“I don’t know what you mean.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“Bullshit. The shooter at your house in Eugene was not your jilted boyfriend. The bastard is here in D.C. now, and he came to my room last night to kill me and stunned my roommate instead. Now Kirsten’s dead and I’m charged with her murder. Who the hell is he? And why did he try to kill you?”
Morton was silent as he made a left and headed for the expressway. Lara noticed the city didn’t have a tall skyline like other metropolitan areas, and strips of trees were everywhere. It was also completely flat. “Don’t forget I used to be a detective. If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help figure this out.”
After a long silence, the commissioner shook his head. “I honestly don’t know who he is. I’m as puzzled as you are.”
“Why did you lie and say he was your boyfriend?”
“If I had reported it, I would have been scrutinized and questioned in Eugene. I needed to get back to the capital without jeopardizing my job. Government employees are held to a different standard.”
“Why the bullshit about your lover?”
“Because Richard had just been there and left after a fight. The shooter showed up moments later. So it was mostly true and therefore plausible.”
Lara wasn’t buying it. “What are you keeping from me?”
“Nothing. I’d never seen the guy before in my life.”
“You’re saying a complete stranger came to your house and shot you?”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. It sounds crazy.” Morton paused. “He might be the boyfriend of a woman I slept with.”
“But you don’t know his name?”
“No.”
“How did he get in?”
“He walked in. My boyfriend had just left in a huff and the door was unlocked.”
“Could he be Richard’s new lover? Maybe he followed Richard to your house and tried to kill you in a jealous rage.”
“I don’t think so.”
“We have to figure out who he is before he kills us both.”
“How do we do that?”
“I saw him at the orientation. Blond, midsized guy leaning against the back wall. You have to let me search the footage and isolate his image. Then I’ll access CODIS and see if he has a record.”
“How do you have that kind of clearance?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Morton drove like a man with an emergency and Lara started to feel unnerved. “Are you taking me back to the hotel?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m not sure it’s safe.”
“We’ll move you to a different room that not even the desk clerks will know about.”
Lara wasn’t reassured and hoped her gun was still retrievable. “I’m still in the contest?”
“Of course. The homicide has been good for ratings and the voters want you back.”
“They do?”
“Minda aired the clip of Kirsten coming after you, and you’ve gained a following.” The commissioner glanced at her and shrugged. “Of course, some of the viewers might want you back so they can punish you.”
The thought made Lara feel weak. “I thought we were stopping at a store.”
“I forgot.”
“I need something in my stomach now.”
“We’ll be at the hotel in fifteen minutes. You can eat at the restaurant.”
“No, I can’t. Just find a grocery store.”
He gave her an odd look and headed for the nearest exit. “Do you have special dietary needs?”
“You could say that.”
The commissioner waited in the car while Lara ran into a Safeway and bought a dozen cans of ProFast. She didn’t particularly care for the drink, which was a little thick and bitter with vegetables, but it was a great source of nutrition, and the stash would come in handy. Morton watched her down a can as soon as she was back in the car.
“Didn’t they feed you in jail?”
“Nothing I could eat.”
“Are you allergic to gluten?”
“Let it go. We have more important things to talk about.”
“You’re right.” He drove past a homeless camping area in the corner of the parking lot and turned toward the expressway. “What else can we do to find this guy?”
“Get his photo to the security people at the arena and the hotel.”
“And if they spot him? What do we do? We can’t just have him arrested without reason.”
The commissioner’s lack of imagination irritated her. “I’ll tell the police I saw him talking to Kirsten. If they bring him in for questioning, they’ll run him through the databases and hopefully take a DNA sample. Maybe that’ll be enough to get him charged with her murder.”
“What if it’s not?”
Lara wanted to suggest they find the shooter and take him out of the picture, but she didn’t know how Morton would react-or if she could follow through. “If we locate him, we could plant something of Kirsten’s on him. If they hold him over for trial, it will at least get him off our backs.”
The commissioner pressed the accelerator, passing a line of cars on the right. Lara noticed the traffic was rather light in D.C. too. People had really cut back on driving…and everything else. She tried to ignore Morton’s weaving through traffic and stay focused on their problem.
“The court will probably evaluate him, and if he’s mentally ill and violent, he’ll be incarcerated.” She stared at Morton. “It’s hard to believe he picked you at random. You have to think about everyone who could have a grudge against you.”
“Believe me, I have, but I didn’t recognize the guy.” Morton made a sudden lane change. “I live near the Gauntlet and I need to stop at home for a minute.”
“Do you work out of the offices on the AmGo property?”
“No. I live in a nearby neighborhood that’s conveniently located. This whole area changed after the Reagan airport shut down.”
Lara reached in her bag for her notebook. “Describe the guy in detail for me. I only got a fleeting look.”
“Average height with pale collar-length hair and a thin mustache. He’s lean and probably in his thirties.”
“How was he dressed?”
“I don’t know. He had a gun. I didn’t notice his clothes.”
“You had to see something.”
“He wore black.”
“Any scars, tattoos, or other markings?” Lara looked up occasionally as they made turns. The homes were new with beige paint, brick accents, and large green lawns. Unlike other places in the city, few trees had survived the redevelopment.
“I don’t think so.” Morton touched his earpiece. “I need to call Minda.” After a moment, he said, “Lara Evans is out on bail and will soon be back at the hotel. Let’s get her into the Puzzle early tomorrow, in case the police decide to pick her up again.”
Morton pulled into a driveway, pressed a device in his console, and waited for the gate to open. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
When he climbed out, she noted the address, then leaned back and closed her eyes for a few minutes.
The sun had set by the time they pulled into the parking lot, but just seeing the hotel gave her an unexpected sense of relief. Only a night in lockup could make a hotel room in a strange city feel like home. Inside, Morton strode
