Vance slowly lowered her arms and gazed at him.
He eased down his gun and said, “I thought you were in the house.”
“I was in the house. But I decided to come and check on you.”
“I’m just fine.”
She eyed the gun. “Fine, if a little edgy?”
“I prefer to call it being professional.”
She folded her arms across her chest, took a breath, exhaled, and watched it turn into mist in the chilly air. “We all are in this together, you know.”
He holstered his weapon but said nothing.
She moved closer. “You know, I understand guys who keep it all bottled up inside. The silent, stoic warrior. The FBI sure as hell has enough of them. But it does get old after a while. And a little grating, particularly at times like these.”
Robie looked away. “I’m not like anybody at the FBI, Vance. I kill people. I’m ordered to do it. But I carry out those orders. No remorse. No nothing.”
She said, “So why didn’t you kill Jane Wind and her son? Why did you take the time to get her other child to safety? And you did it while people were trying to kill you. Explain that to me.”
“Maybe I should have just killed them.”
“If I thought you believed that I’d shoot you right now.”
He turned to see Vance pointing her pistol at his chest.
“So are you just a killer, Robie? Don’t give a damn about anything or anyone else?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m not sure why. It just seems that I do. Maybe I’m just stupid. I just swore an oath of loyalty to you back there. But it didn’t seem to register with you. I wasn’t expecting you to jump up and cheer when I put you above the FBI and my professional career, but I did expect some type of positive reaction. Instead you just walked out.”
Robie turned and started to walk back toward the house.
“Do you always just walk away when the questions get tough?” she snapped. “Is that your way of handling things when the going gets shitty? If so, it sucks. I expected better from you.”
He turned back around, settled his hands in his pockets, and rocked back and forth on his heels. He took several shallow breaths and stared at a spot directly over Vance’s shoulder.
She walked toward him, sliding her gun back into its belt holster. “I thought I came here to be part of something. Please don’t tell me I was wrong about that.”
Robie glanced at the house. “She’s only a kid. She’s in way over her head. She shouldn’t be involved in this at all.”
“I know that. But she’s also a tough kid. And smart. And determined.”
Robie’s mouth twisted. “This isn’t some scrape-up on the playground. Or some chemistry test you either pass or fail. One or both of us probably won’t make it through to the end. So what chance does she have?”
Vance said, “But you’re just a killer, Robie. You said that’s all you are. So why do you care what happens to me or her? It’s just another job. If we die, we die.”
“But she shouldn’t die. She deserves to have a life.”
“Pretty weird statement for a cold-blooded killer to make.”
“Okay, Vance, I get your point.”
She pointed toward the house. “Let’s go work on the plan. All of us.”
Robie didn’t say anything, but he started to walk toward the house. Vance fell into step beside him.
He said, “Whatever happens, Julie is going to survive this.”
Vance said, “And for what it’s worth, I’ll do all I can to make sure you do too.”
CHAPTER 81
Jerome Cassidy.
Elizabeth Claire Van Beuren. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Claire and she had incorporated that into her married name, Van Beuren.
Gabriel Siegel.
Those were the three names on the list.
Robie stared down at them as he drank his coffee at the kitchen table of the farmhouse.
It was eight-thirty. The sun was well up. He could hear the shower running upstairs and figured Vance had just stepped into it. Julie was already up. She was in the back room, no doubt brooding about their last encounter.
Fifteen minutes later Vance was seated across from him, her hair still wet, her pants and shirt wrinkled but presentable.
“If we have to be off grid much longer,” she said, “I might have to get a few things.”
He nodded, rose, and poured her a cup of coffee.
She spun the pieces of paper around and eyed the list of names.
“Who do we go after first?” she asked.
Robie handed her a cup of coffee right as Julie walked in. Her eyes were puffy and her clothes were even more wrinkled than Vance’s. She obviously had not bothered to undress when she had gone back to sleep.
Robie held up the cup. “Want some?”
“I can get it,” she said irritably.
She took down a cup and poured out her coffee. They sat at the table, not making eye contact.
Robie pushed the pieces of paper at Julie and said, “Recognize any of these names?”
She took her time looking at the list.
“No. My parents never mentioned any of them to me. Do you have pictures of them?”
“Not yet,” answered Robie. “You sure, though? None of them ring a bell?’
“None.”
He took the list and eyed it.
“Gabriel Siegel is closest distance-wise. Lives in Manassas. We’ll go there first, find out what we can.”
Vance said, “If we’re doing it geographically, Van Beuren will be next and Cassidy last. But they might be at work. I’m assuming these are the home addresses.”
“I thought about that too. But if they’re not at home and someone else is, we can flash our creds and get the work addresses.”
“Once we hit one of these addresses we could pick up a tail, Robie,” said Vance. “And they could follow us right back here.”
“Well, we just have to make sure they don’t do that.”
“How about we call the people on the list first?” said Julie. “That way we don’t have to expose ourselves.”
“Or how about I call the Bureau in and get them picked up for questioning?” said Vance. “They can’t have bought off everyone at the FBI.”
“That’s what we thought last time,” noted Robie. “It didn’t work out too well.”
“Come on, you know what I mean.”
“I’d prefer we do this alone,” he said.
“Okay, so we go with this Siegel guy first,” said Vance. “I’ve looked at his military history. What does that tell us about him?”
“He was the staff sergeant. The leader of the squad. Fifty years old now. Out of the service for years. Don’t know what he does now. My source didn’t have that info.”
Julie pulled out the phone Robie had given her. “Let me plug in his military history and address and see if Google can tell us anything.”
She looked at Robie’s sheet and then typed away on her miniature keyboard. She waited for the data to load.
“Mr. Siegel has a Facebook page.” She turned the phone around so they could see it. An image of a jowly man with graying hair stared back at them.
“Do we know it’s the right guy?” asked Vance.
Julie said, “His Facebook says he was in the Army during Gulf One, and he’s even listed the name of the Army squad he was in.”
She showed this to Robie, who nodded. “He’s the right Siegel.”
Julie continued. “According to his profile he works at SunTrust Bank as a branch manager.”
“Lots of SunTrust branches around here,” said Vance. “Does it say which one?”
“No. But his likes are guns, football, and chili cook-offs. He has twenty-nine friends, which isn’t a lot, but I don’t know how long he’s been on Facebook either. And he’s a really old guy.”
“He’s only fifty,” Vance pointed out.
Julie shrugged. “Like I said, he’s a really old guy. And I don’t see anything on his page that would explain why all these people are dead.”