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Chapter 54
It didn’t takeme long to meet Bobby in front of an off-site building used by the Metropolitan Police of DC. The square, two-story building with a cheap decorative brick facade was a street crimes/narcotics unit in an industrial area just outside the city proper.
Most larger city police departments have something like it, a nondescript office where plainclothes officers can meet without the risk of inmates or prisoners seeing them. That way they can continue making undercover drug buys or connect with informants in public. Besides, all the narcotics guys think it’s cool.
I saw a few younger officers near the front door. They looked pissed off, and I knew exactly what had happened. Some homicide detectives had commandeered their building. No one appreciates shit like that. Every unit thinks it is the most vital police unit in the city.
The other thing I noticed was the number of new Ford Crown Victorias and Chevy Tahoes in the parking lot. That told me there was command staff on-site. Bosses tend to grab the nicer vehicles. Maybe there was something to this arrest story after all.
Bobby trotted up to my car. He slid to a stop and did a double take when I crawled out of the Prius.
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I was going to present you as an FBI agent without going into much detail. But I don’t know any self-respecting FBI agent who would wear that jacket.”
I looked at him in a gray business suit with a nice dark tie. He did look sharp. I held up my arm and looked at my jacket. “It’s a dark green plaid sport coat. It goes with my khakis. It also hides my pistol and keeps me warm in the shitty weather down here in DC. I’m pretty sure clothing is all the cops in there are going to care about. Is it functional, does it have holes? Welcome to the real world, Bobby.”
As I suspected, Bobby ignored my prediction about DC cops’ take on fashion. Instead, he scowled and said, “Just follow me and keep your mouth shut. And definitely don’t say out loud that you’re an FBI agent. We need to have plausible deniability if anyone complains later that you were here.”
“Bobby, the cops inside this building don’t give a damn about any of that shit right now. They want to make a case. If they have a suspect they like, they’ll barely notice we’re here.”
“But their bosses will notice and ask questions.”
I just nodded and followed him into the two-story building, which had a sign for JOHNSON’S WEB DESIGN AND VIDEO EDITING. It was just modern and flashy enough to seem real. Just vague enough to never have anyone stop and ask what they do.
Each office had one or two people in it. Most were in some sort of serious discussion. I figured there were already some district commanders and certainly a public information officer or two formulating some kind of press release. After all, the story of Emily’s murder had been on the news.
A tubby man wearing a tan, short-sleeved shirt with a brown, checked tie greeted Bobby. Bobby didn’t bother to introduce us. All I caught was his first name, Perry. He had the burned-out look of a longtime homicide detective. A quick haircut without care for the lines of his head. A gut that hung over his belt from too many fast-food meals thrown down while reading reports. And a slight limp from a torn MCL that he was too busy to have anyone look at. I guess homicide detectives in every city are about the same.
I listened as he and Bobby started talking about the case.
The detective, Perry, said, “This guy lives in some bushes exactly on the route your agent used to run from the Whole Foods. We were canvassing the area for about the tenth time. We started from the Whole Foods where she left her car and worked toward the river. Then we noticed a brand-new Fitbit on this guy’s wrist. That’s what started it. It didn’t take long to confirm that it was Emily Parker’s Fitbit. I’d say we’re looking at a pretty solid case.”
I couldn’t contain it anymore. I blurted out, “Are you kidding me?”
