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They had pulled into the driveway of an impressive colonial home with Doric columns. Mark thought the neighborhood of acre estates was new. The home had been specifically designed to fit the historic image of the area. The large, modern two-car garage was a giveaway. Of course, many a carriage house or barn had been modernized into a garage, but Mark believed the house to be comparatively new in this neck of the woods, along with the entire community.
New house—new money. Gary Boynton had quickly made money with his company and his degree. He did remind Mark of the successful frat boy—good college, good grades, good company now.
He was standing by a new-model sports car with a buffer in his hands.
Girlfriend in the hospital after being buried alive. Why not buff the car?
“True what you said,” Colleen muttered. “We all deal with stress differently.”
Boynton saw them and walked toward them. His expression was duly serious.
“FBI?” he asked.
Red barked a yes.
“And a dog!” Boynton said dryly. “Did he help find Dierdre?”
“He did,” Colleen said.
“I’m Special Agent Mark Gallagher, and these are my partners, Special Agent Law and Red.”
“Nice to meet you. And I’m grateful to all three of you.” He started to offer them a hand, then realized he was holding the buffer and his hands were oily with whatever he’d used on the car. “Sorry. I’m doing anything not to go nuts. I can’t concentrate on work, can’t read... I just keep thinking about Dierdre and they won’t let me see her. I have to move or I’ll lose my mind. But her folks called me. I guess they’re visiting with another of your colleagues, and then they’re going to head to the hospital. I’m going to do the same.”
“We understand completely,” Colleen said commiseratively, glancing at Mark with a little twitch of a smile.
“I’m hoping they let us in when we get there,” Boynton said. He wiped a hand across his brow.
The man had soft brown hair, a little damp, with a lock that fell over his forehead. Mark couldn’t help thinking of him as an animated character—one who believed in his own masculine beauty and was quick to play upon it.
He was smiling at Colleen as he brushed back that lock of hair, tall and lean, with well-toned muscles obtained from working out regularly at a gym most likely. Charming, courteous, and financially stable. What wouldn’t a girl’s parents love?
“I’m sure they’ll let you see Dierdre very soon,” Colleen said, smiling pleasantly. “What she went through, though...well, they’re taking excellent care of her.”
He nodded. “I’m sure. It’s just so hard.”
“We were hoping you could help us,” Mark told him.
“Me?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“You two were out before this happened, right?” Colleen said.
He nodded. “I was working late. We met for dinner. Dierdre drove into DC to meet me. She’s been taking classes and working, so we’ve both been ridiculously busy. We had dinner. I walked her to her car. I’d have given up any business to have kept this from happening! If only we—”
“No one can foresee the future,” Colleen added.
“What did you do after dinner?” Mark asked him.
“Ran back to the office to finish up a few things and then I came here.” He shook his head. “I knew nothing about it. I fell asleep. I had no clue she didn’t show up at home until...well, I fell asleep, so I didn’t hear the phone at first when her folks kept calling. I hate myself for that too.”
“None of us can help falling asleep,” Colleen said.
“Did you notice anyone at dinner?” Mark asked him.
“Notice anyone? There were other diners, of course.”
“Did anyone seem to be paying attention to the two of you? When you walked to your car, did anyone seem to be paying a little too much attention or perhaps follow you too closely?” Colleen asked him.
She had a way about her, Mark thought. She was anxious and caring, and Boynton had to believe she was seeking help—and not that he might be on the suspect list.
“I don’t—well, there was this weird guy in the restaurant. Bright yellow suit. It kind of looked like he should be in the circus. To be fair, he seemed to be eating with his kids. Weird, yes, but not, well, not dangerous weird. And...” Boynton paused as if in deep thought, as if he were trying to recapture the moments when he’d last been with Dierdre.
“Close your eyes. Think about the night. Sights, sounds, even smells,” Colleen suggested.
He closed his eyes. “Smells... Well, yes, the aromas from the kitchen were wonderful; I had the porterhouse. Delicious.”
“What did Dierdre have?” Colleen asked.
He wrinkled his nose. “Salmon. Fishy, but the garlic sauce on my porterhouse weighed it down.”
His eyes were closed, but he was smiling.
“Your server?”
“She was fine. Pretty. Maybe twenty. She knew the menu by heart. She was super; there when you needed something, but leaving you alone when you didn’t.”
“And around you—besides the man in the yellow suit?” Mark asked quietly.
Gary Boynton’s eyes opened. “Yes, a guy in a casual black suede jacket. Open white shirt. He was eating alone at a table near us. And—oh, my God! When I asked for our check, he asked for his. Different server—he had a male waiter. We paid at the same time. I saw him get up right before us, and he was on his phone when we were leaving. He was standing out on the sidewalk. He nodded politely when we went by. And I teased Dierdre. I mean he was obviously looking at her. Do you think—”
“Did you see him after that?” Colleen asked.
Boynton thought and shook his head. “But he might have seen us. She had snagged a spot right on the street. He would have seen me walk her to the car. He would have seen her get into the car alone!”
“Anyone else on the street pay attention to you?” Mark asked him.
“Not that I can recall,” Boynton said. “I wish—I wish I could help more.”
“You can,” Colleen said sweetly. “You can come into our office and work with a sketch artist and give us a better idea of what this man looked like. Our unit has a different headquarters than the main FBI building. The address is on my card,” Colleen said, handing him her card.
“What can you tell the two of us by way of description?” Mark asked.
