“So someone’s admitting that Emily visited the Steinberg house? It was beginning to feel like the FBI didn’t realize the Steinbergs existed.”
Bobby frowned. “Do you want to listen to why I’m here or bitch about the FBI?”
I nodded and mumbled, “Sorry.”
Bobby waited a moment to ensure I was properly contrite. Then he said, “This house painter is a convicted sex offender and may have been in the area where Emily disappeared. They haven’t arrested him. They’re just trying to figure out if he has any hidden apartments or anything like that.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because my supervisor already gave me something else to look at in addition to Emily’s murder. That means the bosses are either losing faith that we’ll be able to solve the case or they’re losing faith in me. I want to make sure there’s someone out there looking out for Emily. Sometimes I wonder if the Bureau is afraid of what it might find out if it looks too deep.”
I thought about all of this. Finally, I looked at Bobby and said, “The surveillance of the painter feels more like a desperation move.”
“I agree, but what else do we have? Do you have some secret insight you haven’t shared with any of us?”
I said, “Just this afternoon I thought about looking at the case a different way. What if we considered Michelle Luna tied to the case after all? Maybe there’s something from her investigation we could use on this one.”
Bobby shrugged. “At this point I’m not sure what to do. But I don’t want to be the guy who ruins your career. I’m also here to warn you.”
“About what?”
“A couple of the supervisors at the off-site office were asking questions and figured out who you are. I heard the special agent in charge was going to make a call to your police commissioner. You might want to keep that in the back of your mind.”
I let out a laugh. “After the threats I’ve already gotten, I’m not terribly afraid of the FBI boss calling someone at the NYPD.”
Bobby stuck out his hand. “Still proud to be working with you.”
Chapter 68
Bobby wasn’t out of the lobby before my phone rang. It took me a moment to recognize the Maryland number. It was Emily Parker’s sister Laura.
After I answered, she said, “My mom and I remembered a few things we thought we’d pass on. We also have a favor to ask.”
“I’ll do anything I can to help you guys.”
“My mom is really shaken by Emily’s death. She thought Emily would show up like she had in the past. Anyway, we’re supposed to pick up Emily’s personal effects at the FBI office. Would you consider coming with us?”
“Of course. When do you need me?”
“The FBI was open about timing the appointment. My mom thinks she’ll be up to it later in the week.”
“Happy to do it.”
“I also found a business card at Emily’s apartment. It made me remember her telling me about someone she was close to. A lawyer named Reggie Balfour. I think he’s a high-end attorney who works by referral only.”
I wrote down the contact information Laura gave me. I looked at my watch and realized it might be a good time to intercept the hardworking attorney leaving his office not far from the swanky Capitol Hill area. Better to catch this guy late, as he was leaving, than try to wrangle an appointment.
The lawyer’s elegant three-story office building resembled an art gallery, with wide, tall windows and paintings and sculptures in the lobby under spotlights. When I arrived, I was surprised to see at the very reasonable hour of seven only four cars left in the covered parking lot. Two were small, practical vehicles, like the Prius I was driving. One was a nice SUV that had two car seats in the back seat. That left a black Lexus LS. A nice car even for an attorney. Even an attorney who worked at a firm so exclusive it had no need for a sign.
I parked a few spots down from the Lexus, then called NYPD dispatch. I gave them my ID and the license plate. They had no way of knowing I was off duty and not even in New York. A moment later my theory was confirmed. The black Lexus came back to an R. Balfour. The address on the registration matched the office. I didn’t want to push my situation and ask for any other information.
I decided to avoid startling anyone. I waited in plain sight, right next to the car. I was dressed in a sport coat and hoped that I didn’t look too menacing. At least not to an attorney who drove a black Lexus LS.
Two young women, each carrying a box of files, walked out of the door with barely a glance in my direction. I caught snippets of their conversation. “Meet you at seven tomorrow morning.” All I could think was these poor women had only twelve hours off before they had to return to work. My police job didn’t look so bad in comparison. The women separated and each got into one of the practical cars I’d noticed when I first arrived.