The Discarded (14 page)

“Let’s start with Eli.”

Daeng jumped into the trench with Nate while Quinn scooted Abraham’s friend right to the edge. Once Eli was lying on the dirt in the channel, Nate cut slits into the plastic, exposing the body. He dumped liberal amounts of their dissolving chemical through each of the slits. When finished, he and Daeng maneuvered the body into its grave.

The other body went through the same process, and soon they were filling the hole with a mixture of the dirt they’d removed and a binding material that would hold it all in place for a long time, ensuring that no one would ever know anything had been added to the construction.

When everything was done, and the tools and two-by-four supports cleared away, Quinn held out his hand and helped first Daeng and then Nate hop out.

“About earlier,” Abraham said to Nate. “I may have…reacted poorly.”

“Not at all,” Nate said. “Working around the dead all the time sometimes makes me forget they were real people. It was a good reminder.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

“You guys are more than welcome to stay there all night,” Orlando announced, “but I’m beat. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have Daeng drive me somewhere where I can get some sleep.”

CHAPTER
15

HOUSTON, TEXAS

G
LORIA OPENED HER
eyes and reached for her phone. Her hand didn’t make it very far before a stab of pain reminded her about the wound on her back.

After the incident with Eli Becker, she and her team had left the scene in a hurry, not really caring who might find the body. Gloria’s main focus had been getting to a doctor. Nolan had called their point person back at McCrillis headquarters, who had arranged for them to meet up with a discreet physician in Lake Charles, Louisiana.

While the wound had only needed three stitches to close, the puncture itself had been deep, damaging the muscle nearly all the way down to her ribcage. According to the doctor, if Becker had stabbed her a half inch to the right, the blade would have plunged into her spinal cord.

Once they’d finished with the doctor, they had driven to Houston and checked into a hotel near the airport, in anticipation of their 6:45 a.m. flight to DC.

Gloria reached her phone on the second try and checked the time—5:17 a.m.

Shit
.

Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, where a hot but rushed shower helped ease some of the pain. After drying her hair and applying her usual scant amount of makeup, she donned her best blouse and suit jacket, headed over to the desk, and turned on her laptop.

At exactly 5:30 a.m., a chime announced the incoming video call. A moment later, the image of McCrillis’s client—a woman with silver-streaked dark hair—filled the main part of Gloria’s screen.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Gloria said.

“Well?” the woman asked. “What has he told you?”

“Unfortunately, Eli Becker is dead.”

A twitch of the woman’s eyebrow. “And how did that happen?”

Gloria hated these calls. The woman’s question was a perfect example of how counterproductive they were. But she was the client, and since things on this project had started heating up again over the last couple of months, the woman had insisted on these occasional briefings. Ethan Boyer—Gloria’s boss—had acquiesced, with Gloria having no choice in the matter. It did not mean, however, she needed to go into detail about how things went down.

“It will be in the final report,” she said, knowing that the document would reflect a more company-flattering version of events. “The reality is, he is no longer an asset.”

The client glared from the monitor. “Were you able to get anything out of him? Is the girl alive or not? Please tell me he told you that much.”

Gloria hesitated, then said matter-of-factly, “I’m not sure he knew.”

“So that’s a no.” 

Gloria felt no need to respond.

The woman sat back in her chair. “He didn’t even know who he was working with? Or why he was looking for her?”

“No, ma’am. I was in the pro—”

“The girl!” the woman shouted. “I need to know!”

“We feel it’s likely he left something behind. I’m going to have the items he had with him analyzed. In the meantime, my team and I are heading back to DC to search his place.”

For several seconds, the woman looked as if she were on the verge of another rant. Finally, teeth clenched, she said, “I expect better news the next time we talk.”

The screen went blank.

CHAPTER
16

THE GREATER DC AREA

T
HEY CAUGHT A
six a.m. flight out of Dallas to DC, Quinn promptly falling asleep before the plane even reached cruising altitude.

The night before, after they’d buried Eli, they had gone to the hotel Nate and Daeng had been using. Orlando and Daeng had been the only ones who’d tried to get some rest, achieving, at best, a ninety-minute nap prior to when they needed to leave for the airport. Quinn had spent the time filling Nate in on recent events, while Abraham had stood by the hotel window and stared out into the night.

“Sir, can I ask you to return your seat to its upright position, please?”

Quinn cracked open his eyelids. “No problem,” he said as he pushed the button that returned his seat to the FAA-required uncomfortable position.

Beside him, Orlando was in the process of shutting down her laptop.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”

“It was already morning when we left.”

“Don’t kill the mood.”

She raised an eyebrow. “If it was mood fulfillment you were looking for, you shouldn’t have waited until we were descending,” she said, purring. “There was a good hour there when no one was in the restroom, and the flight attendants were busy doing their flight-attendant thing. Could have been fun.”

“If you’re trying to up my frustration level, mission accomplished.”

She smiled as she slipped her computer back into her bag. She then leaned back and rubbed her eyes.

“Didn’t you get any rest?” he asked.

“A little. But one of us had to figure out where we’re going before we get there.”

“And?”

“Eli has a townhouse in Bethesda.”

“Can’t imagine that took the whole flight to figure out.”

She hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d do a little hunting for the girl.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

After they arrived at Dulles International, they rented a Ford Explorer and made a quick stop in Reston to purchase heavier jackets and gloves before heading toward Maryland.

A layer of clouds filled the sky, dulling the light. Quinn hoped it wasn’t some kind of precursor to a storm. The scattered patches of snow along their route were already pushing his annoyance level too high.

The townhouse was located about half a mile away from the Walter Reed military hospital, on a road that dead-ended at a park. A sign indicated the complex was called Warwick Mews. According to the information Orlando had dug up, it consisted of twenty-eight units, each with two stories up and a half-sunken basement down, and were divided into four rows of seven units each. The exteriors had been well maintained, but Quinn guessed the buildings had been built at least thirty years ago.

The Mews had driveway entrances at both ends that led into parking areas for visitors. Residents had garages at the back of their units that were accessed through the visitor parking area and then down the center between two of the rows.

“There,” Orlando said. “Ninety-four-twenty-three.”

She pointed at the third townhouse from the end. Like the others, it had steps leading up to a deck where the front door was located.

Quinn pulled to the curb and looked at the two units flanking Eli’s. Since it was nearing ten thirty in the morning, he was hoping most people who lived in the complex would be at work. The townhouse to the left looked appropriately dark, but the one to the right looked like it could be a problem. He didn’t see any movement through the half-covered windows, but a stroller was on the deck and a few toys were lying around, suitable for a child young enough to have not started school. Which meant the possibility of a parent or nanny being home.

He glanced back at Abraham. “How likely is it that Eli would have made friends with his neighbors?”

“Over time, maybe,” Abraham said. “I don’t know for sure, though.”

“What about a wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Roommates?”

Abraham shrugged. “He never talked about anyone but he was kind of awkward. I don’t think romantic relationships would have come easily to him. But you never know.”

As Quinn scanned Eli’s place, he saw no obvious signs that someone was home.

“Okay,” he said. “We can’t all go walking up there. That’ll draw too much attention. Nate, Daeng—”

“I know, I know,” Nate said. “Stay in the car.”

“Sorry.”

“Someday maybe I’ll make
you
stay in the car and see how you like it.”

Quinn, Orlando, and Abraham climbed out and made their way up to Eli’s porch. Quinn peered through the front window, saw a dark and quiet living room, and beyond it, an equally unoccupied kitchen.

“Alarm?” he whispered.

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t,” Orlando said.

She dug into her bag and pulled out a device that looked like a beefed-up mobile phone.  After tapping on the screen several times, she moved the box along the outside of the doorjamb. Given her barely five-foot height, she had to stretch to cross the top of the doorway. As she came down the other side, the device emitted a soft beep. She continued to the bottom, receiving a second beep six inches from the ground before she finally looked at the screen again.

“Not bad,” she said. “He’s using a Nevin D-60L.”

The Nevin was not a top-of-the-line security system but pretty damn close. Way more sophisticated than what a normal townhome owner would have.

“Can you deactivate it?” Abraham asked.

“Please,” she told him. “You didn’t train me to be an amateur.”

She had barely begun the process of turning off the alarm when the door to the home with the kid’s stuff on its deck opened.

A woman in a bright red jacket and holding a bundled-up child hurried out and pulled the door closed behind her. She was nearly to the stairs before she realized Quinn and the others were next door.

“I don’t think he’s home,” she said, continuing down the steps.

“Well, that explains why he’s not answering,” Quinn said lightly. “You don’t know when he might be back, do you?”

“No idea. Didn’t even know he was going away.”

“Well, thank you anyway.”

She reached the bottom of the steps and started to walk away but then looked back. “You friends of Mr. Becker’s?”

“I’m his uncle,” Abraham blurted out. “In town on business. Thought I’d stop by.”

The woman seemed to relax. “I’m sorry you missed him. He’ll be disappointed.”

“Me, too. I guess I’ll just leave him a note.” He reached into his jacket like he was going to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. “Thanks for your time. Sorry if we held you up.”

“When I see him again, I’ll let him know we spoke.”

“That would be very nice. Thanks.”

Apparently satisfied they weren’t up to anything, she hurried across the lawn and climbed into a Prius parked at the curb.

After she drove off, Quinn said, “Not bad for being a retiree.”

“It hasn’t been
that
long,” Abraham said.

Before Quinn could point out exactly how long it had been, Orlando said, “Done.”

From his wallet, Quinn removed a hard plastic card and punched out the pre-cut pieces of the metal-free lock-pick set it contained. He disengaged the locks in less than thirty seconds.

There was a double beep from somewhere inside as he opened the door, but no blaring alarm.

Stepping across the threshold, he said, “Hello? Anyone home?”

No sound.

In addition to the living room and kitchen he’d seen through the window, the main floor included a small bathroom, a staircase that went up to the second floor and down to the basement, and a rear door to the outside.

“Down or up?” he asked.

“Up first, I think,” Orlando said.

The second floor held three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one of which was part of a master suite. Quinn thought it was a lot of space for one guy, but when they looked through the bedrooms, he changed his mind.

Eli had apparently been a collector. Filling the two spare bedrooms were paperbacks and comics and graphic novels and movie posters and vintage toys, most with a sci-fi theme. Almost as fascinating was the fact that everything seemed to have its place. The rooms looked like a combination museum and library. Quinn wouldn’t have been surprised if Eli had a detailed catalogue he could use to quickly locate each item.

“This stuff has got to be worth a mint,” Orlando said. “Look at this.” She was in front of a vertical stack of posters individually wrapped in plastic sleeves and backed by cardboard. “I think this is an original, first-release
Star Wars
.”

“I don’t think that’s what we’re looking for,” Quinn said.

“I know, but…what’s going to happen to all this?”

“No idea.”

“Down here!” Abraham called from somewhere outside the room.

They stepped back into the hall.

“Where are you?” Quinn asked.

“Master!”

They found him standing next to one of the nightstands, the drawer open.

“What is it?” Orlando asked.

He held up a stack of letters and then flipped through them so Quinn and Orlando could see that while the envelopes looked similar, each was addressed to someone different.

“One’s for me,” Abraham said.

He pulled out his and set the others on the bed.

A first-class stamp in the right corner, and in the return-address area a single word:
BECKER
. No number or street or city.