Getting Away Is Deadly (17 page)

“H
ere you go. I brought up the file with the photos.” Nadia pushed her laptop across the small table toward me. “Kyle and I are going on to the dinner, so take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, Nadia. I gave those pictures we printed out to Summer. I just want to take another look.”

“Sure,” she said. Kyle, her bulky husband with a jocular attitude, stood in the hall, holding the door to their room open with his hand.

“Come on, hon. I’m sure she knows her way around a computer.” He pointed a finger at me and said, “Just don’t empty our checking account, okay?”

Nadia rolled her eyes on her way out the door and said, “Don’t pay any attention to him. Bye-bye.”

The door sighed shut behind them and I quickly clicked through the photos. I only had a few more minutes until Mitch met me here. I’d fled without explaining what I’d wanted to talk about and when he’d heard me asking to see the photos of the Metro platform again he hadn’t been happy, but I’d left before he could say anything. And since he was having belt issues again—he’d been searching the suitcase pockets for his other belt, a plain brown leather one this time—he hadn’t been as quick off the mark as he usually was.

I found the photo that showed Jorge. There was Irene in the corner. It was hard to believe she’d been so worried about talking to us about her fertility issues that she’d felt like she had to sneak around. She could have just told us she had an appointment and left it at that. Well, maybe not. This
was
Irene and she loved to share any gossip, or news, as she called it, with everyone, so she wasn’t used to keeping anything quiet.

I frowned as I looked at the back of the redhead in the beret and denim jacket. Still no way to prove that the person wasn’t Summer. The slip of material that was Wellesley’s dress was there, too. Arranging marriages for illegal immigrants. Who would even think of a scheme like that? Of course, I knew the answer. Someone who’s greedy.

The person I didn’t see was Lena Stallings. I started over at the left side and carefully looked at each face. Finally, I found her. “Well, no wonder I didn’t recognize her right away.” In the photo, she was behind a man wearing a backpack who was turning away. The backpack blocked most of her body, but I could see her head. Her mouth was pinched together and she looked like she didn’t like being in the crush of people. It was so dark in the Metro that her hair looked dark brown at first glance, but when I zoomed in on her, the hair brushing her eyebrows was a dark red color.

Okay, so maybe Summer had something here. Lena was on the platform and she was close to Jorge. One step and she’d be right behind him. The problem was that we didn’t have any more photos.

I slid the memory drive into place and scanned the documents listed on it. I’d just take a quick look and see if I could figure out who it belonged to. Ivan had said it wasn’t his and I didn’t think any of the wives from the tour group who had come to help out were carrying around a computer memory drive, but maybe it was Nadia’s. If it was hers, I’d leave it with the computer. Or maybe it belonged to Tony or the woman who’d painted the mural, although she’d been working on the other side of the room.

When the list of documents came up, it read like a sightseeing itinerary: Washington Monument, Capitol Building, Senate Offices, White House, Library of Congress, Lincoln Memorial. The list went on. I opened the first item and scrolled down the page through several photos of the Washington Monument. I opened the next document and saw more pictures of the Capitol. It looked like a bunch of photos from someone’s trip to D.C., but there was something missing. I went back through the first set of photos slowly.

No people posed in front of the monument. I switched to the set of photos featuring the Capitol. There were people in the photos, but they were walking or standing in groups, not paying attention to the photographer. No one was posing, smiling, or waving for the camera. I looked through the photos again and realized that the sequence of photos covered each angle of the building.

As I delved deeper into the documents, I swallowed. Someone was studying our national monuments and meticulously photographing them from every angle, at various times throughout the day and night. None of these were like Nadia’s pictures. Hers had a warmth, a focus on people in their surroundings. These photos were cold and removed, almost analytical.

And the documents were really long. I paged down to the end of one and found a list of times the Capitol was open, broken down into lists of dates when Congress was actually in session, with estimates of how the number of people in the building fluctuated by the hour.

When I got to the section headed
Security,
all I could think was that these were very dangerous documents. I rubbed my forehead as I read the list: estimated number of security personnel, locations of security personnel, past security breaches. It went on and on.

I rubbed my forehead again and tried to decide what to do. Best-case scenario was that it was some sort of security review. Worst-case scenario was…

My thoughts skittered away from the awful possibilities. But I had to go there. What if it belonged to some nutcase who had something against the U.S. government? Or what if it belonged to a terrorist looking for weak spots?

I skimmed through the rest of the documents. Most of them looked the same as what I’d just read, except for one titled Press Release Draft. It was a single page and listed various talking points the Women’s Advancement Center wanted to make about the safety initiative. The first line on the page read
From: Tony Zobart.

I leaned back in the chair. I should call Detective Brown and give it to him. He could pass it on to the people who could determine if it was a threat. But I couldn’t do that until I was sure Summer was back in town. It should only be a few hours until she was back. I’d have to keep it until then, but I certainly didn’t want to take it back to the hotel room. I could picture it now. “Hi, Mitch. I’m ready to go. Just let me hide this memory chip under the hotel soap.” No way that would go over well. And the questions it would lead to!

I pulled the chip out and put it in my pocket. It was so tiny. What if I lost it? There was no way anyone would believe what I’d seen. I quickly put it back in the computer and copied the files into an e-mail that I sent to myself. I felt better with a backup copy, even if it was floating around in cyberspace. I pulled the chip out again and put it in my pocket.

I jumped and jarred the laptop when a knock on the door reverberated through the room. I closed down the laptop and went to look through the peephole. Mitch stood in the hall, one arm braced on the door frame.

I opened the door. “Hi. All done. Oh, good, you found your belt. Was it in the suitcase? We’d better hurry. We’re riding over in the hotel shuttle with Abby and Jeff. We’re supposed to meet them in the lobby.” I realized I was talking too much, so I shut up and made a move toward the elevator.

He didn’t move. “Oh no. We’re not going down yet. Why did you have to look at Nadia’s photos again?”

“Summer said she found another woman in the picture who has red hair and I wanted to see for myself.” Stop there, I told myself.

Mitch sighed and dropped his arm from the door frame. “Ellie, what are you doing? You know the police are working on that.”

“Yeah. I have a lot of faith in the police.”

Mitch let that one go. We’d been through this before. We were both stubborn, but in so many other areas Mitch and I were opposites. His attitude was to let the police do their job and justice would be done. I wasn’t so sure it would work out that way. “Mitch, they’ve zeroed in on Summer and aren’t looking at anyone else.”

“And how do you know that? Are you on the inside of the investigation? You know everyone they’re talking to?”

“No, but I know that Detective Brown called Summer today, wanting to talk to her again.” Oops. I didn’t want to go there. “So they’re obviously still fixated on her.”

“And how did Summer take that?”

“She was nervous, understandably.” I didn’t mention that the police seemed to think she’d played a role in Jorge’s death. There was so much to explain and it would take forever. After dinner, I’d tell him everything that had happened. “Come on. We’ve got to go,” I said as I grabbed his hand. We walked down the hall. “So, did the woman have red hair?” Mitch asked as he punched the Down button.

“Yes, she did.”

“And what did you want to talk about back in the room?”

The elevator doors slid open, we joined two other couples inside, and I said, “I’ll tell you later.”

“I don’t see Jeff or Abby,” Mitch said, so we took a seat on the leather ottomans in sight of the elevator.

Mitch pulled my hand into his and said, “After you left the room, I called the squadron. I figured I’d check in one more time. Our assignment came down.”

He paused. He didn’t look excited and he hadn’t blurted it out the minute he saw me, so it wasn’t good.
Oh no. More snow boots?
Or was it an assignment to one of the outposts of civilization, those tiny bases situated near a minuscule town without a freeway for miles and no restaurants or shopping?

“And?” I asked impatiently. Even if it was bad, I had to know. In fact, it didn’t seem fair. Some unknown person in the Air Force Personnel Center already knew. And the whole orderly room back at the squadron, too. “Is it bad?”

“No. In fact, it’s what we wanted. Hawaii.”

“Hawaii! We actually got our first choice? That’s great!” I squeezed his hand and he smiled briefly. “Aren’t you happy? You don’t look happy.”

“I am. Hawaii will be terrific,” Mitch said. “Jeff’s assignment came down, too. It’s not Hawaii. They’re going to Georgia.”

“Georgia. That
is
a long way.” A wave of melancholy washed over me. Abby and I had hoped we’d be stationed at the same base and I’d refused to even think about it not happening. Getting through my week without Abby to laugh with and gripe with was just…unthinkable. She was the one who kept me sane. Well, Mitch kept me sane, too, but there were some things that you needed a girlfriend for, like shopping, which I was horrible at. And she helped me get through the long trips when Mitch was away. No one understood quite like another military spouse.

“We knew it was a long shot, the possibility of us getting the same base again.” I wanted to put on a brave face, but I couldn’t keep the sadness out of my voice as I said, “We’ll be able to call and e-mail pictures.”

Only a couple more months to hang out with my best friend. And her baby. I wouldn’t get to do the whole surrogate doting aunt thing. I pushed those thoughts aside and tried to be cheerful. “There’s Jeff and Abby.”

Abby hurried up and said, “I heard you got Hawaii! How exciting. I’m devastated, of course. What am I going to do without you? You’ll come visit me in Georgia, right? And we’ll have to come see you in Hawaii.”

I should have known Abby wouldn’t hide her emotions. “You’ll really fly all that way to see us?” I asked.

“It’ll be a while before we can come for a visit, but do you think I’m going to pass up a beach vacation?”

“Congratulations, Jeff.” I said the words with a genuine smile. I was glad for them. Georgia was a good assignment, closer to their families, and Abby was ready for a change from the snow and rain of Vernon, too.

“Here’s our shuttle,” Mitch said and we piled in.

“Why is our dinner at the Ronald Reagan building?” I asked as Mitch, Abby, Jeff, and I waited in line at the metal detector.

Mitch emptied his pocket change into a bowl and said, “It’s a fund-raising dinner for Home Away From Home.”

“I’m confused. Mrs. Johns invited us to a fund-raiser? Can we afford to go to a fund-raiser?”

The security guard said, “ID, sir.”

“Oh. Sure.” Mitch pulled out his wallet and showed his military ID card.

What was this place, the airport? Good thing I’d taken time to put my ID inside my tiny new leather envelope clutch. It was the one I’d bought while shopping with Abby. The turquoise flowers spilling across it matched my new outfit, and the chic little purse made the outfit just a bit dressier. I pulled out my ID card and handed it over.

“I finally got the full story today,” Abby said. “Mrs. Johns usually has each FROT class over to her house for dinner, but this week she was working on this fund-raiser, so she got the class tickets to come here instead. It’s a western-themed cookout.”

I pulled the memory chip out of my pocket, slid it in my purse, and put my purse on the conveyer belt. I looked at the security guard. “Shoes on or off?”

He smiled. “You can leave them on. This isn’t the airport.”

I said, “Almost,” and stepped through the metal detector. “What’s the fund-raiser for again?”

“Home Away From Home,” Abby said from behind me as she unfastened her heavy silver necklace, earrings, and bracelets. “It’s an organization that keeps furnished apartments here in D.C. for families who come from out of town to visit injured soldiers in the hospital.”

I moved over to one side to wait for Abby and Jeff since the security guard was rescanning her purse. She waved her hand. “Looks like it may take us a while. You go on. We’ll catch up.”

We entered a massive atrium where columns rose to a huge arched glass skylight overhead. As we joined the crowd I said, “I don’t think I ever saw this many cowboy hats in one place when I lived in Texas.”

“A little exaggerated?” Mitch asked with a smile.

“A bit. Check out the chuck wagon over there.” Several banquet tables were set up around it and I could smell barbecue. “I hope there aren’t any horses here.”

“I doubt they’d get through security,” Mitch said.

“I don’t think you would’ve been missed if we’d skipped this,” I said, taking in the sea of cowboy hats and red bandanas. “It’s so crowded in here.” As I looked around the room, I saw two senators chatting with Vicki Archer. Not too far away, a political consultant I’d seen several times on news shows laughed with another group. “Pretty high-profile crowd, too.”