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ordinary. A very clean home, like the housekeeper had been there recently. Almost like they were about to sell it. I wound around the side of the house, still looking inside. A window on the east side was open.
    “I got a window open over here,” I said into my microphone. It was wide enough for someone to scramble out. Or in. I surveyed the yard behind me, moving down the hill. Nothing.
    I ran back around to the front of the house. Didn’t see Francesca. I tensed up and said her name just above a whisper. “ Francesca .” And again. “ Francesca .”

CHAPTER 6
    The door was slightly cracked. She must have gone inside. I hoped she had. I drew my gun. Pushed the door and it swung open.
    “ Fran ,” I said. I wasn’t about to expend any more energy on all fifty syllables of her entire name. “Fran,” a little louder. I stepped onto the shining oak hardwoods; there were dog scratches evident where the sun hit the floor just right. I hoped there weren’t any pit bulls headed down the stairs. A huge painting of Pike Place Market in the snow hung above the fireplace.
    I listened closely. The floor creaked above. I raised my gun. Moved silently to the bottom of the stairs, then came around fast.
    Francesca was standing at the top. Her gun holstered. “All clear,” she said.
    We finished our circle around the block. I turned to another channel on the radio and reported to Ted that all was good and we were headed back.
    When we returned, Dr. Wilhelm Sebastian was sitting on the couch next to his wife. He was a good-looking guy, but he did his best to hide it. He should have shot his tailor in the foot. His pants were hemmed six inches too high. Scrawny white shins were staring back at me. He had suspenders on, too. I didn’t even know you could buy those anymore. He looked way younger than I thought he’d be. Not even forty. Curly brown hair, only a few grays sneaking out near the ears.
    He stood. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, with a Dutch accent.
    “All mine.” He shook my hand with the presence and calm of a man who sits in a rocking chair, smokes a pipe, and listens to Coltrane every night after work. Wiser than his years. He looked at me like he knew that, too, like he could dance circles around my mind. Like I was just a little peon in his world.
    He gestured toward his wife, and she stood and shook my hand. She was taller than him. Prim and proper, long skirt with a blouse. Hair in a bun. Angular face, very little makeup. She looked smart. I didn’t think Dr. Sebastian would marry someone with a low IQ. I shook her hand and we locked eyes. Then she turned to her two four-year-old boys who were fighting over a toy fire truck. “Come introduce yourself to Mr. Knox, boys,” she said.
    Ignoring her, they kept pulling at the truck. That turned out to be a big mistake.
    “Boys!” she snapped, and I think it startled all of us. This woman had a temper. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Leave the truck alone and get your butts over here! Introduce yourselves to Mr. Knox.” They stopped in their tracks and headed my way.
    I shook their hands. As they walked away, Luan said, “Go to your rooms,” and popped them both on the side of the head in a not-so-nice way. Both boys immediately broke into cries as they started up the stairs, and I didn’t blame them. The woman had a mean streak. Dr. Sebastian didn’t appear to like it, but he didn’t say anything.
    The local news was on, covering the budding protests. Seeing the news on television really was like stepping back into reality. I’d avoided it all for so long.
    We watched some of the protesters driving in. The media was guessing two thousand people so far. They showed video of different groups, signs in their hands, shouting. From what I could tell, the majority was the religious type, and though they’re not supposed to be violent, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was real trouble in some of those eyes. In twenty-four hours, we’d be