neck. He wouldn’t be in time. Then, to his surprise, Nikki Bexholt whirled about, grabbed a laptop from a table, and brought it down as hard as she could on Farriger’s head. Jasmine jerked away from her just as the gun fired. Jasmine went down. And so did Farriger.
Savich moved to Farriger, peeled one of her eyelids back. She twisted, tried to grab her gun from the floor, but Nikki was faster. She bashed her on the head again with the laptop.
Jasmine Palumbo moaned, slapped her hand to the side of her head. Nikki was at her side in an instant. “Jasmine! Oh no, Jasmine!”
“No, Nikki, keep back.” Sherlock pulled Jasmine’s hand away, studied the wound. “You were lucky, Ms. Palumbo, it’s only a flesh wound.” She stilled, then turned to blink up at Savich.
74
* * *
GEORGETOWN
SAVICH HOUSE
VERY EARLY SATURDAY MORNING
Savich locked the front door, set the alarm. He turned to see Sherlock yawn, then she gave him a huge grin. She’d been mostly silent on the way home, as if deep in thought. She hadn’t said anything when he’d stopped briefly at the National Mall and they’d watched the sun rise.
He touched his fingers to her chin. “You’ve been so quiet. And your eyes—I can see it now, you’re starting to remember, aren’t you?”
Sherlock raised her face. “Yes, but not everything. The most important thing is I remember me, who I am—I remember both of us holding Sean. I’d hoped it would all come back by the time we got home, and I was worrying it like Astro with a bone, but no, not yet. But, Dillon, you’re not a stranger anymore, you’re you. And I miss Sean.”
He gathered her in, held her close. He felt such relief, felt so grateful, he swallowed, said against her cheek, “You remember all about me? Us?”
“Yes, you’re front and center.”
“How? Did something happen to trigger your memory?”
“It was something so simple, so small, that set it off. When I looked at Jasmine Palumbo’s head to see how badly she was hurt, I told her it was only a flesh wound. In that instant, I saw Porter Forge. You remember Porter.”
“Oh yes, I remember Porter.”
“During a training exercise in Hogan’s Alley at Quantico, he was assigned to be one of the bank robbers and it ended up he tried to escape and I had to shoot him. When it was all over, I looked down at his face and head covered with too much fake blood and I told him it was only a flesh wound. I saw everyone laughing. It happened at the academy, over six years ago, Dillon. Can you imagine? The image from so long ago, and what I said, and suddenly there you were, with me. And Ruth.”
She shook her head, laughed, threw herself against him, and held on tight. “I looked over at you then and the world began to right itself. This was my life again.”
She leaned back, still holding on. “There are these strange gaps in time, but I know, deep down, the blanks will fill in.”
“Yes,” Savich said. “Yes.”
She touched her fingers to his face. “It was scary, Dillon, really scary, but now, being here with you again, it’s so very fine.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I fully intend to email Porter Forge and thank him, maybe ask when his birthday is, send him a present.”
They stood in the entry hall holding each other. She whispered against his neck, “I want to bring Sean home, watch him eat his Cheerios with a sliced banana on top. Now, about his wanting a three-speed bike for his birthday next week—”
EPILOGUE
* * *
HOOVER BUILDING
MONDAY, TWO DAYS LATER
Executive Assistant Director James Maitland began reading the report Goldy, his gatekeeper assistant, handed him. Goldy had read the report first and now she listened to her boss’s usual grunting, a couple of greats occasionally interrupting his humming silence.
Maitland read:
Lance Armstrong, former field operative and Claire Farriger’s lover and longtime assistant and collaborator, is in custody, charged with assault and detention of Special Agent Lucy McKnight. It’s unclear whether he can be indicted for the murder of Eleanor Corbitt unless compelling evidence can be found. The CIA is scrambling, as you can imagine, and Director Lindsey is demanding a full investigation into any and all of Farriger’s activities that might have exposed or compromised CIA operations in her theater of activity. He is not a happy man, an understatement. Lindsey has temporarily assigned Alan Besserman, Justice Cummings’s boss, to Claire Farriger’s