Page 96 of Fire and Bones

“I have information relevant to the two Foggy Bottom fires.”

More nothing.

Once more avoiding mention of my upcoming meeting, I explained the yellow Camry, the decal, Archie Baxter’s records search.

“I suggest you brief Deery.”

“I’ll phone him next.”

For what seemed like a full ten seconds, I listened to the fuzzy hum of cell phone silence. Finally,

“Do you not have a job, Ms. Brennan?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you trying to do ours?”

“Do you have any leads?” I snapped.

“Many.”

“Leads that actually lead somewhere? Deery seems to be suffering from a severe case of tunnel vision.” I knew that was imprudent as soon as I said it.

Burgos disconnected.

I dialed Deery.

Got voice mail.

Fingers tense with irritation, I texted Doyle.

You up for a road trip?

Like a flag on a pole.

An hour later Doyle and I were parked on a quiet elbow of a street not far from the central business district of Silver Spring. Yards were small but well-tended. Here and there, a bicycle lay abandoned on a sidewalk or lawn.

Trash cans dotted both curbs. Utility wires drooped overhead.

Tiny red-brick bungalows lined both sides of the block, all looking like the spawn of one lackluster developer. Shutters and trim were either white or green, probably painted within the last decade. Except for the occasional potted plant or lawn ornament, that was it for whimsy.

The home that Doyle and I were eyeballing had construction debris piled along its right side. Weeds growing amid the rubble suggested aged repairs or renovations. Perhaps a project abandoned midstream.

An ancient car sat in the driveway. Gray, with tires smoother than the skin on a grape.

“That clunker looks like it rolled off the line before I was born,” I said.

“Ford Mustang,” Doyle said. “Probably a’92. Cool set of wheels.”

“But not a piss-yellow Camry.”

“Definitely not.”

“Shall we see if Mr. Pope is receiving visitors?”

“Lead on.”

As with every other home on the block, three steps led up to a small concrete stoop. As with every other home on the block, an outer screen door shielded an inner one made of metal.