She smiled, and even in the semidark it was a beautiful thing to see. No woman I’ve ever known can look as good as she does in the morning. Or as sexy. I had to get up again fast before I started something I couldn’t finish.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, a little groggy but up on one elbow now.

“Thanks, no. I’ve got this. But if you could get the kids to school —”

“Done. Anything else?”

“A couple of quick, unspeakable acts before I leave?”

“Rain check,” she said. “Sampson’s waiting. Now go — before we both do something we won’t regret.”

I was gone a few minutes later, and had to wave off the security detail in the backyard when they saw me launch out the door. It had been only a few hours since I’d come dragging past them, moving in the opposite direction.

“Hey, guys. Regina’s just getting up,” I said. “Coffee’ll be out for you soon.”

“And biscuits?” asked one of them.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I said, and laughed.

This was getting out of hand, though. I knew about crazy hours as well as the next guy, but leaving the house before Nana Mama even gets her kitchen up and running for the day? That is the definition of “early.”

Chapter 68

ALL OF THE EARLY-MORNING buses were lined up on the street outside Union Station when I got there.

Sampson had already shut down the rear terminal, and there were traffic cops in orange vests everywhere, pointing people to where they needed to go. One more colossal headache, but at least it wasn’t mine.

I pulled around back and walked up from street level to the cavernous main deck of the parking garage. Sampson was waiting for me with a large coffee in each hand.

“I’m hating this one, sugar. Hating it real bad,” he said, handing over my morning fuel.

We walked toward the back, where I could see a row of big brown Dumpsters against the wall on the H Street side. Only one of them was sitting open.

“Nude this time,” Sampson said. “And the numbers are all down her back. You’ll see. Also, it looks like she was stabbed instead of beaten to death. All in all, a real nasty scene.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do this. See what we’ve got.” I slipped on my gloves and stepped up to survey the damage.

She was facedown on top of the refuse inside — mostly bags of garbage from the terminal. The numbers were etched into her skin in two parallel rows on either side of the spine. It wasn’t an equation, though. This was something else.

N38°55’46.1598"

W94°40’3.5256"

“Are those GPS coordinates?” I said.

“Be curious to see where they point, if they are,” Sampson said. “This guy’s evolving, Alex.”

“Anyone move the body?”