The Innocent (19 page)

And nothing happened.

The MP-5 muzzle disappeared, the window slid up, and the SUV roared off.

Robie was up in an instant, slapping in a fresh mag and chasing the SUV down the street, firing at its backside and hitting it squarely in the ass. He nailed the rear tires.

Again, there was nothing.

But then Robie saw the windows of a Honda parked at the curb explode and the branch of a tree fall down, and he stopped firing. The SUV turned the corner and was gone.

Robie looked at the Honda’s shattered glass, the car’s alarm going off. And then he gazed over at the tree branch that had been shot off, probably by his ricochet.

He pulled out his car keys and was about to run to his Audi, which was parked two cars down from the Honda. But when he saw the shot-out tires on his car he put the keys away.

He heard running feet, turned toward them, knelt, and aimed.

“It’s me!” screamed Vance, her gun out but held in a surrender position.

Robie stood, holstered his weapon, and walked toward her.

“What the hell was that?” exclaimed Vance.

“Call it in. We need to get that SUV.”

“I already did. But do you know how many black SUVs are around here? Did you get a plate number?”

“They had it blacked out.”

Sirens had started up. They heard more running feet. Down the block Capitol Hill police officers were rushing their way, guns drawn.

Robie looked back at the restaurant. People were slowly getting to their feet. But not all of them. He saw dark liquid pooling on the street. Inside the restaurant he heard screams and people sobbing.

There were casualties. Many. Bad ones.

“How many?” asked Robie.

She looked where he was. “I’m not sure. Two outside are dead. Three wounded. Maybe more inside. There were a lot of people behind that window. I called for ambulances.”

Vance looked at the screeching Honda. “Did you do that?”

“Ricochet from my weapon,” said Robie.

“Ricochet? Off the SUV? Your rounds should have easily penetrated.”

“I hit it a total of seventeen times,” said Robie. “Tires, windows, body. Ricochets, all of them. The Honda. The tree branch. I’ve probably got slugs all over the place here.”

“But that means—” began a palefaced Vance.

Robie finished for her: “—that the SUV was armored and had run-flat tires.”

She looked at him. “Those sorts of vehicles in D.C. aren’t that plentiful outside certain circles.”

“Mostly our own government’s.”

“So were they aiming to kill you, me, or both of us?” asked Vance.

“Shooter had an MP-5 set on full auto. That tends to be an indiscriminate weapon. Designed to kill everything in the zone.”

She looked at his arm and flinched. “Robie, you’re shot.”

He looked down at the blood on his upper arm. “It didn’t go in. Just a graze.”

“You’re still bleeding. A lot. I’ll call you an ambulance too.”

His voice was hard and fast. “Forget the ambulance, Vance. We need that SUV.”

She said coldly, “I told you, I already called it in. I’ve got my guys and MPD looking for it. It must have some dings on it from your rounds. Maybe that’ll help.”

Robie and Vance jogged back to the restaurant. Ignoring the obvious dead, he went from one wounded to the next, quickly triaging and stopping the bleeding with whatever was handy while Vance assisted. The Capitol Hill police joined in his effort.

When ambulances showed up and paramedics poured out, Robie left the wounded to them and walked across the street to check out his Audi. He saw the holes in the body. MP-5 rounds. Not ricochets from his pistol. They’d had another shooter on this side. That was not good. That meant they knew his vehicle.

Had they followed him here? If so…

He turned and ran back to Vance, who was talking to two MPD officers.

Robie interrupted. “Vance, can I borrow your wheels?”

“What?” she said, looking at him.

“Your car. I need to go somewhere right now. It’s important.”

She looked flustered, while the cops eyed Robie with suspicion.

Vance must’ve noted this because she said, “He’s with me.” She pulled out her keys. “Parked around the corner. Silver BMW convertible. Obviously my personal ride.”

“Thanks.”

“So be careful with it.”

“I’m always careful.

She dubiously eyed his shot-up Audi. “Right. But how am I going to get home?”

“I’ll come back and get you. I shouldn’t be long. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

He started to run off.

She called after him, “And please get your arm looked at.”

She watched him for a few moments before one of the cops said, “Um, Agent Vance?”

She glanced back, embarrassed, and continued filling them in.

R
OBIE SLID INTO
the Beemer, started it, and peeled off. As he drove he called the phone he had left Julie. She didn’t answer.

Shit!

He punched it. Driving this fast in town, even at this late hour, was problematic. Traffic and lots of lights. And lots of cops.

But then he had a thought. Vance seemed the highly efficient type. That meant…

He looked over the dashboard. Then he saw the box under the steering column. It had been an add-on, obviously.

I love you, Agent Vance.

He hit the switch and blue grille lights were activated and a siren started blaring. He ran four red lights and shot across town so fast it would’ve made a kick-ass commercial for the German car company. Within minutes he found himself tearing down the street where his apartment was located. A couple of times he saw cops in cars glance suspiciously at the Beemer with police lights, but they let him go.

He parked on a side street, jumped out, and zigzagged his way on foot to the building where he’d left Julie. He took the stairs two at a time. He raced down the hall. He’d texted her twice on the way over and had gotten no response. He eyed the door. No forced entry. He pulled his gun, slid the key in the door, and eased it open.

The front room was dark. He did not hear the beep of the alarm. That was not good.

He closed the door behind him. He moved into the room, his gun swiveling in a defensive arc.

He didn’t call out, because he didn’t know who else might be in here.

He heard a noise and moved quietly into the shadows.

The footfalls were heading his way. He pointed his gun, ready to fire.

The light came on. He stepped out.

Julie screamed. “What the hell?” she gasped, holding her chest. “Are you trying to give me a freaking heart attack?”

She was dressed in pajamas and her hair was wet.

“You were in the shower?” he asked.

“Yeah. Am I the only person in the world who likes to be clean?”

“I called and texted.”

“Water and electronics don’t mix, so I’ve heard.” She picked up her phone off the coffee table. “Do you want me to text you back now?”

“I was worried.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t exactly take the phone in the shower.”

“Next time, at least take it to the bathroom. Why wasn’t the alarm on?”

“I went down to the lobby to get a newspaper. I was going to set it before I went to sleep.”

“A newspaper? I didn’t think your generation read old-fashioned newspapers.”

“I like information.”

“All right, but I want you to keep the alarm on all the time.”

“Fine. But why were you so freaked about me?” She stopped and glanced at his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

He rubbed the spot. “I cut myself.”

“Through your jacket?”

“Forget about it,” he said sharply. “Did you notice anything suspicious tonight after I left?”

She noted the strain on his face and said, “Tell me what happened, Will.”

“I think I was followed. But I don’t know from what point. If from here, it’s not good, for obvious reasons.”

“I saw or heard nothing suspicious. If someone wanted to get me, they had their chance.”

Robie looked down and saw that he still had his gun out. He holstered it and looked around. “Everything okay? You need anything?”

“I’m great. I did my homework, ate a healthy dinner, brushed my teeth, and said my prayers. I’m good to go,” she added sarcastically. She pulled a piece of paper from a pocket on her pajama top and handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“The assignment you gave me? Anything weird in the last couple weeks? I also put down the addresses of the places where my mom and dad worked. Things I know about their past. Friends they had. Things they used to do. I thought it might be useful.”

Robie gazed down at the precise handwriting on the page and nodded. “It will be useful.”

“Who shot you?”

He instinctively glanced at his arm and then at her.

“I’ve seen people shot before,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s just sort of the world I grew up in.”

“I don’t know who did it,” answered Robie. “But I intend on finding out.”

“Does this have to do with that woman and her kid getting killed?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“But then you strike me as the kind of guy who might have lots of enemies for lots of different reasons.”

“Maybe I do.”

“But you’re still going to help me find out who killed my mom and dad, right?”

“I said I would.”

“Okay,” she said. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Yeah.”

“You can stay if you want. It won’t freak me out.”

“I’ve got some things to do tonight.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll set the alarm on my way out.”

“Thanks.”

She took her phone, turned, and walked down the hallway. He heard the bedroom door lock behind her. He set the alarm, locked the door behind him, and left.

Robie was pissed.

He was getting played. That he knew.

He just didn’t know who was doing it.

R
OBIE PULLED TO
the curb and watched Vance finish up with the local cops and some of her people. Ambulances were everywhere and people were being loaded into the back of the rescue vehicles that would take them to local hospitals to treat their injuries.

They were the lucky ones. They were still alive. The dead stayed right where they had dropped, as people investigated their murders. The only act of privacy and respect was to drape a white sheet over the body. Other than that, people who an hour before were alive and enjoying a beer were now nothing more than pieces in a criminal investigation puzzle.

As Vance finished with the last cop, Robie honked the horn and she looked at him. She walked to the Beemer and checked it over as he rolled down the passenger window.

“If there’s even one ding on this car your ass is mine,” she declared but her expression showed she wasn’t being serious.

“You want me to drive?” he asked. “Or you want the wheel?”

She answered by getting into the passenger seat. “I’m having your ride towed to the FBI garage. It’s officially evidence.”

“Great, then I don’t have a car.”

“DCIS has a motor pool. Get one from there.”

“They probably have some Ford Pintos sitting around. I preferred my Audi.”

“Ain’t life a bitch?”

“What was the final count?” he asked quietly.

She exhaled a long breath. “Four dead. Seven wounded, three of them critically, so the death count could go higher.”

“The black SUV?”

“Disappeared without the proverbial trace.” She sat back against the seat and closed her eyes. “Where did you go that was so important?”

“I needed to check on something.”

“What? Or who?”

“Just something.”

“Need to know and I don’t?” She opened her eyes and stared at him. He didn’t answer. She looked down at the box under the steering column.

“I take it you found my grille light add-on.”

“It came in handy.”

“Who are you really?”

“Will Robie. DCIS. Just like the badge and ID card says.”

“You handled yourself well back there. I was still fumbling for my gun while you emptied your mag at the shooters. Cool and collected with bullets flying past.”