Rebecca closed her eyes and thought for a second. 'Five minutes, maybe? We just got there. Detective… I'm in college. My parents…'
'You won't be charged with anything, but your name will probably get out. You should call your parents, Rebecca.'
I walked with her as she was rolled out into the hall and toward the elevators. There didn't seem to be any family or friends around, and it broke my heart a little that she had to go through this alone.
'Listen,' I said. 'I've been where you are. I've had a bullet in my shoulder, and I know how scary this is. You're going to be fine, Rebecca.'
'Okay,' she said, but I don't think she believed me. She still looked terrified.
'I'll check on you later,' I said, just before the elevator doors slid shut between us.
Chapter 36
I HOOFED it back to the car and started scribbling notes against the steering wheel, trying to capture all the different threads running through my head.
Rebecca said she and Downey had been in the room for only a short time. That meant the snipers were set up and ready for them. The killers knew exactly when and where they needed to be, just like they knew when Vinton and Pilkey would be outside the restaurant, and just like they knew Mel Dlouhy's neighbors were out of town when they came by to murder him.
Whoever was behind this had a firm handle on the victims' habits, the movements of the people around them, and even the most private details of their otherwise public lives. It struck me that this kind of intelligence gathering took time, manpower, and know-how, and quite possibly money.
I thought about what Siegel had said to me on the roof of the Moore Building tonight. These guys are guns for hire. I hadn't ruled it out then, and I was a step closer to ruling it in now. I just didn't like thinking that Siegel had beaten me to it. Usually I'm not like that, but he just rubbed me the wrong way.
There was obviously some kind of specific and disciplined agenda behind these killings. If a shooter as skilled as this one had wanted Rebecca taken out, she would have been dead for sure. But she didn't fit the profile; her only crime had been to land in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not so for the others. By the apparent rules of this game, Rebecca didn't deserve to die, but Skip Downey and the other Washington 'bad guys' did.
So whose game was it? Who was writing the rules? And where was it all heading?
I still couldn't dismiss the possibility that our gunmen were operating on their own. But I also was just paranoid enough by now – or maybe experienced enough – that a list of scarier alternatives was taking shape in my mind.
Could this somehow be government backed? Some domestic agency? An international one?
Or was the Mob behind it somehow? The military? Maybe even just a very well-connected individual, with deep pockets and a serious ax to grind?
In any case, the most important questions were still left hanging: Who did they have their eye on next? And how the hell were we supposed to protect every high-profile scumbag in Washington? It just couldn't be done.
Unless we got very, very lucky, someone else was going to die before this was over. And it was most likely somebody who many people wouldn't mind seeing dead. That was the beauty of this terrifying game.
Chapter 37
THE NEXT DAY was a benchmark for Nana and me. Things had been chilly between us since I'd brought in the security at the house, but when I came down and found her cooking breakfast for Rakeem and his guys, I knew we were at least partway over the hump.
'Oh, Alex, you're here. Good. Take these plates outside,' she said as if breakfast delivery were something I did every day. 'Scoot, while it's hot!'
When I came back, my own plate was waiting for me – scrambled eggs with linguica, wheat toast, orange juice, and a steaming cup of Nana's chicory coffee in my old favorite #1 Dad mug with the dent where Ali had thrown it against the wall.
Her own breakfasts were a lot more heart-healthy these days – grapefruit sections, toast with unsalted butter, tea, and then one half of one sausage link, because as Nana liked to say, there was a fine line between eating smart to live longer and boring oneself to death.
'Alex, I want to call a truce,' she said, finally settling down across from me.
'Here's to that,' I said, and raised my juice glass. 'I accept your terms, whatever they are.'
'Because there's something else I need to talk to you about.'
I had to laugh. 'That was just about the shortest cease-fire I've ever seen. What is this, the Middle East?'
'Oh, relax. It's about Bree.'
As far as I knew, Bree was right up there with sliced bread, Barack Obama, and handwritten letters in Nana's book. How bad could this be?
'You know, after all this, you'd be a silly fool to let that girl slip through your fingers,' she started in.
'Absolutely,' I said, 'and if I may, I'd like to draw the court's attention to the very nice diamond ring on Ms. Stone's left hand.'
Nana waved my logic away with her fork. 'Rings come off just as easily as they go on. I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you've got something of a track record with women, and not in a good way.'
Ouch. Still, I couldn't deny it. For whatever reasons, I'd never been able to find real stability in a relationship since my first wife, Maria, had been murdered so many years earlier.
At least, not until now with Bree.
'If it makes you feel any better,' I said, 'I took Bree up to Immaculate Conception and asked her to marry me all over again, right there in front of God and creation.'
'And what did she say?' Nana deadpanned.
'She's going to have to get back to me on that. But seriously, Nana, where is this coming from? Have I given you some reason to doubt us?'
She was up to her half sausage now, and she held up a finger for me to wait while she lovingly, almost reverently, devoured the cylinder. Then, as if she were starting a whole new conversation, she looked up again and said, 'You know I'm going to be ninety this year?'
It came out with a smile – I think she was going to be around ninety-two – but the words stopped me cold anyway.
'Nana, is there something you're not telling me?'
'No, no,' she said. 'I'm right as rain. Couldn't be better. Just thinking ahead, that's all. No one lasts forever. At least, not that I know about.'
'Well, think a little less ahead, okay? And, by the way, you're not car parts. You're one hundred percent irreplaceable.'
'Of course I am!' She reached over to put her hand on top of mine. 'And you are a strong, capable, and wonderful father. But you can't do this alone, Alex. Not the way you run the other half of your life.'
'Maybe so, but it's not why I'm marrying Bree,' I told her. 'And it's not a good enough reason to either.'
'Well, I can think of worse. Just don't blow it, mister,' she said, and sat back again with a wink to let me know she was joking.
Half joking anyway.
Chapter 38
