A door opened.
Footsteps crossed the driveway.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Ethan reached for his radio, but he didn't need it.
A moment later, the front doorbell rang.
Nobody moved.
Then it rang again.
"Marcus,"
Ethan dijo: "Quédate con él".
Caminó hacia la sala de entrada.
I followed.
Through the tall glass panel beside the door, I could see a man standing on the porch in a gray State Police windbreaker.
Behind him, in the driveway, an unmarked sedan was parked at an angle, blocking the gate.
Ethan opened the door.
"Can I help you?"
"Afternoon,"
the man said.
He held up a badge.
"Detective Alan Reeves, Maryland State Police.
I got a call about forty minutes ago from a Dr.
Martin Vale.
Said a homeowner in Bethesda had locked him inside against his will and was behaving erratically.
Dijo que había armas de fuego involucradas".
My stomach dropped.
Firearms.
