Chief Michaels thought about that for several moments before he looked at Bree. “No talk about vigilantes until we have something more solid.”
Bree glanced at me, then said, “Done, sir.”
Sampson and I watched Bree’s press conference in our office. Even though Bree and I disagreed on both cases, I thought she handled the situation skillfully, and I was grateful when she said that the evidence indicated Howard killed his former partner but that there were loose ends that had to be dealt with before the investigation could be considered closed.
When discussing the mass murder at the drug factory, however, she made no mention of vigilantes and supported the theory that we were dealing with a drug gang war and mercenaries.
“I hope she’s right,” Sampson said.
“I do too, actually,” I said.
“No attack in days.”
“It is possible that there won’t be any more, that what needed to be done has been done.”
“Uh-huh,” Sampson said. “What’s your Spider-Man sense telling you?”
“I don’t have a Spider-Man sense. I can’t even pick a good lottery number.”
“Okay, what are your years of experience telling you?”
I thought about that, said, “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Detective Lincoln knocked, said, “McGrath had serious encryption on his computer. We’re going to have to send it out.”
“Send it to Quantico,” I said. “I’ll try to get it moved to the front of the line.”
“Right away,” Lincoln said, and he left.
Sampson said, “I feel like we’re banging our heads against a wall on every aspect of every case we’ve got.”
“You’ve got a hard head; you’ll break us through.”
“No match between Howard’s gun and the Rock Creek shooter.”
“I saw that. You talk with Aaron Peters’s fellow lobbyists? Family?”
Sampson nodded, said the Maserati’s driver had been divorced for five years. No kids. Played the field. He had a reputation for ruthlessness, but not in a way that provoked animosity or revenge.
“His partners said Peters could make you smile while he was cutting your throat,” Sampson said.
“Lovely image,” I said. “What about other shootings like these?”
Sampson frowned, said, “I’ll look. You?”
“I think I’ll go hunting for mercenaries.”
Chapter
32
Three days later, Sampson and I drove south on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Looking west across Chesapeake Bay, I saw something pale and white in the sky far away. I squinted. The sun caught it.
“There’s a blimp out there,” I said. “A couple of them.”
“Don’t see those too often. There a big sports event?”
“No idea,” I said before losing sight of them.