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“No.” Marin shook her head. “But then again, I wasn’t looking. I just assumed everything here was as it should be.” She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, grateful for its warmth. The revelations of the past few minutes left her cold. Clearly, nothing in the White House was as it should be.
* * *
Leslie slapped her iPad down on the conference room table in the Secret Service director’s office. “This case gets crazier by the minute.”
“We’re missing something obvious here.” Griffin dragged his fingers through his hair.
“The only thingobviousis that there is a string of questionable events and dead bodies connected to that chef, whether she’s tripping over them or not,” Leslie said.
Griffin crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, she’s not a murderer.”
Slumping down into a chair, Leslie sighed dejectedly. “No, I don’t think she’s capable of killing anyone, either. And, unlike you, I’m not saying that simply because I want to sleep with her.”
“Can we cut the bullshit and discuss the case,” Griffin snarled.
Leslie chuckled as she held up both hands in surrender.
The director’s secretary stuck her head into the conference room. “Agent Keller, Detective Gerkens from Metro PD is on line two for you.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the phone and punched in line two. “Good morning, Detective, tell me you’re not calling just because you missed me.”
“Not particularly, but I wanted to let you and Agent Morgan know that the doorman’s body has been transferred to the FBI. The family has a lot of questions and they’re not happy. But after looking at the video surveillance tape, I think you and Agent Morgan might be right about his death.”
“Is there something specific on the video that makes you say that?” Griffin asked as he put the call on speaker.
“There’s a guy who showed up at the front desk who clearly didn’t want to be IDed.”
Griffin glanced over at Leslie. She arched an eyebrow in question.
“Let me guess,” Griffin said. “The guy was delivering a package.”
“Bingo. And it was for your favorite chef,” the detective added. “Any idea what might have been in there?”
“Her chef’s jacket that we used to soak up the blood in the Metro the other night,” Griffin explained.
The detective whistled.
“The delivery guy,” Leslie said. “Could we be lucky here and have him be a perp you already know?”
“Nah, this guy isn’t a local gangbanger. Based on how he handled this crime scene, he’s a professional,” Detective Gerkens answered. “We’ve got a BOLO out for him, but since he kept his face averted, it’s not likely we’ll find him. This guy’s slippery. You keep an eye on the chef, Agent Keller, you hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you, Detective. She’s safe here at the White House.” But as the words left Griffin’s mouth, a tremor of uncertainty seized his gut.
Hanging up, Griffin powered up his iPad and opened up the email from Detective Gerkens. Leslie stood at his shoulder as they both watched the surveillance video.
“Stop!” Leslie commanded when they got to the part with the package. “That’s our guy.”
There was something familiar about the man hiding beneath the black baseball cap.Or maybe it was the baseball cap itself.The back of Griffin’s neck tingled when he remembered the jogger trailing Marin on the Mall. He’d been wearing a similar hat.
“Shit!” Griffin opened another file.
“What is it?” Leslie asked.
Griffin loaded the video of the stabbing on the Metro. He zoomed in on the assailant with the hoodie pulled over his head. The bill of a baseball cap was clearly visible. His hands shook when he reached into the file on the table and pulled out the picture of the paper delivery person spotted outside the curator’s house. Same sweatshirt. Same damn hat peeking out.
“I missed it,” Griffin murmured through the tightness in his throat. “She could have been killed.”
“Earth to Griffin,” Leslie said. “What are you seeing that I’m not?”
