Discretion Read Free Page A

ringtone went off. The theme song from COPS : “Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?” The entire class looked to the wall, where a dozen identical BlackBerries were lined up.
    “It’s mine,” Anna said, slipping out of Grace’s grasp and trotting over.
    “Coward!” Grace called.
    Anna picked up her phone. She used that ringtone only for calls from her boss, the chief of the Sex Crimes and Domestic Violence unit. But Carla Martinez was in South Carolina, teaching a course at the National Advocacy Center. Why would she be calling at almost nine o’clock at night?
    “Hi, Carla?”
    “Anna, hello.” Carla’s voice was harried but relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I left you a message.”
    “I’m sorry, I’m at the gym.” The locker room was right next to the National Security section, where the lead-lined walls interfered with cell signals.
    “How quickly can you get to the Capitol Building?” Carla asked.
    Anna walked over to the tall window. She could see the top of the Capitol dome, eight blocks away.
    “I can be there in ten minutes.” So much for dinner plans.
    “Great. I’ll explain while you’re on your way. Get there as quickly as possible.” Carla cleared her throat. “Preferably before Jack Bailey shows up.”

3
    A nna thought the Capitol illuminated at night was the single most impressive sight in a city full of impressive sights. Tonight, however, the landmark was trussed up like any other crime scene. Yellow police tape cordoned off the white marble steps, and a haphazard layer of TV vans and police cruisers jammed the street.
    The night air retained the scent of baked asphalt and the sultry heat of the August afternoon. Anna was flushed from speed-walking over, but she tried to appear calm and official as she squeezed through the bystanders. She was glad she’d changed out of her yoga clothes and into a spare black pantsuit she kept in her office. She held up her U.S. Attorney’s Office credentials, and an officer lifted the yellow tape. As she ducked under, a few reporters shouted questions at her back. She was not at liberty to answer them, even if she had the answers. She kept walking.
    The Capitol sat atop one of the biggest hills in the city, and the landscaping around it was like a wedding cake, all white, scalloped, and multitiered. A fountain separated two sets of marble steps. She jogged up the closest one.
    She reached the top just in time to see Jack Bailey crest the other set of stairs. Jack was a tall African-American man with a clean-shaven head and light green eyes. His work ethic and courtroom skills had propelled him up the ranks in the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Now, at only thirty-seven, he was the chief of the Homicide section, one of the most coveted positions in the largest U.S. Attorney’s Office in the country. He usually favored dark suits, but tonight he wore jeans and a navy T-shirt with the Department of Justice seal on the pocket. He’d been called here from home.
    So much for Carla’s hope that Anna get here first. Anna felt a rush of happiness to see Jack, though she was careful to project only thepolite smile of a colleague. She greeted him in her most formal voice. “Hello, Jack.”
    Jack laughed and shook his head when he saw her. “Hello, Anna. Did Carla send you to stake a claim to this case?”
    “I was supposed to get here before you.”
    An MPD officer passed them and chuckled. “No fighting, you two. Flip a coin or something.” The ongoing turf war between Homicide and Sex Crimes was a joke to everyone outside the two sections.
    Anna and Jack walked to the Capitol’s long rectangular south wing, where dozens of officers clustered on the brightly lit marble terrace. She saw uniforms from the Metropolitan Police Department, Capitol Police, Park Police, Secret Service, and a few agencies she didn’t recognize. D.C. had more separate police forces than any other American city.
    She and Jack