CHAPTER
37
THEY ROSE THE NEXT MORNING, took turns showering, and had cups of coffee, orange juice, and buttered toast. While Vance was finishing dressing in her bedroom Robie sent Julie a one-word text.
Good?
He counted the seconds until she texted him back. There were only ten of them.
Her text was equally terse.
Good.
He stretched out his wounded arm and checked the bandage. Vance had done a good job rewrapping it after he’d finished showering.
A few minutes later he and Vance settled into her BMW. Neither spoke as they drove toward D.C. The traffic sucked, the horns blared, and Robie could tell that once or maybe twice Vance had been sorely tempted to trot out her fancy blue grille lights and maybe even her gun.
“Robie, I would appreciate if you didn’t mention you stayed at my place last night. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea. And some of the guys I work with could really make something out of nothing with it.”
“I don’t talk to people about the weather, much less where I spent the night.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shot him a glance. “I hope you didn’t think I invited you to stay for some reason other than a place to sleep.”
“Never crossed my mind, Agent Vance. You don’t strike me as the type.”
“You don’t strike me as the type either.”
“I need to pick up a fresh set of wheels.”
“You want me to drop you by DCIS?”
“There’s a car rental place on M Street near Seventeenth. Drop me there.”
“What, DCIS can’t spring for fresh wheels for one of its own?”
“What they have is crap. Probably hand-me-downs from the Bureau. I’ll get my own.”
“FBI doesn’t do things that way.”
“FBI has a budget that allows for that. DCIS doesn’t. You’re the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. We’re the underfed chimpanzee.”
She drove to the rental place on M.
Robie got out.
“Do you want to meet me at Donnelly’s?” she asked.
“I’ll get there, I’m just not sure when,” he said.
“Other things to do?” she answered in a surprised tone.
“Some things to think about,” he said. “Some things to dig into.”
“Care to share?”
“A mom and kid dead. A bus blown up. A shooter trying to take you or me or both of us down. I’ll call you when I’m on my way to Donnelly’s,” he added.
He walked into the rental place and requested an Audi. They didn’t have one, so he took a Volvo instead. The rental agent told him that Volvos were very safe cars.
Not around me they’re not, thought Robie as he pulled out his license and credit card.
“How long will you be needing the car?” asked the agent.
“Let’s just leave it open,” said Robie.
The man blanched. “We actually need to have a turn-in date from you and the place where it will be returned.”
“Los Angeles, California, two weeks from today,” said Robie promptly.
“You’re going to drive to California?” said the agent. “You know, a plane is a lot faster.”
“Yeah, but not nearly as much fun.”
Ten minutes later he sped out of the rental garage in his very safe silver Volvo two-door.
What had scared him the most about last night was not nearly being killed or seeing others die. It was Julie. The feeling in his gut when he’d thought something had happened to her. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like someone else having that much power over him. He’d spent most of his life getting rid of those ties and avoiding any new ones.
He drove faster, pushing his nice, safe Volvo probably beyond its comfort zone.
That appealed to Robie.
He didn’t much like comfort zones, his or anyone else’s.
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Blue Man needed to meet with him again. Right now.
I bet you do, thought Robie.