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“She doesn’t know anyone in DC or even in the area.”
Lindsey sat back in the stool and folded her arms. “And this is all your responsibility because…”
“Because she is damn fine-lookin’,” said one of the cooks from the back.
“There is that,” Lindsey said, tapping her cheek with her finger. “But I think there’s more to it.”
I turned my head and looked out the window over at the building I now thought of as Ali’s. “If you figure out what, please tell me,” I murmured.
I took my food order upstairs and called Stella. Even if she was pissed at me, she’d still answer if only for an update on Ali.
When I finished telling her my plan, she was silent. “What’s up, Stell?”
“I would’ve given anything for someone to do this for me when I was first starting out.”
“But?”
“How much do you know about her? What’s her background report say?”
Everything appeared to be on the up-and-up. Both her parents had died within a year of each other when she was a teenager. There was a settlement involved in her father’s death, which she had used to attend Northwestern University, where she earned a master’s degree in journalism.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that the Express would’ve assigned a brand new reporter to the Warrick trial?”
It hadn’t at all, actually. Most espionage cases, particularly when someone from inside the CIA was on trial, were settled without fanfare. Details of the outcome were sealed up tight, leaving nothing for anyone to report. “It surprised me more that you were there,” I told her. “Why are you covering it?”
“Because I’m fucking good at what I do, Cope, and if you think for one second I don’t know there’s more to what’s happening with Warrick than meets the eye, then you should consider resigning from your job.”
“Maybe the higher-ups at the Express aren’t as good as you are.”
“No need to blow smoke up my ass. All I’m saying is everything with Ali doesn’t quite add up for me. If you aren’t feeling the same way, maybe you better give it some thought.”
I had one more person to contact before I called it a night. Considering the man I was trying to reach was in an earlier time zone, I didn’t bother to check the time.
“Hey, Decker,” I said when he answered.
“Cope, I hope you’re going to tell me there’s been some movement.”
“There was an accident earlier today. Someone driving my car was almost killed.”
“I’d say that was movement. He’s getting nervous, Cope. Nervous means sloppy.”
“It can also mean deadly. We need more bubble wrap around Irish.”
“I’ll take care of it. What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were almost killed this morning, Cope. What’s the condition of the person who was driving your car.”
“Amazingly, she only broke her arm and bruised some ribs.”
“She?”
“Long story, but a reporter covering Warrick’s trial.”
“Think she’s in any kind of danger? Or are you thinking wrong place, wrong time?”
“Wrong place, wrong time.”
