“I wasn’t thinking straight. This case has got me running circles in my head.”
“This is not good, Frankie. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this is not how it’s done and you know that.”
She’s right, I’m whacked out right now ’cause I’m starting to crash. I got to get myself back up so I can think straight. I’m starting to feel like the room’s shrinking, the air thick. Next, I’ll be spinning.
“I’ve got to use your bathroom,” I say.
“What? What the hell’s wrong with you? Have you gone mad?”
“I really have to use your bathroom,” I say, and turn and walk quickly toward the bathroom down the hall.
“I’m calling the police, Frankie,” she advises as I open the door to the bathroom and walk in.
I lock the door. I pull a prescription pill container out of my front pants pocket and twist it open.
I don’t have any more than a couple of grams in the container. My heart pounds, mostly because the thought of soon being without anything is terrifying. I turn on the water. I pull out two capsules and set the container on a shelf above the sink. I twist one of the capsules open and carefully squeeze the powder out of each half and onto the back of my hand. I close one nostril with my finger and snort it up through the other. I do the same with the other one. I straighten up, lick the residue from the back of my hand, then wipe the residue from my nose and upper lip, and rub it on my gums. I pinch my left nostril shut again and sniff quietly one more time.
A sudden, beautiful wave across my brain mixes everything together perfectly, lighting me up and releasing the neurotransmitters. Everything is clear. I put the capsules back together and drop them in the container, then slip it back in my pocket.
“Shit,” I say, as if I suddenly realize how stupid I am.
But that’s all right.
I walk out of the bathroom with a new lift and find Leslie walking out of the conference room holding my jacket.
“Leah found something more suitable for her to wear. And I called 911. I’m sure they’ll be here any minute now.”
“She said they know her address, and you know damn well the police won’t act on it fast enough. Once these boys find her gone, her home will be the first stop they make. I got her to leave with me ’cause I promised her I’d keep her family safe. I’m going back to the house I got her out of.”
I take my jacket from her hands. “I’ll call you within an hour and give you the address. I’m pretty damn sure that Amanda doesn’t know it. Tell the police what you have to, but I got to do what I got to do.”
I walk toward the exit. She follows behind with quick steps. I slip on my jacket without stopping.
“Frank! You can’t just drop off a kidnapped teenage girl who’s probably been gang-raped and expect me to try to keep you out of it! You can’t just walk out of here!”
I open the door and turn to her and say, “I gotta take care of this, Leslie. And notify Fairfax County police too, because she lives in Burke.”
I let the door shut itself and choose the stairs instead of the elevator.
“Man, am I fucked,” I mumble to myself on my way down.
Six
When I get to Kenyon Street, I find a parking spot across from the house, near where I parked before. I don’t see the Salvadoran boys’ vehicle anywhere. I grab the palm-size binoculars from a zippered compartment of my backpack, cup them between both hands, and peer through them at the house.
The door looks the same as when we left. I zip the binos back into the compartment, then look at the dashboard clock.
Thirteen-twenty hours.
I took too much time taking care of the girl. I’m wondering if the kid, Super Fly, already returned to re-up, but hightailed it out of there after he noticed the door had been pried open. I grab the pill container out of my pocket and twist off the cap.
“Fuck,” I say after I see how many full capsules are left.
What I have here, it won’t last long for me. I twist the cap back on and slip the container back in my pocket.
I open the backpack’s main compartment and pull out six zip-tie handcuffs and a small but very effective stun gun. I clip the zip ties to a small carabiner key chain on the left side of my belt, opposite the gun. My jacket will hide everything well enough. I also put on my Kevlar tactical gloves this time. It’s a bit chilly outside, so they’re less conspicuous than latex and better on my knuckles if I have to go to blows. But first I power down my cell, because I know Leslie will start burning it up with calls soon.
I step out of the car.
I’m more conscious of my surroundings as I walk to the front door of the house. The last thing I want is one of those mopes pulling up while I’m entering. Before I do, I ring the doorbell, wait a few seconds, and ring it again. After that, I knock hard on the door, pushing it halfway open.
I step inside and close the door behind me, sliding the tennis shoe against it with my foot.
“Policía,” I call out.