Salt Kiss (Lyonesse #1)

twenty-three

I’ve spoken with the police three times, and the FBI four times, and yet I still spend my afternoon in a glass meeting room with two FBI agents, this time going over the security footage from the attack with them, corroborating the video with any details I can recall. Which is nothing that I haven’t already said, written, and signed several times over, but I guess the army has given me a deep well of patience for redundancy because it feels very normal to be explaining something for the eighth time, with lots of no, sirs and no, ma’ams indicating that no, I have not spontaneously recalled the attackers reciting their last-known addresses or aliases as they died.

Mark seems to take their lack of leads as a given whenever it comes up. FBI , he’ll say in a voice dripping with scorn. They can’t even investigate their way into a suit that fits.

And indeed, even though we all agree Drobny must be involved, no one can find him or even where he went after he was in DC this last week. He’s gone, and the best we can do is hope that Mark’s web of information and connections will eventually do what the FBI’s can’t and help us locate the bastard.