Lethal Expedition

13

Hallie slept badly and woke at ten the next morning with her mind churning. Redhorse. Ely. Luciano. FBI. Lie detectors. She pulled on a white polypro top, blue shorts, New Balance 990s. She usually carried her cell phone, but couldn’t find it and wanted to run more than she wanted to look for it. After stretching, she jogged the half mile uphill to Norbeck Road and the level mile to Georgia Avenue. She had worked out an eight-mile triangle that started with four straight, flat miles north on Georgia, then two western miles of interval hills on winding back roads, and finally a long, easy return leg on Norwood Road. She usually finished in about an hour.

She cruised at eight minutes a mile, ignoring stares and honks, but still glad to leave busy Georgia Avenue behind for the hilly back roads. Ivy Lane rose and fell for a mile. She swung right onto Remarque Road, a narrow, unpaved lane that climbed very steeply for a half mile. It ended in a circle, which led back to the road.

She was coming around the circle’s far side when she saw two men. Both wore yellow bandannas over shaved skulls, black-and-yellow wristbands, and black tank tops with “LK” in gold on the chests. Heavy gold chains hung around their necks, and they had so many tattoos that their skin looked more blue than brown.

“Hey, how you doing?” one called. “Nice day for a jog.”

She thought, ’Bangers. Time to go.

Their chests and arms were huge, and they were blocking the road, but she could run through woods that abutted the circle and then back to Georgia Avenue. She turned to sprint away.

“Halleeee, don’t run off. You call a friend of ours. He just want us talk with you a little.”

They know my name?

Before she reached the woods, a black Navigator with D.C. tags and mirror-tinted windows blocked the circle. Two more Latin Kings got out. Both pairs came toward her, pimp-rolling and smirking, touching themselves. One lifted his shirt, showing a pistol butt. He said, “Hey, coño.”

She was trapped. The houses were close together on both sides of the road. If she bolted toward them, the men could cut her off easily. They were close enough now for her to see their teardrop tattoos. One man had three, the other four. A tear for each kill, she had read somewhere, like notches on a gun. Right eye for whites, left for blacks.

They were fifteen feet from Hallie when the door of one of the houses opened. An older woman with white hair and a white apron over her blue dress stepped out onto her front porch and touched a newspaper with her foot. She started to pick it up, and Hallie felt as if she were watching a scene in slow motion. The Kings ignored her. Hallie thought, If I scream for help, she will panic and lock that door.

A King was reaching for her when she spun and trotted toward the house. Fast enough to avoid the man’s grab, slow enough not to panic the woman. The men watched without moving. Hallie thought they expected the old woman to see them and slam the door. Hallie expected so, too.

The woman stood, paper in hand, and looked toward the sound of Hallie’s approach. With pleasant smile and steady voice, Hallie said, “Hi! Sorry to bother, but I really need a bathroom.” She trotted right up the steps, pulled the woman by her wrist into the house, slammed the door, and locked it.

“Who are you? What do you think you’re doing in my house?” Both of the woman’s eyes were filmy and gray with cataracts. She hadn’t seen the Latin Kings.

“Men out there were going to attack me,” she said.

“What men? I didn’t see any.”

“Out in the street. Four. I need to use your phone.”

The woman pointed toward her kitchen. When Hallie returned, the street was empty.

“Be sure to call us if you see them again.” The Montgomery County officer was turning his white cruiser into her driveway.

“Don’t worry. And I appreciate the ride back.”

“No problem.”

A dark blue Buick sat in front of her house. The cruiser stopped, and she stepped out. A man in a gray business suit emerged from the Buick, came over, and showed the officer an ID. Another man got out. He wore a blue blazer and chinos. That one she recognized.

“Agent Luciano!” Hallie said. “I can’t believe you’re here already. I am so glad to see you.” She almost hugged him. “You won’t believe what just happened. Montgomery County police called you, right?”

Luciano looked at her. “What?”

“I was out running, and four men came after me. They were gang members and—”

Luciano held up his hand. “We don’t know anything about that. This is why we’re here.” He withdrew an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s a warrant to search the premises of your house and its immediate environs.”

“What? I thought you were here because … Why would you want to search my house?”

“You failed the polygraph, Dr. Leland.”

She was stunned. “That’s not possible. What part?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. Please read the warrant. We could have forced entry, but I thought we’d give you a few minutes. Your car was here.”

“I didn’t lie about anything. You have to believe that, Agent Luciano.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

“I would have let you in.”

“I believe you. But—” He held up his hand. “Look, please stay outside while we execute the warrant. And it would be easier if you unlocked the door.”

“Or you’ll break it down?”

He waited. She took the key from its pocket inside the waistband of her running shorts.

“One thing you should know. I keep a handgun under my bedside table. I have a permit for it. How long will this take?”

“As long as it takes, Dr. Leland.”