Gone (Michael Bennett)

me.
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’m not kidding. Go help Mary Catherine now.”
    All the kids quickly went into the house. A moment later, Seamus and Mary Catherine came back out. Seamus was holding a shotgun, while Mary Catherine had two guns strapped over her shoulder. Then the door opened again, and Juliana and Brian came out, holding shotguns as well.
    It didn’t thrill me to see my young teenage kids standing there holding firearms, but it was what it was. Teaching the older kids how to use a gun was a thoroughly necessary evil. Because the thing was, Perrine really, really didn’t like me. Not only had I broken his nose when I arrested him, but I’d actually killed his homicidal wife in a raid.
    If the ruthless drug lord ever found out where we were, there was no way he would stop at killing just me. My children needed to be able to defend themselves.
    Mary Catherine came down the porch steps and handed me the 30.06 deer rifle.
    I quickly put it to my shoulder and peered through its telescopic sight at the car. It was a Ford Taurus. The driver seemed to be the only person in it. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a woman.
    The car disappeared briefly as it drove down alongside a small ridge below the house. When it reappeared, it was close enough for me to see the driver’s face.
    I squinted again through the rifle before I lowered it. I stood there, blinking, as I watched the car come. I actually knew who it was.
    “What’s up, Mike?” Seamus said.
    “It’s OK. Put the guns back into the cabinet. It’s OK. We’re safe.”
    “Who is it?” Mary Catherine said as the car pulled into the driveway. Before I could answer, the sedan stopped and its door opened, and a woman got out. My old pal and partner, Special Agent Emily Parker from the FBI, took off her sunglasses and smiled as she stared back at everyone glaring at her.
    “Hi, Mike. Hi, Mary Catherine. Hi, Seamus,” the FBI agent said. “Long time no see. So this is where you have been hiding yourselves.”

CHAPTER 9
     
    MARY CATHERINE PROMPTLY LEFT Mike and Special Agent Parker outside and went in to put on coffee.
    After she locked up the shotguns in the front-hall gun cabinet, she went into the kitchen and washed out the coffee filter and threw in several scoops of Folgers. As she placed some scones in the oven to warm them, she heard a sudden commotion coming from the family room.
    When she walked in, everyone was yelling and laughing as Ricky and Fiona flung each other around the room in an epic tug-of-war over the TV remote. The volume on an inanely cackling SpongeBob SquarePants episode rose and fell as they went sprawling onto the couch. Mary Catherine crossed the room and immediately turned off the blaring set.
    “Out!” she said, snatching the remote and pointing it at the back door. “The lot of ya. No more TV. No more video games. I don’t want to see hide nor hair of any of you in this house for the next hour, at least. I know your father ordered you inside, but this is ridiculous. The shame of it, to be in here like a tribe of screaming baboons, wrestling while your father is out there with a guest. Now get going out that back door!”
    After they left, Mary Catherine tidied up the living room and went to the front door to see what was taking Mike so long. Mike and Agent Parker were still out by the car, talking. She folded her arms as she stood at the screen door, watching them.
    Mary Catherine had met Emily Parker before, when Mike had worked with her on other cases, back in New York. She could see that the agent’s coppery auburn hair was as thick and lustrous as ever as the wind tossed it around. Mary Catherine looked the agent over meticulously. She was so stylishly out of place in the farmhouse side yard, in her heels and nice office clothes. Then Mary Catherine looked down at herself, her hoodie, her old jeans.
    “Coffee’s ready,” she finally called through the screen door.
    Parker went into the powder room to freshen up as Mike came into the kitchen.
    “Hey, something smells good,” he said.
    “Scones,” Mary Catherine said as she split one with a butcher knife. “Fresh from the oven. So, what’s the story with your FBI friend? Is something up?”
    “I’m not sure yet. She said she needs to talk to me about a case,” Mike said, taking a bite of a scone.
    “Are the phones down or something?” Mary Catherine said.
    Mike shrugged as he chewed, a puzzled look on his face like he actually wasn’t sure