"Who is she?"

"Pam Dutton. The woman we were going to be meeting with."

Michelle noticed the writing on the woman's bare arms. "What's that?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a bunch of letters." He leaned closer. "Looks like they used a black Sharpie."

"Is anybody else in the house?"

"Let's find out."

"Can't screw up the crime scene for the cops."

He countered, "And we can't let someone die who we could otherwise save."

It only took a few minutes. There were four bedrooms on the top floor, two on each side of the hall set catty-cornered from one another. There was a young girl in the first bedroom they reached. She was unconscious but with no apparent injuries. Her breathing was steady and her pulse weak but steady.

"Colleen Dutton," said Sean.

"Drugged?" Michelle said as she gazed down at the little girl.

Sean lifted the girl's eyelid and noted the dilated pupil. "Looks to be."

In the second bedroom lay a young boy in the same condition as the girl.

"John Dutton," said Sean as he checked the child's pulse and pupil. "Drugged too."

The third bedroom was empty. The last bedroom was the largest. It wasn't empty.

The man was on the floor. He had on pants, a T-shirt, and was barefoot. One side of his face was swollen and badly bruised.

"It's Tuck Dutton, Pam's husband." Sean checked his pulse. "Knocked out but his breathing's okay. Looks like he took quite a blow."

"We really need to call the cops." Michelle grabbed the phone off the nightstand. "Dead. They must've messed with the outside box."

"Use your cell phone."

"I lost it when they tried to run me down."

"When who tried to run you down?"

"A driver and a guy with a submachine gun. Didn't you see anybody when you came in?"

He shook his head. "I heard gunfire, then I came in the back door. Then another loud sound."

"That was them crashing through the garage door. Looks like I had all the fun tonight."

"Pam dead. Tuck knocked out. John and Colleen drugged."

"You told me they had three kids."

"They do. Willa's apparently gone. Her bedroom was the empty one."

"In the truck? Kidnapping?"

"Can't be sure. What'd you see?"

"It was a Toyota Tundra, double cab, dark blue. Didn't see the plates because I was busy trying not to die. Driver and a shooter. Both guys. Oh, and there's at least one bullet hole in the windshield."

"Did you see them well enough for an ID?"

"No, but one of them was wearing some serious body armor, like military level. Took a jacketed round from my Sig with no problem. And he was wearing a black ski mask, which made an ID problematic."

"And no sign of a twelve-year-old girl in the truck?"

"Not that I saw. Probably drugged her too."

Sean used his cell to call 911 and relay all the information. He slipped it back in his pocket and looked around.

"What's that?"

Michelle strode across the room to check out the piece of luggage that was sticking out of the closet. "Garment bag, half open." She bent lower. "It has a tag on it. United Airlines Flight 567 into Dulles with today's date on it." She used a washcloth snatched from the bathroom to cover her hand while she slid the zipper open a few inches and peered inside. "Men's clothes. Must be Tuck's."

Sean looked down at the unconscious man's bare feet and his T-shirt. "He gets home, probably sees Pam, heads up here to drop his bag, starts to change, and wham."

"Something is bugging me. That Tundra that came out of the garage. Either it belongs to the Duttons or the bad guys drove their own vehicle in there."

"They might have done it so no one would see them put Willa in it."

"In the boondocks? At this hour? You can't even see another house from here. I'm not even sure there is another house."

"And why take Willa and not one of the other kids?"

"And why would they kill the mom and leave everyone else alive?"

Sean tried to rouse Tuck, but got no response.

"Better leave him alone. He might have some internal injuries."

They walked back downstairs and then Sean veered toward the kitchen and through it into the garage. There were three garage doors. In one bay was a late-model Mercedes four-door sedan. In another bay was a Chrysler minivan. The third bay was empty.

Michelle pointed to the destroyed garage door. "Truck was parked in this space, obviously. Do you know if the Duttons owned a blue Tundra?"

"No. But the odds are it was theirs."

"Because the bay is clear?"

"Right. Just about every garage is packed with all sorts of crap, sometimes even including a car. The fact that all the bays were clean meant they had three vehicles, otherwise the third bay would be used for storage."

"Wow, you really are a detective."

Sean put his hand on the hood of the Mercedes. "Warm."

Michelle ran her finger over one of the car's tires. "Tread's wet. We had some rain this evening. Must be Tuck coming from the airport."

They walked back to the living room and stared down at Pam Dutton. Sean used his elbow to flick on the light switch, pulled out his notepad, and copied down the letters on the woman's arm.

Michelle bent lower and examined Pam's hands. "Looks like she's got some blood and skin under her nails. Most likely defensive trace."

"Noticed that too. Hope they can trip something on a DNA database."

Michelle said, "But shouldn't there be more blood?"

Sean examined the body more closely. "You're right. The rug should be covered. Looks like they severed her carotid. She would've bled out pretty fast."

Michelle saw it first, the plastic piece protruding out from under the dead woman's elbow. "Is that what I think it is?"

Sean nodded. "It's an empty vial." He glanced over at his partner. "Did they take her blood with them?"

TALBOT'S WAS HAVING A SALE. Diane Wohl had left work at four to take advantage. A new dress, a few blouses, maybe some slacks, a scarf. She'd just gotten a raise at work and wanted to put it to good use. There was nothing wrong with pampering yourself every once in a while. She parked her car in the shopping mall garage and walked about four hundred feet to the store. She left two hours later after trying on several outfits and buying two bags full of clothing, doing her patriotic duty to stimulate an otherwise lousy economy.

She hopped in the car after tossing her bags in the passenger seat. She was hungry and was thinking about picking up some Chinese take-out on the way home. She had just put the key in the ignition when she felt the small circle of metal against her head. A strong odor made her forget about kung pao chicken with all white meat and egg drop soup. It was a mixture of gun oil and cigarettes.

"Drive," the voice said quietly but firmly. "Or you're dead."

She drove.

An hour later the suburbs had disappeared. The only thing visible was lined asphalt, a harvest moon, and walls of trees. Not another car, not another person. Diane Wohl was completely alone with whatever monster was sitting in the back of her Honda.

He spoke again. "Turn off here."

Her gut tightened and stomach acid driven by fear heaved up her throat.

The car bumped along the dirt road for a few minutes. The mass of trees seemed to swallow up the car.

"Stop."

Diane slid the gearshift lever to park. As she pulled her hand back the woman eyed her purse with a sideways glance. Her cell phone was in there. If she could somehow turn it on. Or her keys. She had a big wad of them. She could pull them; gouge him in the eyes like she'd seen on TV shows. Only she was so terrified she couldn't. Her entire body was trembling like she had Parkinson's.

The monster of few words said, "Out."