The Devils Teardrop

before?”
    “The pretty lady you kept looking at,” his son had said coyly.
    (“They’re sharper than you’ll ever guess,” reports the Handbook.)
    “Well, they told me that a friend of mine is sick and I have to go visit him for a little while. Who do you want to baby-sit?”
    In addition to the standard cast of high-school and college sitters, Parker had a number of friends in the neighborhood—parents he socialized with—who’d gladly take the children for the evening. There was also his friend Lynne, who lived in the District. She would have driven to Fairfax to help him out but he was sure she’d have a date tonight (it was impossible to imagine Lynne without a date on New Year’s Eve) and their relationship was no longer at the level where he could ask for a sacrifice like that.
    “You have to go?” Robby’d asked. “Tonight?”
    When he was disappointed, the boy would become very still, his expression remaining unchanged. He neverpouted, never grumbled—which Parker would have preferred. He just froze, as if sadness threatened to overwhelm him. As Robby had looked up at him, unmoving, holding a tiny toy helicopter, Parker’d felt his son’s disappointment in his own heart.
    Stephie was less emotional and wore those emotions less visibly; her only response had been to toss her hair from her face and give him a frown, asking, “Is he going to be all right? Your friend?”
    “I’m sure he’ll be okay. But it would be a good thing for me to see him. So—do you want me to call Jennifer? Or Mrs. Cavanaugh?”
    “Mrs. Cavanaugh!” they’d said, almost in unison, Robby coming out of his dolor. Mrs. Cavanaugh, the neighborhood grandmother, baby-sat on Tuesdays—when Parker sat in on a local poker game.
    Parker had stood up, surrounded by the sea of toys.
    “But you’ll be back before midnight,” Robby’d asked, “won’t you?”
    (“Never make promises if there’s any chance you can’t keep them.”)
    “I’m going to try as hard as I can.”
    Parker had hugged both of the children and then walked to the door.
    “Daddy?” Stephie had asked, pure innocence in her baggy black jeans and Hello Kitty T-shirt. “Would your friend like me to make him a get-well card?”
    Parker had felt his betrayal as a physical blow. “That’s okay, honey. I think he’d like it better if you just had fun tonight.”
    Now, intruding on these difficult thoughts, the door to the document lab swung open. A lean, handsome agent with swept-back blond hair walked into the room. “JerryBaker,” he announced, walking up to Parker. “You’re Parker Kincaid.”
    They shook hands.
    He looked across the lab. “Margaret,” he called in greeting. Lukas nodded back.
    “You’re the tactical expert?” Parker asked him.
    “Right.”
    Lukas said, “Jerry’s got some S&S people lined up.”
    Search and Surveillance, Parker recalled.
    “Some good shooters too,” Baker said. “Just dying for a chance to light up this beast.”
    Parker sat down in the gray chair. He said to Lukas, “You’ve processed the unsub’s body?”
    “Yes,” Lukas said.
    “Do you have the inventory?”
    “Not yet.”
    “No?” Parker was troubled. He had very definite ideas of running investigations and he could see Lukas would have definite ideas too. He wondered how much of a problem he’d have with her. Handle it delicately or not? Glancing at her tough face—pale as pale marble—Parker decided he had no time for niceties. In a case with so few leads they needed as many K’s—known aspects of the unsub—as they could find. “We better get it,” he said.
    She responded coolly, “I’ve ordered it sent up here ASAP.”
    Parker would have sent somebody—Hardy maybe—to pick it up. But he decided not to fight this skirmish. He’d give it another few minutes. He looked at Baker. “How many good guys do we have?”
    “Thirty-six of ours, four dozen District P.D.”
    Parker frowned. “We’ll need more than that.”
    “That’s a problem,” Cage said. “Most actives are on alert because of the holiday. There’re a couple hundred thousand people in town. And a lot of Treasury and Justice agents’re on security detail, what with all the diplomatic and government parties.”
    Len Hardy muttered, “Too bad this happened tonight.”
    Parker gave a short laugh. “It wouldn’t have happened at any other time.”
    The young detective gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
    He was about to answer but