The Innocent (20 page)

He said nothing, just kept driving. The sky was clear. Some stars were visible. Robie wasn’t looking at them. He stared ahead.

She said, “That was basically a war zone back there and it didn’t seem to have any effect on you. I’ve been in the FBI for fifteen years, right out of college. I’ve been in exactly one shootout during that time. I’ve seen my share of dead bodies after the fact. Caught my share of bad guys. Filled out my share of paperwork. Worn out witness chairs in courthouses.”

He made a left. He had no idea where he was going. He just kept driving.

“And where exactly is this trip down memory lane going, Agent Vance?”

“After you left I threw up. Couldn’t help it. Just upchucked into a trash can.”

“Nothing unusual about that. It was pretty bad.”

“You saw what I saw. And you didn’t throw up.”

He looked at her again. “You said it didn’t affect me. You don’t know that. You can’t see inside my head.”

“I wish I could. I’m pretty sure I’d find it fascinating.”

“Doubtful.”

“You triaged those people really effectively. Where did you learn to do that?”

“I just picked up some tricks over the years.”

She glanced down at his arm. “Damn, Robie, you didn’t even clean your own wound. You’re going to get gangrene.”

“Where are we going?”

“First stop, WFO,” she said, referring to the Washington Field Office.

“After that?”

“Hospital for you.”

“No.”

“Robie!”

“No.”

“Okay, we can drive to your place. But I insist on getting your wound cleaned up there. I can grab some stuff from WFO. Then I can head home and try to get a couple hours’ sleep. Where do you live?”

He said nothing, but he hung a right and then another right and headed to the WFO.

“So you know the way to the Field Office?”

“No, I’m just making an educated guess.”

“Where do you live? Or is that classified too?”

“We can part company at the WFO. I’ll cab it from there.”

“Do you
have
a place to live?” she asked.

“I’ll find one.”

“For Godsakes, what is going on with you?”

“I’m just trying to do my
job.
”

The emphasis on the last word made her visibly react. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay. Look, after WFO we can go to my place. I live in Virginia. Condo in Alexandria. You can get cleaned up there. And if you want you’re welcome to the couch.”

“I appreciate the offer but—”

“Careful. I’m not usually this nice to people, Robie. Don’t blow it.”

He glanced at her. She was smiling weakly at him.

He was about to decline again, but he didn’t. For three reasons. His arm was aching like hell. And he was tired. Really tired. And he really had no place to go.

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

T
HE STOP AT
WFO took longer than Robie had thought it would. He sat in a chair while Vance bustled around, filling out papers, briefing superiors, thumbing her phone and clicking computer keys and looking more and more tired with every passing minute.

Robie gave his official statement of events and then watched the ensuing activity. Part of him wondered if everyone was just running around in circles and accomplishing little.

“I’ll drive,” said Robie as they headed to the garage after they were finally done.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” she asked with a yawn.

“I am tired. Really tired, in fact.”

“You don’t look it.”

“I find things work better that way.”

“What way?”

“Not showing what you’re actually feeling.”

She gave him directions and he took the GW Parkway south to Alexandria.

When they pulled into her condo building Robie said, “You have water views of the Potomac?”

“Yes. And I can see the monuments from my place too.”

“Nice.”

They took the elevator up and she unlocked the door to her place. It was small, but Robie immediately liked it. Clean lines, no clutter, and everything seemed to have a purpose, nothing was strictly for show. He assumed that matched the owner’s personality.

Nothing for show. What I see matters.

“Reminds me of a ship’s cabin,” he said.

“Well, my father was career Navy. Apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Other than I spend most of my time on dry land. Make yourself comfortable.”

He sat on a long couch in the living room while she unpacked some medical supplies she’d taken from WFO. She kicked off her flats and sat next to him.

“Off with the jacket and the shirt,” she ordered.

He looked at her awkwardly but did what she asked, setting his holstered gun on the coffee table.

When she saw the tats her eyebrows hiked.

“Red lightning, and what’s the other one?”

“Shark’s tooth. Great white.”

“And why those?”

“Why not?”

She looked more closely and her eyes widened as she saw the old wounds the tats were obscuring.

“Are those—”

“Yeah, they are,” he said tersely, cutting her off.

She busied herself with the medical supplies after this mild rebuke, while Robie stared at his hands.

“What are you, thirty-five?”

“Forty. Just.”

“You’ve got to be former special forces right? Ranger, Delt, SEAL. They all have builds like you, although you’re taller than most of those guys.”

He didn’t answer her.

She cleaned the wound, applied some antibiotics, and then wound gauze around it, taping it securely down.

“I brought some painkillers. Pill or syringe?”

“No.”

“Come on, Robie, you don’t have to play all macho with me.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that.”

“What, then?”

“Knowing your pain tolerance is important. Pills and needles mask it. Not good. I could be slipping and I’d never know it.”

“Guess I never thought of that.”

She put her things away and looked at him. “You can put your shirt back on.”

“Thanks for patching me up. I appreciate it.”

He slipped his shirt back on, wincing a bit as he did so.

“That’s nice to know,” she said, watching him.

“What?”

“That you’re human.”

“I thought you could tell that from my ability to bleed.”

“You need anything else? Hungry? Thirsty?”

“No, I’m good.” He looked down. “This the couch?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’ve only got the one bedroom. But even though you’re tall the couch is extra long.”

“I’ve slept in a lot worse conditions, trust me.”

“Can I?”

He folded his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Can you what?”

“Trust you?”

“You invited me here.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

He walked to a window overlooking the water. To the north he could see the lights of D.C. The triumvirate of the Lincoln, Jefferson, and Washington monuments were plainly visible. And rising above them all, the colossal dome of the Capitol.

She joined him.

“I like getting up in the morning and seeing that,” she said. “I figure it’s what I work for. Fight for. Defending what those buildings represent.”

“It’s good to have a reason,” said Robie.

“What’s your reason?” she asked.

“Some days I know, some days I don’t.”

“How about today?”

“Good night,” he said. “And thanks for letting me stay here.”

“I know we only just met today, but it feels like I’ve known you for years. Why is that?”

He looked at her. From her expression it wasn’t an idle question. She wanted an answer.

“Looking for a killer bonds people pretty quickly. Almost dying together bonds you even more.”

“I guess that’s probably right,” she said, though her tone spoke of disappointment with his answer.

She got him sheets and a blanket and pillow and fixed up the couch for him over his protests that he could do it himself.

Robie walked over to the window and looked at the monuments again.

Tourist sites, really. Nothing more.

But there could be more, if one thought about it. If one did something about it.

He turned to find Vance next to him.

“You can, you know,” he said.

“I can what?”

“Trust me.”

Robie couldn’t look at her as the lie rolled off his tongue.

T
HEY ROSE THE NEXT MORNING
, took turns showering, and had cups of coffee, orange juice, and buttered toast. While Vance was finishing dressing in her bedroom Robie sent Julie a one-word text.

Good?

He counted the seconds until she texted him back. There were only ten of them.

Her text was equally terse.

Good.

He stretched out his wounded arm and checked the bandage. Vance had done a good job rewrapping it after he’d finished showering.

A few minutes later he and Vance settled into her BMW. Neither spoke as they drove toward D.C. The traffic sucked, the horns blared, and Robie could tell that once or maybe twice Vance had been sorely tempted to trot out her fancy blue grille lights and maybe even her gun.

“Robie, I would appreciate if you didn’t mention you stayed at my place last night. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea. And some of the guys I work with could really make something out of nothing with it.”

“I don’t talk to people about the weather, much less where I spent the night.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She shot him a glance. “I hope you didn’t think I invited you to stay for some reason other than a place to sleep.”

“Never crossed my mind, Agent Vance. You don’t strike me as the type.”

“You don’t strike me as the type either.”

“I need to pick up a fresh set of wheels.”

“You want me to drop you by DCIS?”

“There’s a car rental place on M Street near Seventeenth. Drop me there.”

“What, DCIS can’t spring for fresh wheels for one of its own?”

“What they have is crap. Probably hand-me-downs from the Bureau. I’ll get my own.”

“FBI doesn’t do things that way.”

“FBI has a budget that allows for that. DCIS doesn’t. You’re the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. We’re the underfed chimpanzee.”

She drove to the rental place on M.

Robie got out.

“Do you want to meet me at Donnelly’s?” she asked.

“I’ll get there, I’m just not sure when,” he said.

“Other things to do?” she answered in a surprised tone.

“Some things to think about,” he said. “Some things to dig into.”

“Care to share?”

“A mom and kid dead. A bus blown up. A shooter trying to take you or me or both of us down. I’ll call you when I’m on my way to Donnelly’s,” he added.

He walked into the rental place and requested an Audi. They didn’t have one, so he took a Volvo instead. The rental agent told him that Volvos were very safe cars.

Not around me they’re not
, thought Robie as he pulled out his license and credit card.

“How long will you be needing the car?” asked the agent.

“Let’s just leave it open,” said Robie.

The man blanched. “We actually need to have a turn-in date from you and the place where it will be returned.”

“Los Angeles, California, two weeks from today,” said Robie promptly.

“You’re going to
drive
to California?” said the agent. “You know, a plane is a lot faster.”

“Yeah, but not nearly as much fun.”

Ten minutes later he sped out of the rental garage in his very safe silver Volvo two-door.

What had scared him the most about last night was not nearly being killed or seeing others die. It was Julie. The feeling in his gut when he’d thought something had happened to her. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like someone else having that much power over him. He’d spent most of his life getting rid of those ties and avoiding any new ones.

He drove faster, pushing his nice, safe Volvo probably beyond its comfort zone.

That appealed to Robie.

He didn’t much like comfort zones, his or anyone else’s.