“Talk about what?” said Jannie, coming in from the hall. I could hear her brother Ali bringing up the rear, thunk-thunking that backpack of his down the stairs. The kid had barely started elementary school. How much stuff did he need? Sounded like about fifty pounds of books.
“Ali, pick that thing up! Don’t scratch up my stairs!” I called out. “Please and thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he called back and kept thunk-thunking anyway.
My oldest, Damon, was away at boarding school — and I still hadn’t gotten used to having him gone. These mornings always felt just a little bit empty without all of our family.
“Talk about what?” Jannie asked again. She gave me a kiss good morning and pointed at a news photo of Ethan and Zoe. “That kidnapping?”
“Excuse me, but which part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ didn’t you understand?” I said. “And by the way, let’s make this a quick breakfast. The Alex bus leaves in fifteen minutes — sharp.”
Jannie made a face she probably thought I didn’t catch, then went to pour some juice for herself. I retreated back into my paper while Nana dished up cheddar eggs with whole wheat toast and cocoa for the kids.
For a minute or two, it was conspicuously quiet in the kitchen. I could feel them all staring at me through the paper, though.
Then Jannie piped up again. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yes?” I said, trying my best to be calm.
“The Seven Dwarfs called. They want their Grumpy back.”
What could I say? Ali roared with laughter and high-fived his sister across the table. I heard Nana snickering over by the sink. The FBI obviously had no respect for me, and now neither did my family. Damn it, though, I had a right to be out of sorts.
“Lord, let this man catch a bad guy today,” Nana said. “We could all use it.”
“No comment,” I said, and gave a little growl for good measure.
Then just as the mood was lightening up a little, Bree came charging down the stairs. Mussed hair, rumpled T, bare feet. Something was wrong.
“Alex! Turn on the news! Turn on the news right now!”
She never moves that fast before her first cup of coffee, so I knew this couldn’t be good. I hustled out to the living room, where she was standing in front of the TV. Channel 4 had a live report going.
“What is it?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Bree said. “Something bad happened at the McMillan Reservoir. There’s some kind of problem with the water supply.”
DISTRICT OFFICIALS CLOSED the DC schools. Bree stayed home with Ali and Jannie while I rushed to work. All the info I got from making a few phone calls on the way was that hospitals were overwhelmed with emergency admissions. Hundreds of people had been showing up with bouts of vomiting, blurred vision, trouble breathing, loss of consciousness, even a few heart attacks.
It wasn’t hard to go right to the worst-case scenario. Washington was under attack. But who was behind it?
Did it have anything to do with the Coyle kidnapping? Was that nightmare a real possibility?
It sure looked like it at MPD headquarters, the Daly Building. Police trucks and buses were double-parked out front, ready to go; cruisers were leaving the garage in a solid stream. I felt like I was going the wrong way down a one-way street.
Inside, officers and detectives were literally running up and down the halls. It was as close to an all-out mobilization as I’d ever seen.
I went straight to the Joint Operations Conference Center. More chaos on a very large scale. Phones ringing everywhere, briefings happening on a rolling basis. I found two guys from my squad, Jerry Winthrop and Aaron Goetz, standing off to the side, waiting for orders.
“Fatalities?” I said to Jerry. “You heard?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know, Alex. Everything’s nuts. As you can see. We’re waiting to hear where to go. Fucking water supply.”
At the front of the large room, Ramon Davies, the superintendent of detectives, was on his phone. Standing next to him were Jocelyn Kilbourn from MPD’s internal Homeland Security branch and Hector Nunez from Special Operations, plus a few other unfamiliar faces.
“Who are the suits up front?” I said.
“EPA on the left,” Jerry said. “Interior by the door. And don’t ask who’s in charge, because I don’t think anybody knows yet.”