to the big man.

She picked up the phone. Ah, Kathryn’s number. She hit the CALL-BACK button.

As it rang, she glanced out the window. It was dark now but she made out Alicia’s blue pickup truck sitting in the drive. Kayleigh hadn’t heard her arrive but she could let herself in. She had a key.

Dance’s phone clicked.

Kayleigh started to say, “Hey, how’re—?”

But the agent said urgently, “Kayleigh, listen to me. I don’t have time to go into the details. Alicia Session’s on her way there. She’s going to kill you. Get out of the house. Now!”

“What?”

“Just get out!”

Downstairs, the kitchen door opened and Alicia called out, “Hey, Kayleigh. It’s me. You decent?”

THROUGH HER PHONE Kathryn Dance heard Kayleigh’s voice catch. Then she whispered, “She’s here! She’s downstairs. Alicia!”

Oh, no. How to handle it?

Dance, Harutyun and Madigan were in the FMCSO cruiser speeding away from Alicia’s apartment in the Tower District. Dance told the men that Alicia was already at Kayleigh’s house and then said into the phone, “Is Darthur there?”

“No, he’s gone. We thought it was all over with, with Simesky dead.”

“Get out. Can you run into the woods?”

“I … No. I’m upstairs. I don’t think I can jump. And I’d have to go past her if I went downstairs. Can I talk to her? Why does she—”

“No, you have to hide, stay away. She has a gun. We’ll have troopers there as soon as we can but it’ll be twenty minutes. Are you in a room with a lock?”

“My bedroom. Yes. But it’s not much.”

“What about a weapon?”

“My gun’s downstairs, locked up.”

“Just barricade yourself in the room. And stall.”

“Oh, Jesus, Kathryn. What’s going on?”

“Barricade yourself as best you can. We’ll be there soon.”

The siren spread outward on the hot, dry air and the urgent blue and white lights ricocheted off cars and signs and windows as they raced through the evening.