Law of Attraction (28 page)

“Sure.”

“Thanks for agreeing to serve them,” she said as they sat down. She pulled out four folders with subpoenas for four different misdemeanor cases. She could send the subpoenas out in the mail, but they weren’t enforceable unless the witness was hand-served. Any officer could serve them, but this was her excuse to get Green here—and to get him to put his mouth to the lid of that cup.

Green wasn’t drinking his coffee, though. He was looking out the window, watching a paralegal in a short skirt walk by the coffee shop. Anna tried not to stare at his cup. He
had
to drink his coffee. She would keep him here until he did. She started telling him about the witnesses he would deliver the subpoenas to.

“This guy works midnights,” she said, sliding a folder across the table, “so you’ll have to catch him early in the evening.” She picked up another. “And this lady is really old. Give her a lot of time to answer the door.”

Green returned his eyes to hers and wrapped his hands around the cup of coffee for warmth—but he still wasn’t drinking. Anna tried not to fidget as she willed the officer to pick up his cup. Desperately, she described the entry system of one apartment building. Green nodded, but didn’t take a sip. She told him one of the homes had a dog that would bark but not bite. He murmured about being able to handle dogs, but didn’t bring the coffee to his lips. Finally, she ran out of things to tell him.

Green glanced at his watch and stood up. “Okay, got it. I’ll bring the returns back to you next week. I gotta run now. They’ll be calling my prelim any minute.”

He grabbed the folders and his coffee and walked toward the door. Anna slumped back in her chair. He was taking the coffee to go. That wouldn’t work. Her plan was a bust.

As he reached the door, Green tried to juggle the folders of subpoenas and the coffee, all while opening the door, and the papers started slipping out of his arms. He sighed and set everything on the fixings table. He straightened out all the papers. Then he picked up his cup of coffee. Anna was watching him so intently, his movements seemed to go in slow motion. He brought the cup to his mouth, put his lips on the plastic lid, tipped his head back, and took a sip of the coffee. Then he tossed the almost-full cup into the garbage hole built into the fixings table.

Anna practically jumped out of her seat. She forced herself to wait an excruciating few seconds until Green gathered up his papers, walked out, and crossed the street toward the courthouse. Then she walked over and peered into the circular hole where Green had tossed his used coffee cup. The receptacle was full of garbage. Green’s coffee cup was on top, just an inch below the hole. She took a brown paper lunch bag out of her purse. Ignoring another customer’s surprised glance, she used a napkin to gingerly pluck Green’s coffee cup out of the garbage can. She used the napkin to remove the lid, stuffed the lid into the paper bag, rolled up the bag, and stuck the whole package into her purse.

Anna heaved a sigh of relief and hurried out the door before anyone would ask her about what she’d just done. A sample of Brad Green’s DNA was safely stashed in her purse.

27

A
nna was back in her office, alone, when her cell phone rang again. It was Nick, calling her for the second time today. This time, she answered his call.

“Hello, Anna!” Nick’s voice was somewhat blurred but relieved that she’d picked up. She could hear glasses clinking and people chatting in the background. “It’s Nick.”

“Hi, Nick.” For a second, it felt like before, when they would call each other several times a day. Anna deliberately pushed that feeling away.

“I’m so glad to hear your voice,” he said softly. “I was so worried. How are you, Anna?” It was the question of the day, but Nick asked it with such concern, it took on a different meaning. He cared more about her answer to the question, he felt more personally responsible for it, than anyone else who would ask after her today.

“I’m fine. Your voice sounds funny. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the Irish Times. I needed a drink.”

“You’re drinking already? It’s not even four o’clock.”

“Already?” He laughed. “I’ve been drinking for four hours. Come over here, Anna. Have a drink with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Nick.”

“Please. I have to tell you something. I have to apologize in person. I have to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.”

She hesitated. A large part of her wanted to go meet him.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t. I—I have a lot of work to do.”

“Okay. But will you be home later? Can I at least call you tonight?”

She hesitated. “Okay.”

When they hung up, she turned back to her computer. She started writing her cover letter for the evidence submission form she was sending to the FBI.

•  •  •

“Come on, I’m taking you all out to dinner.”

Anna and Jack looked up from their usual seats in the war room. McGee was standing in the doorway. He wore brown snakeskin boots, a beige suit with brown pinstripes, a brown shirt, and a beige, brown, and fuchsia paisley tie. He smiled at them, baring the gummy gap that used to be two front teeth. “You both need a change of scenery. Your butt cheeks are gonna grow into those chairs.”

Anna smiled at the detective; she knew this was McGee’s way of looking after her, after D’marco’s visit last night. She glanced at Jack to see what he would say. It was almost six o’clock. He usually worked until seven, went home to play with Olivia until her bedtime, and then worked from home. Jack checked his watch, looked at Anna, and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question: Did she want to go? She nodded. She would like to go out, anything to stay around people and delay going back to her apartment for the first time since D’marco’s visit.

“Okay,” Jack said to McGee. “But it’ll have to be quick. I have to leave by seven.”

“Then there’s only one place we can go,” McGee replied. Jack rolled his eyes; he knew what was coming. McGee clapped Anna on the back as she stood up. “Get ready for the culinary sensation of your life!”

Ben’s Chili Bowl was packed. The red pleather booths lining the walls were jammed full, and lobbyists sat next to street kids on stools at the long silver counter. Behind the counter, a short-order cook in a white apron stood over a sizzling stovetop. The smell of frying potatoes filled the air.

While they waited for a table to open up, Jack told Anna about the diner. It was located on U Street NW in a historically black neighborhood that was rapidly gentrifying. Ben’s had been dishing out chili dogs and cheese fries to a loyal crowd for fifty years, even as the crowd changed with the neighborhood. To fans like McGee, Ben’s was as much a D.C. landmark as the Lincoln Memorial.

After a few minutes, they snagged a booth. McGee and Jack sat at opposite sides of the table. Anna hesitated for a moment before sliding in next to McGee. She was the only one who picked up one of the laminated menus wedged behind a jar of ketchup. Within seconds, a harried waitress came over to take their order.

“Chili dog, cheese fries, and a Coke,” McGee ordered happily.

“The same,” Jack said.

“Make it three,” Anna said dubiously, putting down the menu
unread. When in Rome.

McGee picked up his glass of ice water and held it in the air. “I’d like to make a toast,” he said with exaggerated formality. He grinned. “To maximum security lockdown!”

D’marco would now be experiencing the highest level of supervision the D.C. Jail had to offer. They all clinked glasses and drank.

Jack raised his glass for another toast. He smiled at Anna and McGee. “To the best team I could hope for. Cheers.”

The waitress returned with a tray overloaded with food. She plunked down plates piled high with grease-soaked fries and chili-soaked dogs. McGee smacked his lips, tossed his tie over his shoulder like an aviator’s scarf, and eagerly dove into his cheese fries. “Mmmmm,” he said. He was practically purring. Anna tentatively took a bite of her chili dog. It was delicious. They all wolfed down their food, chatting between bites.

“Hopefully, we can rest easy now,” Jack said, as he wiped his mouth and threw the crumpled napkin on his empty plate. “No more surprises for a while.”

Anna smiled as McGee sopped up every last drop of chili with his bun. But Jack’s sentiment made her pause.

“Actually—I should tell you something. So there are no surprises for you either.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked, smiling.

“This afternoon, I asked the FBI to determine whether Brad Green was the father of Laprea’s baby.”

“Ha!” McGee threw back his head and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. His big belly bounced up and down.

“I’m serious.”

“You did what?” Jack asked. The smile vanished from his face.

“I had the FBI’s DNA laboratory initiate a paternity test.”

“How?”

“I sent a cup that Green had used and thrown away. The FBI said they can use that for his saliva sample. You don’t need a warrant to take someone’s garbage from a public place.”

Jack and McGee were looking at her like she’d just shot the president. “Son of a bitch,” McGee said softly. He put his hand deliberately on top of his glass of Coke and made a show of sliding it away from her.

It hadn’t dawned on her that she would upset other officers by
investigating one of their own. Anna looked to see Jack’s reaction. The only movement in Jack’s entire body was the muscles in his jaw, clenching and unclenching. She knew by now that meant he was furious.

Uh-oh, she thought.

“Anna, I had forbidden you to do that.” Jack’s voice was so slow and soft that Anna knew he was struggling to keep it under control.

“You didn’t forbid it,” she said defensively. “We disagreed. You said I was too shaken up, and I shouldn’t waste my time and energy chasing shadows. This isn’t because I’m shaken up, and I didn’t mind putting in the time and energy.”

“We investigate the bad guys, Anna, not the police.” His voice was getting louder, straining against his self-control.

“Well, what if you think one of the police could be a bad guy?”

“Then you send the matter to Internal Affairs, and you go through the proper channels to start an investigation in our office.”

“Okay, let’s do that.”

“Are you kidding me?” he exploded. “You have no basis to accuse him of anything! Absolutely nothing indicating that Green has
ever
done
any
thing wrong!”

“I felt like there was something weird there, for a while—even before D’marco said anything. The way Green acted at Laprea’s house, the—”

“We don’t investigate a man based on feeling ‘something weird’! You’re putting the man’s reputation, his career at stake just by making the accusation. An accusation based on nothing! I can’t believe you would treat a police officer this way! A respected officer, with ten years on the force, who’s working on your case! Deceiving him while he’s doing you a favor!” Jack stared at her for a long moment. “What were you thinking?”

She held his gaze. “I was thinking this is a search for truth.”

“There’s a difference between a search for truth and a wild-goose chase! I’ve been a prosecutor for ten years. You’ve been one for . . . how many months? When I tell you to do something, you do it! You don’t argue about it, or go behind my back when we disagree. Don’t you see all the issues this raises? Is Green under investigation by our office now? Do I tell Green? He obviously can’t investigate this case anymore. Do I have to disclose to defense counsel the fact that we’re doing paternity testing on Green? Our own officer? Nick Wagner’s gonna have a field day with this!”

“Look, Jack, I’m sorry! If it’s that terrible, I’ll tell the FBI not to process it.”

“You’re damned right you will! Dammit, Anna, I told you not to be working when you were too upset to be thinking straight!”

“This isn’t because I’m upset, Jack!” Her voice contradicted the sentiment she was trying to communicate.

“It has to be. You’re an intelligent person. The only reason I can think that you’d do something like this is because you’re overwrought.” Jack stood up. He pulled on his coat and threw a couple of twenties on the table. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let you come in to work today. Go home, Anna. Take a couple days off. I don’t want to see you at work tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! I don’t need a sick day!”

Jack turned to the detective. “McGee, can you give Anna a ride home? I’ve gotta relieve the nanny.”

McGee nodded, but didn’t look happy about it. Anna watched miserably as Jack walked outside. It was starting to snow, and a few flakes danced in the triangle of street light that illuminated Jack as he climbed into a cab. Her chili dog rumbling uncomfortably in her stomach, Anna realized that she had managed to alienate both men in one night.

•  •  •

In her living room later that night, Anna sprawled on her couch in soft cotton pajama pants and a tank top. She mindlessly flicked through the channels. She had eaten a handful of Tums, but she knew it wasn’t her dinner that was making her stomach roil. She felt terrible about her fight with Jack. It wasn’t just being yelled at by a senior lawyer. He was also her friend, her mentor, the person she saw on a daily basis more than anyone else. The idea of disappointing him lodged as an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Anna’s breath caught hopefully. Maybe it was Jack. Maybe he had come over so they could talk about this. She could apologize for her misstep, and they could try to figure out how to resolve everything. She turned off the TV and padded to the door. She took a deep breath, then peered out.

She could hardly believe what she saw.

28

S
tanding with her eye pressed to the peephole, she had to admit that some part of her had always hoped that Nick would show up on her doorstep to apologize and tell her he loved her. That she meant more to him than any client or ideology. That he was sorry to have chosen defending D’marco over being with her. Maybe if he said those things, they could be together again.