The Widow File (10 page)

Her dad, a long-haul trucker, had instilled this lesson in her. Cash is king, he would say, and a handful of kings can get you out of an awful lot of trouble. Inside the bag she found a change of clothes, some protein bars, and a tightly wrapped bundle of tens and twenties, six hundred dollars if memory served her. Her dad had also driven home the point that, fair or not, it was more dangerous for a woman than a man alone on the highway. That’s why she kept a tire iron in the pocket of her car door and a small air horn under the seat. She could see her dad winking at her. Make a lot of trouble and make a lot of noise, Dani-girl. Make ’em wish they hadn’t messed with you.

But they had messed with her and all the tire irons in the world couldn’t keep her safe now. Still, she had cash and she had Choo-Choo. She had her car and for the moment she had some level of invisibility from whomever was chasing them. They could get back into the city, find a place to hide, and maybe Choo-Choo could contact the Stringers. Maybe the Stringers could get them out of this, get to the FBI. Anything was better than just sitting there, frightened and waiting to be caught.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Choo-Choo came loping across the parking lot, the lowering sun catching the blond of his glossy hair and, just for a minute, he looked like an ad for some hip high-end clothing line. She slammed the trunk shut and leaned against it, taking one minute out of the panic to enjoy the sight. Choo-Choo swung the collection of bags from his long fingers and when he got to the car, he leaned against it rather than climbing in. Dani was just about to make a crack about lingerie modeling when Choo-Choo bent in two and vomited between his feet.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Dani came around to his side of the car but stopped outside the puddle spattered in front of him.

Choo-Choo spit once and then again, holding up his hand to stop her from coming any closer. He didn’t have to worry. Dani had always been a sympathetic vomiter and just the idea of it made her mouth sweat in that telltale fashion. Choo-Choo straightened up with a long sigh, brushed his hair back from his sweaty face, and opened his car door.

“We never speak of this.” He slid into his seat and slammed the door behind him. Dani climbed in her side, not turning to face her pale friend.

“You’re not going to do that again, are you?”

“That should be all of it.” He wiped his hands on his knees, his fingers trembling. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s a fear reaction.”

“Understood.” She pulled back onto the highway. “There are mints in my purse.”

They drove in silence until Key Bridge. “Where should we go?”

“Thank you.”

Dani looked over at Choo-Choo who had regained some color. “For what?”

“For not laughing at me for blowing it back there. For not letting me stay on that roof.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m not entirely sure I haven’t peed myself yet.”

“Yeah, but you,” he looked her over like he was memorizing her. “You don’t panic. You don’t cry and you’re so smart. I don’t know if people realize just how smart you are. If you realize it.”

“Please.” She had to look away to keep her eye on traffic. “I’ve panicked so many times today I’ve run out of sweat.”

“I’m really glad you’re with me.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Me too. We’re going to get out of this.” He nodded and looked back out the windshield. “We need to find someplace to go, someplace safe where we can stop and think and make a plan.”

“Turn up M Street. Head to Dupont Circle.”

She made the right into the Saturday afternoon traffic. “You know a place?”

“A little hideaway. It’s an inn. They know me there.”

“They know you at an inn?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Don’t ask.”

“Shouldn’t we stay away from places where people know us?” The familiar streets of her usual drive home from work reignited the fear in her, reminding her just how far from normal her life was at the moment. “I mean, if someone is looking for us, if we can’t even use our phones because they’re tracking them, do we really want to use a credit card to check into a hotel where they know you?”

“Trust me. They’re known for their discretion. And I don’t need a credit card.”

She barely made the light onto New Hampshire Avenue. “You’re going to have to do better than that. You haven’t even told me what’s in all those bags you’ve got. If you have a plan, you need to let me in on it because my reservoir of freak-out prevention is running a little dry right now.”

“I bought phones. Burner phones. Seven of them.” He pointed for her to make a turn. “I went to more than one store because, believe it or not, people get a little twitchy when anyone starts buying a bunch of disposable phones. It’s kind of a red flag for either drug dealers or terrorists and I didn’t need some patriotic clerk slash Gomer Pyle wannabe calling Homeland Security to report suspicious activity.”

He caught her side-eye and shook his head. “And don’t tell me I don’t fit the profile. Blond hair and blue eyes do not an innocent man make. We know Rasmund has already exploded. Police and rescue workers are going to be on-site and every news outlet is going to be covering it. They’re
going to whip up a public frenzy and encourage people to scour the area for suspicious activity.”

Dani had to force herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel. “Jesus, Choo-Choo, this is really helping me calm down.”

“I’m just telling you how it is, Dani. You read data, I listen to broadcasts. I listen to scanners and phone calls and radio transmissions. The first twelve hours after an incident are the most active for phone-in tips from concerned citizens. Especially around the Beltway and especially if it involves explosives. Remember when that gas station caught fire in Clarendon last year?” She nodded. “We monitored the state police line for twenty-four hours. They logged in sixty percent more phone calls in that period than they had the entire month. All from helpful citizens who thought they had information.”

“You monitor police lines?”

“Of course,” he said. “My point is that that gas station blew up because of a faulty electrical system. No foul play. What do you think is going to happen when rescue workers find the bodies inside the building? It’s not going to take long for them to realize what really happened. We need to be as low-key as possible.”

She couldn’t agree more. “So why are we going to a hotel—excuse me, an inn—where they know you?”

“Because they know me. I sort of have a tab there.”

She pulled up to the curb before an artfully landscaped gray brick building that she’d seen on dozens of tourist brochures. “The Milum Inn? You have a tab at the Milum Inn? I didn’t know mere mortals were even allowed to stay here. I thought they hired actors and models to be window dressing to make the rest of us look bad.” He shrugged again. “I don’t want to know this story, do I?”

He sighed as he opened the door. “Probably not.”

She grabbed her bags as the valet hurried to the car. “Probably not.”

The interior of the lobby lived up to the inn’s exterior promise—understated, elegant, and with just enough quirk that Choo-Choo fit in like the room had been designed around him. He sauntered—Dani could
call that walk nothing but a saunter—to the desk, where the young woman behind the counter smiled and blushed when she recognized him.

“Hello again, sir,” she said, and Dani would swear she fought back a giggle.

Choo-Choo leaned forward, looking at her through his lashes. “Please, what is it going to take for you to call me Sinclair?”

The giggle she suppressed wiggled through her body as she forced her eyes and her fingers to focus on the keyboard before her. “Probably my job, sir.” After a few keystrokes, she looked back up, biting her lip. “I don’t see anything.”

Choo-Choo leaned against the counter as if exhausted by her announcement. “I’m early. You know me. What am I going to do on a Saturday afternoon?” He smirked at her. “Watch football?”

The giggle would be held back no longer and the blush on her cheeks looked warm enough to be uncomfortable. Looking around her as if afraid of being caught, the young woman winked back and began typing. After a few minutes, she reached under the counter and withdrew a plastic key card. She slipped it into an envelope and slid it across the counter.

“The usual?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “But it’s being cleaned right now. Can you give me an hour?”

Choo-Choo made a comical sound of outrage. “How dare someone use my room?”

The clerk laughed. “Would you like to speak to the manager?”

“I certainly would,” he purred, draping himself on his elbows over the counter. “But only if she agrees to do it in my room over martinis.”

She laughed again and pushed back from the keyboard as if to physically break Choo-Choo’s hold over her. “You’re a very bad man, Sinclair.”

“I know. That’s why everyone pretends they don’t know me.” He tapped the card on the counter before slipping it into his pocket. “We’ll be in the bar. And you never saw me.”

“I never do,” she said with a sigh. She looked up as Choo-Choo turned, her eyes widening at the sight of Dani. Apparently, short girls in jeans and
corduroy jackets weren’t the client’s usual company. Dani gave the woman a jaunty wave.

She followed her friend into the cool dark expanse of the bar, climbing onto a wrought-iron stool beside him. The bartender placed two napkins before them.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon.” Choo-Choo spun the napkin around, looking at Dani rather than the waiting man. “A kir royale.”

“Very good, sir.”

Dani watched as the man set about making drinks. “He didn’t seem to know you.”

“He’s the bartender. It’s his job not to know anyone. Just their drinks.”

“He didn’t know yours.”

“What?” Choo-Choo looked at her as if she’d just spit. “Of course he does. The kir royale is for you.”

“I don’t even know what that is. And how can you think about a drink?” She lowered her voice when he arched his eyebrow at her. “We have to make a plan. And isn’t your stomach kind of, you know, not ready for alcohol?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A dirty martini is exactly what I need. Alcohol to settle my nerves, something slightly bitter as a digestive, and the olives will help me retain fluid so I don’t become dehydrated. As for the kir royale, well,” he looked her over, focusing on her swinging feet that didn’t touch the chair rail. “That’s just an educated guess. You don’t strike me as a drinker.”

She wrapped her feet around the stool legs and folded her arms on the edge of the bar. “I drink. Sometimes. I like—”

“If you say white zinfandel I’m having you dragged out into the street.”

She shook her head. “What if I say beer? Just a simple flogging?”

The bartender slid their drinks before them. Choo-Choo took the stem in his long, elegant fingers. “Let’s not find out, shall we? A toast.” She raised her bubbling drink to his. “To civilized drinks—an eye in the storm of the worst fucking day on earth.”

“I’ll drink to that.” One of the phones between them on the bar beeped. Dani tried not to bite through the crystal flute. “That’s mine, isn’t it?”

Choo-Choo nodded, thumbing the screen. They leaned in together to read the text.

HER DEATH WILL BE YOUR FAULT TOO
. The words captioned a photo of a scowling Mrs. O’Donnell.

CHAPTER SIX

Choo-Choo signed for their drinks and guided Dani up the narrow staircase to their room. She watched landings pass, she was dimly aware of people around her, but all she could really focus on was the ever-growing urge to scream. How was this her life? How could this be real? Once the door was locked behind them, Choo-Choo opened a beer and pressed the cold bottle into her hands.

“I don’t want to drink. I don’t think well when I drink.”

“How are you thinking now?”

She looked up into his worried face and took a deep drink. She liked the taste better than the sweet champagne drink that had somehow disappeared from her grasp. She took another drink and let out a soft burp.

Choo-Choo settled onto the settee beside her, kicking his long legs out on the coffee table. “Technically it’s considered wrong to serve Stella Artois beer from the bottle. Some say it can only be appreciated when poured correctly from the tap into the proper glasses.”