The hoodies’ moves seemed choreographed, as if they’d practiced or maybe done this many times before. One shoved into the distinguished tuxedoed man knocking him off balance; he shouted “Hey!” before he regained his unsteady footing.
At the same time, the second hoodie stopped, raised his arm, and pointed a Glock squarely at the older woman’s chest. The woman looked green, as if she might vomit, and began to shake.
The third hoodie shoved the tuxedoed man backward and shouted, “You got something to say?”
The man tripped and fell on his left side. A loud crack followed by the man’s animal-like screaming confirmed broken bones, at least.
Otto pulled her weapon and aimed it at the first hoodie’s center mass, and shouted, “FBI!”
Simultaneously, Gaspar pivoted on his good left leg, rushed the gunman, and knocked him to the ground, sending his Glock skimming the sidewalk into the shadows toward Duffy. The gunman’s temple slammed onto the concrete and bounced twice, leaving him splayed and motionless, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
The older woman’s horrified face lasted three seconds before she staggered, fainted, and fell face down onto the sidewalk, breaking her nose. Blood pooled and seeped into view from the center of her face.
The second hoodie froze in place, arms up, hands palm out in recognizable surrender. Security reinforcements approached running, guns drawn.
For the next moments, Otto held the two muggers at gunpoint while Gaspar attended to the woman.
Kim glanced briefly toward Duffy. For the first time, she saw a man standing alone in the sculpture’s shadow. He looked familiar, but it was too dark to be sure. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket and work boots. Both hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He wore no hat. Duffy, completely engulfed in the long, black cape, passed close to him. He dipped his head to catch words that Kim was too far away to hear, or to be heard if she’d shouted to them.
Duffy never stopped walking. She disappeared into the darkness of the sculpture garden. The big man looked straight toward Kim long enough to cause a fission of recognition to run up her spine before he, too, disappeared.
10.
Security guards arrived on the scene, called for back up, secured all three hoodies, and assumed control. Minutes later, flashing lights from first responder vehicles lined up along 4th Street like a holiday parade.
Once the muggers were in custody, the tuxedoed man and older woman placed in an ambulance bound for the nearest hospital, Gaspar slipped into the shadows searching for Susan Duffy. But he found only damp November air, as Kim had known he would.
Gaspar returned, dipped his head to ask quietly, making the effort to return them to normalcy. “Now what, Boss Dragon Lady?”
“Like Duffy suggested, Zorro, we’ll start where Reacher left off.”
till staring at the empty space where Duffy had been, Gaspar asked, “Which would be where, Susie Wong?”
Agent Otto turned toward Pennsylvania Avenue, smiled and replied, “We’re building a file, Chico, not reading one. Think about it. Only one choice. U.S. Army buddies before March 1997.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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That said, the criminal activities herein depicted are pure fiction, as are the characters. Any events or real places mentioned are used fictitiously. As we all know, truth is stranger than fiction.
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About the Author
Diane Capri is a lawyer and multi-published author.
She’s a snowbird who divides her time between Florida and Michigan. An active member of Mystery Writers of America, Author’s Guild, International Thriller Writers, and Sisters in Crime, she loves to hear from readers and is hard at work on her next novel.
