Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(19)

I waited on the museum steps. Looking through the windows, I could see the lunar module LM-2 sitting directly under the Spirit of St. Louis. I’d have to check this place out when I had more time.

I could see Roberta strolling toward me from almost a hundred yards away. I felt a little like a spy, checking each way for countersurveillance.

Before she even sat down, Roberta said, “I can tell when you’re jumpy. I knew that the news of Emily’s death would hit you hard, but I’m sensing something else.”

I told her about my visit from the DC police as well as my run-in with The Burning Land.

Roberta smiled and shook her head. “He peed right on your back?”

All I could do was nod.

She chuckled. “I’d hate to be him in the near future.” She looked out over the pedestrians walking in front of the museum, which was an hour from opening. “The DC Special Investigations cops who tried to scare you are sharp and hardworking, but they don’t play particularly well with others.”

I went over a few things I’d figured out. Nothing that was going to help nail Emily’s killer.

Roberta said, “I’ve been listening to gossip. Something I don’t normally do. Anytime I hear someone mention Emily Parker, I pay a little extra attention. It looks like she did have a wild side. The three names I hear the most are Justice Steinberg, an oil lobbyist named Minshew, and the congressman from—”

“Delaware. And his name is Marty Bryant.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Sometimes I forget you’re smart enough to keep your mouth shut and your own ears open. Those seem like three pretty solid leads. I’m confident you can do something with them.”





Chapter 24



An hour into my research on Congressman Marty Bryant, Bobby Patel called me. He filled me in on Emily’s autopsy. Her cause of death was strangulation. They figured she’d been in the water more than seventy-two hours. I didn’t ask questions or engage him at all. I just couldn’t.

I threw myself into researching Congressman Bryant, then decided to take my chances and try to see him at his office on the Capitol campus.

I went through the public entrance to the Longworth House Office Building. I showed my ID to a Capitol Police officer next to the metal detector. We chatted for a few minutes about how police work is similar wherever you go. The young man, freshly out of the army and built like an Olympic swimmer, personally led me to the congressman’s office. The helpful officer even introduced me to the congressman’s assistant.

I don’t know if the assistant was confused by my escort, but I got immediate attention. She hustled into the inner office, then motioned me to come in. I’ll admit to being momentarily stunned when I stepped through the doorway.

The office of this second-term congressman was as plush and well decorated as any CEO’s office at a major corporation. Dark walnut furniture, bookshelves that lined each wall, two seventy-plus-inch flat-screen TVs built into the wall. I noticed one was playing Fox News and the other was playing CNN.

As I regained my composure, I focused on the six-foot-tall congressman. He strode from behind his desk and had a broad smile on his face. I noticed his World Wildlife Fund tie. I knew exactly what the panda meant. A coalition of my younger kids bought me a different World Wildlife Fund tie each Christmas.

I shook the congressman’s hand as he said, “What can I do for one of NYPD’s finest? I was in the army, and I know how tough your job can be. Got an idea for a crime bill?”

“No, sir. It’s more of a personal matter.”

The congressman gave me a closer look and studied my face. “Have we met?”

I shook my head. “I’m looking into Emily Parker’s death.”

That froze the congressman in place. It also shut down his manufactured friendly facade.

I didn’t mind the awkward silence. Sometimes that works in a cop’s favor. Make someone uncomfortable and they might blurt out something incriminating. He looked at me with his intelligent brown eyes. He was about my age, but it seemed like the job might be putting unnecessary wear and tear on him.

Congressman Bryant looked over to his assistant, who was still standing in the doorway. The middle-aged woman didn’t say a word.

The congressman managed to say, “I-I don’t understand. Why is an NYPD detective involved in a case in Washington, DC? Why would you want to talk to me?” Now his voice sounded more like a little kid’s.

I waited a moment before I replied. Then I said, “It’s a joint investigation. And I heard you were close with Emily.”

Panicked wasn’t quite the right word to describe the congressman. I think stricken was a better descriptor. He had no idea what to do next. Congressman Bryant gave his assistant another look. She calmly took a step back and closed the double doors to the inner office.

The congressman staggered back and plopped into an overstuffed leather chair that looked like it had come from the White House.

I took an identical chair directly across from him. He still didn’t say much. He looked up at me for a moment but couldn’t meet my eyes. I was starting to wonder if his relationship with Emily had been serious. Serious enough for him to have done something drastic if it wasn’t going his way.

Finally, the congressman took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. You caught me a little off guard. I was very upset to hear they found Emily’s body. But I really can’t add anything to the investigation. We were just friends.”