No one had seen anything. And that’s what everyone told Metro officer George Mankins, all at once when he pushed through. He listened, then raised his hand. He looked at Delsey, saw her dilated eyes, her pallor, the dirt on her hands, the streak of grime on her cheek. “You okay?”
She nodded. She waved toward the insane wreckage in the street. “I’m not responsible, really, Officer. Someone pushed me.”
Mankins eyed her. He’d just finished a double shift, thankful to be on his way home when the call came in. He’d been only one block away, so he couldn’t ignore it. What was this about someone pushing her? “You sure you don’t need the hospital?”
“No, honestly, I’m okay. My brother’s an FBI agent. Please take me to him. He’s in the Hoover Building.”
“No can do. I’ve got to take you to the station, let you tell a detective what you told me. Who are you, sir? You know her?”
“He’s Rob Rasmussen. He was my boyfriend for a day until I found out today he was a liar. But he did save my life, pulled me back just in time.”
Or maybe, Officer Mankins thought, the lying ex-boyfriend had pushed her, then regretted it just in time to save her.
47
* * *
HENRY J. DALY BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Griffin, Savich, and Sherlock were met by Detective Ben Raven in the lobby of the Daly Building. He led them through security and up to the third floor to his captain’s office.
Captain Juan Ramirez, built like a fireplug and stronger than most of the officers under him, looked up when three people appeared in his doorway. He nodded to Ben, rose. “Savich, Sherlock, good to see you. Ben said her brother was coming. That you?”
“Yes, Special Agent Griffin Hammersmith.”
He looked back at Savich. “What are you guys doing here?”
Savich shook Ramirez’s outstretched hand. “Good to see you, Juan. Griffin Hammersmith is in my unit. Griffin, this is Captain Ramirez.” Griffin stepped forward, stuck out his hand. He turned immediately to Delsey, pale as a death shroud, sitting on the edge of the captain’s ratty houndstooth sofa, looking straight ahead, as if studying the captain’s desk would keep her safe. Rob Rasmussen stood in the corner, staring at her.
“Delsey, sweetheart—”
Delsey blinked at Griffin’s voice, jumped up and ran into his arms, squeezed him tightly. “Someone shoved me into the street, right in front of a black limo, Griffin. It wasn’t people pushing in behind, you know how that is— No, it was a hard shove, square in my back, hard enough to push me into the street. Rob said he didn’t see anyone shove me, simply saw me flying into the street and he managed to grab me and pull me back.” She gave Rob a brief nod.
Griffin continued to hold her as he looked over at Rob Rasmussen. He opened his mouth, but Sherlock beat him to it. “Were you with Delsey, Mr. Rasmussen?”
Rob looked at her, then fast down at his sneakered feet. “Well, no, not yet. I was trying to catch up to her. I called her but she hung up on me. I drove to Agent Hammersmith’s condo, saw her get into a taxi and followed. I wasn’t stalking her, really, I only wanted to talk to her, tell her that I wasn’t—”
“A lying jerk?” Delsey said, turning toward him, never leaving Griffin’s arms.
“I’m not, Delsey, I swear I’m not.”
Savich slashed his hand through the air. “Rob, this isn’t the time. We all know you were with Delsey all afternoon yesterday while Sherlock and I were interviewing your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
Savich cut him off. “Right now you need to focus. Think back, Rob. Picture the scene in your mind. Picture each person. Can you describe the man or woman directly behind Delsey?”
Rob gave Delsey one last look, then said to Savich, “Okay, there were lots of people, at least a dozen, maybe more, both men and women. Delsey was on the curb, first to go, waiting for the light to change. A man and a woman were directly behind her, crowding close, and then a second later, I saw Delsey flying into the street. I pushed through the crowd and managed to pull her back.” He swallowed convulsively. “It was close, too close.”
“Did anyone look familiar to you?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention, only looking at Delsey. Even when I shoved through people to get to her, I didn’t notice their faces.”
Detective Ben Raven said, “Officer Mankins and three other patrol officers corralled some of the people who were behind Ms. Freestone. They took their names so we can question them. But many of our fine upstanding citizens couldn’t wait to get away. Our best shot at seeing the person who shoved Delsey might be the traffic cams at that intersection. We’ll have the footage within the hour. We’ll also check the cameras on all the buildings within a block radius. I’m hopeful we’ll nail our perp in living black and white.”
But Griffin wasn’t hopeful, not if the person who’d shoved Delsey was savvy about the cameras plastered all over Washington, almost as many as in London. He saw Delsey was looking wobbly and led her to the sofa and sat down beside her, never letting go of her hand. He saw she was looking at Rob Rasmussen, who still stood behind a utilitarian office chair, not moving, looking back at her.
She licked her dry lips. What would have happened if he hadn’t followed her to try to talk her around? “Griffin, why would someone want to kill me? I mean, I don’t know many people in Washington. I haven’t had the time or the opportunity to make a serious enemy. Even your doorman likes me. Could this have something to do with someone trying to kill Mrs. Rasmussen?”
Captain Ramirez came to attention. “What’s this? Wait a minute—Rob Rasmussen. You’re related?”
Sherlock said, “Rob is Mrs. Rasmussen’s grandson.”
Rob said to Captain Ramirez, “I had nothing to do with the attempts on her life and Delsey hasn’t even met her. What happened today couldn’t have anything to do with that mess.”
Savich said slowly, “It could have something to do with a woman’s anger at a rival. Rob, how would Marsia know you spent hours with Delsey yesterday?”
Rob never looked away from Delsey. “I went to see her last night. Before I could speak to her about Delsey, she told me about your visit at her studio and said she hoped she’d passed with flying colors. Then she eyed me, and finally asked me about my day. I told her I’d had lunch with a new friend in Washington.” His eyes fell to his sneakers. “Not much more. I wanted to wait until the weekend to break it off with her, but I did tell her I’d met someone I really liked, and I told her your name, Delsey. She smiled at me, asked if you were an artist like she was, and I told her you wrote music. She said she’d like to meet you. She didn’t seem disturbed at all. She said it was nice to meet new people that I liked. I started to get into it then, explain everything to her, but I got a call from one of my people about an emergency at one of our job sites. I had to go see to it. I told myself I had enough time. This weekend, I’d get everything clear with her.