David Baldacci - The Innocent

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.

Robie 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.”

He said nothing, just kept driving. The sky was clear. Some stars were visible. Robie wasn’t looking at them. He stared ahead.

She said, “That was basically a war zone back there and it didn’t seem to have any effect on you. I’ve been in the FBI for fifteen years, right out of college. I’ve been in exactly one shootout during that time. I’ve seen my share of dead bodies after the fact. Caught my share of bad guys. Filled out my share of paperwork. Worn out witness chairs in courthouses.”

He made a left. He had no idea where he was going. He just kept driving.

“And where exactly is this trip down memory lane going, Agent Vance?”

“After you left I threw up. Couldn’t help it. Just upchucked into a trash can.”

“Nothing unusual about that. It was pretty bad.”

“You saw what I saw. And you didn’t throw up.”

He looked at her again. “You said it didn’t affect me. You don’t know that. You can’t see inside my head.”

“I wish I could. I’m pretty sure I’d find it fascinating.”

“Doubtful.”

“You triaged those people really effectively. Where did you learn to do that?”

“I just picked up some tricks over the years.”

She glanced down at his arm. “Damn, Robie, you didn’t even clean your own wound. You’re going to get gangrene.”