34

Avery cricked her neck from side to side, loosening up, muscles still tense from the bumps and bruises of the last few days. “I can have someone else spar with me,” she offered.

“Only if it makes you feel more comfortable,” Parker said, dropping his gym bag—which he always kept in his car, knowing he had to hit the gym when he had free slips of time—to the ground.

“No. I’m good.” She wanted to see what he had. “But you have to promise not to take it easy on me.”

“As you wish.” He climbed in the ring, shaking out his arms, his colorful tattoo of evergreens running from his wrist to just below his elbow.

They started tentatively, sparring slowly, but soon they both moved full-steam into the session.

Perspiration drenching, Avery did another roundhouse kick. This time Parker anticipated it and ducked low under her leg.

She swung a right hook, and his hand barely made it up in time to block it.

He was good, but he was also taking it easy on her. It was so obvious.

“Come on, lad,” she said playfully. “Let me see what you got. Stop holding back.”

“Okay.” In one quick move he swept her legs out from under her. She quickly reciprocated the favor—both laid out on the mat, both crazy enough to laugh.

Parker rolled on his side, propping his weight on his elbow, and leaned down low to kiss her. “Truce?”

“Truce.” She smiled as his lips melded to hers.

Declan paced the Islamic Cultural Institute of the Mid-Atlantic’s parking lot, waiting as the techs worked the last Town Car. Lexi leaned against the car, drinking a Coke.

Please, Father, Declan prayed. If Anajay Darmadi was in that car, let us find evidence or we’re back to the drawing board.

“I’ve got something over here,” Sam, one of the techs, said.

“Yeah?” Hope rose at the tone of Sam’s voice.

“You’re going to want to see this.”

Declan and Lexi moved to the tech’s side, and he handed Declan the electronic fingerprint reader. They had a hit. Anajay Darmadi had been in the back of the Town Car parked beside them.

Thank you, Lord.

“Any idea who was driving?” Lexi asked.

“One of the employees. Jari Youssef.”

They reentered the building and Jari greeted them, his smile fading as he took in their countenance.

“We’re going to need you to come with us, Jari,” Declan said.

“I don’t understand. What is this about?”

“We just need to ask you some questions.”

“Then ask them here,” Dr. Ebeid said, rounding the corner.

Jari wouldn’t be able to speak freely anywhere in the building. No. Their best bet was to take him to the Bureau. To offer him a plea. He knew Jari would never go for it, but perhaps they could get something out of the man.

“I’m afraid we need to take him in for questioning.” Declan indicated for Jari to stand, and he cuffed him before leading him toward the front door.

“Interrogation? Handcuffs?” Dr. Ebeid said, blocking the door. “This is an outrage.”

“Khaled,” the Institute’s lawyer, Nidal, said, “they have the right. Let them go. I’ll meet Jari over at the Bureau office.”

Declan stepped past Dr. Ebeid and put Jari Youssef into the back of his car as Lexi climbed in the passenger side. They pulled out of the lot and headed for Route 40, banking west on 40 en route for 695 North and their office.

They stopped at the light by the Shell gas station at the corner of Route 40 and Swann Road. It was just about to turn green when Declan’s rear passenger window shattered. He floored the gas, speeding through the intersection with lights flashing.

Lexi looked back. “He’s been shot in the head.”

Declan called it in, and emergency personnel met them in the Westview Shopping Center parking lot, but it was too late. Jari Youssef was dead.