“Davenport.”
“Davenport! This is Charles Lang! Somebody’s murdered Stephen! He’s dead! Shot in the head! There’s a lot of blood, I just, I just...”
“Where are you, Charlie?” Lucas asked.
“I’m at home. When Stephen didn’t come down from his apartment—he lives over the garage—I went looking for him. He’s in the garage, on the floor. He has a bullet hole in hisforehead and there’s this red... halo... around his head, it smells bad, like... I dunno.”
“Where are you in the house?”
“In the den, I ran to get my phone...”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, I called you...”
“Okay. Don’t go back to the garage. Sit down in the den. Don’t do anything. The cops will be there in five minutes. Tell them the FBI and the Marshals Service will be working the case and are on the way. Just sit there, okay? Sit there.”
“I’m afraid there might be somebody here in the house. What if he’s still here, the killer?”
“Do you have a safe room? A room where you would feel secure?”
“I could lock the dressing room. It’s got a solid door.”
“Go there. Right now,” Lucas said. “Stay on the phone talking until the door is shut. I’ll be listening.”
“I’m going now, I’m running.”
—
TEN SECONDS LATER, Lang said, sounding out of breath, “I’m in the dressing room. The door is locked.”
“Stay there. The cops will be coming...”
“I’ve got a pistol in my dresser.”
“No! Leave it there. You don’t want to be handling a gun, especially if a couple of patrolmen show up and a man’s been shot. Sit there, Charlie, do nothing, and we’ll be coming.”
He called Bob: “Where the fuck are you?”
“In my room. About to take a shower. What?”
“One of the men we’re looking at got murdered. We’re on the way. Call Rae, tell her ten minutes in the garage. No. Seven minutes.”
“Got it.”
—
LUCAS CALLED CHASE: “What? I’m not there yet,” she said.
“Charlie Lang just called me. Somebody murdered Stephen Gibson at Lang’s house. We’re going. We need some FBI backup and I need you to call the cops. He lives in Potomac.”
“Oh, shit! Shit! I’m on my way. I’ll turn around and head that way. Give me his address...”
Lucas clicked on his phone’s navigation app and read Lang’s address for Chase. He heard her giving orders to somebody, probably a driver, and he said, “I’ll see you there. I gotta run.”
Jeans, shirt, jacket, gun, cross-trainers. Running.
—
