“Sir, can I ask you to return your seat to its upright position, please?”
Quinn cracked open his eyelids. “No problem,” he said as he pushed the button that returned his seat to the FAA-required uncomfortable position.
Beside him, Orlando was in the process of shutting down her laptop.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”
“It was already morning when we left.”
“Don’t kill the mood.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If it was mood fulfillment you were looking for, you shouldn’t have waited until we were descending,” she said, purring. “There was a good hour there when no one was in the restroom, and the flight attendants were busy doing their flight-attendant thing. Could have been fun.”
“If you’re trying to up my frustration level, mission accomplished.”
She smiled as she slipped her computer back into her bag. She then leaned back and rubbed her eyes.
“Didn’t you get any rest?” he asked.
“A little. But one of us had to figure out where we’re going before we get there.”
“And?”
“Eli has a townhouse in Bethesda.”
“Can’t imagine that took the whole flight to figure out.”
She hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d do a little hunting for the girl.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
After they arrived at Dulles International, they rented a Ford Explorer and made a quick stop in Reston to purchase heavier jackets and gloves before heading toward Maryland.
A layer of clouds filled the sky, dulling the light. Quinn hoped it wasn’t some kind of precursor to a storm. The scattered patches of snow along their route were already pushing his annoyance level too high.
The townhouse was located about half a mile away from the Walter Reed military hospital, on a road that dead-ended at a park. A sign indicated the complex was called Warwick Mews. According to the information Orlando had dug up, it consisted of twenty-eight units, each with two stories up and a half-sunken basement down, and were divided into four rows of seven units each. The exteriors had been well maintained, but Quinn guessed the buildings had been built at least thirty years ago.
The Mews had driveway entrances at both ends that led into parking areas for visitors. Residents had garages at the back of their units that were accessed through the visitor parking area and then down the center between two of the rows.
“There,” Orlando said. “Ninety-four-twenty-three.”
She pointed at the third townhouse from the end. Like the others, it had steps leading up to a deck where the front door was located.
Quinn pulled to the curb and looked at the two units flanking Eli’s. Since it was nearing ten thirty in the morning, he was hoping most people who lived in the complex would be at work. The townhouse to the left looked appropriately dark, but the one to the right looked like it could be a problem. He didn’t see any movement through the half-covered windows, but a stroller was on the deck and a few toys were lying around, suitable for a child young enough to have not started school. Which meant the possibility of a parent or nanny being home.
He glanced back at Abraham. “How likely is it that Eli would have made friends with his neighbors?”
“Over time, maybe,” Abraham said. “I don’t know for sure, though.”
“What about a wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Roommates?”
Abraham shrugged. “He never talked about anyone but he was kind of awkward. I don’t think romantic relationships would have come easily to him. But you never know.”
As Quinn scanned Eli’s place, he saw no obvious signs that someone was home.
“Okay,” he said. “We can’t all go walking up there. That’ll draw too much attention. Nate, Daeng—”
“I know, I know,” Nate said. “Stay in the car.”
“Sorry.”
“Someday maybe I’ll make you stay in the car and see how you like it.”
Quinn, Orlando, and Abraham climbed out and made their way up to Eli’s porch. Quinn peered through the front window, saw a dark and quiet living room, and beyond it, an equally unoccupied kitchen.
“Alarm?” he whispered.
“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t,” Orlando said.
She dug into her bag and pulled out a device that looked like a beefed-up mobile phone. After tapping on the screen several times, she moved the box along the outside of the doorjamb. Given her barely five-foot height, she had to stretch to cross the top of the doorway. As she came down the other side, the device emitted a soft beep. She continued to the bottom, receiving a second beep six inches from the ground before she finally looked at the screen again.
“Not bad,” she said. “He’s using a Nevin D-60L.”
The Nevin was not a top-of-the-line security system but pretty damn close. Way more sophisticated than what a normal townhome owner would have.
“Can you deactivate it?” Abraham asked.
“Please,” she told him. “You didn’t train me to be an amateur.”
She had barely begun the process of turning off the alarm when the door to the home with the kid’s stuff on its deck opened.
A woman in a bright red jacket and holding a bundled-up child hurried out and pulled the door closed behind her. She was nearly to the stairs before she realized Quinn and the others were next door.
“I don’t think he’s home,” she said, continuing down the steps.
“Well, that explains why he’s not answering,” Quinn said lightly. “You don’t know when he might be back, do you?”
“No idea. Didn’t even know he was going away.”
“Well, thank you anyway.”
She reached the bottom of the steps and started to walk away but then looked back. “You friends of Mr. Becker’s?”
“I’m his uncle,” Abraham blurted out. “In town on business. Thought I’d stop by.”
The woman seemed to relax. “I’m sorry you missed him. He’ll be disappointed.”
“Me, too. I guess I’ll just leave him a note.” He reached into his jacket like he was going to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. “Thanks for your time. Sorry if we held you up.”
“When I see him again, I’ll let him know we spoke.”
“That would be very nice. Thanks.”
Apparently satisfied they weren’t up to anything, she hurried across the lawn and climbed into a Prius parked at the curb.
After she drove off, Quinn said, “Not bad for being a retiree.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Abraham said.
Before Quinn could point out exactly how long it had been, Orlando said, “Done.”
From his wallet, Quinn removed a hard plastic card and punched out the pre-cut pieces of the metal-free lock-pick set it contained. He disengaged the locks in less than thirty seconds.
There was a double beep from somewhere inside as he opened the door, but no blaring alarm.
Stepping across the threshold, he said, “Hello? Anyone home?”
No sound.
In addition to the living room and kitchen he’d seen through the window, the main floor included a small bathroom, a staircase that went up to the second floor and down to the basement, and a rear door to the outside.
“Down or up?” he asked.
“Up first, I think,” Orlando said.
The second floor held three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one of which was part of a master suite. Quinn thought it was a lot of space for one guy, but when they looked through the bedrooms, he changed his mind.
Eli had apparently been a collector. Filling the two spare bedrooms were paperbacks and comics and graphic novels and movie posters and vintage toys, most with a sci-fi theme. Almost as fascinating was the fact that everything seemed to have its place. The rooms looked like a combination museum and library. Quinn wouldn’t have been surprised if Eli had a detailed catalogue he could use to quickly locate each item.