Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(51)
She gulped but managed to smile. “Happy tears, Sean. We’re all safe and together.” She hadn’t thought of where they’d sleep tonight, or for that matter, for the foreseeable future. Not in their own house, that was for sure. It didn’t matter. They were together; they were safe.
Savich continued to hold Sherlock and Sean against him until Luke Mason trotted over to them. It took Savich a moment to recognize him, as his face was black, his clothes filthy. Why wasn’t he in his fire gear? Luke raised his voice. “Folks, all your houses are safe. The firefighters got here fast enough.” He turned to Savich and Sherlock. “As I told Sherlock, the kitchen’s destroyed, but nothing else structural is burned, only smoke and water damage that couldn’t be avoided. Savich, I’m glad you’re here.” He beamed at the three of them. “Your family’s all right, and that’s the most important thing. It’s good Sherlock got out so fast, didn’t try to fight it. A house is only a house, after all—well, in this case, a kitchen is only a kitchen. Tell you what, let’s get a little away from your neighbors.”
Luke walked them toward one of the ladder trucks. “Good, no one else can hear us here. I’m sure you’re wondering, so let me spit it out. The fire inspector will make the final decision, but I can tell you now this was no accident. Sherlock was right. We found a can of gasoline behind the kitchen, and one of the guys found one of the kitchen windows smashed. Someone started this fire. And whoever it was also left the gasoline can there on purpose. They wanted you to know.”
“Not an accident,” Savich said slowly. He felt a cold rage, nearly shook with it. Sherlock and Sean could have died. Whoever had set the fire had brought a war to his home. He would make sure he finished it. He looked at Sherlock’s face. Of course, she’d already known. He looked at Griffin. He nodded.
33
Sean pushed against his father’s arms and shouted, “Grandma!”
Savich set him down, and his son ran to his grandmother, Senator Robert Monroe smiling really big at her side.
Minna Savich scooped Sean up and squeezed him so tight he yipped. She looked into her son’s eyes and saw huge relief, mirroring her own. She looked him over, then Sherlock, and closed her eyes a moment, squeezing Sean again. “I never prayed so hard in my life.”
Senator Robert Monroe looked toward the smoke still pluming upward, then back at Savich and Sherlock, and slowly nodded. He patted Sean’s small shoulder. Sean looked up. “I’m glad you brought Grandma over, Uncle Bob.”
Savich started to say something, but Minna said over Sean’s head, “You have Bob to thank for our getting here so fast. One of his friends at Metro called him on his ham radio to alert him about a 911 call to your home, Dillon. He picked me up, and here we are.”
Savich felt surprise at the brief stab of resentment he felt at seeing his mom with Senator Monroe, though they’d been together for several years now. He remembered he’d once disliked the senator on principle—he wasn’t Savich’s dad—but he’d proved he could stick and he loved Sean. Savich shook the senator’s hand. “Thank you for helping, sir, and for bringing my mom.”
Sean was leaning back in Minna’s arms, talking a mile a minute, about how Mama ran back into the burning house and Uncle Griffin, too, to get his great-grandma’s painting, you know, the really big one over the fireplace. His basketball was still stuck in his closet—if it got real hot would it melt? Would it still bounce? Minna listened with half an ear, though Sean would never realize it, her eyes on Sherlock. Her face was streaked with smoke, but her breathing seemed fairly normal, thank heaven.
Senator Monroe scooped up a barking Astro and held him up for Sean to hug.
Sherlock said, “So Sean’s told you most of it already, except that someone dumped gasoline in through a smashed kitchen window and outside the kitchen door. The firefighters say they contained it in the kitchen and saved the rest of the house. And we got out all safe and sound, didn’t we, Sean?” She hugged him, couldn’t help it. It had been too close, too close.
“You’re saying someone set fire to your house? It was arson?” Minna’s voice climbed two octaves as the enormity of it hit her.
“Yes. Our firefighter neighbor told me we’ll have an arson inspector and the police department working together on it.”
Minna put her arm around Sherlock, Sean between them, hugged them both close. “You and Dillon will catch the people who did this.”
“You can bet on it,” Sherlock said. “We’re working two current cases. You know there’s a connection to one of them.”
Senator Monroe said, “At least you won’t have any problems with the insurance company. I’m a senator, and you’re FBI. Do you think they’d want to mess with either of us?”
For the first time that night, both Savich and Sherlock grinned.
Minna said, “Bob’s house in Hannibal, Missouri, burned down a couple of years ago—ancient wiring that finally gave up the ghost. Bob knows exactly how to deal with them.” She saw Ethan Brothers, the family insurance agent, speaking with a firefighter, and gave him a big shark smile. Minna added, “You’ll come to my house tonight. We’ll see to clothes and whatever you need tomorrow.” She drew Sherlock and now Savich into her arms, sandwiching Sean again. “When Bob called me about the fire, I was so scared.” Her voice caught, and she began to cry.