Davis picked up another chip, scooped up some salsa, and seemed to stare at it before setting it down on his plate. “My gut says Carlos has gotten himself in big trouble.”
“That wasn’t hard to figure. Come on, what’d you find?”
“Nothing specific. Mrs. Acosta told me he didn’t eat her sopas, which he loves, and that meant he was worried about something. Then he got a call and he went out and never came back.
“I know she’s his mother, but she spoke of him in the same way as Mr. Sallivar. He’s not the kind of kid to be involved in any of what’s happened, unless he was in trouble, unless someone forced him to.”
Perry said, “I told you I could hardly believe it last night.”
“I thought to ask her if she’d called Carlos yesterday to run an errand for her, and, of course, she hadn’t.
“There were no visitors, Mrs. Acosta said, but someone could have come in when she went out the previous day. I’ve put out a BOLO on Carlos Acosta along with his photograph. We’ll check his cell phone records. If he has the phone with him, we might find Carlos, too.”
Her cell rang. She looked down to see Day’s name. She toyed with sending it to voice mail, but couldn’t. “Day, hi. What’s up?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, make sure you’re okay.”
She laughed. “We spoke not two hours ago. I’m fine. And yes, I have Special Agent Davis Sullivan with me, eating a very late lunch of tacos.”
Davis watched her listen for a moment, then she said, “Yes, Day, it’s the same guy who was with my mother at your mom’s party Tuesday night. He’s a pain in the butt, but he’s trained at this, okay? I’m trying to help, too. No, don’t worry, I’m always careful. Hey, did you beat Brooxey at billiards?” And she laughed again at what he said.
When she punched off, slipped her cell back into her bag, Davis said, “Your nose is going to grow with that lie, since I’m not a pain in the butt.”
“Clearly a pain in the butt is in the eye of the beholder.”
“That your boyfriend? He unhappy with me being with you?”
“Nah, he’s worried, that’s all.”
Davis chewed on a chip, handed her the basket. “Have you told your mother about the Harley yet?”
She fiddled with a chip, radiating guilt. “No, not yet. But I will when we get back. I don’t want to, but I know it’s got to be done.”
“I’ll tell you something else that’s got to be done. You’re going to unload that weapon, put it in a locked box, and take it home with you. If you carry it in Washington, D.C., I’ll have to arrest you.”
Davis stood, pulled a twenty out of his wallet, and tossed it on the table. “So are you coming? Or should I bark at you?”
Georgetown
Thursday, late afternoon
Savich turned into the parking lot of Metzer’s Grocers on Prospect Street. Sean was out of Cheerios, so there was nothing else to be done. “You want me to come in with you, Sherlock?”
She laughed. “To buy a box of Cheerios? I think I can handle that, Dillon. Give me ten minutes.”
He looked around the parking lot before he nodded. “Ten minutes. I’ll keep watch.”
Sherlock climbed out of the Porsche, aware of everyone within a dozen feet of her, and nodded back at Dillon as she walked through the automatic doors. Since she didn’t know the store that well, she stopped a clerk, then headed to aisle nine. She bent down to pick up a box of Cheerios when she heard a low scratchy voice above her head. “Agent Sherlock, all that red hair, so easy to spot. I know your husband is right outside, looking like he’d tear out the throat of anyone who looks at all dangerous. I don’t look dangerous.
“No, don’t you move or I’ll push this knife point into your scrawny neck, right above your collar. Feel that?” She felt the knife prick, the wet of her blood.
“I want you to get up, yeah, grab the Cheerios.” He slipped her Glock out of her waist clip, fast and smooth. “Good, you mind your manners. You don’t want to have me kill any of the nice people buying their candy and popcorn, and I will, as many as I can, before your husband comes roaring in. I’ll be dead, too, but so will you and lots of others.”
She stood quietly, feeling him press her own Glock against the small of her back. She felt like an idiot, a box of Cheerios in one hand, and Blessed close behind her. She said quietly, “I’m not moving, Blessed. Don’t shoot anyone. How did you manage to get in here?”