sure you have some idea. Even a guess.”
“How about the guy in the alley with the rifle?”
“He was after me.”
“Yeah, that I know. You had the tracking device. But why was he after you?”
“Not something I can talk about. Like I said before.”
“Then that’s my answer too,” Julie shot back. “So what now?”
“I can drive you to the gas station. You can call for a cab. Get another bus to New York. Or maybe the train?”
“Train tickets have names on them.”
“Yours would just say Julie.”
“And yours would just say Will,” she replied. “But that’s not exactly enough, is it?”
“No.”
They sat staring at each other.
“Where are your parents?” Robie asked.
“Who says I have any?”
“Everybody has parents. It’s sort of a requirement.”
“I meant parents that were
living
.”
“So yours are dead?”
She looked away, fiddled with the handle of her mug. “This arrangement is probably not going to work out.”
“Do we go to the police?”
“Will that work for your situation?”
“I meant for you.”
“No, it really wouldn’t.”
“If you tell me what’s going on, I can maybe help you.”
“You’ve already helped me, and I appreciate that. But I’m not sure what else you can do, realistically.”
“Why were you going to New York?”
“Because it isn’t here. Why were you going?”
“It was convenient.”
“Well, it’s not convenient for me.”
“So you had to go. Why?”
“Need to know,” she said. “And you don’t.”
“What? Are you a junior spy or something?”
He glanced at the TV when he caught it out of the corner of his eye. Two sheeted bodies on gurneys were being wheeled out of a condo building. One body was big, one very small.
Another reporter was out front talking to a spokeswoman from the D.C. Metro Police.
The spokeswoman said, “The victims, a mother and her young son, have been identified, but we’re withholding their names until next of kin are notified. We have several leads that we are pursuing. We’re asking for anyone who saw anything to contact us with that information.”
“And it’s been reported that the FBI is heading up the investigation?” asked the reporter.
“The deceased woman was a federal employee. The Bureau’s involvement is standard operating procedure in those situations.”
No, it really isn’t,
thought Robie. He kept staring at the screen, hungry for more information. It seemed like a year ago since he had escaped from the building, which was now surrounded by police and federal cops.
“And there was another child?” asked the reporter as she held the mike up to the spokeswoman’s face.
“Yes. He was unharmed.”
“Was the child found in the same apartment?”
“That’s all we can say right now. Thank you.”
Robie turned back to find Julie staring at him.
Her eyes were like acid, eating through any defense or façade he could muster.
“Was that you?”
He said nothing.
“Mother and kid, huh? And what? You help me to make up for that?”
“You want anything else to eat?”
“No. What I want is to leave.”
“I can drive you.”
“No, I’d prefer to walk.”
She went up to her room and was back down a minute later with her backpack.
As he turned off the alarm and opened the front door for her, he said, “I didn’t kill those people.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said simply. “But thanks for not killing me. I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is.”
He watched her hurry down the gravel drive.
Robie went to get his coat.
CHAPTER
22
R OBIE PUT ON a helmet, slid the leather cover off the Honda street bike, fired it up, and drove it out of the barn. He parked the bike, closed and locked the barn, and then boarded the 600cc silver-and-blue motorcycle once more.
He reached the road in time to see Julie climb into the front seat of a big-as-a-boat ancient Mercury driven by an old woman whose head was barely level with the top of the steering
“How about the guy in the alley with the rifle?”
“He was after me.”
“Yeah, that I know. You had the tracking device. But why was he after you?”
“Not something I can talk about. Like I said before.”
“Then that’s my answer too,” Julie shot back. “So what now?”
“I can drive you to the gas station. You can call for a cab. Get another bus to New York. Or maybe the train?”
“Train tickets have names on them.”
“Yours would just say Julie.”
“And yours would just say Will,” she replied. “But that’s not exactly enough, is it?”
“No.”
They sat staring at each other.
“Where are your parents?” Robie asked.
“Who says I have any?”
“Everybody has parents. It’s sort of a requirement.”
“I meant parents that were
living
.”
“So yours are dead?”
She looked away, fiddled with the handle of her mug. “This arrangement is probably not going to work out.”
“Do we go to the police?”
“Will that work for your situation?”
“I meant for you.”
“No, it really wouldn’t.”
“If you tell me what’s going on, I can maybe help you.”
“You’ve already helped me, and I appreciate that. But I’m not sure what else you can do, realistically.”
“Why were you going to New York?”
“Because it isn’t here. Why were you going?”
“It was convenient.”
“Well, it’s not convenient for me.”
“So you had to go. Why?”
“Need to know,” she said. “And you don’t.”
“What? Are you a junior spy or something?”
He glanced at the TV when he caught it out of the corner of his eye. Two sheeted bodies on gurneys were being wheeled out of a condo building. One body was big, one very small.
Another reporter was out front talking to a spokeswoman from the D.C. Metro Police.
The spokeswoman said, “The victims, a mother and her young son, have been identified, but we’re withholding their names until next of kin are notified. We have several leads that we are pursuing. We’re asking for anyone who saw anything to contact us with that information.”
“And it’s been reported that the FBI is heading up the investigation?” asked the reporter.
“The deceased woman was a federal employee. The Bureau’s involvement is standard operating procedure in those situations.”
No, it really isn’t,
thought Robie. He kept staring at the screen, hungry for more information. It seemed like a year ago since he had escaped from the building, which was now surrounded by police and federal cops.
“And there was another child?” asked the reporter as she held the mike up to the spokeswoman’s face.
“Yes. He was unharmed.”
“Was the child found in the same apartment?”
“That’s all we can say right now. Thank you.”
Robie turned back to find Julie staring at him.
Her eyes were like acid, eating through any defense or façade he could muster.
“Was that you?”
He said nothing.
“Mother and kid, huh? And what? You help me to make up for that?”
“You want anything else to eat?”
“No. What I want is to leave.”
“I can drive you.”
“No, I’d prefer to walk.”
She went up to her room and was back down a minute later with her backpack.
As he turned off the alarm and opened the front door for her, he said, “I didn’t kill those people.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said simply. “But thanks for not killing me. I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is.”
He watched her hurry down the gravel drive.
Robie went to get his coat.
CHAPTER
22
R OBIE PUT ON a helmet, slid the leather cover off the Honda street bike, fired it up, and drove it out of the barn. He parked the bike, closed and locked the barn, and then boarded the 600cc silver-and-blue motorcycle once more.
He reached the road in time to see Julie climb into the front seat of a big-as-a-boat ancient Mercury driven by an old woman whose head was barely level with the top of the steering
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