The Second Girl(14)

I peer through the curtains. The car’s still there. I take out my container of coke and dump a nice pile onto the blue glass top of the end table near the curtains. I chop it up with a razor blade and make three long lines, snort one of them with a rolled-up twenty, then light a cigarette. One more look out the window, and then I lean back to finish the cigarette.

I’ll have to get with Davidson today, but first I gotta finish this smoke, a couple more lines, and then dump the body.





Eleven



I used to make time for fishing. Nowadays, it’s not even a passing thought—until now, but that’s because I’m driving along 295 and the Potomac River’s with me. South along 295, it’ll cut a path through Virginia to the west and Maryland to the east. North, which is the direction I’m going, the highway will take a turn to follow the Anacostia, a river that empties into the Potomac at a place known as Buzzard Point. I’ll drive a little farther, toward the Navy Yard and a secluded spot I know near there.

I used to have a jon boat. It had two swivel seats for sitting while fishing. I kept it stored on a trailer at the rear of my house before I had a fence. I’d take it out two, sometimes three times a month back when I was still on the department and before I got myself caught up with all this shit. Good bass fishing along parts of the Potomac. Not where I’m driving, though. The Anacostia is a filthy river.

I take an exit for a road that swerves around and back under 295, then across the Anacostia. A couple more turns and I’m on a gravel road that leads to a wooded area along the river’s banks. No traffic along here. No thugs either, no crackheads or even homeless people, just a trash-ridden landscape that spills into the river.

When I get to the spot, I park and light a cigarette. I scan the area around me and lean back to finish my smoke.

I step out of the car, scrunch the rest of the cigarette into the ground, open the rear hatch, and pull the suitcase out of the back.

I hold the handle with two hands, swing it out, and let go. It tumbles down an incline, bounces a few times, and splashes into the water a couple of feet off the bank.

It floats and gurgles as it begins to fill with water. The current will carry it out. This part of the river is deep. The suitcase will eventually sink. But I won’t lose sleep if it takes its time. It’s just another foul thing that found its way into the river to get swallowed up by the muck.

When I get back onto 295, I give Davidson a call.

After two rings he answers. “’Bout time you called, Frank,” he says, obviously having recognized my number or saved my name to it.

“A demanding client,” is what I come up with.

“Well, my boss is pretty demanding, too. Needless to say, they’re all over this. Your boys at Narcotics Branch are giving us a hand, too.”

“They’re good people,” I say, referring to McGuire and Luna.

“They got a surveillance vehicle sitting on the block now. No sign of these boys, but the car’s there.”

“That means they’re around.”

“According to one of the surveillance officers, it looks like someone broke into the house. You know anything about that?”

“You know I do, Davidson. How do you think I got the girl outta there?”

“Frank, you’re turning my write-up into a damn novel.”

“Exigent circumstances, brother.” Before he can reply I ask, “Where you at now?”

“Sitting in my cruiser at a staging area a couple blocks away. Probably going to have to call it soon and go in.”

“When do you want to meet?”

“I can’t say right now. For all I know I’ll be working through the night. I will need to get a statement from you at the latest by tomorrow. But keep your phone on for me, okay? Things might change. And by the way, is there anything else you might want to fill me in on, like maybe about your client?”

“You’ll get everything I have when I see you. I’m not gonna leave you in the dark.”

“You do that, Frank. Otherwise I’ll have to go through the hassle of a grand jury, subpoenas, and all that crap.”

“Well, we don’t want that happening.”

I hear radio chatter from his end.

“Copy,” he says off to the side, then, “I gotta go. Keep your phone on.” He disconnects.

I set the phone in a cup holder in the center console.

“Damn, I’m gonna need a good story,” I say to myself, and then light a cigarette.





Twelve



All I want to do right now is go home, tuck myself away for the rest of the day and through the night, but I gotta smooth things over with Leslie. I know how angry she must be. It’s not the first time, but even with all the baggage I carry, which I know can affect any friendship or business relationship, I’ve never done something this stupid. I don’t really know what I can do to fix it except to say I’m sorry and it won’t happen again. I certainly can’t tell her the truth. Hell, I’m so good at keeping that part of my life a secret even I believe what I say half the time.

Maybe I’ll give her a part truth and tell her I’m an alcoholic. But no, we both enjoy drinking too much, and I don’t want to give up that part of our relationship.

I shoot Leah a smile when I enter.