"Oh my God, what's the matter?" asked Francine as Amanda flew into the bullpen.
"He's at my house! I think he's at my house! I got home and there were flowers and champagne and I heard a noise upstairs and I don't know why he's at my house but he's there." Amanda stopped babbling and stared at Francine with a wide-eyed expectant expression
"Who's at your house?" Francine took her by the arm and led her to a chair. "Sit. Breathe. Start from the beginning."
Amanda sat, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I went home," she said finally. "And the lights were on and the door was unlocked."
"But your family is away, right?" asked Francine.
"Yes," Amanda nodded. "They left for Williamsburg this morning. And at first, I thought, well you know, that they'd left the lights on and maybe the door unlocked, although that would be so unlike my mother because she always checks a dozen times when she leaves the house for things like that. Oven off, iron off, door locked, you know."
"Uh-huh," said Francine, still nodding encouragingly.
"So I went in and at first I couldn't figure out what was bothering me and then I realized." Amanda paused and gulped before going on solemnly, "My flowers."
"Your flowers?" repeated Francine, confusion clear on her face.
"Yes, my flowers, in a vase, on the counter." She was looking expectant as if she thought that should elicit a reaction.
"I'm sorry, Amanda, I'm not following. Don't you usually have flowers out?"
"Oh, but these weren't just any flowers, Francine. This was the bouquet I took to the funeral today."
Francine rocked back on her heels. "Are you sure? I mean, how can you be sure?"
"Well, there was the champagne you left too, and also the flowers still had the little card I wrote, still tied around them with the kitchen twine I used. I know some people use ribbon, but it was just a bouquet from home and string is more environmentally friendly, so that's how I know for sure."
"Are you serious?" asked Francine, her voice rising.
"Oh yes, ribbon is made from-"
"Not about the string, Amanda!" Francine almost yelled at her before she got her temper back under control. "The things we left at the cemetery this morning are sitting on your kitchen counter in Arlington? Who would do that?"
"Well, I guess I just thought it was whoever's been doing this. Although I don't know why he'd be at my house, I'm not even an agent or anyone important at all." Amanda ran out of steam before suddenly straightening back up. "Oh! And there was someone upstairs!"
"There was what?"
"I heard footsteps and I heard a man say something, and then I heard him heading downstairs so I just turned tail and ran out of the house and came here."
"You didn't stop and call the police?" asked Francine in disbelief.
"No, I just ran and the next thing I knew, I was here and I knew you'd understand without me having to go into all sorts of explanations about spies and murderers and champagne and…" She stopped and gulped. "I should have called the police. What was I thinking?"
"Hey," Francine took her hand and squeezed it. "You were running on instinct and your instinct said to come here and look for help."
"Look for Lee, you mean," responded Amanda quietly. "I got into trouble and I just looked for Lee."
"We'll all be doing that for a while," said Francine sympathetically. "He was always the good white knight who came charging in. Now sit here and calm down. I'm going to go get Efraim and we'll go back to your house and check it out."
"You'll come yourself?"
"Of course – I don't want whatever junior rookie who's stuck on night duty tramping through your house, do I? Wrecking evidence and probably shooting himself in the foot to boot."
"The rookies all seem very capable," scolded Amanda with a motherly reprimanding look.
"Well, that remains to be seen – but first we go back and see if a stealth approach will flush him out. Maybe he's still there, waiting"
"You mean, like lying in wait to kill me?" squeaked Amanda.
"Yes," said Francine, brutally. "And that, Amanda King, is why you are going to Stay In The Car when we go back, do you understand?"
Amanda almost smiled – she could hear the capital letters in Francine's tone and it sounded so much like Lee when he was exasperated. "I understand."
Francine turned to walk out of the bullpen, and as she reached the doors, they both heard someone scream out in the corridor. Amanda started to rise, until Francine turned and jabbed a finger in her direction. "Sit," she said. Amanda sat, gripping her hands together.
Francine ran down the hall and joined the gathering throng. She began to push her way through until she reached the front.
"What's going on, Sergeant? What's everybody looking at?" she quizzed the guard.
"Agent Vernon, ma'am," he answered stiffly.
"Vernon? Vernon's off duty, what's he doing here?" she asked.
The guard pointed silently to the shadow on the wall – the shadow of a man dangling from the ceiling.
Francine stared for a beat, heart in her throat, then turned to scan the crowd. Over their heads, she saw Efraim step out of the elevator and walk toward them, his pace picking up as he realized something was wrong. Jerking her head to tell him to follow, she moved back through the crowd and headed back to the bullpen.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly.
"We need to get to Amanda's house right now," she said crisply.
"What's the matter? Is she alright?"
"She's fine, she's here," said Francine, moving aside for the night janitor who was walking in the opposite direction with a ladder, obviously on his way to get the body down. "But our killer or one of his accomplices may have just murdered Vernon and he might still be in her house right now."
"What?"
"We'll explain on the way, come on."
"Billy, do you have any idea where Amanda went after the funeral?" asked Lee, frantically. "It's been hours and she still hasn't come home!"
"The last I saw of her, she was headed out with Francine and Beaman," answered Billy. "Maybe they went back to Francine's place."
"I've been calling there and there's never any answer."
"You're supposed to be dead, Scarecrow!" growled Billy down the phone. "You can't be calling people on the phone who think you're dead!"
"It's not like I'm leaving messages all over town Billy! I call, I get the machine, I hang up – but no one is answering at Francine's and Amanda still hasn't come home! Where the hell could she be?"
Billy sighed – he knew that note in Lee's voice meant he was about to do something rash. "I'll come and get you – we can start retracing their steps."
"Thanks, Billy."
Billy hung up and Jeannie glared at him across the dinner table. "Sorry, Honey," he muttered. "I have to go out for a little bit."
"Is Lee okay?" she asked, her tone softening when she saw the worry lines on his face.
"He's worried about Amanda – she didn't come home yet."
"I wasn't aware she had a curfew," teased Jeannie.
"I'm sure it's nothing," he admitted. "But it's been a bad week and we're all on edge."
She stood and came to give him a hug. "I know, and I'm sorry. You go calm Lee down and then bring him back here – there's plenty here for him to have dinner."
"If we can't find Amanda and Francine, I might just have to do that – he'll need to be tied down."
The phone rang again and they both sighed. Billy reached for the handset again.
"Melrose here. What? Vernon? Inside the Agency?"
Jeannie watched, worried at her husband's obvious shock and reached to take his hand when he hung up.
"I'll be gone for a while, Honey," he said.
"As long as you come home safe to me," she said, pulling him into her arms.