It wouldn’t be long before someone else came. He would add them to his collection like a butterfly pinned to a board or he would let the cops with the boring names shoot them dead.

Washington Memorial Hospital

All of them stared at the tall, white-coated tech who stood behind Connie, the muzzle of his Beretta pointed in her ear.

Natalie said, “It’s you, William? It’s really you?”

“The same. And the big guy here is an FBI agent. I want you to drop your Glock on the floor and kick it over to me. Do it now or you’ll see this pretty young woman’s brains splatter.” Khalid was annoyed it hurt him so much to talk, the pain grinding, throbbing, and it wouldn’t let up. His head was starting to pound along with it. He tried not to let the FBI agent know, tried to keep upright. He had the gun, but he knew better than to take his eyes off him. He recognized what the man was capable of by looking at him, knew it from seeing other men like him, knew it to his bones. “I will not tell you again. Drop the gun now or I will put a bullet in you as well, and then into Mrs. Black.”

Davis carefully pulled his Glock from his waist clip and set it on the floor. He straightened and kicked it toward McCallum, never taking his eyes off his face. It stopped six inches from his foot. McCallum looked tough as leather, not that much older than him. All that was left of the white-skinned Englishman was the flash of his blue eyes in his deeply seamed face, weathered to dark brown by the desert sun. He was a man stripped of everything he’d been, of all the comforts and baggage of being rich.

Davis saw him run his tongue over his dry lips. McCallum was in pain, no doubt about it. Davis knew he would have stopped taking his pain pills hours ago because he couldn’t take the chance they would cloud his brain, slow him down. He was struggling, and that would give them a chance. He looked at Connie, knew she saw it, too. She was thinking, weighing the options just as he was.

Perry said, “William Charles, why are you trying to murder my mother?”

“I am not William Charles any longer. I am Khalid Al-Jabiri, and that is what you will call me.”

“Very well. So why are you trying to murder my mother?”

Connie tried to pull away from him and he tightened his hold around her neck until she gasped. Perry saw his gun hand shake against Connie’s neck. If Connie moved again, she could die. Perry added quickly, “And why did you try to kill me?”

He cocked his head to one side, distracted. “Kill you? I don’t even know you, only that you’re her daughter. You’re nobody to me. Whatever it is you mean, be quiet. If I wish to talk with anyone, it is with your mother, not you. It is your mother who is the murderer, who wantonly drove my father to kill himself. I am here to see she gets the justice she deserves.”

Natalie said, “Billy—Khalid—your father told you we were working through the scandal together, after your photo was published in the British press.”

“I am not here to debate you, Mrs. Black. Perhaps you should listen rather than speak.”

“Hooley spoke up from behind Natalie. “You’re a good soldier, Khalid. You’re the one who put me here.”

“That I am, and you’re the one who shot me. You see well in the dark. You were brave that night. What is your name?”

“Hooley. I didn’t see as well as you, since I’m the one lying here. As a soldier, you’ve got to see you’re flanked on all sides. Not only the people in this room, but you know there are the agents outside, downstairs. If you shoot anyone, you’ll never make it out of here alive.”

Connie tried to swing about to face him, and he dug the gun into her ear. “No, don’t move! Listen, all of you. You’ve got to know I’m well trained, an excellent shot. I could probably kill every one of you if you came at me, even Hooley lying there staring up at me. And Mrs. Black, you will be the first to die.”

He fanned his gun at them, looked back at Hooley. “I didn’t come here to escape again, Hooley. I came here to end it.”

Morganville, Virginia

Hello, Blessed.”

It was her voice. He couldn’t believe it. How could she be here? He whirled around, stared for all he was worth, but Sherlock was at least twelve feet away from him, and he knew she wasn’t about to come any closer.

“How?” he asked. “I never saw you. How?”

Sherlock said, “We made sure all the police and agents looking for you left their radios on transmit. We heard every word you said. And Mrs. Ransom was kind enough to help me fool you, Blessed. After I hit her hard enough to bring her back, that is. Isn’t that a lovely surprise?”