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“What?” gasped Drews, rising up on his elbows. He started to cough. Milligan poured out a glass of water from a carafe on the nightstand and helped Drews drink it. He shot Decker a stern look and then stepped back with the empty glass.

Drews finally settled down and stared helplessly up at them. He gasped, “Anne, shot? How? Why?”

“We don’t know why. That’s why we’re here.”

“But I don’t know anything.”

“You may know more than you think,” said Decker. “What did you two talk about today?”

His brows knitted, Drews said, “She was a nice lady. Started visiting me about four weeks ago. We just talked about…things. Nothing in particular. Nothing of importance. Just things to pass the time, take my mind off…my situation.”

“Did she talk about herself?”

“Sometimes. She said she was a schoolteacher. She wasn’t married. No children.”

“What did you do before you became sick?” asked Milligan.

“I was a software engineer with a local tech company.” His eyes closed and he started breathing deeply.

“Are you okay?” asked Milligan.

Drews opened his eyes and snapped, “No, I’m not okay! I’m terminal, all right! I’m dying!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drews, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry,” Milligan added in a contrite voice.

Decker studied Drews. “Did you ever talk with Mrs. Berkshire about the work you did?”

“No. What would have been the point?”

“Just chitchat?”

“No. And that seems like a lifetime ago. I barely remember it.”

“You’re not married.”

“How do you know that?”

“No ring on your finger. And no mark that showed a ring used to be there.”

After a moment he said resignedly, “I never met the right woman, I guess.”

“Parents still alive?”

Drews shook his head. “I’ve got a brother, but he lives in Australia. He came up when I got sick and stayed a while. But he had to get back. He has five kids.” Drews paused. “He’ll come back for the funeral. He’s my executor. I’m being cremated. Makes it easier all around.”

Drews closed his eyes and his lips trembled. But then he reopened them and sighed. “You never think you can talk so candidly about your coming death. But when you don’t have a choice, you just…do.”

“What do the doctors say?” asked Decker.

Drews shrugged. “Some days, it feels like tomorrow will be it. Some days I hope tomorrow will be it.”

“We’re sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Drews. We appreciate your help.”

As Decker rose, Drews put out a hand and lightly gripped Decker’s fingers. The man’s skin felt like ice.

“Anne was really nice. She didn’t have to come here and do what she did, but she wanted to. I…I hope you find whoever did this.”

“We already found him, Mr. Drews,” said Decker. “Now we just have to find out why he did it.”

CHAPTER

6

“A SUBSTITUTE SCHOOLTEACHER?” said Decker.

He was looking around at Anne Berkshire’s condo on the top floor of a luxury building directly across the street from the Reston Town Center.

Milligan nodded. “That’s what her file says.”

“You know this area better than me, what do you think a place like this would run?”

Milligan looked around at the space. It had tall windows, high ceilings, hardwood floors, about three thousand square feet of professionally decorated space with sweeping views of the area, and a large private balcony with a hot tub.

“Two million, maybe more.”

“And the building management says she has a Mercedes SL600 parked in the underground garage.”

“That’s well over a hundred grand,” said Milligan.

“Did she inherit?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to dig on that.”

“How long has she been a teacher?”

“She’s been substitute teaching for four years.”

“Before that?”

“She lived in Atlanta for three years.”

“Doing what?”

“We don’t have an occupation, just an address.”

“Before that?”

“Seattle.”

“So no job there either?”

“Not that we could find.”

“Before that?”

“We didn’t find anything else on her.”

“How far does her file go back?”

“When you add it all up, about ten years.”

“But she was nearly sixty. So that takes us back to her late forties. What about before then?”

“We couldn’t find anything. But we haven’t had much time to dig yet. Something else will turn up. And it’ll probably explain the money angle. She might have been injured in an accident and gotten a big settlement. Or maybe a malpractice suit. Hell, maybe she won the lottery.”

Decker didn’t look convinced.

“She’s very neat,” remarked Milligan.

“I think the term would be minimalist,” said Decker, noting the spare furnishings. He walked into the master bedroom and looked through the walk-in closet.

“Four pairs of shoes, a few purses and bags. No jewelry that I can see. And no safe where they might be kept.” He looked at Milligan. “We weren’t rich by any stretch, but my wife had probably thirty pairs of shoes, and about that many purses and bags. And she had some jewelry.”

Milligan nodded. “Mine does too. Do you think Berkshire was just unique, or is it something else?”

“I also haven’t seen a single photo of anyone. Not Berkshire. Or family or friends. Nothing. In fact, the entire place looks like a model unit. I bet she bought it furnished and none of this is even hers.”

“What does that tell us?”

“That maybe she was not who she appeared to be.”

“You think Dabney knew her?”

“Maybe. And did we confirm that she was going to the FBI? I just assumed that because of where she was. But we need more than assumptions now.”

“We’ve confirmed that she wasn’t scheduled to meet with anyone at Hoover. And visitors just coming to tour the place need to file a request ahead of time so the Bureau can do a background check. And there’s no record of such a request for her.”

Decker sat on the bed and looked around the room. “She leaves here, goes to the hospice, and then heads downtown. She had a Metro card in her purse that showed she got off at the Federal Triangle stop about ten minutes before she was killed.”

“And she was seen in one of the surveillance cameras leaving that station.”

“And then Dabney shoots her.”

Milligan stared at Decker. “If he planned to shoot her, how did he know what time she was going to be there? Or that she was going to be there at all?”

“Maybe he was the reason she was there,” suggested Decker.

“What? He communicated with her and told her to meet him outside the FBI building?”


Tags: David Baldacci Amos Decker Thriller