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Chapter 15
An hour later,dressed in very casual clothes, I stood in the lobby of my hotel, waiting for Bobby Patel. He’d called me and wanted to drop something off. He said he didn’t care if other federal workers saw us together. They couldn’t be any more inquisitive than his friends from the FBI who had seen us at the coffee shop.
We grabbed a sofa in a corner where we could speak privately. I felt underdressed compared to the younger FBI man. It wasn’t just his tailored suit but his precise hair, perfect tie, and polished shoes.
When I told Bobby about my day, I left out the assault. I didn’t know how he’d react. He might want to take official action. Now was not the time. I just told him The Burning Land people seemed to be assholes. He agreed.
I told him I’d read an article in Rolling Stone magazine about the group’s formation and its early members. One of the founders had dropped out of Harvard, and his mother was the representative from his district in Massachusetts.
Bobby laughed at that. He said, “I wouldn’t have survived telling my parents I was dropping out of Harvard. My mom almost killed me when I didn’t go to med school.”
Bobby handed me a thick file folder. He said, “Here’s some background our analysts did on the people we talked to.”
I took the folder and judged its weight in my left hand. The extra information almost felt like a distraction.
I said, “I’m going to do a little research on my own. Starting with Justice Steinberg.”
The look Bobby gave me when he heard the Supreme Court justice’s name gave me pause. He asked, “How are you going to do something like that without drawing attention to yourself?”
“This evening there’s an author signing a new book at the Barnes & Noble about a mile from here. I figured I’d go for a nice stroll and listen to what the author had to say. The book’s about the history of the Supreme Court and how it affects decisions today.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“It might not be a Tom Clancy novel, but I expect it will have some good information. Maybe the author will be inclined to give me a little inside scoop.”
Bobby just shrugged. It was his way of telling me I was wasting my time. But that was why I was in DC, wasn’t it? To do the odd things the FBI and the DC police weren’t going to waste time on. You never know what will turn an investigation.
Bobby said, “Along with the analyst’s background info there’s a 302 on my interview of Emily’s mother.” He stopped short.
I knew a 302 was just FBI jargon for an interview report. “Did Emily’s mom say anything worthwhile?” I noticed Bobby’s hesitation. I was patient. I waited for him to decide what he was going to say.
Finally, Bobby said, “Mrs. Parker didn’t go into much detail. At least with me. I think my dark complexion threw her off.”
“Are you saying she’s racist?” I couldn’t imagine anyone who raised Emily being a racist.
Bobby said, “Maybe not in the specific sense of thinking less of people of color. I can’t put my finger on it. I got the idea she didn’t like me working so closely with Emily. It was clear she didn’t even want me using Emily’s name.”
“How many FBI agents went to see her?”
“I went alone. I didn’t want to intimidate her. Plus, we’ve got so many leads—all useless so far—each agent has to cover as many as possible so we don’t cut into our resources.”
As I opened the folder and paged through for the report, Bobby said, “She lives in Bowie. That’s about forty-five minutes away, depending on traffic. It’s a typical DC suburb.”
I already knew where I’d head tomorrow. I might be able to speak with Emily’s sister as well. I worried that Bobby was too by the book to stir things up. Sometimes an investigator needs a fire to get moving.
I tried something. I said, “You gotta be done for the night.”
That drew a quick laugh. “Are you kidding me? I have three stops to make before I even think about heading home to Alexandria. My longest stop will be at local corporate security for Whole Foods to see if anyone found the missing DVD of the security footage of when Emily drove into the lot.” He sighed and rubbed both his eyes with the palms of his hands.
That response satisfied me for now. He had a good attitude and was a hard worker. Maybe it would be good to work something with him if he ever transferred to New York City.
Bobby looked at his watch, and I noticed a woman in an oversize chair in the lobby pretending to watch TV. She had long dark hair and wore a baseball cap that made her look like a teenager. On closer inspection, she appeared to be around thirty. And she was watching Bobby and me, not the TV.
I let Bobby go on his way to see how the woman would react.
She stayed with me.
I decided to act.
