"A thirty-eight?" I asked. "A Glock, maybe?"

Heather shrugged. "I never really looked at it. Guns don't interest me very much."

That made Ron's answers far more understandable. If Dillon was there, not only was the boyfriend violent, he was also possibly armed and dangerous. So what were my possible courses of action? Call 911 and tell the Seattle PD dispatcher that there was a potential hostage situation on Queen Anne Hill? They'd send in an Emergency Response Team, with sirens blaring and lights flashing. And if that happened, what were the chances that Jared or Tracy or Amy might end up caught in some kind of cross fire? That didn't seem like a good option, but neither did sitting around doing nothing, not when my showing up even a few minutes earlier might have saved Sue Danielson's life.

Lost in thought, I almost didn't hear Heather's question. "You don't think he'd hurt them, do you?" she asked.

"You didn't think he'd hurt you," I returned.

She turned away from me and didn't answer. A moment later she turned back. "Maybe I should call there," she said. "That way I could find out if Dillon really is there, find out what he wants."

It was a sensible suggestion. I picked up the handset, dialed the code to block caller ID, switched on the speaker option, and handed it over. "Be my guest," I said.

"Dad!" Heather exclaimed when Ron came on the line. "It's me, Heather. I'm fine."

"This isn't a good time right now," Ron said brusquely. "If you'd call back later-"

"Is Dillon there, Dad? What does he want? Can I speak to him?"

The telephone clicked in Heather's ear as Ron ended the call.

"He hung up on me!" a dismayed Heather said. "He wouldn't even talk to me."

"Couldn't," I corrected. "But calling again was the right thing to do. Things must be pretty tough at the house for him to drop your call like that."

I was now more convinced than ever that Dillon was there. The trick was going to be getting him out of the house and away from the family. Only when Ron, Amy, and the kids were safe would it be time to bring Dillon Middleton to ground.

How well is he armed? I wondered. Does he have more than one weapon?

Heather had seen only the one handgun. If Mel Soames and Brad Norton had been doing their jobs, all of Ron's weapons would have been confiscated and hauled away until the investigation into Rosemary's homicide was concluded. That was a good thing. Facing down a deranged kid with one handgun at his disposal was bad enough. Dealing with one armed with a whole a.r.s.enal was out of the question.

Suddenly I had an idea. "Where exactly is the door you and Tracy use to sneak in and out of the house?"

"It's on the north side of the house," Heather answered. "On that side we're close to the house next door, but there's a trellis with a huge vine on it that covers that whole wall. If we stay behind that, we can get almost all the way out to the street without being seen."

"Does Dillon know about it-the door, I mean?"

"I guess so."

"And do you still keep it locked?"

Heather nodded. "Yes, but there's a s.p.a.ce right above the door. We keep the key in that. Why do you want to know? Are you going there? Can I come with you?"

"No," I said. "You're going to stay right here, out of the line of fire."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" Heather demanded. "I mean, he hit me, but it was really an accident. I don't want anything bad to happen to him."

That, too, was textbook domestic-violence-victim behavior. They're often the abuser's first line of defense.

"Look, Heather, if Dillon is at your house, causing trouble for your parents, then it's no accident and it's my job to see to it that he doesn't hurt anyone else."

She turned away from me and stared out the window at the lighted ships and ferries moving slowly on the darkened waters.

"I'll try not to hurt him," I added. "But if he has a gun and tries using it, I can't make any promises. Does he have a cell phone?"

"Of course."

"I need the number."

"Why?" Heather asked.

"Because if we're going to negotiate with Dillon, we need a way to reach him."

Heather gave me the number. When I reached for the telephone, her face sprang to life. "Are you going to call him?" she asked.

"Not right now," I said. "I'm calling for reinforcements."

I had made the decision that I wasn't going to call Seattle PD, but I was enough of a realist to know I couldn't pull this off on my own. Knowing the girls' secret entryway into the house gave me a possible edge, but I needed help. And so, for the second time that day, I turned to Mel Soames. We weren't officially partners, but we could just as well have been.

When she heard my voice on the phone, however, she wasn't exactly overjoyed. "What's up?" she asked, sounding as though I had awakened her.

"I need your help with something," I said.

"What?" Mel was all business. Maybe I had made up the idea that her feelings had been hurt earlier.

"Heather Peters is here-at my apartment."

That got her undivided attention. "You mean she and Dillon didn't go to Canada after all?"

"They tried," I said. "But on the way they got into an argument. He claimed he was taking Heather there to protect her and keep her out of your reach. Heather said she hadn't done anything wrong and had no reason to hide out in Canada. Things escalated and Dillon ended up slapping Heather around. She took off and came back here. When Heather said she didn't want to go, Dillon was prepared to take her there by force. I believe he still is."

"What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong up at Ron and Amy's," I explained. "When I called Ron to tell him Heather was safe, he brushed me off. A few minutes later when Heather tried calling, Ron hung up on her."

"Maybe he's upset with her for running away," Mel suggested.

"You didn't hear his voice, Mel. I know Ron Peters. He was upset-really upset. I'm thinking Dillon Middleton may be holed up at their house, waiting for Heather to come home so he can drag her along on another run for Canada."

"You mean take her by force. As in kidnapping?"

"Exactly."

"Is he armed?"

"I think so. Heather tells me Dillon owns a gun, although she didn't see it with him in the Focus yesterday when they were driving north."

"If he's armed, dangerous, and possibly holding hostages, why haven't you called Seattle PD?"

Good question, I thought. I said, "Because an Emergency Response Team is likely to turn Lower Queen Anne into a war zone. I have an idea how to handle this, but as I said, I need your help."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yes, the two of us and the added element of surprise," I said.

"How do you plan on pulling it off?" she asked.

"I'm working on the logistics right now."

There was a long pause, then Mel sighed. "Beaumont," she said, "has anyone ever told you that you're a grandstanding jerk? If this goes wrong, you'll be run out of Dodge."

"Yes," I returned. "I know. Now, are you coming or not?"

Another pause. "I guess I'm coming," she said at last.

"Good," I told her. "Bring your vest. You're probably going to need it."

CHAPTER 20.

I WAS STARTING TO SQUEEZE my body back into my old vest when I remembered the note that had been pushed under my door. I called downstairs to the lobby. "It's Beaumont," I said. "On 25. I understand you have a package for me?"

"Yup," Fred Tompkins, the night-shift doorman, replied. "A cardboard box. Want me to bring it up?"

"Is there a name on it?"

"It says 'Andrew Howard, Insurance a.s.sociates.' "

"Yes, please," I said. "Bring it up."

"That person on the phone," Heather said when I hung up. "The one you were talking to before..."

"Mel Soames?"

"She's the one who caused all this," Heather said bitterly. "If she hadn't been talking to Dillon after the funeral, none of this would have happened."

"Talking to Dillon is Mel's job," I said. "She's one of the investigators charged with finding out what happened to your mother. The person who started all this is the one who murdered Rosemary Peters."

Heather shook her head and looked unconvinced.

"Let me ask you a question, Heather. Have you given any thought as to why Dillon was so frantic to get you to Canada?"

"Dillon loves me," she said. "He wanted to protect me."

"Isn't it possible he wanted to protect himself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me before that Dillon was jealous of other guys. Rosemary wanted you to move to Tacoma to live with her. What did Dillon think about that?"

The doorbell rang as Fred arrived to deliver the box that contained years of acc.u.mulated miscellaneous car debris. I dug through it, extracted my Kevlar vest, and began strapping it on.

"Are you saying you think Dillon had something to do with Rosemary's death?"

"I don't know. You tell me. Mel Soames and her partner have been looking at suspects who had access to your house and, as a consequence, access to your father's very distinctive vehicle. You just told me that Dillon knew all about the secret entrance in and out of your furnace room. You also told me he has a handgun. That means he also most likely knows how to use it, which means he'd also know how to use a similar one that belongs to your father."

"But why?" Heather asked. "Why would he?"

"Because getting rid of Rosemary would mean you wouldn't be moving to Tacoma. And you've told me yourself that your father didn't approve of Dillon. In trying to frame your father for Rosemary's death, Dillon might have expected to unload two inconvenient people at once rather than just one. Kill two birds with one stone, as they say."

"No," Heather said. "I'm sure that's not true. He could never kill anybody."

"By fleeing to Canada he knew he'd be delaying extradition, if not avoiding it altogether. Has it occurred to you that maybe the whole idea of taking you along was to implicate you, rather than protect you? What if he wants to turn you into a patsy so you share the blame?"

Heather was shaking her head in firm denial when my phone rang.

"I'm on the Mercer exit," Mel said. "And I asked Brad to meet us at your place. It sounded to me like calling for reinforcements was a good idea."

She was right. "Three-to-one odds are better than two to one," I said.

"He's about ten minutes out," Mel said. "I'm five. Do you have a game plan yet?"

I looked at Heather. She was still so adamantly convinced of Dillon's innocence that I was afraid she might try to alert him to what was going on. The rough outline of my plan called for me to gain access to the house through Heather and Tracy's secret door while others lured Dillon outside. Success in my getting inside depended on maintaining the element of surprise. Success in bringing Dillon out depended on Heather.

"Not yet," I said. "I'm working on it."

I put down the phone and turned to Heather. "Will you help us?" I asked.

"No," she said. "No way! What if he gets hurt? What if something bad happens?"

"Heather, think about what might happen if we have to call in Seattle PD. It's possible lots of people could get hurt. The guys on the Emergency Response Team are great, and they'll do the best job they can. They'll be focused on saving your family-your parents and brother and sister-far more than they will be focused on saving Dillon."

"Would they shoot him?"

"If he's holding your family hostage? Absolutely. Believe me, Heather, you and Mel Soames and I are Dillon's best shot. The best thing that could happen would be for us to persuade him to come out of the house and surrender. We need to do that without jeopardizing his life or anyone else's."

I could see my words had made an impact. At least Heather was thinking about it rather than dismissing the idea entirely.

"How would you do that?" she asked at last. "Get him out of the house, I mean."

"Why do you think he went there?" I asked in return.

Heather shrugged. "Looking for me, I guess."