Rayâs hand settled on his shoulder for a moment.
âYou take care of my little girl, Paco.â
Hannibal nodded and hustled outside. He tossed his bag into the trunk and got into the driverâs seat without looking back. He didnât want to know if Ray had followed him and saw Cindy in the car.
âThat was quick,â Cindy said as he started the car.
âNot as quick as I hoped.â
âSo what now?â Cindy asked. âI still donât see how weâre going to find the people who took Jason away.â
âOur best hope is that Ireneâs killers tried too hard and left some evidence of their crimes,â he said, pulling away from the curb. âThey left quite the trail of breadcrumbs to lead detectives to the conclusions they wanted, but itâs damned difficult to make it perfect. So we pick at the clues and try to pull them apart. We found some things that didnât look right at Jasonâs house. And according to Rissik, left Jasonâs car at the Alexandria train station. Letâs go see what might not look right there.â
In the life of a private detective, things are seldom as simple as they should be. Hannibal reflected on that idea while he and Cindy wandered the Alexandria Union Station, the cityâs historic train station. From the small parking area of the tiny way station, built just after 1900, they looked up at the Masonic Washington Monument at the Western end of Alexandriaâs Old Town. It took less than a minute to ascertain that Jasonâs silver Toyota Prius was not parked in the little lot. They explored the nearestrestaurant parking lot. They even walked the streets a block in each direction before accepting that it was nowhere in the area.
Hannibal could not rule out the idea that Carlton, or even some members of the Fairfax County police, were part of the Irene Monroe conspiracy, but he didnât see any good reason for them to lie about Jasonâs car. He knew lots of way to try to find out what had happened but he always favored trying the easy things first. So, he let his eyes wander to the three people waiting on the benches outside the train station.
The young guy at the far end of the nearest bench was only outside to get a smoke. Probably not there for very long. The Latin man on the middle bench had rough hands and wore working clothes. He was very likely illegal. He would not see anything and would not want to answer any questions. The older black woman at the far end wore mules over nylon knee highs that ended just below the hem of her black skirt. She was travelling with a shopping bag full of stuff. She was outside because there was nothing to look at inside. He waved to Cindy to follow and walked over to her.
âExcuse me maâam. Could you help us? We canât seem to find our car.â
âWell I didnât take it.â
Hannibal chuckled a little. âNo, Iâm sure you didnât. My friend borrowed the car to drive to the train station and said heâd leave it parked in this lot. Itâs not worth stealing, itâs a little thing, a silver Prius .â
âThat little silver thing?â the woman asked. âChild, they towed it away almost an hour ago. You going to have to pay to get it back. You better get on your friend for that money.â
âTowed it?â Hannibal looked shocked. âOh no. How am I going to find it? Did you notice the name of the company?â
âNope. But there was a police car here at the same time, and the cop was kind of directing them. Was your friend dealing drugs or something? I figured there must have been something important in the car.â
Hannibal looked at Cindy in horror, thanked the woman, and rushed into the train station. Once inside his expression returned to its usual calm acceptance.
âYou really got into character for that one,â Cindy said.
âThat was only half faked. It sounds like the county towed
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