The Innocent

He said, “Okay, how about the medical examiner’s report on Rick Wind?”

“Why do you want that?”

“It’s a piece of the investigation.”

He heard her sigh. “Where and when?”

He told her, making the location close by for her and not too distant for him.

Robie drove back south, crossing over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, where he ran into rush-hour traffic, but did a decent job threading his way through it. Vance was already there when he arrived at the cafe on King Street in Old Town Alexandria.

He sat down and noted that she had ordered a coffee for him.

“I know how you like it,” she said, spooning some sugar into her cup. “From when you were at my place,” she added unnecessarily.

“Thanks. Do you have the report?”

She slid a file out of her bag and passed it to him. It was filled both with photos of Wind’s body from every angle and a detailed analysis of his physical condition and cause of death. Robie studied the pages while he drank his coffee.

Vance said, “You look like you’ve been up all night.”

“Not all night. Just most of it.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I get three solid hours a night just like everybody else.”

She snorted and sipped her coffee. “Find anything interesting?”

“Wind wasn’t in the greatest shape. Heart disease and a bad kidney, and report said his liver and lungs were suspect too.”

“He fought in the Middle East. You know all the crap they used over there? It can do stuff to you.”

“Can it?” asked Robie.

“My older brother fought in the First Gulf War. He died at forty-six. His brain looked like Swiss cheese.”

“Gulf War syndrome?”

“Yep. Never got much traction in the news. Too many defense dollars stacked against it. Truth could never get out.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

Robie put the file down.

She said, “So, you find anything useful?”

“Interesting tattoo on his left forearm.”

He slid the photo of the arm out and showed it to her.

“I know. I wondered what that was,” said Vance.

“You don’t have to wonder anymore. It’s a Spartan warrior in a hoplite battle stance.”

“What?”

“Did you ever see the movie 300?”

“No.”

“It depicted a battle between the Greeks and the Persians. Persia had a far bigger army, but the Greeks used a bottleneck in the terrain to hold off the superior force. A way around this was provided to the Persians by a traitor. The Spartan king sent the vast part of the Greek army away while he stayed back with a small contingent of Spartans to take on the Persians. They were the three hundred depicted in the movie. They used the hoplite battle formation. Close ranks, many rows deep, shields up, spears out. They were killed to a man, but it took the Persians a long time to do it. By then the Greek army had escaped.”

“Interesting history lesson.”

“Makes sense for Wind to have a tattoo like that. He was in the infantry. You mind if I keep this file?”

“Go ahead. I have copies. Anything else?”

“Not really, no.”

Her phone buzzed.

“Vance.”

She listened and Robie noted her eyes widened considerably.

She clicked off and looked at him. “I think we just got the break we needed.”

“Really?” Robie took a sip of coffee and looked casually at her.

“We just had someone come forward. An eyewitness to the bus blowing up. She apparently saw everything.”

“That’s great,” said Robie. “Really great.”

CHAPTER 58

“You want to follow me over?” Vance asked, rising from the table in the cafe.

Robie looked up at her. “I’ve got a meeting at DCIS I have to get to. Where are you going to be questioning the woman? WFO?”

“Yes.”

“I can hook up with you there later. What’s her name? What was she doing there? And why is she only coming forward now?”

Robie was thinking, Did the homeless woman Diana Jordison get past Blue Man’s guys and go to the FBI? If so, she might tell Vance about her meeting with me.

“Her name is Michele Cohen. I don’t have the other information yet, but I will soon enough. Give me a call when you’re on your way.”

They parted company at the door. Robie hustled back to his car and drove off. He got on the phone to Blue Man and filled him in.

The man’s remarks were terse. “I would stay away from this eyewitness if I were you.”

“I think I had that one covered on my own. But find out what you can about her. Do you have Jordison?”

“She’s doing fine and eating quite well. She’s cleaned up and has new clothes. Does our help include finding her suitable employment?”

“Yes, it does, preferably somewhere other than here. And make sure she gets a nice bump in salary over what she was making.”

Robie clicked off and sped up. Something had just occurred to him. He needed to talk to Julie. And he didn’t want to do it over the phone.

She was waiting for him when he opened the door.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can just sit in this place and do nothing, Will.”

He closed and locked the door behind him. He sat across from her. She wore jeans, a sweatshirt, lime green Converse tennis shoes, and an exasperated attitude.

“I’m juggling lots of balls,” he said. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I don’t want to be one of the little balls you’re juggling,” she shot back.