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“Like what.”
“I don’t like highlighting my weaknesses.”
“Considering what happened to your parents, I’m not sure I want you going back to school. Whoever killed them will know where you go. Or it’ll be easy enough to find out.”
“I can use the cell phone to text my program coordinator and feed her some bullshit.”
“You think you’re smarter than all adults?”
“No. But I’m smart enough to know how to lie and make it sound like the truth.” She looked at him closely. “I think you’re probably really good at that too.”
“The foster care people will be looking for you.”
“I know. Won’t be the first time. They’ll go to my parents’ house. They’ll think they skipped town and took me with them. Then they’ll go to the school, find out I texted my coordinator, assume I’m okay, and that’ll be a dead end. They’ve got too many kids in the pipeline a lot worse off to spend any more time on me.”
“Thinking several moves ahead. That’s good. You play chess?”
“I play life.”
“I get that.”
“So how close will you be?” she asked again.
“Pretty close.”
“I’m not just going to sit in this place and do nothing. I’m going to help you find the people who got my parents killed.”
“You can leave that to me.”
“Screw that! If you don’t let me help, I won’t be here when you come back.”
Robie sat down in a chair and stared at her. “Let’s get something really straight. You’re a smart kid. You know the streets. But the people who are after you are at a whole different level. They will kill anyone who gets in their way.”
“Sounds like you know the type real well,” she shot back.
When Robie said nothing, she said, “The guy on the bus? The way you got us away from the dude in the alley? The way you analyzed the crime scene at my parents’ house? The way you tracked me down? And you said you were working with the FBI. You’re not just some guy in a cubicle working nine to five. You’ve got safe houses and guns and untraceable phones and telescopes pointed at who knows what.” She paused and then added, “You kill people too, I bet.”
Robie still said nothing.
Julie looked out the window. “My parents were all I had. I ran away when I could have stayed and helped them. Now they’re dead. I know I’m young, but I can help you. If you just give me a chance.”
Robie looked out the window too. “Okay. We’ll do this together. But it’ll be tricky.”
“So what do I do first?” she said eagerly.
“You have a paper and pen in your bag?”
“Yes. And I have the laptop my school gave me.”
“How long ago did you see your parents?”
“About a week.”
“Okay, you write down everything you can remember about the last couple of weeks. I want you to try and recall anything you saw, heard, or suspected. Anything your parents said. No matter if it seemed insignificant. And anyone else around who they knew or were talking to.”
“Is this busy work or is it really important?”
“Neither one of us has time to waste on busy work. This is stuff we need.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll start tonight.”
He rose to go.
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll make a good partner, you’ll see.”
“I have no doubt, Julie.”
But his gut was ice. He much preferred to work alone. He didn’t like having another life riding on him.
CHAPTER
32
“ROBIE, GOT TIME for a cup of coffee?”
It was Nicole Vance on the phone.
Robie had answered the call on his way down the elevator after leaving Julie. He’d given the teenager a key to the apartment but asked her not to leave it without checking with him first. And he had told her to set the alarm.
“Anything break on the case?” he asked the FBI agent.
“There’s a place open late near First and D southeast called Donnelly’s. I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Give me ten more than that.”
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“I’ll see you there.”
Robie grabbed his car from the street. The traffic across town was light at this hour. He parked on First and gazed up at the Capitol dome in the background. Five hundred and thirty-five members of Congress plied their trade near here in various buildings named after long-dead politicians. They, in turn, were surrounded by an army of lobbyists flush with cash who worked relentlessly to convince the elected officials of the unassailable righteousness of their causes. Such was democracy.
Donnelly’s was busy for the lateness of the hour. Most of the patrons were drinking something stronger than coffee. When Robie hit the doorway, Vance caught his eye from the back of the main room.
He sat across from her. Her clothes were off-duty ones because she’d been home. Slacks, flats, light blue sweater, corduroy jacket. Good choices for the chill in the air. Her hair was down around her shoulders. It had been tied back earlier. Long hair and crime scenes were sometimes problematic. She smelled of a fresh shower with a light dusting of perfume. She must have scrubbed hard, thought Robie. The stink of death could get right into your pores.
Her cup of coffee was parked in front of her. With a wave of his hand Robie got the waitress’s attention and pointed at Vance’s cup and then at himself.
He waited until the woman came with a fresh cup and departed before he focused on Vance.
“So here I am.”
“You’re a hard man to find.”
“You only called me once.”
“No, I mean at DCIS. I called the number you gave me. They confirmed you worked there, but your file is classified.”
“Nothing earth-shattering about that. Told you I was out of the country for a while. That stuff was classified. Now I’m back.” He took a sip of coffee and set his cup back down. “Please tell me that’s not the only reason you asked for this meeting.”
“It’s not. I don’t like to waste time, so here we go.”
She pulled a manila folder from the bag sitting next to her. She opened the file and took out some photos and pages.
“Background on Rick Wind.”
Robie leafed through the photos and written materials. One picture was of Wind in death, hanging above the urine-smelling floor of his pawnshop. The other photos were of Wind in life. Several of him in military uniform.
“Army, huh?”
“Career enlisted. Went in at eighteen. Did his full time and then he was out. He was forty-three.”
“Their kids were little. Did they start late?”
“Jane and Rick Wind were married ten years. Lots of failed attempts at getting pregnant. Then they hit the jackpot twice in three years. Then they decide to end the marriage. Go figure.”
“Maybe Rick Wind decided he didn’t want to be a father.”
“Not sure. They had joint custody of the kids.”
“Where was he living?”
“In Prince George’s County, Maryland.”
“You find a cause of death?”
“ME’s still working on that. No obvious wounds other than his tongue being cut out.” She paused. “Isn’t that what the mob would do to snitches?”
“Did Wind have ties to the mob?”
