This time Saundra yelled with some force, “Everyone step away from the water!”
A few of the kids listened. But four or five stayed right where they were. What was so interesting that the kids would risk a letter of discipline to see? Saundra took a few steps closer. Then she saw that little Lainey was poking something with a stick. Four boys watched her intently. Typical.
Then Saundra realized what she was seeing. This time she screamed, “Get back!” She had 911 dialed into her phone before the first kid moved.
Chapter 21
The ride from Maryland back to DC gave me time to think. I went over my interview with Emily’s sister Laura again and again. Her description of Emily’s romantic life made me feel like Mary Catherine and I were out of step with the times. I liked romance and the “old-fashioned” love affair I had with my new bride.
Both Mrs. Parker and Laura had said that Emily had withdrawn in the past. That was the shred of hope I was clinging to. I had the feeling Bobby Patel was working under the presumption that Emily was dead. Now, knowing some of her emotional history, I could see where suicide would also be a concern. But I was looking for anything positive. And the fact that she had been known to disappear gave me hope that maybe she’d done it again.
On my way back to my hotel, I decided to take a swing past The Burning Land’s warehouse headquarters. To my surprise, the bay door was down. I drove a few more blocks and stopped at a sports bar.
How long had this place been here? Its ten-car lot was riddled with potholes, and it had been at least a decade since the exterior was painted with a now barely discernible rendition of Redskins great John Riggins as MVP of Super Bowl XVII. Exactly the kind of place I would expect Jeremy Pugh and his other Burning Land members to frequent. Maybe I’d get lucky.
The door creaked against its frame and one of the hinges wiggled. The place was dark and empty. Ten TVs, only three of them flat screens, played reruns of various sporting events. I took a seat at the bar, where the two closest TVs played the same local channel.
A tubby bartender with a four-pack-a-day voice croaked, “What can I get you?”
“Grilled chicken sandwich.”
“Don’t got no chicken.”
“Turkey?”
He shook his wide bald head.
“Maybe you could make a suggestion.”
“We got hamburgers and cheeseburgers. Your choice.”
“Cheeseburger, please.” I glanced at the screens around the bar. I didn’t care about a Nationals game from four years ago or a Redskins game when Joe Gibbs was still coaching. I looked over to the TV directly above the bar where I was sitting. A promo said the local news was on next. That sounded good enough for me.
I debated asking the bartender if any of The Burning Land people came in here. If I showed him the printed photographs Bobby had given me, he’d know I was some kind of cop. That might tip off Jeremy Pugh and his friends that I was looking at them.
A young newscaster with blond hair popped on the screen. She was doing a live remote from a waterside park.
The reporter said, “I’m on the banks of Rock Creek, where about three hours ago students from a local elementary school stumbled on the remains of a human body tangled in the weeds.” The station showed file tape of the arrival of emergency personnel.
The reporter continued her story. “We spoke to several officials with knowledge of the discovery who believe the body is that of missing FBI agent Emily Parker. Agent Parker disappeared earlier this week while out for an early morning jog.”
I stared at the TV silently as my world crashed down around me. Was this my fault? Had Emily been calling me because she knew she was in danger?
The bartender’s voice broke me out of my trance.
“Eat it before it gets cold. No refunds,” he said, pointing at the plate I didn’t even notice he’d placed in front of me.
I had completely lost my appetite.
Chapter 22
I sat on the stool in the rundown sports bar and stared at the TV until a follow-up segment came on the news. The bartender never walked by to see if I had eaten my cheeseburger or needed anything. I laid a twenty on the bar and shuffled across the sandy hardwood floor and pushed through the door with the sketchy hinge.
I’m not even sure how I got back to my hotel. All I did was nod at the valet as he took possession of the small purple Prius. I shambled to my room like a zombie. I was numb. And my brain was working no better than that of a mental patient who hasn’t received his daily meds.
I’ve never been a big drinker. Most times that was probably a fortunate decision. Right now I could understand turning to alcohol to numb the pain. I sat on the edge of the bed and let my brain run unfiltered.