“There would be plenty of people to agree with you. But it still doesn’t make it right.”
“I know. I’m just venting. What’s our next step?” she asked.
“Maybe they can still catch Jenkins. Then he might talk. Or they might find something at his apartment. But if it’s anything like where Anne Berkshire lives, it’ll turn up zip. Now they could find something in the book. That might at least tell us something.”
“What about Natalie?”
“She’s cutting her deal. And maybe they can get some more info out of her.”
“No, I mean does her family know what she did?”
Decker looked taken aback. “I don’t think so. Bogart didn’t mention talking to them. The Bureau keeps a tight lid on stuff like that.”
“I feel sorry for that family. Lost a husband and father. Now a sister might be going to jail too.”
“Like Bogart told me earlier, people have choices.”
“Do you think Natalie might have told her sisters anything? I mean about what she might have done?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how close she was to them. She lived out of the country, after all. She probably didn’t see them all that much.”
“I wonder why she moved to France in the first place?”
“People do move to other countries.”
“I know. But the family seems so close-knit. And the other sisters stayed in the United States.”
“So Natalie was an outlier.”
“I guess.”
Decker glanced sharply at her. “Thank you.”
“For what?’
“For reminding me that I need to stop assuming shit that hasn’t been proven.”
He walked off down the hall.
Jamison started to go, then looked back at Joey. She hurried over to the bed, leaned down, and gave the sleeping boy a light kiss on his forehead.
Then she hurried after Decker.
CHAPTER
56
THEY DROVE BACK to the apartment and grabbed some sleep. They woke early, showered, changed clothes, and met in the kitchen. Decker had gotten there first and made coffee for both of them. The rain continued to pour down outside.
Decker sipped his coffee while standing over by the window and looking out.
“Have you heard from Brown?” asked Jamison.
Decker shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
He turned to look at her. “Why, Alex? I know she’s not your favorite person.”
“She and I had words last night. Okay, I spoke most of the words.”
“What did you say?”
“I was brutally candid.”
“About what?”
“About everything.”
Decker snorted. “Then I’m surprised she didn’t shoot you.”
“I had a gun too.”
Decker walked back over to her. “She’s not a bad person, Alex.”
“But she’s not a particularly good one either. And she missed the stuff on Natalie. That was big.”
“And you thought back in Burlington that I had murdered my own family.”
Jamison’s features turned dark. “I never thought that!”
“You suspected it.”
“I was a journalist back then. I had to cover all the angles.”
“So you’ve never made a mistake?”
“Of course I have. We all have.”
“I’ve made my share, particularly on this case. And I don’t see you jumping on my butt.”
“Well, you own up to them. And you’ve done a lot of great stuff too. But I haven’t seen her do much.”
“Okay, so long as you’re keeping score, Brown saved my ass in the parking lot out there. But for her you’d be living alone. And she opened up a lot more about her work than she probably wanted to. When I went to DIA that day it was clear that her colleagues were pissed at what she’d done. And I got the impression that it might even cost her career-wise. But she did it because she wants to find out the truth. So she went to bed with Melvin. So what? The woman probably works hundred-hour weeks and doesn’t know what country she’s going to be in week-to-week. She has all this money, but she apparently doesn’t have anyone in her life. Her parents are dead. She has no siblings. She’s probably pretty lonely. Just like Melvin. So they found each other, at least for one night. Good for them.”
“Those are all fair points, but I don’t see why you feel the need to keep defending her.”
“Because men seem to get an easy pass on a lot of things from the ladies. I don’t know why, but they just do. It’s like women hold other women to a higher standard in some ways.”
“Maybe we do,” said Jamison. “But women know how other women can be…”
“Cagey? They’re doing calculus while men are still adding and subtracting?”
Jamison smiled grimly. “I was going to use another term, but I’m fine with cagey.”
“The fact is, we need Brown if we’re going to get to the bottom of this thing. You don’t have to like her, Alex. You just have to be able to work with her.”
“After our last meeting, I think that’s going to be hard. Maybe more for her than me. I mean, I really laid it on, Decker.”
“She might have thicker skin than you think.”
“I’ll guess we’ll find out.”
Decker’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. “Maybe sooner rather than later. She just texted me. Wants to meet.”
Jamison put down her coffee cup. “Where?”
In answer he pointed out the window. “She’s waiting in the parking lot.”
*
Decker and Jamison approached the big Beemer a minute later. “Nice wheels,” observed Jamison as they drew closer.
“Very nice,” said Decker. He glanced at Jamison’s ratty subcompact parked a few spaces away. “And easier on my knees than your ride.”
“If you want me to maintain the peace, play nice,” Jamison said between clenched teeth. “You take shotgun.”
They climbed in and buckled up.
Brown said, “Sorry to drag you out on such short notice.”
“Did you hear about last night?”
“Yes. Nice catch. We’ve put out a global alert on this Alvin Jenkins. But if he made such a blatant run for it after you spooked him, he probably had a prearranged exit plan.”
“That’s what I told Bogart.”
“What do you think might be in the book?” asked Jamison from the backseat.
“It’s a bit old-fashioned, but codes in books are actually coming back into style, for one good reason. Printed books can’t be hacked. That alone justifies the return to ink and paper. I’m sure the FBI will check it for all the usual techniques.”
She put the car in drive and they sped off.
“So where are we going?” asked Decker.
Brown glanced at him before answering. “We have another murder.”
“What?” exclaimed Jamison.
“Who?” asked Decker sharply.
“It’s connected to the Dabneys.”
“Ellie, one of the daughters?” said a stunned Jamison.
“No. It was the housekeeper, Cecilia Randall.”
CHAPTER
57
THEY WERE NOT at the luxurious home of the Dabneys in tony McLean.
They were in southeast D.C., where eight of the run-down row houses would still not have equaled the square footage of the Dabneys’ mansion.