Page 47

“Cease fire!” Edwards shouted from side to side. “Cease fire!” Poe heard the order repeated down the line, until the whole street was quiet again. Edwards motioned with his good hand and slid around the front of the SUV.

Poe inched along the vehicle to where Edwards had been standing, avoiding the blood dripping down the side panel. Agents and cops were crossing the street in a swarm, weapons raised. The two downed officers were lifted from the porch and carried off to the side for triage.

Poe waved to Marple and Holmes. “Let’s go!”

Holmes helped Marple up and held her arm as they followed Poe around the front of the Explorer. Poe led the way across the street, which was glittering with shell casings. Edwards was standing in front of what was left of the front door. He raised his right foot and kicked the spot where the doorknob had been blown off. The door flew open with a bang. Edwards stood aside as men with rifles rushed past him. He turned around and saw Poe, Marple, and Holmes crouched on the stairs.

“I told you guys to stay back!” he shouted.

“No,” replied Poe, “you said to stay behind you.”

Edwards didn’t answer. He rocked back against the side of the entryway and slid down the brick wall. He was bloody all the way down his forearm, and his face was pale. Marple stepped forward and knelt beside him. “Give me your hand.”

Edwards blinked. “What?”

“I said, give me your hand.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick roll of surgical gauze.

Edwards tilted his head back against the wall and gritted his teeth. Poe watched as Marple wrapped the agent’s hand in a tight crisscross pattern, then tied the bandage off at the wrist. “That should hold you for now,” she said. “Keep it elevated.” Sirens were already sounding down the block. The first ambulance was coming around the corner.

Edwards stared at Marple with a dazed expression. “Do you always carry a field dressing in your purse?”

Marple shrugged. “I’m always prepared for the worst.”

As his hearing returned, Poe heard a sequence of distant shouts. “Clear! Clear! Clear!”

Then, through the radio clipped to Edwards’s shoulder, the next report, blunt and matter-of-fact.

“Tangos down. Four KIA. Repeat, four KIA.”

CHAPTER 49

GROANING, EDWARDS STOOD up and led the way inside. Holmes beat his partners through the door. He was immediately hit with the smells of ozone, lubricant vapor, and the tang of hot metal—the pungent residue of a firefight. For a few seconds, it was almost overpowering. But he pushed through it. After all these years, his olfactory lobes adjusted quickly.

As Marple and Poe piled in behind him, a massive SWAT officer filled the archway just ahead. “Hey! You can’t be in here!” He motioned them back with a flick of his rifle barrel.

“Back off, Sergeant. They’re with me.” Edwards was holding his bandaged hand across his chest. “They’re investigators.”

The way Holmes heard it, Edwards had almost put the word in air quotes. But maybe he was imagining it.

The bulky cop stepped to the side. “Right. No problem.” He looked at Edwards’s bandaged hand. “You okay, sir?”

“I’m fine,” said Edwards. “Where are the KIAs?”

The sergeant pointed toward a narrow, carpeted staircase. “Upstairs, corner bedroom.”

Edwards looked back at Holmes, Marple, and Poe. “Follow me. Do not touch anything.”

“This isn’t our first crime scene,” said Poe, an edge in his voice.

“It’s your first one with me,” said Edwards. “Don’t screw it up.”

He led the way up the staircase as two other officers crowded past on their way down.

Edwards held his shot-up hand gingerly out of the way.

The staircase was blown through with bullet holes from the street. Chunks of drywall lay crumbled on the stairs. The wooden railing was splintered and broken. As Holmes reached the second-floor landing, a new scent swept over him. Metallic, rusty.

Fresh, oxidizing blood.