Michael Connelly - The Poet

I had to be careful of what I said. I didn't know if Michael Warren had already been found out or not. She was going through the satchel. She pulled out the Poe book, looked at it quizzically and threw it on the bed. She then pulled out my notebook and the sheaf of copies of the protocols. Warren had been right. She was a beautiful woman. A hard shell but beautiful just the same. About my age, maybe a year or two older, her hair was brown and falling to just above her shoulders. Sharp green eyes and the strong aura of confidence. That was what was most attractive about her.

"Breaking and entering is a crime," she said. "It came under my jurisdiction when it was determined that the documents stolen belonged to the bureau."

"I didn't break into anything and I didn't steal anything. What this is, is harassment. I've always heard that you bureau people get upset when somebody else does your job for you."

She was leaning over the bed looking through the papers. She straightened up, reached into her pocket and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag with a single sheet of paper in it. She held it up for me to look at. I recognized it as having been torn from a reporter's notebook. There were six lines written on it in black ink.

Pena: his hands? after-how long?

Wexler/Scalari: the car? heater? lock?

Riley: gloves?

I recognized my own handwriting and then it all tumbled together. Warren had torn sheets from my notebook to mark the spots of the file we had pulled. He had torn a page with old notes on it and somehow had left it behind when he returned the files. Walling must have seen the recognition in my face.

"Sloppy work. After we get the handwriting analyzed and compared, I think it'll be a slam dunk. What do you think?"

I couldn't even manage a fuck you this time.

"I'm seizing your computer, this book and your notebooks as possible evidence. If we don't need any of it, you'll get it back. Okay, we're going to go now. My car's right out front. The one thing I'm willing to do for you to show I'm not such a mean girl is take you down without the cuffs. We've got a long ride down to Virginia, though we might beat some of the traffic if we get going now. Are you going to behave? One false move, as they say, and I'll put you in the back with the cuffs on as tight as a wedding ring."

I just nodded and stood up. I was in a daze. I couldn't meet her eyes. I walked toward the door with my head down.

"Hey, what do you say?" she said to me.

I mumbled my thanks and I heard her soft laughter behind me.

She was wrong. We didn't beat the traffic. It was Friday evening. More people were trying to get out of the city than most nights and we crawled along with them as we crossed the city to get to a freeway. For a half hour neither of us spoke, except when she cursed at a traffic snarl or a red light. I was in the front seat, thinking the whole time. I had to make a call to Glenn as soon as possible. They had to get me a lawyer. A good one. I saw that the only way out was to reveal a source I had promised I would never reveal. I considered the possibility that if I called Warren he would come forward and confirm that I hadn't broken into the foundation. But I discarded it. I had made a covenant with him. I had to honor it.

When we finally made it south of Georgetown the traffic opened up a little bit and she seemed to relax, or at least remember I was in the car with her. I saw her reach into the ashtray and pull out a white card. She put the dome light on and held the card on the top of the steering wheel so she could read it while she drove.

"You have a pen?"

"What?"

"A pen. I thought all reporters carried pens."

"Yes. I have a pen."

"Good. I'm going to read you your constitutional rights."

"What rights? You've already violated most of them."

She proceeded to read from the card and then asked if I understood them. I mumbled that I did and she handed me the card.

"Okay, good. I want you to take your pen and sign and date the back of that."

I did as instructed and handed the card back. She blew on the ink until it dried and then put the card in her pocket.

"There," she said. "Now we can talk. Unless you want to call your lawyer. How'd you get into the foundation?"

"I didn't break in. That's all I can say till I talk to a lawyer."

"You saw the evidence. Are you going to say that's not yours?"

"It can be explained… Look, all I'm saying is I did nothing illegal to get those copies. I can't say anything more without revealing…"

I didn't finish. I'd said enough.

"The old can't-reveal-my-sources trick. Where were you all day today, Mr. McEvoy? I've been waiting since noon."

"I was in Baltimore."

"Doing what?"

"That's my business. You have the originals on those protocols, you can figure it out.

"The McCafferty case. You know, interfering with a federal investigation can get you charged with additional crimes."

I gave her my best fake laugh.

"Yeah, right," I said sarcastically. "What federal investigation? You'd still be down there in your office counting suicides if I hadn't talked to Ford yesterday. But that's the bureau's way, right? If it's a good idea, oh that's our idea. If it's a good case, yeah, we made that case. Meantime, it's hear no evil, see no evil and a lot of shit goes by unnoticed."

"Jesus, who died and made you the expert?"

"My brother."

She didn't see that coming and it shut her down for a few minutes. It also seemed to have the effect of breaking through the shell she surrounded herself with.

"I'm sorry about that," she finally said.

"So am I."

All the anger about what had happened to Sean welled up inside of me but I swallowed it back. She was a stranger and I couldn't share something so profoundly personal with her. I shoved it back and thought of something else to say.

"You know, you might've known him. You signed the VICAP survey and the profile he got from the bureau on his case."

"Yes, I know. But we never spoke."

"How about if you answer a question now?"

"Maybe. Go ahead."

"How did you find me?"

I was wondering if Warren had somehow put her on to me. If I could determine that he had, then all bets were off and I wasn't going to go to jail protecting the person who had set me up in the first place.

"That was the easy part," she said. "I had your name and pedigree from Dr. Ford at the foundation. He called me after your little meeting yesterday and I came up this morning. I thought it might be wise to safeguard those files and sure enough I was right. Just a little late. You do quick work. Once I found the page from a reporter's notebook, it was pretty easy to figure out you'd been there."

"I didn't break in there."

"Well, everyone associated with the project denies talking to you. In fact, Dr. Ford specifically remembers telling you that you could not have access to the files until the bureau signed off on it. And funny thing, here you are with the files."

"And how'd you know I was at the Hilton? Was that written on a piece of paper for you, too?"

"Bluffed your city editor like he was a copy boy. I told him I had important information for you and he told me where you were."

I smiled but turned and looked out the window so she wouldn't see it. She had just made a mistake that was as telling as if she had said outright that Warren had revealed where I was.

"They don't call them copy boys anymore," I said. "It's politically incorrect."

"Copy person?"

"Close enough."

With a straight face I looked over at her for the first time while in the car. I felt myself making a comeback. The confidence she had so expertly stomped into the bedspread in the hotel room was getting a second life. Now I was playing her.

"I thought you people always worked in twos," I said.