The Second Girl(48)

I pull into the space he parked in before.

I pick up his iPhone again. It powers on. I find his contacts.

“I see your boy Angelo in here.”

“Please, sir, don’t call him.”

“You wanna go back to the f*cking river?”

He shakes his head.

“Shut up, then.”

I get my notebook and copy down the number, then continue scrolling and find numbers for Andrés, Edgar’s smoking buddy Greg Thomas, and then José. I don’t find a number for Amanda or Miriam. Maybe he had enough sense to delete them, or maybe he just keeps them on torn pieces of paper, like Justine. Was she going to be next on the list?

He’s got so many names in here I’m tempted to keep the iPhone. I don’t want to f*ck up Davidson’s case, ’cause I know he’ll take it, and that’s what’ll connect Edgar to Angelo and company.

“You got Little Monster’s number in here?”

“No, sir. I told you I won’t mess with that guy.”

Cell phones are gold, and as much as I don’t want to stick around this parking lot with this handcuffed mutt in the front seat, I take a little time and go through it. I copy down all the numbers with a 202 area code, and a few others that look interesting.

When I’m done, I set the iPhone in the cup holder in the center console.

“Lean down,” I order him.

He obeys. I release him from the handcuffs. There’s blood around his wrists.

“Don’t even get outta the car, just slide over when I exit. You roll out right away and go home. I have nothing better to do tonight, so I might set up at your house to make sure you’re still there.”

I open the door and step out. I watch him as he slides over. He doesn’t look at me, just skids in reverse and heads out. I wait until I see him make a left turn on the parkway and then walk back to my car.

I wait in the car for about an hour, passing the time listening to the radio and snorting a few lines. In that time, a couple of people have walked from the rec center to their cars and left. When I’m comfortable, I leave. Once I get to the light at the parkway, I ease out to look in both directions. No vehicles are parked off the road. A few cars roll by in both directions, but nothing that appears sketchy. I know he won’t be around. He’s too scared and probably at home locked in his bedroom, wearing a clean pair of shorts and sneaking a peek out the window every so often to see if any strange cars are parked in front of his house.





Forty-three



I need to pace myself, or I’ll crash. I’ve crashed into that wall of hysterics before and it ain’t fun.

I take it easy when I get home and snort only about a quarter. When I start to come down, I take a couple of 10mg Klonopins with a double shot of vodka, go to bed, and wait.

My mind is racing and keeps me up most of the night. Can’t stop thinking about Leslie, and then of course there’s the case and all that has to be done. Most of the cases I pick up are simple. You hit the street, knock on doors and try to find good witnesses, maybe take a few photos or reinterview key witnesses. It’s not like what I used to do during a narcotics investigation. That’s what this case is like. I don’t miss having to search cell phones in an effort to locate certain players and then figuring out how to okeydoke them after. Luna was good at that shit. I was good at interview and interrogation, fieldwork, and kicking in doors. Role-playing or having to okeydoke someone plays a smaller part in what I do now. Most of the time I have to do it out of necessity or to save my ass.

When I wake up, I don’t remember falling asleep.

My cell phone’s ringing.

I unplug it from the charger on my nightstand, clear my throat, and answer, “Frank Marr.”

“Mr. Marr, this is Detective Shawn Caine, with the Fairfax County Police Department.”

I check my clock for the time.

Not even eight thirty yet.

“Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No. What can I do for you?” I ask, even though I already know why he’s calling.

“Mr. Gregory gave me your phone number. I’m the detective assigned to their daughter’s case. I was also working the Amanda Meyer investigation. That was very good what you did there, getting her home safely. I wanted to reach out to you, see what it is you’re up to with respect to Miriam Gregory.”

“What it is I’m up to?” He’s fishing, and the last thing I’m gonna do is pass on information. That is, unless doing so would somehow benefit me.

I know exactly how and why a cop does this. They got rules and a special way of doing things. I’m not saying I always followed the rules back then, but nowadays I don’t have to follow them at all. Probable cause isn’t something I have to worry about anymore. These detectives do, and that’s what can mess things up for me.

“Well, Detective, that’s confidential information, but I know you have a job to do, so Mr. Gregory would be the one to talk to about what I’m up to.”

“I know all about PI confidentiality. Mr. Gregory said he hasn’t heard from you so he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“When I have information I think he should know, he’ll be the first one I call.”

“Listen, it’s the family’s right to do what they want with their money. If they want to give it away, then that’s their call, but it seems to me all you’ve been doing is making the same rounds I’ve already made. And the last thing I need is you interfering with an ongoing investigation.”