Free Speak of the Devil by Allison Leotta Page A

her?”
    Jack cocked his head. “Her sister comes by from time to time. And the sister’s son, Benicio. He goes to Blair High School.”
    “Give me their full names, addresses, phone numbers.”
    Jack went to his desk, picked up his address book, and gave the information to McGee. “It wasn’t my nanny’s family. They’re good people.”
    “Who else is allowed in your house?”
    “The usual suburban types. Handymen, grocery delivery guys, plumbers. Olivia’s friends, over for playdates. Parents of Olivia’s friends. Their nannies.”
    “Names,” McGee said. “Addresses.”
    Jack flipped through the address book, listing as many as he could. He handed McGee the list of names that Luisa had given him.
    “I’ll run background checks,” McGee said. “What about Olivia? My nieces are always cannibalizing their mom’s scrapbooks. Could Olivia have taken this photo?”
    “No. She’s not allowed in my study.”
    “Sometimes a kid’s definition of ‘not allowed’ isn’t the same as their parents’.”
    “Goddammit, Tavon. This isn’t about scrapbooking. Someone is stalking my family. Those guys decapitated a man. Why did they have a picture of Nina? A picture from my den . I want to know who the hell’s been in my house.”
    “Okay, Chief, calm down.” McGee put his hands up in a gesture of peace. He looked over at Anna. “Tell me about the warrant you signed for the brothel. Did you—did anyone—think MS was involved, going in?”
    “No. It was just supposed to be a run-of-the-mill bust of a nuisance brothel.”
    “So it’s just a coincidence that these MS guys were in there? Nothing bigger than that?”
    “Not that I know of.” She turned to Jack. “The guy who had Nina’s picture was named Jose Garcia, aka ‘Psycho.’ Does that ring a bell?”
    “No.”
    “Is it possible he was connected to Nina’s death? Maybe the photo is a trophy.”
    “No. Her death had nothing to do with MS-13.” Jack sounded adamant. He put an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “I want protection for her.”
    “I’ll see what I can do,” McGee said, “but I don’t think they’re gonna go for that. No specific threat, et cetera.”
    Jack nodded, knowing he was overreaching. “The house, then.”
    “Gonna be tough. You don’t live in D.C. Only reason we got these guys here”—McGee gestured to the MPD officers emerging from the basement—“is the tie-in to the brothel case. We can try to convince Takoma Park to run some patrol cars past.”
    “I’ll call them myself.” As D.C.’s Homicide chief, Jack had connections to all the neighboring police forces. “Meanwhile, Four-D’s only three blocks away. Not hard for them to drive a few feet over the line, right?”
    If Anna stepped to the edge of Jack’s property and peered down the street, she could see D.C.’s Fourth District.
    “I’ll make sure a marked cruiser drives by tonight.”
    “Every hour,” Jack said. “For the next few weeks.”
    McGee sighed mightily and put his notebook back in his suit pocket. “Man, you are a tough negotiator. I shoulda had you handle my divorces.”
    “Thanks, Tavon.” Jack pulled Anna closer. “I owe you one.”
    After the police left, Jack took her hand. “Come on. I need to show you something.”
    He led her up the stairs to the second floor. They passed Olivia’s bedroom, where Luisa was coaxing Olivia into pink pajamas. Jack kept going, leading Anna up a second flight of steps to the attic. She’d never been up here before. He swung open the door at the top of the stairs, leading to a dark, cavernous room that smelled of mothballs, old wood, and uncirculated air.
    He pulled a chain hanging from the ceiling and a single lightbulb flickered on. Boxes and old furniture dotted the rough wood floors. Brown-paper reams of insulation lined the walls. Jack shut the door quietly and led Anna to a corner of the attic, where the wooden beams came down so low, they both had to crouch. A heavy black gun safe