David Baldacci - The Innocent

“That sounds like a line from some stupid movie.”

“It may sound like it, but that’s exactly how you feel.”

“You know a lot about that?”

“What do you think?” he said stiffly.

She glanced away and rubbed her hands nervously together.

She said, “Could it be that this Wind guy told something to the Broomes, who told something to my parents?”

“Yes, it could. In fact, that’s my most promising line of investigation.”

“And you’re doing this part with super agent Vance?”

Robie didn’t answer her.

“So you’re not working with her on this?”

“I’m working with her on part of this.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“Do you?” Robie asked.

“I want to be part of it too.”

“You are. You’ve been helping me.”

“But I want to help more.”

“You mean you want to find the people responsible and kill them?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. But you have to think it through.”

“Will you help me kill them? I know you can.”

“You need to go back to bed,” he said quietly.

“The kid gets in the way, right? That’s what you’re figuring, isn’t it? Put me in that box?”

“I’m not going to be a part of putting you in any box, least of all a coffin.”

Julie visibly stiffened at this comment.

He said slowly, “What you have to get is that this is not a game, Julie. It’s not a movie, TV show, or PlayStation crap. You want to kill them. Fine, I get that. It’s natural. But you’re not a killer. You hate them, but you won’t be able to kill them when it comes to it. But keep one thing in mind.”

“What’s that?” she asked in a strained voice.

“They want you dead. And when they get the chance, they won’t hesitate for a second. You’ll be dead. And there’s no reset button to hit.”

“What if I told you I don’t care?”

“I’d say you’re young and think you’re immortal.”

“I know I’m going to die one day. The only question is when and how.”

“And the answers should be eight decades from now and peacefully in your sleep.”

“That’s not how life works. At least not my life.”

“It’s not smart to be thinking that way.”

“Look who’s talking. You don’t exactly lead a cautious life.”

“My choice.”

“That’s my point. It is a choice. My choice.”

She got up and walked back to her room.

Robie just sat there, staring at the spot where she’d been.

It was two A.M. and Robie had been asleep for exactly one hour and then his eyes opened. He knew from long experience that it was useless to just lie there. He got up, padded into the living room of his home away from home, and went over to the window. D.C. was asleep now, at least the ordinary citizens of the city. However, there was a vast world here that never slept. They were highly trained, highly motivated people who rose to the occasion during the nighttime to keep their fellow citizens safe from harm.

Robie knew this because he happened to be one of those folks. It was not always so. He’d grown into the job over the years. That did not mean he liked it.

He put his eye to the telescope. The building across the street came into tight focus. He maneuvered the scope up to his floor. There were no lights on except for one.

Annie Lambert was on the move. Robie watched as she walked from her bedroom to the kitchen. She was dressed in black tights and a football jersey that came down to her mid-thighs. A New England Patriots jersey, he noted. That would not be too popular in D.C., where the Redskins were the favorite NFL team. But she was from Connecticut and the woman was in the privacy of her own home.

Some privacy, he thought guiltily. But he continued to watch.

She pulled out a book from a shelf against the wall, sat down, and opened it. She read and spooned yogurt into her mouth.

He was not the only one tonight with insomnia.

He felt embarrassed to be watching her again. He told himself it was for professional reasons. But that wasn’t true.

He pulled out the business card she had given him. Before he could reconsider his decision he called her cell phone. He watched through the telescope as she put the book down, reached over, and snagged her phone off a table.

“Hello?”

“It’s Will.”

He watched as she sat up straighter and put the spoon down. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I’m just sitting here eating yogurt.”

“Fast metabolism? Cheeseburger’s already worn off?”

“Something like that.”

Robie paused and gazed at her through the scope. She was twisting one strand of hair with her finger, her feet curled up under her. He felt his palms moisten and his throat get crusty. He felt like he was back in high school about to talk with the girl he had a crush on.

He said, “You know, there’s a nice view from the top of our building. Ever been up there?”

“I didn’t think you could get up there. Isn’t it locked or something?”

“No problems with locks if you have a key.”

“You have a key?” she asked. Her voice was tinged with the girlish glee of having been told a cool secret.

“How about I meet you at the stairwell in ten minutes?”

“Really? You’re serious?”

“I don’t call people at two a.m. unless I’m serious.”

“You’re on.”

She clicked off and Robie watched in amusement as she leapt up and raced down the hall, presumably to change her clothes.

Nine minutes later he was standing at the entrance to the stairwell when she hurried up to him.

She had changed into a knee-length skirt and blouse and sandals. She had brought a sweater too, because it was a little chilly outside.

She said, “Reporting for duty, sir.”

“Let’s do it,” replied Robie.

He led her up the stairs. When they came to the locked door to the roof he pulled out his pick tools and in a short time the door swung open.

“That wasn’t a key,” she said, smiling in admiration at his skill. “You just picked the lock.”

“A pick is a key by another name. That’s as close to poetic as I’ll ever get.”

She followed him up a short flight of stairs and through another doorway. The rooftop was flat and coated with a sealed asphalt top coat. It radiated a slight warmth.

Robie pulled out a bottle of wine from under his jacket.

“Hope you like red.”

“I love red. Are we going to take turns chugging from the bottle?”

From his pocket he produced two plastic wineglasses.

He uncorked the bottle and poured out the wine.

They stood by the edge of the roof and rested their arms and glasses on the chest-high wall of the building.

“It is a beautiful view,” said Lambert. “I guess I never thought about there being one from here. I just look out my window and see the building across the street.”

Robie felt a pang of guilt as he thought about his vantage point from that building into her apartment. “Every place has a view,” he said hesitantly. “Some are just better than others.”

“Hey, that was poetic,” she said nudging him with her elbow.

The wind blew gently across them as they sipped their wine and talked. The conversation was innocuous and yet helped to deliver a bit of a respite, of peace, to Robie. He had no time to be doing something like this, which was one reason why it was so important to do it.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” said Lambert.

“I’ve come up here before, but not with anyone else.”

“I feel honored, then,” she said. She looked out once more at the surrounding area. “It seems like this would be a good place to come and think.”