“Okay, now what?” Marino asked as he followed me through the center of the firearms lab, past scientists busy processing bloody clothing under biohazard hoods, and others examining a Phillips screwdriver and machete at a big U-shaped counter.

“Now I go shopping,” I said.

I did not slow down as I talked but, in fact, was getting more frantic because I knew I was getting closer to reconstructing what Carrie or her accomplice or someone had done.

“What do you mean, shopping?”

Through the wall I could hear the muffled bangs of test fires in the range.

“Why don’t you check on Lucy?” I said. “And I’ll get back to both of you later.”

“I don’t like it when you do this later shit,” Marino said as elevator doors parted. “That means you’re running around on your own and poking your nose in things that maybe you shouldn’t. And this ain’t the time for you to be out on the street with nobody around. We got not a clue where Carrie is.”

“That’s right, we don’t,” I said. “But I’m hoping that’s going to change.”

We got out on the first floor, and I headed with purpose to the door leading to the bay, where I unlocked my car. Marino looked so frustrated, I thought he might launch into a tantrum.

“You want to tell me where the hell you’re going?” he demanded at the top of his voice.

“A sports store,” I said, cranking the engine. “The biggest one I can find.”

That turned out to be Jumbo Sports south of the James, very close to the neighborhood where Marino lived, which was the only reason I was aware of the store, since prowling for basketballs, frisbees, free weights, and golf clubs rarely entered my mind.

I took the Powhite Parkway and two toll booths later was exiting on Midlothian Turnpike, heading toward downtown. The sports store was big and built of red brick, with stick figures of red-painted athletes framed in white on the outside walls. The parking lot was unexpectedly full for this time of day, and I wondered how many well-toned people spent their lunch hours here.