“I know. Appreciate it anyway, bro.”
“No problem. Talk later.”
It looks like I’ll have to give Davidson a call.
I tell him I don’t have shit and I need some help if I’m ever going to find out what happened to Miriam Gregory. I ask what he’s got on Edgar.
“Amanda popped him on a photo array and that, along with her statements, was enough for a judge to sign off.”
“A good defense attorney will tear that shit apart.”
“Based on what the victim said, this Edgar took her to DC a couple of times and on several occasions the defendants gave her drugs and solicited her for prostitution. They even told her how much money she could make. Edgar was there when they talked and even tried to convince her himself. She didn’t want to do it, so one day they got her high as a kite and he just left her there. He’s good to go.”
“Sounds like it. It’d have been tougher if she wasn’t a minor.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“When are you gonna snatch him up?”
“We’re working on that.”
“When you do, you won’t forget about Miriam Gregory, right?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Damn, he’s being evasive, like this is some top secret shit.
I know Davidson’s good at what he does, especially when it comes to interviewing. I still got this feeling that our boy Edgar will clam up, especially if they pick him up at his house. That’ll put his parents with him, and you can bet the first call they make is to a lawyer. By the time they get him in the box, they’ll be lucky if he admits to holding her hand.
Forty
I have a phone interview with Tamara Moore later this afternoon, and then in person with the other girlfriend on the list, Justine Durrell. After the conversation I had with Davidson, I make the decision to call the parents of the two girls and reschedule the interviews for tomorrow. I want to set up at the South Run parking lot for the day, just in case Edgar decides to play hooky. I don’t know what the chances of him showing are or whether he hangs there anymore. It’s the only solid lead I got, so I have to play it out, especially if I might lose him tomorrow. I have a feeling that’s why Davidson was being so secretive. They’re probably working on a search warrant for his house. We always liked to hit them early in the morning, catch them before they could wipe the sleep outta their eyes. Let’s hope that’s what Davidson is thinking.
After a hot shower and a nasal cleanse, I put on one of my older suits, one I used to wear for court when I was a cop. Makes me feel like one again.
I grab the notepad and the Miriam Gregory case jacket from my briefcase and slip them into the backpack. I check the pack and make sure I got what I need.
I slip on my overcoat and step out into a light rain.
It’s a cool rain and I look up so it can hit my face, but only for a second. More than that’d be silly.
The traffic lightens at the 14th Street Bridge, and it doesn’t take long to get to the parking lot at South Run. There’re only a few cars parked here, but not at the end where the lot meets the woods. It’s a fairly large parking lot. Occasionally I’ll see a woman walking out of the rec center to her car or someone pulling in and parking to go inside. Most of them look like mothers, taking advantage of their kids being at school.
The light rain eases to a mist and I’m nearly through a pack of cigarettes.
I turn the radio on and it’s still tuned to 101.1. This time, “Hurt,” by Nine Inch Nails, an oldie I like and used to listen to back when I was in the academy with Leslie. But it makes me sad ’cause I think about her even more. I switch it off.
I notice a car pulling in to the parking lot. It’s a light blue four-door.
When it gets closer, I see that it’s a Honda Accord, not a Camry. It parks a few spaces over from me, the passenger’s side facing me. I lean down beneath my window.
The passenger steps out first. He’s a white kid with wavy brown hair and can’t be more then seventeen. The driver steps out, but I can only make out the back of his head ’cause the car obstructs my view. He moves toward the rear of the vehicle.
Damn if I didn’t get lucky. He sure as hell looks like Edgar Soto to me.
They walk across the lot to a gravel road and the opening to the path. They disappear into the wooded area.
I slip on my leather tactical gloves and move my car to a better position a couple of rows behind his—a spot that gives me a better vantage point to see the entrance to the path.
About an hour and a half later I notice Edgar come walking from the path and heading back to his car. The distance from the path to his car is far enough that whoever he was with would’ve appeared by the time Edgar hit the gravel road.
I shoulder my pack, exit my car, and act like I’m fiddling with my car door while he makes his way to his vehicle.
He doesn’t notice me.