“We aren’t meeting him for two hours,” Platt said. “I think I can have a beer.”
Bix continued to scowl.
“You should have beer, too.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You might start after today.”
“We need to eat. I haven’t eaten all day.” Bix pulled open the menu.
“No red meat. Okay? It might be a long time before I have another cheeseburger.”
Platt’s cell phone interrupted just as they finished placing their orders with the waiter. He went to hit Ignore but then he saw it was his parents’ number. He hadn’t checked in with them since yesterday. It’d be his father. He knew that his mother always nagged—“Call your son.”
“Hi, Dad.” He glanced at his watch. Not quite time yet for their late-night shows.
“Ben, so are you back home or still in Chicago?”
No one but Bix knew he had gone to Chicago. He hadn’t even told anyone at USAMRIID.
“How’d you know I was in Chicago, Dad?”
Bix looked up across the table, setting down his coffee so hard he splashed some on his hand and didn’t bother to wipe at it.
“A friend of yours stopped by here.”
Platt’s stomach lurched.
“What friend?”
“Military guy. Said you asked him to check up on us.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Jack … oh, what was his last name. Your mother would remember. Scared us at first because he was in uniform. We were worried something might have happened to you. But he said you were okay. He was just checking on us while you were in Chicago. So how was Chicago?”
It was a warning. If they wanted to hurt his parents they could have already done it. That was exactly what they were telling him, letting him know that they could hurt them at any given moment. It would be worthless to tell his parents to pack up and leave. Go to a hotel, a resort. No place would be safe. His heart raced while his mind played out scenario after scenario, none of them good. He would make a phone call to USAMRIID and within a couple of hours, he would have a real friend outside his parents’ home, watching for him.
“Chicago was fine,” he finally answered.
“Colder than here, I bet.”
“Wetter. It rained the whole time.” He tried to keep his tone even so it wouldn’t betray him.
“Well, I’m glad you’re back, safe and sound. And listen, your mom and me are fine. You really don’t need to send anyone to check on us. We’ll be just fine.”
“I know, Dad.”
“We love you, son.”
“Love you, too.” He ended the call and placed his cell phone on the table.
It was Bix who broke the silence.
“Holy son of a bitch. What the hell did we step in?”
CHAPTER 58
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Platt didn’t have time to drive home from the airport. Instead he and Bix had dinner in the District. Old Ebbitt Grill was one of Maggie’s favorites. The men needed somewhere convenient and close to the monuments. He thought of the restaurant immediately and now he was glad.
It felt good to be surrounded by the warm glow of the antique gaslights and the thought of Maggie laughing from across the table. She and Gwen Patterson came here all the time, but she had brought him once. Corner booth. It had been steamy outside. Cool inside. Beers and burgers and a lively discussion about Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn movies.
Tonight the high-backed booths would allow Platt and Bix some privacy. And because they weren’t politicos who frequented the place, they wouldn’t be recognized or noticed. Sure enough—no one even turned to look at them.
Platt ordered a Sam Adams. Bix frowned at him and ordered coffee.
“We aren’t meeting him for two hours,” Platt said. “I think I can have a beer.”
Bix continued to scowl.
“You should have beer, too.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You might start after today.”
“We need to eat. I haven’t eaten all day.” Bix pulled open the menu.
“No red meat. Okay? It might be a long time before I have another cheeseburger.”
Platt’s cell phone interrupted just as they finished placing their orders with the waiter. He went to hit Ignore but then he saw it was his parents’ number. He hadn’t checked in with them since yesterday. It’d be his father. He knew that his mother always nagged—“Call your son.”
“Hi, Dad.” He glanced at his watch. Not quite time yet for their late-night shows.
“Ben, so are you back home or still in Chicago?”
No one but Bix knew he had gone to Chicago. He hadn’t even told anyone at USAMRIID.
“How’d you know I was in Chicago, Dad?”
Bix looked up across the table, setting down his coffee so hard he splashed some on his hand and didn’t bother to wipe at it.
“A friend of yours stopped by here.”
Platt’s stomach lurched.
“What friend?”
“Military guy. Said you asked him to check up on us.”