She backed out of the room. She backed down the hall and backed through the open window. She quickly looked down at the idling van in the alley as she got onto the fire escape, but she kept her eyes on the third floor and her gun pointed at the window all the way as she backed herself down the iron stairs.
chapter 15
QUINN drove out of the city, keeping to the speed limit and stopping for yellow lights. He had thanked Tracy when she got in the van, but they had barely spoken since. She knew that he was grateful for what she’d done. She also knew what kind of man Quinn was, and that he had been shamed.
Jennifer and Stella argued loudly, sitting beside each other on the back bench, for most of the way out of D.C. But as they crossed the line their voices grew quieter, and their conversation softened further still as Quinn took the ramp onto the Beltway. By the time Quinn was on 270 North, he looked in the rearview mirror and watched them embrace. For the first time since the row house snatch, Quinn loosened his grip on the wheel.
Tracy lit a cigarette and dropped the match out the window. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Can I have my radio back?”
Quinn took it from his jacket and handed it over. “This thing works for shit, y’know it?”
“Next time turn it on.” Tracy moved her hand to the tray and tapped ash off her cigarette. “You don’t have a problem with what happened back there, do you?”
“No problem,” lied Quinn. “I’d be a class-A jerk if I did. I mean, you saved my ass.”
Tracy grinned. “And the rest of you, too.”
“That was pretty smooth, you bustin’ in like that. And you didn’t even tell me you were carrying a gun.”
“My father gave it to me a long time ago. He bought it hot downtown. It’s an old MPD sidearm, before they went to the Glocks.”
“It’s, uh, illegal to have one of those in the District. You know it?”
“Really.”
“Yeah, you could get in a world of trouble, you get caught with it on your person. You could lose your license.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Just letting you know, is all.”
“I wouldn’t walk into a situation like that without it.”
“Okay.”
“You tellin’ me you don’t own one?”
“I do own one. I’m just surprised that you do, that’s all.”
“I wanted to kill him, Terry. I mean, I was close. It scared me a little, back there. Even more than he did, you know? You ever get a feeling like that?”
“All the time,” said Quinn.
In fact, Quinn was visualizing the room in the row house and Worldwide Wilson now.
“Anyway,” said Tracy, “nice work. You found her quick. Even the hero stuff you pulled back there. Good, solid work.”
“Hero? Christ, what about you?”
Tracy smiled crookedly. “What?”
Quinn looked her over. “Bad-ass.”
Tracy pointed to the detention center across the highway that had become visible on their left. Quinn put the van into the right lane and took the next exit.
He parked in the lot of Seven Locks station. In the backseat, the two girls talked quietly. Stella was reaching into her football-sized handbag, pulling out a Walkman and then several CDs.
“I’m gonna be a while,” said Tracy. “I don’t have to, but I think I ought to wait for her mother and father to get here while the cops process the paperwork. I like to talk to the parents when I can.”
“No problem. You still want to grab a beer?”
“Sure.”
“Bars’ll be closed by the time we’re done here. Thought I’d go snag a six while you’re inside.”
“Make it a twelve-pack.”
“I’ll be out here waiting,” said Quinn.
Jennifer climbed out of the back of the van. Tracy tossed her pack of cigarettes back to Stella. Jennifer did not speak to Quinn as she passed by his window and went with Tracy up the sidewalk to the station. Tracy kept her hand on Jennifer’s elbow all the way.
“Think we can find a beer store out here in Potomac?”
“I want one,” said Stella.
“Forget it,” said Quinn.
It took a while to locate a deli. When they returned to the lot Quinn cracked open a can of beer and took a long swig. Stella sat beside him and smoked one of Tracy’s cigarettes. She had Quinn half turn the ignition key so that she could get some power to the van, and she pushed the Mazzy Star tape back into the deck.
“This is old,” she said, “but it still sounds pretty cool.”
“Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Bet it’s your partner’s tape.”
“That’s right.” Quinn closed his eyes as he drank off some of his beer. It was cold and good.
“You’re more like the Springsteen type.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked at the brick building lit by spots, remembering back to that time in high school when he’d spent a night out here in one of the cells. A D&D charge at a house party that had gone on way too long. He’d beaten up the host’s father. Quinn wondered if the kid ever got over seeing his father on the ground, getting punched out by a seventeen-year-old boy. And all because the old man had looked at Quinn the wrong way and smiled.
“Hey, you listenin’?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“My father likes Springsteen. The old Springsteen, he says, which means, like, the stuff that’s one hundred years old. Not that I’m comparing you to my father. You’re younger than him, for one.” Stella dragged on her cigarette. “My father was ‘weak and ineffectual.’ That’s what the shrink my parents took me to said. This shrink, he wasn’t supposed to say stuff like that to me, I know. But I was suckin’ his little dick right there in his office, so he said all kinds of stuff.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” said Quinn.
“He said that I ‘gravitated toward strong men’ ’cause my father was weak. What do you think of that?”
“No clue.”
“It’s why I hooked up with World, I guess. Couldn’t find a much stronger man than him. He turned me out quick, too.” Stella double-dragged on her smoke and pitched it out the window. “But I couldn’t produce for him. Nobody wanted to pay for this stuff, not that I blame them. I’m not much of a woman, am I, Terry? Do you think I am?”
“You’re fine,” said Quinn.
“Yeah, I’m a beauty, all right. Anyway, that’s how I got into the recruitment biz for World.”
“Stella—”
“I do like strong men, Terry. The shrink was right about that.”
She slid over on the seat so that she was close to him. Quinn could feel her warm breath on his face.
“That’s not a good idea,” he said.
“Don’t worry, green eyes, I’m not gonna hurt you. I was just lookin’ for a little love. A hug, is all.” She moved back against the passenger-side door, her face colored by the vapor lights of the lot. Quinn could see that her eyes had teared up behind the lenses of her glasses.
“I’m sorry, Stella.”
“Ain’t no big thing,” she said, a catch in her voice. She turned her face away from him and stared out the window.
They sat awhile longer, watching the uniformed cops moving in and out of the station. A minivan pulled into the lot. A man and a woman got out of it and hurried inside. Stella laughed joylessly, watching them.
“I love happy endings,” said Stella. The hard shell had returned to her face.
“You don’t have to go back to working for Wilson. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know. Damn right, I am somebody, and all that.”
“I’m serious. And we both know it’s not safe. One of these days he’s gonna find out you been playin’ him for the middle.”
“You didn’t give me up to him back there, did you? You didn’t say my name or nothin’ like that.”