KnockOut Read Free Page A

can’t give that out yet.”
    “I hear the FBI agents who’d just pulled up outside the bank brought down the fourth bank robber as he was fleeing. That right?”
    It was, but Savich said, “We’re still sorting everything out. I’m sure you can get all the details from Mr. Maitland.”
    More typing on the laptop, then, “Hey, Savich, I wouldn’t be surprised if a bank customer sues you for endangering his life.”
    He wouldn’t be surprised either, Savich thought as he punched off his cell, given the deadening fear and the human need to blame someone when bad things happen. And the robbers were all dead except for the teenage girl. As he pulled on his jacket, he remembered the hundred-dollar bills scattered over the bank floor, some of them floating on the rivulets of blood from Jennifer Smiley’s neck. He closed his office door, saw Sherlock, and went to her.
    “Good move with your cell,” she said, and hugged him. He held her carefully, a habit now, since her surgery two months before. “I’ve told everyone else, but not you, Dillon. We were on the road in a minute, no longer. We heard everything on the speakerphone. Riley told me the girl was going to kill you, Dillon, she was just going to shoot you and dash out of the bank, laughing.” She hugged him tighter.
    Agent Ruth Warnecki said, “He’s alive, Sherlock, and I’d say he deserves a pizza.” She paused, turned to stare hard at Savich. “Sherlock might be used to you playing fast and loose with your hide, but I’m not. I’m asking you real nice, Dillon, don’t do that again, okay?”
    He managed a grin. “Do you know I was at the bank to check on Sean’s college fund? There was some sort of entry error that I couldn’t deal with online.” He shook his head, laughed at life’s improbabilities. He said, “You’re right, Ruth, a pizza sounds good.”
     
    AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK that night, Mr. Maitland called to tell him they’d found the getaway car, the image captured by ATM cameras. It was a black Dodge 2008 Grand Caravan, with swivel seats and a backseat TV. It had been stolen four days earlier from a Cranston, Virginia, dentist, and left on a side road outside Ladderville, Maryland. There was no sign of the driver but lots of fingerprints.
    “I guess they should call it the Gang of Five then, since someone had to be driving that van,” Savich said.
    “Let’s just hope this bozo’s prints are in the system.”

2
    GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
    Thursday night, three days later
    The first time she spoke to him was at midnight.
    It’s you, it’s really you. I can see you. Can you hear me?
    It was a child’s voice, high, excited, with light bursts of breathing.
    He heard her voice at the edge of sleep. At first he didn’t understand, thought maybe it was Sean, but then he saw her—the shape of her small head, then a tangle of long, dark brown hair, and he thought, Yes, it’s me. Who are you?
    I can really see you, just like I could see my dad. He died, you know. Your name’s Dillon and I saw you standing in front of that bank on TV, and listened to the TV people tell what you did.
    At first Savich didn’t know what she was talking about. You saw me on TV?
    Oh, yes. I told my mama you were a hero. You took care of those bank robbers, made them real sorry. She said you were crazy, said what if there’d been kids in the bank?
    Raise your face so I can see you. Who are you ?
    She shoved back her hair and looked straight at him. I’m Autumn.
    Autumn. Now he saw her small, triangular face, her child-white skin, beautiful eyes, a lighter blue than Sherlock’s, framed with absurdly long lashes, freckles across the bridge of her nose, but there was something wrong, something— Can you see me, Autumn ?
    Oh, yes. You’re all dark.
    How did you get to me?
    I haven’t tried to call anyone since my dad died. Last night I thought real hard, and tried to picture your face, but you wouldn’t come. Then tonight, I saw you in my mind standing