Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(7)

It was after seven by the time the train rolled through Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much to work out in my head about what I was going to do once I got to DC. I needed more information. In short, I needed a lead.

Once I arrived in DC, I felt like I’d overcome a major obstacle. At a car rental kiosk, I immediately discovered another one. The only vehicle available was a purple Toyota Prius.

I looked to the upbeat and friendly young guy behind the counter in his white shirt and polyester red company logo tie and said, “Do you really expect me to fit in that?”

He took a moment to look me up and down before answering, “I know for a fact you’ll fit. I will make no comment on how comfortable you will be. You don’t have to take it. But good luck finding any other options around here.”

A few minutes later, I had the seat of my purple Prius as far back as it would go and still felt like I was driving a golf cart.

Thank God all I had was my small bag and a coat. Now I just had to find Emily Parker.

I called Roberta Herring, who proposed we meet at some swanky Mediterranean restaurant in the city center that was one of her regular hangouts.

She laughed and said, “It’s funny. I haven’t worked with you in at least twenty years, and we’re in entirely different cities, but you never change. You say you’re going to do something and there’s no downtime between decision and action.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Clearly you’ve never dealt with anyone in Washington, DC. No one makes a decision, and no one takes much action. You’re going to stir up shit whether you mean to or not. And usually you mean to.”

She had me there. I did intend to stir up shit if needed.





Chapter 9



I got settled in the hotel I’d reserved during my train ride and made a quick call home. It didn’t seem to have hit Mary Catherine yet that I was going to be gone for a while. I let her stay cheerful, and that put me in a good mood.

Just as we were ending the call, Mary Catherine said, “Michael.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Please be careful. I know you’re not technically on duty, but I worry about you every day. Not just the days you go to a job where people want to kill you.”

“I’m in the new DC,” I told Mary Catherine. Like most big cities, DC had its clearly delineated neighborhoods. The Capitol Hill area was next to up-and-coming Eastern Market and one of the ritziest areas in the city. “It’s like the new Times Square. Much more family friendly.”

What I didn’t mention was that the people who lived here rarely acknowledged disadvantaged neighborhoods like Brentwood or Anacostia. No one wanted visitors from the outside.

After riding in the cramped Prius, I didn’t mind waiting at the front of a Mediterranean restaurant on Eighth Street named Cava Mezze.

Roberta swept into the place like a tropical storm in a patterned pantsuit and pumps that drew her five-foot-ten, broad-shouldered frame to a commanding presence that topped six feet. A couple of people greeted her in the entryway and led us to our table.

Once seated, Roberta ordered a bottle of Montes Folly Syrah. I looked around the crowded restaurant and said, “This is a notch or two above the places I eat when I’m traveling solo.”

“Don’t sweat it. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

“I can’t let you treat. You’re doing me a favor.”

“Actually, you’re doing me a favor. As soon as I heard about a missing female FBI agent, I worried they wouldn’t have the right agent to look for her. You know that at any agency there’s always that one right investigator who can get shit done. Now, instead of me worrying, you show up. And I know you’re the right investigator.”

I was speechless at what had to be the biggest compliment she had ever given me. Maybe the biggest compliment she had ever given anyone.

Then Roberta said, “Besides, after my last divorce, and being at the top of the federal pay scale, I don’t even look at prices anymore. If I’d been smarter when I was younger, I would’ve married a plumber the first time instead of a mail carrier.”

We both laughed.

Roberta leaned in and said, “It’s a shame our jobs take such a toll on our families. Everyone talks about the divorce rate among cops, but they never look at why. Maybe because we spend so much time protecting everyone else’s family, it’s hard to focus on our own.”

“You may have been married a few times, but Joey is doing well at Howard, isn’t he?”

“He’s doing fine, and I’m happy he’s studying here in DC, though unless he’s got laundry or needs money, I don’t count on many visits.”

We caught up with family news for a few more minutes, then I had to get serious. “Have you been able to follow up on any of the rumors you’ve heard about Emily? I’m looking for any available leads.”

“According to my casual inquiries, she was definitely involved with the newest Supreme Court justice, Robert Steinberg. He’s only a little older than Emily. It looks like he might have known her since she started at the FBI. There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s married.” She paused for effect. “To the daughter of Lom Wellmy.”