Free Edge by Jeffery Deaver

taking the luggage out to the Armada. He returned to the kitchen and nodded at me, meaning the yard was clear.
    To Maree, Freddy said, “You’ll have to listen to Corte. You need to leave. Now.”
    Maree opened her eyes wide. “Wait, wait . . . I know you.” She regarded me with a frown.
    I must have blinked in surprise. Had we met?
    The woman added, “You’re on that reality show. The Vacation from Hell. You’re the tour guide.”
    â€œPlease, Mar,” Joanne said.
    Her sister pouted. “He’s mean. He stole my phone.”
    At that moment I was looking out the kitchen window again into the backyard, trying to figure out what was different from when I’d looked earlier. There was something visible now that hadn’t been a half hour ago, because of the shifting angle of the late morning September sun. I called Ryan over and pointed. “Is that a path?”
    A line of trampled grass lay between the Kesslers’ house and the one I’d mentioned earlier, kitty-corner to the left. It was Teddy’s, I recalled, the man who’d gone out for coffee.
    â€œYeah, to the Knoxes. They’re our, I guess, best friends in the neighborhood. We hang out with them all the time.”
    The path had been created over the summer, from trekking back and forth for barbecues, borrowing cooking ingredients and tools, birthday parties.
    â€œWhat is it?” Joanne asked. “You’re making me uneasy.”
    â€œWow, he does look totally intense,” Maree said.
    â€œCorte?” Freddy grunted.
    Grimacing, I nodded.
    â€œShit,” the agent muttered. He sighed and unbuttoned his jacket. “Garcia!”
    â€œGo dark,” I said.
    Freddy and Garcia pulled shades and drapes in the den, TV room and kitchen.
    Ryan tensed and Joanne, eyes wide, blurted, “What’s going on? Tell me.”
    I could see the palm of Freddy’s hand tap the butt of his Glock. We do this to reorient our muscles and nerves so we know exactly where our weapons are. Like I noted the pressure of the Baby Glock, in the small of my back. I left it in the holster for the moment.
    Ryan stepped forward to the window.
    â€œNo,” I said firmly. “Get back. Loving’s here.” I herded everyone into the windowless hallway between the kitchen and the front foyer.
    â€œHow’d he do it?” Freddy asked. “He should still be halfway from West Virginia.”
    I didn’t answer. There were several possible explanations, though none relevant to our goal at the moment: to keep the principals alive and get out of the area instantly.
    â€œWhat do you have, sir?” Garcia asked me.
    â€œThe house that path leads to? The window closest to here? The blinds were down ten minutes ago. They’re about six inches up now. Makes no sense for them to be open only that far, except for surveillance.”
    â€œA spotter?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “A spotter would’ve picked thehouse with the best view. That’s the one directly behind here, or to the right. Loving’s in the left house because he noticed the path and figured the family who lives there’d be good friends with the Kesslers.” I added, “They’d have the best information about you and might know what my SUV was doing in your drive and the sedan parked in front.”
    â€œTeddy and Kath!” Joanne blurted. “You mean he’s there with them?”
    â€œYou sure, Corte?” Freddy asked. Meaning, we push the button on this, it’s going to get expensive and possibly messy.
    â€œI’m sure enough. . . . I want people here now. Fairfax County and your folks, whoever’s nearby.”
    â€œCall it in,” Freddy ordered Garcia, who pulled his cell phone out of a holster and hit a speed dial button.
    â€œI’m sorry, this is too weird for me,” Maree said with an edgy laugh. “The tour guide’s freaking