“That’s the case I was called in to work.” Boone nodded.
“What happened?” Janie begged the man to explain what was going on.
At that same time, a man came rushing through the Emergency Room doors with a young child. It was obvious by the way he was holding his arm that the little boy was injured.
“We need some help,” the guy hollered out to anyone who would listen. “I think my son broke his arm.”
“Let’s talk over here.” Boone motioned toward a small waiting area a few yards away.
“I want to see Devon.”
“And you will,” the detective promised. “But she’s still unconscious, and it would be helpful to the investigation if we could get some more information about Devon. Since you know her better than anyone here . . .”
“Okay,” she relented. “But if they come out and say she’s awake?—”
“I’ll personally escort you to her room myself.”
Janie and Emmett followed the other man over to a section of empty chairs. They sat down with Emmett at her right and Detective Boone at her left.
“First of all, do you know why your friend is here, in D.C.?”
“I have no idea.” Janie shook her head, doing her best not to break down and cry. “It’s been a few days since we last spoke, and even then, Devon never said anything about coming here.”I would have remembered something like that. “Oh, Devon.” Janie squeezed her eyes shut as Emmett wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.
“What do you know so far?” The rumbled question was directed toward the other man.
“She was found beaten and unconscious a few blocks away. A witness at the scene said they saw a black panel van skid to a stop in the middle of the road. The side door opened, someone wearing allblack rolled your friend out of the van, then they took off.”
A small whimper escaped her throat as Janie put a hand over her trembling mouth. She couldn’t keep the tears from escaping that time. Instead she closed her eyes and set them free.
Detective Boone spoke up again, his tone softer and a bit sympathetic. “You said you and Devon spoke a few nights ago. Can you tell me what the two of you talked about?”
She sniffed before wiping her face dry with her palms. Looking at Emmett, she searched for his guidance on what to share.
“We talked about a story I’ve been working on.” Janie kept her answer vague.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Emmett’s lips curved into a comforting smile. “You can tell him.”
“Are you sure?”
With so many D.C. players, it was impossible to know who to trust.
“Tell me what?” Boone asked.
But Emmett ignored him and gave her a nod. “Blake checked him out. He’s clean.”
If Emmett and his team trust this guy . . .
“We’ve been looking into Amy Weaver’s disappearance and subsequent murder.”
“Amy Weaver?” The D.C. detective frowned. “The intern they found in the Potomac a few days back? I thought she committed suicide.”
“Because that’s what they want you to think,” she told him with certainty.
Boone blinked. “And who exactly are ‘they’?”
Janie looked to Emmett, who quietly gave the other man the basics of what they knew. What Blake had found with the apartment and hotel security cams. What Dr. O’Neill had discovered when they’d broken into Dr. Nguyen’s office. Emmett even told Detective Boone about the safe house shooting, including the would-be assassin’s name.
When Emmett was finished with the unbelievable story, Boone sat back in his seat and sighed. “I knew shit like this was going to happen now that you were here.”
