Page 17 of Caught
Leilah gave the pedal a gentle tap, and the Porsche crept forward toward the gate.
“What is NCIC III?” she asked, hoping her voice was steadier than her hands.
“Triple Eye is the FBI’s Interstate Identification Index,” Elle piped up cheerfully. As a doll-sized person herself, Leilah knew that Marielle, unlike Chelsea, had plenty of room in the tiny back seat.
“What does it do?”
They inched forward another few feet.
“It’s an index of arrest records in something like twenty states.”
“And indictments,” Olivia added. “Criminal histories. We’re going to breeze through,” she assured Leilah.
Leilah was less certain. “But you’ve been arrested.”
“Those charges were dropped,” Olivia explained.
“What about me? I’m a wanted woman.”
Olivia thought for a moment. “Well, you weren’t arrested.”
“No, but …”
Marielle gripped Olivia’s headrest and leaned forward. “Did you give the officer your driver’s license?”
“No, but I told him my name.”
“You’re fine,” Marielle stated confidently. “You won’t be in the system.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “J’espère.”
“I heard that,” Leilah told her. “You hope? You hope!”
“Shhh,” Olivia hissed. “Incoming.”
A fresh-faced soldier waved them forward to the guard booth. Leilah wondered when soldiers had gotten so young. The alternative—that she was getting older—was clearly not a possibility.
At the booth, she lowered her window and hit the guy with a full-wattage smile. “Hi, there.”
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” His eyes drifted over the car’s occupants, then returned to the vehicle itself. “Nice ride.”
“Thank you.”
He gave the Porsche one last longing look and then got down to business. “What’s the purpose of your visit today?”
Leilah coughed, stalling.
Olivia leaned over and widened her big blue eyes. “We were down in Annapolis for the day, and I remembered how close Fort Detrick is. Just over an hour away. So we hopped in the car to surprise an old friend. But, I didn’t think about security procedures.” She gave him a hopeful look. “Are you going to let us in?”
“IDs, please,” he said in answer, which Leilah noted wasn’t really an answer.
Everyone dug out her driver’s license, and Leilah passed the ID cards through the open window. He ducked into the booth, and Leilah held her breath until he reemerged.
He handed back the cards and pointed to a low green-roofed building behind him and to the left. “See that building? That’s the Visitor Control Center. Drive up there and park in the lot. The folks in the VCC will get you sorted.” He smiled wistfully. “Your old friend sure is lucky.”
Olivia smiled back.
“Thank you,” Leilah told him. “And thank you for your service.”
He nodded, all business again, and waved them through.
