He walked back downstairs to the kitchen. Dorothy hadn’t moved. Same chair. Same posture. Hands flat on the table.
Hargrove pulled a chair across from her. The legs screamed against the tile. He sat down.
“You know what I think? I think you’ve got something hidden in this house. And I think you think you’re smart enough to fool me.”
“I’m not trying to fool anyone, Captain. I’m sitting in my own kitchen in my bathrobe at three in the morning while your officers destroy my home.”
“See that mouth right there? That’s your problem.”
“My problem is that you broke down my door without a warrant.”
Hargrove leaned forward.
“What were you before you retired? Some kind of government secretary?”
“I was an analyst.”
“An analyst.” He said it like it tasted sour. “Right. And I’m the Pope.”
He stood up. Walked to the back door. Opened it. Whistled.
“Bring the dog in.”
The canine officer led a German shepherd through the back door. The dog was agitated. Panting. Pulling at the leash. Nails clicking on tile. It circled the kitchen twice. Sniffed under the table. Sniffed Dorothy’s slippers. She sat perfectly still while a trained police dog pressed its nose against her ankle.
The dog moved to the cabinets. It pawed at the lower cabinet next to the stove. The handler pointed.
“Alert. Right here.”
Buckley opened the cabinet. Inside: baking soda. Vanilla extract. A bag of powdered sugar.
Hargrove stared at the shelf for three seconds.
“Bag it.”
“Captain, that’s baking soda.”
“I said bag it.”
Dorothy’s voice. Quiet.
“That’s for the pie your officer destroyed.”
Hargrove ignored her. He turned back to Dorothy.
“Stand up. You’re coming with us.”
“On what charge?”
“Obstruction.”
“I have not obstructed anything. I’ve been sitting in this chair for forty minutes while your officers tore my home apart.”
“You’ve been running your mouth for forty minutes. That’s obstruction enough for me. Buckley. Cuff her.”
Buckley walked behind Dorothy’s chair. He pulled her arms back. Her shoulders popped. She sucked in air through her teeth. A sharp hiss of pain.
“My wrists. I have severe arthritis.”
“Should have thought about that before you caught an attitude.”
The handcuffs clicked shut. Metal bit into swollen joints. Dorothy’s fingers went white. She didn’t scream. She pressed her lips together until they disappeared into a thin line. A single tear ran from the corner of her left eye down to her jaw. She didn’t wipe it. It just fell.
Hargrove saw the tear. He smiled.
“Now. Let’s go.”
Dorothy looked up at him. Her eyes were wet, but her voice was iron.
“I’m asking you one last time. Call this number.” She nodded toward the kitchen table, where a small white card sat next to the salt shaker. “Ask for Agent Gillespie. Tell him Dorothy Anderson’s house is being raided.”
Hargrove picked up the card. Turned it over. A handwritten phone number. Nothing else. He flicked it with his thumb like a poker chip.
“Agent Gillespie.” He snorted. “Sure, Grandma. And I’ll call the Easter Bunny while I’m at it.”
He tossed the card. It sailed across the kitchen and landed on the wet floor near the broken pie dish.
“Get her up. We’re leaving.”
But across the street, Elaine Crawford had been watching. She saw everything through the window. The flashlights. The shadows. Dorothy being pulled to her feet with her hands behind her back. And she saw the card. Not the actual card—but she’d heard Dorothy say the name.
Agent Gillespie.
She’d heard Dorothy ask them to call. They didn’t call. So Elaine did.
She picked up her phone with shaking hands. She dialed 411. She asked for the United States Secret Service Field Office in Richmond, Virginia.
“I need to reach Agent Howard Gillespie. It’s an emergency. My name is Elaine Crawford. My neighbor Dorothy Anderson—her home is being raided by police right now. She asked them to call Agent Gillespie. They refused.”
The operator paused. Then the line clicked. Then it rang once.
A man’s voice answered before the second ring.
“This is Gillespie.”
Elaine told him everything. Address. Number of cars. The broken door. The handcuffs.
Gillespie said four words.
“Do not hang up.”
In the background, Elaine could hear him giving rapid orders. Car doors slamming. An engine starting.