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“I did. He lives in Barrington. It’s about two hours away with rush hour traffic. Let’s avoid the interstate and pick up 50 in East Prince George’s. We’ll stay on it the whole way.”
“Are we showing up unannounced?”
He shook his head. “We’ll stop to get a bite when we’re half an hour away. I’ll call him then and let him know I’m in the area. I’m sure he’ll invite us to visit.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
He shrugged. “We’ll visit anyway.”
She reached out to switch on the radio, then reconsidered. “Why don’t you tell me about the cases you had with Grover Anderson and Natsuo Ito?”
His eyebrows drew together. “My duty to maintain the government’s confidences survived my separation from the DOJ. I really can’t share any details.”
“One, the government is trying to kill you. Remember? Seems like that should grant you some leeway on that duty. And, two, I’m not really going to listen to you.”
He side-eyed her. “Rude much?”
She giggled. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Marielle talks through thorny data puzzles or problems. She’ll just talk and talk to me, Chelsea, and Olivia about whatever’s got her stymied. We don’t have the faintest idea what she’s going on about, but we make encouraging noises and say ‘oh, really?’ every once in a while. And without fail, she’ll talk through it and have a eureka moment.” She shrugged. “Maybe you will, too.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Or I can turn on the radio,” she offered.
After another long pause, he shrugged. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to talk it through.”
She nestled her back against the car seat, activated the vehicle’s adaptive cruise control feature, and let Ryan’s warm baritone voice wash over her as he began to talk.
* * *
As Ryan recountedthe cases he’d worked with Nat and Grover, more cases flooded his mind. He talked virtually nonstop all the way to and across the Bay Bridge. As promised, Leilah made periodic noncommittal sounds of interest.
After they crossed the four-mile span across the brilliant blue Chesapeake Bay, he fell silent. Telling the litany of stories about his former colleagues with the knowledge that Nat was dead had caused an ache to take up residence deep in his chest.
She flicked her eyes toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. My voice is getting tired. And I’m not remembering anything that explains why someone wants to kill me—and may have killed Natsuo.”
“We should stop anyway. We’ll check in with Marielle to see what she found out about his death. You can call Grover to let him know we’re coming. And you need to feed your driver.”
“Duly noted. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a good place to stop.”
They ended up driving another twenty minutes and Route 50 had made the turn due south before he saw it. “Look, a real roadside diner.”
She slowed and turned on her indicator light to make the left into the parking lot that fronted the long rectangular building. Shaped like a railroad car and clad in stainless steel siding, the diner conjured up images of meatloaf, shakes, and pies.
Once they’d taken a seat at the large red leather booth near the front window, Ryan realized that only the architecture was vintage. He eyed Leilah over the extensive menu. “Seasonal cocktails and local farm-to-table specialties? This isn’t a diner.”
“Simmer down, oldster,” she teased him. “The Chesapeake Tacos look good. Oh, and the roasted local vegetables over chickpea pasta. Decisions, decisions.”
“It’s a travesty,” he insisted, only half-joking. He scanned the menu and, on principle, chose the most authentic diner meal he could find. “I’m going to check in with Marielle. Will you order me a turkey and gravy on toast, hold the turmeric-ginger chutney, and substitute fries for the cauliflower mash, please.”
“You’ve got it. Do you want a drink? I’m driving, so you might as well.”
“Sure, a beer would be great. Something local.”
“Consider it done. Hey, tell Elle I said‘coucou,’okay?”
His eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “Coo-coo, like the bird?”
