Lyle shook his head. He blinked back tears that he hadn’t realized were accumulating in his eyes. “Nothing! Nothing, I swear!”
“Why have you been in Dupont Circle? Who are you seeing there? Why have you been underneath it?”
Dwight shot the questions so fast that Lyle didn’t have time to answer. Not that Lyle could think of answers anyway. His head was spinning with the implications that he’d been seen. That he’d been noted. That he was being accused of…god…what? Killing someone? More than one?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lyle shouted.
The door flew open with the kind of slam that should have been saved for dramatic entrances in old movies. And there, outlined in sunlight so brilliant it seemed ethereal, stood Mary. She was shaking. Her hands were clasped into fists and he
