Joe followed instructions, aware of the man in the checked shirt getting up as Joe glanced over his own shoulder at Dan.

He'd barely registered that Dan was standing right across from his mother's bedroom door when one panel of the latter blew up with a shattering explosion that sent Griffis smashing against the far wall with a scream, his right knee torn apart.

Purely on instinct, Joe didn't even look back at the man who had emerged from the cellar. He simply dived through the nearby kitchen door, rolled into a forward somersault, and then pushed himself off and to the side of a cabinet front as a bullet smacked into the place he'd just been occupying.

But he was now exposed in the light, sprawled on the floor, and knew he was out of luck.

The man in the checked shirt stepped into the room, the gun dangling by his side, his face malevolent. In the hallway, Griffis was screaming, "Kill the p.r.i.c.k, Mike. Blow his f.u.c.king head off."

Through the kitchen's other door, leading to the dining room, one arm and half of Lyn's face appeared, her eye sighting down the length of Joe's pistol.

"Don't do it, a.s.shole. Drop the gun or you die."

Before Mike could respond, Lyn fired, the sound enormous in such close quarters. The gun in Mike's hand flew away from him with a spurt of red blood, and he spun and crouched simultaneously, doubling over his wounded hand. Joe leaped to his feet, ran back to the hallway, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his carbine. He brought it to bear just as Dan Griffis, lying on the floor and bleeding, reached for the pistol that he'd dropped moments before.

"Don't move!" Joe yelled.

Simultaneously, the barrel of a shotgun appeared through the hole in his mother's door, followed by her almost sweet advice. "Dan, I think you should stop this."

Griffis glanced up at the barrel and over to Joe, and slumped back against the wall, effectively putting his gun beyond reach.

"s.h.i.t," he moaned softly.

In the meantime, Lyn had entered the kitchen and was aiming at Mike in a combat stance, as if on the range, looking incongruous only because of her nightgown.

"Is that it?" Joe asked Dan. "Just the two of you?"

Griffis sighed, both hands now wrapped around his shattered knee. "Yeah. The other guy wimped out."

Lyn glanced at Joe quickly, breaking her focus on Mike for only a fraction. "This something I should start getting used to?"

He considered that for a moment. It had some painful relevance, given how things had worked out with Gail.

"Maybe," he answered as truthfully as he could.

She tilted her head and smiled-the daughter and sister of men lost at sea. "Okay," she said simply.

In the distance, they heard sirens approaching.

Chapter 25.

w.i.l.l.y Kunkle looked over the top of his magazine as Joe walked into the office the following morning.

"Heard your mom and your girlfriend saved your b.u.t.t last night."

Joe laughed. "Yeah-I heard yours does the same for you all the time."

"Bulls.h.i.t. She say that?"

Joe crossed the room and dropped his newspaper on his desk. "It's her constant burden-lugging you through life with minimal damage. Where is she, by the way-and Les, for that matter?"

"Doing one of your errands," w.i.l.l.y told him. "It's all about Leppman nowadays. Rumor also has it E. T. gave you a phone call before his Son Wonder showed up with the artillery."

Joe nodded as he poured himself some coffee. It never occurred to him to ask how w.i.l.l.y knew all he did so shortly after it happened. The man had his methods, after all, and his pride.

Moreover, it was an interesting point-one that had made a crucial difference in the night's outcome.

"Yeah, he did. From the sound of his voice, I think it almost killed him, but it was clear he'd had enough. I talked to Dan after the state police got there, while EMS was wrapping him up."

"What'd he say?"

"He'd come back to E. T.'s house to get an extra gun before heading out for good-didn't expect to see the old man. They had a blowout. E. T. told him we knew Andy had taken the fall for Dan. I guess Dan answered that he'd put things right by knocking me off. And that did the trick-E. T. finally saw him for what he is."

w.i.l.l.y tossed the magazine aside and stared into middle s.p.a.ce. His tone surprised Joe with its gentleness. "Poor old b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"You got to like him, didn't you?"

"You kidding? A ruthless, manipulative, unscrupulous alcoholic who drives what family members don't commit suicide to acts of homicidal excess? Of course course I like him." I like him."

Joe was laughing. "Well, since you put it that way . . ."

But w.i.l.l.y was only half kidding. "Hey, the sins of the fathers . . . Maybe all of them were screwed before they drew their first breaths. G.o.d knows what E. T.'s old man was like." His tone changed slightly as he asked, "Did you ever find out if Dan rigged Leo's car?"

Joe had settled behind his desk and interrupted taking a sip of coffee to answer, "Yeah, threw it right at my mother. Said he was sorry things hadn't worked out as planned. She was great-shot right back that she was happy they had. He got her point. Later, he told me he regretted he hadn't just planted a bomb. Guy's such a winner."

The door opened, and both Les and Sam walked in, chatting.

"Hey, boss," the latter said, shucking off her coat and hanging it in the corner. "Everybody okay at home? I heard your mom's quite the shot."

"Both of them are," Joe conceded. "I asked Lyn afterward if she planned to shoot the gun out of the other guy's hand. Her comeback was, 'That's where I aimed.'"

"Ouch," Lester said. "Watch out for that one, boss."

"Turns out she used to target shoot with her father and brothers when they were kids," Joe explained. "Throw bottles into the ocean and blow them up. Not PC, but I guess a lot of fun."

Sam was already typing at her computer, checking her morning e-mails. "Useful, too, as it turns out. I can't believe the b.a.s.t.a.r.d attacked your house. It's like a big-city war story from the flatlands."

"Speaking of flatlanders," Joe segued, "you and Les get anything on Leppman?"

Sam looked up from the screen. "Yeah. We just drove down from Burlington this morning."

"Didn't trust our own people?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, considering how to answer that. In fact, the VBI had five offices strategically located across the state, staffed with squads like their own. That was what he'd meant when he encouraged her to bring in extra help if needed.

He interrupted her with a raised hand. "Don't worry about it, Sam. I know what it's like to share. Tell me what you got so far, instead."

She gave him a slightly embarra.s.sed, rueful look. "Yeah, I'm a little possessive." She then pointed at Lester. "He's just as bad, though. Didn't once suggest farming this out."

"It was worth it," Spinney said defensively. "n.o.body knows the case like we do." Not having all the years the other three had shared working for the Brattleboro PD, he was a little less sure of the limitations to this sort of banter.

Sam returned to the question. "It was good news, bad news, to be honest: the good part being that we got a solid picture of his activities and whereabouts; the bad being that, as a result, we couldn't put him in Bratt on the dates of either killing."

Joe scowled slightly. "No doubts?"

"Not much," she admitted. "We got the right judge, which got us access to Leppman's phone records and credit card receipts. We talked to neighbors, a package delivery driver who handed him something on one of the days, a few other people we found out about. All this was on the q.t.-not that he won't find out eventually-but every time, we came up empty for both dates."

"And it wasn't just the timing," Lester added. "We asked about his demeanor, too. I mean, I know he's a shrink, but they all said he's been fine-upbeat and cheery, just like he was when I was with him. No signs of stress at all."

"What about the phone records?" Joe asked. "Anything stick out there?"

Sam shook her head. "Nope. And sure as h.e.l.l nothing to Pennsylvania or Waterbury or anything as easy as that. It was like taking apart Mr. Average Joe Citizen."

"You interview the vet?"

"Yup," Spinney answered. "Followed up on that phone call I made back when. What the stable lady told me was right-Leppman does like to hang out and ask questions-but the vet said he never thought anything about it, that Leppman never asked him any leading questions about overdosing or lethal chemicals, or even anything about fentanyl or DMSO."

"They use those, by the way," Sammie interjected. "But nothing's gone missing from their stock."

"What about the wife and daughter?" Joe asked. "Pardon my prejudice, but when I hear horses, I hear more their gender than Leppman's. Did they hang around the vet at all, or visit the stables?"

"No on the first," Sam told him, "but yes on the second. They both ride, but neither of them seems to have Leppman's curiosity about everything. In fact, a stable girl we talked to said none of them really liked the women that much-thought they were kind of snotty."

Joe let out a sigh. "All right, so, right now, all three are a wash."

" 'Fraid so."

"What else?"

"We met with Matt Aho and really went through his list of possibles," Les volunteered, trying to sound helpful.

"You get anything?" w.i.l.l.y asked.

Sam answered from her desk. "Could be." She sat back to explain. "We not only ran Aho through the wringer, trying to get him to remember anything he could, but we also chased after most of the people he'd highlighted, just in case one of them might've seen something."

"What we found," Spinney picked up, "maybe falls into the category of pure dumb luck. The day Leppman came to visit, he had an escort from their patrol division-not for security, since they considered him an insider, but to introduce him to a couple of people he didn't know."

"Richard Lloyd's his name," Sam resumed. "But he wasn't there when we were, so I left a message that we'd like to have a chat." She tapped her computer screen. "I just got an e-mail from him that he's in the office right now if we want to talk to him."

She looked questioningly at Joe.

"Go for it," he urged, his frustration mounting.

She reached for the phone, dialed the number, and hit the speaker b.u.t.ton. In less than a minute, they all heard a young man's voice fill the room.

"h.e.l.lo, this is Officer Lloyd."

"This is Special Agent Sam Martens of the Vermont Bureau of Investigation, Officer Lloyd," she said in her official voice. "You're on speaker phone, just so you know, and you and I are not alone."

"Okay" was the hesitant reply.

"A few weeks ago, you escorted a man named John Leppman while he was visiting your PD, is that correct?"

"Sure," said Lloyd, some of the tension easing in his voice. "He had to meet with a bunch of people, like the chief, somebody from accounting, and a couple of the detectives. I guess it was the deputy chief who didn't want him to get lost in the building."

"And how did that go?" Sam asked leadingly.

"Good. Fine. He met who he was supposed to meet, and then he left."

"You were with him the whole time?"

"Yeah. Never left his side."

"What kinds of things did he do there?"

"I didn't get it all. It was computer stuff. He helps out catching people through the Internet, so some of it was case related, some of it was schmoozing-like with the chief-and the accounting part was so he could get paid back for something. I don't really know what that was."

"How would you describe his demeanor during the visit?"

"He was cool. A nice guy. Relaxed, friendly. I didn't pick up on anything wrong."

"He never tried to ditch you, however subtly, like with a sudden trip to the bathroom?"

Lloyd thought back for a moment before answering. "No. He was only there for a little over an hour. Guess he never got the urge."

"And you didn't, either?"

"Nope. Just his daughter."

There was a sudden silence in the room.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Yeah, hi," Joe said, speaking for the first time. "This is Agent Gunther. Leppman had his daughter with him?"

"Yeah."

"And she did go to the bathroom?"

"Right-once."

"She asked to do that shortly after you pa.s.sed the supply room, is that correct?"