Double Cross

Chapter 115

I WOULD HAVE PROBABLY suspended another officer for doing what we were doing, but with Sampson’s life in jeopardy, I didn’t see how there was any choice. For the next few minutes, Bree and I stuck to hand gestures and notes while DCAK barked out directions.

The black Highlander with the woman driver stayed right with us, never getting more than a couple of car lengths behind.

Bree scribbled, Idea where we’re going?

I shook my head. Just enough for her to see.

How do we turn this thing around?

Another subtle head shake.

Weapons in the car?

I sighed, then shook my head again.

We had traveled to Montana without them. Maybe Tyler Bell guessed as much; there had been no mention of them when we ditched our phones.

He navigated us back into Washington. Eventually onto Massachusetts Avenue and then Seventh Street, moving away from Capitol Hill.

My mind raced in a dozen different directions during the stretches of silence. Where the hell was he taking us? And what would happen when we got there?

Seventh turned into Georgia; then we passed the Howard University campus and kept going. Why this part of town? Why was any of this happening?

Somewhere between Columbia Heights and Petworth, we came into a low-grade retail stretch with half a dozen fast-food and car-repair joints. Bell told me to slow down now and pay close attention.

“Trust me, I’m paying attention.”

I watched the numbers as we passed a Jamaican patty stand, a nail salon, a gas station, a pawnshop, and then one of several empty storefronts.

“Number three three three seven,” Bell said. “See it?” I sure did. An orange RENTED banner was pasted over the original FOR RENT sign in the window.

“Take the next alleyway, and come into the building from the side,” Bell told me. “No cheap tricks. I can’t promise the same.”