Occoquan, Virginia
February 11, 2018
Located south of the Metro area just off the I-95 corridor, Occoquan remained a small town. Developers by-passed the site along the river by the same name. They wanted more open, uncomplicated acreage to build hundreds of tract homes to offer the growing army of commuters heading north to the beltway every morning. The town fiercely protected the small river and resisted any further development. Occoquan’s small shops did not attract people with children and lacked all the conveniences that suburbia offered: twenty-four hour-a-day grocery stores, mega home centers, drop-off day care, drive through coffee shops and wide-ranging sports and academic programs to satisfy the yuppies. But Occoquan did appeal to Meg. She avoided the things that attracted so many of her colleagues and found the quiet, laid back town to her liking.
A thick winter fog had settled into the Capital region overnight and hung over the still river. It enveloped Meg as she opened the front door of her small townhouse to take her dog on his morning walk. Meg really liked living out here. The commute to Quantico was far better than the hike to DHS as she’d found out since driving to the Domestic Terrorism Annex the past five weeks. However, working on the Special Task Force stimulated her, and she particularly enjoyed working for Dan. Clear-headed and focused, he listened to Meg and seemed to value her input. What she liked best was that he frequently used her as a sounding board for his ideas prior to engaging the rest of the team. She felt like part of something important and worthwhile.
As her little Boston bull terrier, Corky, stretched his legs along the damp sidewalk, Meg spotted a man headed towards her. Strange, she knew all her neighbors in this small neighborhood, and few were up at 5:00 a.m. Involuntarily, her muscles became taut. She moved off the sidewalk and into the road, giving the other person a wide berth. Dressed for winter, the man wore a long dark wool overcoat and a brimmed hat pulled low on his brow. He looked like he was deep in thought and did not even acknowledge her.
Just before getting to her house, she spied the man again and stayed on the sidewalk, quickening her pace so that she would be up the walkway and on her porch before the two met again. He also quickened his pace. As they approached each other, the man opened his coat like a flasher, and Meg spotted a shiny pistol. At the same time, she felt a sharp sting in her side and fell into the man’s arms as she lost consciousness.
Hours later, Meg’s neighbor spotted Corky scratching the front door with the leash still attached to his collar. Meg didn’t answer when he rang her bell and knocked loudly. He returned home and called the local police. Meg’s car was parked in the driveway, and the house security system was armed. With no response to another round of knocking, the uniformed police officer returned to the office and called the FBI.