“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so, so sorry.” Ryan’s nose was running and his face red.
“You should be,” Sean said. Ryan seemed like he might hyperventilate, but Sean had no urge to comfort him. He was consumed by wrath for the man who had threatened his children. The man who had taken something that Abby had worn every day since Sean gave it to her for her college graduation: an antique necklace worn by Sean’s mother. Abby wasn’t wearing the necklace when they found her body. Agents thought that the killer may have taken it that night. But apparently they were wrong.
“This guy, when is he usually at Chipotle?” Sean’s head was throbbing.
When Ryan didn’t respond immediately Sean walked around the desk and put his hands on Ryan’s shoulders as if to shake him. “Stop crying and answer me. Where can I find this guy? The Chipotle in Bethesda? When’s he there?”
“He hangs out there after school. He usually wears a red shirt and ball cap so kids know he’s the guy who sells.”
Sean checked his watch, 3:15 p.m. He had to be at the Hay-Adams hotel at five. He shook his head in disgust and stormed out of the office.
*
The Chipotle on Old Georgetown Road was filled with the after-school crowd. Booths with squirrelly teenagers in designer clothes, laughing and screwing around. The line to order was fifteen kids deep. How did he get here? He remembered getting into the SUV, but the rest of the journey was a blur. Everything was coming at him at once. The drain of saying good-bye to Abby that morning. The trauma of the last two weeks. He needed to stop. And think. Was he really going to confront this guy? What would that accomplish? He should go to the police. Talk to the agents assigned to Abby’s case. All that made sense, yet he still found himself standing in the back of the queue.
He was in a daze, half looking for the man in red, half thinking about the many times he and Ryan had shuffled through this very line. Ryan loved Chipotle. The boy would choose a chicken burrito with guac over five courses at The Inn at Little Washington.
Then Sean saw him. A man in his twenties, skinny—what Ryan would call a “tweaker”—walked into the restaurant. He had a ferret face with a patch of whiskers on a pointy chin. He wore a red Washington Nationals shirt and backward-facing red ball cap. Chipotle Man.
CHAPTER 23
Sean worked his way through the line. He glanced again at Chipotle Man, who was now sitting at a booth with two meaty guys, both in T-shirts with their hair dyed white-blond. It was hard to keep watch when the team behind the counter started calling to him. Chicken or beef? Black or pinto beans? White or brown rice? Sean answered without thought, returning his eyes to the drug dealer. A teenage girl approached Chipotle Man’s booth. She and the man in red talked, then he gestured to the door. The girl, who had flat brown hair and looked about seventeen, hurried out of the restaurant. Chipotle Man gave a grin to the two blond guys, then followed after her.
Was this how kids made a buy? Sean imagined Ryan following this protocol. Or Abby approaching this skeezy little man. Sean paid for the burrito and threw the softball wrapped in foil in the trash can as he rushed out the glass door.
He snapped his head back and forth looking for Chipotle Man, but he wasn’t out front. Sean walked down the broken sidewalk toward the back of the building and peered around the corner. The girl was standing with her back pressed against the brick wall, Chipotle Man facing her. He was uncomfortably close, and she was shaking her head and looking at the ground.
Chipotle Man yelled at her. “Do it, bitch!” He stepped back and unbuttoned his pants. The girl started to cry.
“Hey!” Sean shouted. It just blurted out before he’d had time to process the situation. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he doing this?
The red hat pivoted sharply to Sean. The girl said nothing but her eyes screamed for help.
“Leave her alone,” Sean said, walking toward them.
Chipotle Man stepped in Sean’s direction and looked him in the eyes. “Who the fuck’r you?”
He was shorter than Sean and skinny, but he kept his hand tucked in his front pocket, concealing something. A weapon? Sean ignored him and shouted to the girl.
“Get out of here.” When she didn’t move he yelled, “Go!”
She shot past him and around the corner, leaving Sean and the man in red alone. The back of the restaurant was nothing but dumpsters and trash strewn on gravel.
Chipotle Man made a show of his hand inside his pocket.
Sean said, “I don’t want trouble. I just have a couple questions for you, then I’ll be on my way.”
Now Chipotle Man looked puzzled. His eyes swept over Sean as if trying to place him.