Peter was quiet for a few moments. “So, what now? We’re back to square one.”
“Maybe. We now know the FBI has the information in their possession. That’s a step forward.”
“It doesn’t feel like a step forward.”
“Let’s see what the Feds say.”
“I wouldn’t hold out too much hope on that front. The Feds will smother that. It’ll never see the light of day.”
“Maybe.”
“Jack, you know what they’re like. It’s all political agendas these days. Beyond that, they answer to no one.”
“I’ll find out, one way or the other.”
“Maybe we should consider taking what we have to the cops in DC? Maybe they can help?”
“I’m not sure passing around classified information to DC police is the way forward. I think we need to be careful how we approach this. Technically, this is in the hands of the FBI.”
“Nothing will come of it, I guarantee it.”
“I know a guy in DC. A cop. He’s a good guy. He might be able to help.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ve got this. I think it’s important that we’re discreet.”
“So, this cop. He’s someone you can rely on?”
“He’s someone I’ve worked with. Sam Daniels—you remember him?”
“Big Sam? He’s solid.”
“If anyone can help me, it’ll be him.”
McNeal packed an overnight bag and a hard-sided, lockable case with his gun inside. He drove south from Westport to DC and checked into his hotel in Georgetown.
He took a hot shower and changed. Gun holstered, concealed from sight.
McNeal walked the short distance to Martin’s Tavern. He found Sam Daniels in the same booth where JFK had apparently written the first draft of his inaugural speech. Daniels, an ex-colleague at Internal Affairs, nursed a beer. He stood up and hugged McNeal tight. “Jack, so sorry about Caroline. We’re all really broken up about it.”
McNeal slid into the seat opposite. It felt good to catch up again with Sam. “I appreciate that.”
Daniels ordered two more beers. “If there’s anything I can do, I will. We loved Caroline.” The beers arrived. Daniels waited until the server was out of earshot before he spoke. “I can only imagine what you’re going through.”
“I have good days and bad days. It’ll take time.”
“Of course it will. Just glad to see you, albeit under such terrible circumstances.”
“Are you okay to talk?”
Daniels chugged some beer. “It’s me, Jack. What do you mean? What do you want to know?”
“It’s goes without saying, Sam, that if I disclose any details on the investigation I’m talking about . . . I have to trust you. This is strictest confidence.”
“Got it. Are you looking for something in connection with the NYPD or Internal Affairs business?”
“Absolutely not.”
Daniels cleared his throat. “So, we’re good. Just shooting the breeze. Cop to cop, right?”
McNeal took a couple of gulps of the beer. “Big change, New York to DC, I’d imagine.”
“Whole different scene, let me tell you.”
“How long you been down here now?”
“DC? Couple years.”
“How you finding it?”
“I love it. The weather is insane. Way too hot in the summer. Like a fucking steam bath.”
“How are Kate and the girls?”
“They’re good. They’re at the age when they’re talking back, but it’s pretty routine.”
McNeal nodded and smiled. He began to think of children. The highs and terrible lows. He stared into his beer, contemplating how he was going to explain the background of the story.
“Jack, look at me. You okay, man? You seem a bit detached. I’m assuming this has hit you real hard.”
“It’s brought a lot of other stuff to the surface.”
“You mean Patrick?”
McNeal nodded. “It’s always with me. I can’t get over him. The loss, I mean.”
“Nobody gets over losing a child.”
McNeal gulped some beer.
“Tell me why you’re down here. I’ll see if I can help. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do whatever I can. How does that sound?”
Slowly, deliberately, McNeal revealed to his oldest friend, a guy he’d graduated with from the academy, what had happened.