After the Fall

by Patricia Gussin

  Long ignored the comment. “Harter’s name goes into our surveillance genies. And guess what? Gets picked up on both ends. A query from Philadelphia PD to DC regional PDs regarding a vehicle owned by Jake Harter. Had to do with a hit-and-run in Philly a few weeks ago.”

  “We didn’t push her on her relationship with Harter,” Sharkey mused. “She didn’t even mention him. Wonder why she didn’t tell me?”

  “Really, Sharkey, you think women open up to you because of gender allegiance?” Mintner asked with a rare chuckle.

  “That puts an interesting spin on Abdul and Hammadi spending the night together.” Sharkey ignored her partner’s dig. “So, what is this hit-and-run?”

  “When Rockville PD responded to Philly’s inquiry,” Long scanned the report in front of him, “they were able to tie it to a recent accident involving Harter. City impound still had the suspect vehicle.” He smiled. “Working tire-impression comparisons as we speak. If there’s a match, this adds another element to your investigation. Beats me what the connection could be though. What are your next steps to either clear or connect Abdul and Hammadi?”

  Mintner shook his head. “Go for warrants for Abdul’s and Hammadi’s computer drives, warrants for phone taps, bring them both back in here. Sharkey and I don’t think we can justify the manpower for ongoing surveillance.”

  “Okay, go for the warrants. Coordinate with Detroit for Hammadi.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sharkey said, getting up to leave as Mintner stayed seated.

  “You can go now,” Long prompted.

  “Just thinking about this Harter guy. Why the tie to a hit-and-run in Philly?”

  “Find out, Agent Mintner. Now go. I’ve got a ten o’clock in here.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  Was there something going on between Addie and the dead guy? Jake was quite sure Addie wasn’t fooling around, but what if they’d been lovers in the past, or had shared some religious or cultural bond? She must have been more freaked out than he’d expected when he’d shot and killed her Iraqi friend. Obviously self-defense, she’d been there earlier when the guy came at him with a knife. What did she expect Jake to do, turn tail and run away?

  He’d kept the television on, volume low, all last night to help him cope with Addie’s absence, and now with the introduction of The Morning Show, he knew he had to come up with a plan. Where had she gone? And how was he going to find her?

  There was no more dead body, and Addie’s apartment appeared normal. Jake had been very lucky last night. When he realized she had left, he immediately went in search for her. Right outside her apartment door, he almost tripped on a phone book. Not thinking, he picked it up and carried it toward the elevator. He hopped on the elevator and took it to the ground floor, hoping to find Addie in the lobby. He didn’t. He didn’t go outside, but he did stand at the door, looking up and down the street. No Addie. Still carrying the phone book, he took the four flights of steps to her floor. Did she have a friend in the building where she could hang out? Addie was a very private person, and he thought not.

  As he approached the long hallway from the stairs to Addie’s apartment door, Jake all but ran into a thin, fifty-something man emerging from a door. The guy’s bald head was down, and he was struggling to pull a large roller suitcase as a computer bag slid off his shoulder.

  Holy shit. No lights were on in the silent apartment. This man was leaving for some time, judging by the big, bulging piece of luggage.

  “Let me assist you, sir.” Jake set the phone book down in front of the door and turned inward to grab the handle of the luggage. Instead of trying to roll it, he hefted it up and swung it into the hallway.

  “Thanks, man,” Addie’s neighbor said. “I’ll be away for a month, several climates. I should have used one of those carts they keep downstairs. I’m getting too old for this much travel, but it goes with the job.”

  The man adjusted the strap of his computer bag with one arm and reached to pull his suitcase with the other. “Damn thing keeps sliding off when I wear this coat. Well, thanks again.”

  The man left without a look back at Jake or at the gap in the door where the phone book kept it propped open.

  Jake had not found Addie, but he had found a place to store the Arab’s body.

  But now it was morning and Addie had not come home. He climbed out of bed, his jaw aching, each breath a stab of hurt, but he was a Marine, trained to work through pain.

  For one sick, fleeting moment, Jake wondered if Addie could have called the police. In her eyes, would she think she’d witnessed a murder? Would she think it her civic duty to report it? Even if it meant turning in her fiancé? Certainly not. Addie came from Baghdad, where murders were everyday occurrences.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  Shouldn’t there have been more blood? Addie wondered, recalling Dru’s body splayed on the floor, unmoving. Jake’s bullet hit Dru in his chest. She could see the hole between his breasts, blood coming out of it, spreading in a circular pattern, staining his nice white shirt, but not pumping out enough to drench it as she would have expected. Addie was a PhD, not a medical doctor. She’d never seen a gunshot wound, never anticipated she would. She remembered with surprise that the gun had made only a popping sound, nothing loud enough to alert neighbors, attract police.

  She remembered asking if Dru was dead. Jake’s answer: “Yes.”

  Dru was dead. In her apartment. Jake had shot him.

  She’d bolted out her door, not bothering to close it, ran toward the stairs, hurtling down all four flights, heading toward the back door of the building where maintenance unloaded the daily trash. She worked her way under the cover of dark dumpsters to the shadows of the alley that would lead her close to her car. She knew Jake would try to follow her. He’d convince her to tell the cops it was self-defense. Or, she thought with horror, would he try to blame her? No, Jake loved her. Isn’t that why he shot Dru? Jealousy? Must have thought she and Dru were having an affair, that she was going home to be with Dru.

  Cringing in the dark alley, Addie knew she must escape Jake. He had taken himself out of her life. He was a murderer. Because of him, the comfort of knowing Dru had looked out for her over the years was gone too. She was on her own. She could identify just two objectives.

  First, her family. She needed to show up in Baghdad, or Saddam Hussein’s regime would kill her family. Dru had made that clear and she knew the threat to be real. Second, she needed to protect herself. A woman in Islam was nothing more than an inert possession. She did not want a life of subjugation. Neither would she make herself a pawn in Saddam’s biological weapons program. She had to find a compromise, a way to save her family but a solution that also would save her.

  Addie moved cautiously along the back alley beyond the foul-smelling dumpsters. The black, moonless night both protected and terrified her. As she neared the dimly lit street that ran perpendicular to hers, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her car was parked a short block away. She gripped her handbag, thankful for the reflex that had made her grab it as she fled the apartment.

  She often parked on this street, and tonight saw no one whom she recognized. She reached into her bag for her car keys as she approached her Audi. Before pulling out of her parking spot, she hesitated to listen carefully for signs of police or emergency vehicles.

  All she heard were the usual sounds of the night—traffic at its usual cadence, a few stray voices. No pounding footsteps, no sign of Jake, or anyone else, behind her.

  On impulse, Addie made a three-point turn and headed away from her house. Would she ever return? How could she, after seeing Dru’s body lying dead in her living room? The horrors of the night had left no room in her mind for the DIA investigation. Till now. Would the agents be looking for her with more questions? Did they have the right to search her apartment? Of course, they did. Would they find Dru’s body? Or would Jake get rid of it? Was that why he didn’t come after
her? What about Dru’s wife and young sons? Hadn’t he said they were hidden away somewhere? How would they learn of his death?

  She felt faint and pulled into the lot of a convenience store, leaning over the steering wheel, taking deep breaths. “Addie,” she finally heard herself say, “stop it. You need a place to spend the night. Somewhere no one can find you. Start driving.” On the highway toward Baltimore, she chose a dumpy motel, paid with cash.

  During the night, a startling idea had crossed Addie’s exhausted mind. Was there any way agents Sharkey and Mintner could help her? She’d heard of witness protection… Would the US government help an Iraqi woman escape with her family?

  Now in the clarity of morning, Addie scolded herself for even thinking such stupid thoughts.

  She knew she had only one real option: try to get through the day. Avoid Jake; avoid her apartment; maintain her employment until the Immunone money was committed to her. How to actually take possession of the money, she did not know. Dru was to manage that for her. But now she had no one.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  Jake waited until nine o’clock. His head and jaw throbbed, and each breath shot a knifelike pain into the right side of his chest. And still no Addie.

  In the car, he removed the Beretta from his ankle holster. He put it in the backpack with the extra ammo. Getting the contraption off his ankle felt good. He headed for a nearby deli where he indulged in a three-fried-egg breakfast with bacon, sausage links, whole wheat toast, and lots of coffee. When he would next eat pork, he didn’t know. Eating pig’s meat was against Addie’s religion and he should probably respect that when they were together—which would be all the time.

  All had appeared normal when he’d exited Addie’s building. No sign of excitement or suspicion in the lobby. No sign of cops in the area. So far, the dead man in the apartment on Addie’s floor must not have been discovered. It would take a while before the body decomposed, creating a telltale odor.

  The city garage confirmed he could pick up his battered Jeep. It was drivable, his insurance appraiser had declared, despite the damage to the passenger side fender. Jake would feel comfortable once he was back in his own vehicle. The Blazer he’d rented did not have the security he required. Once he transferred his survival supplies—including his weapons—to the Jeep, he’d head to Replica. Addie should be there. They would drive together to the courthouse in Ellicott City. This afternoon, they’d be man and wife. Never to be separated, no matter what.

  By the time Jake arrived to claim his vehicle, his head felt better, but the broken ribs would take time to heal. He would just have to suck up the pain. As much as he loved the Jeep, Jake figured this would be a good time to sell it. He and Addie would get a new Lexus or maybe a Mercedes. He’d let her choose it; the color too. He’d fit it for a security compartment and—

  Something caught Jake’s eye as he was about to turn into the impound garage. Cop cars, several of them, but even one cop car was too many. He decided to drive by slowly, get a better look. Hovering by the entrance, he saw the two detectives who were investigating Karolee’s murder. Booker and Finley. Why the fuck were they hanging around the impound area where owners could retrieve their cars? Jake drove on. He didn’t need to tangle with them. He still was their favorite suspect in Karolee’s murder, but they had no proof. These two clowns had nothing to do but hassle him. Today, he had no time for hassles.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  Addie found Replica in a festive mood—a small start-up realizing its dream of a huge cash infusion. Millionaires would be made tomorrow and she’d be one of them. A dream she’d never thought would materialize.

  But festive was at the other end of Addie’s emotional spectrum. Last night, she had witnessed the murder of Dru, her oldest friend in America, her Iraqi mentor, the one tasked by Saddam Hussein’s regime to get her out of the US and back to Iraq—for good. She was numb from trauma, plagued by questions without answers. How could the person she thought she’d been in love with, kill Dru outright? What had Jake done with Dru’s body? Had anyone found it? What if the police were now in her apartment? And when would the agents reappear who had interrogated her yesterday? Agent Sharkey said they would have more questions.

  But Addie knew she must be present today at Replica. To be a part of the team, with her colleagues. To arrange for her money. Once she had the $7.5 million, she could at last decide. Go back to Iraq? Or disappear, and risk her family’s lives by defying Saddam?

  She wended her way through the Replica employees hanging out in the lobby, accepting congratulations with as much grace as she could muster. Once in her office, she closed and locked her door. She simply sat, getting up only once, leaving her space to make a cup of tea, returning, locking the door. She must stay in close touch with Replica, but she must evade everyone else, the DIA investigators, and mainly, Jake. How to elude Jake? He’d be looking for her here, at Replica. What if he still expected her to marry him? That would be like Jake. Last night, after he shot Dru, he acted like nothing of import had happened. But she’d seen him shoot Dru. She was a witness. What if he decided to get rid of her too? She shivered when she remembered Jake’s wife. Could he have killed her? She had to get out of here. Now.

  She was about to pick up her purse and a few personal items when a knock at the door interrupted the silence. Her body froze. They must have let Jake in. With his FDA credentials he could enter any pharmaceutical establishment.

  “Addie?”

  Priscilla Fabre. Addie slumped back into her chair. Alarmed, she realized she had not informed Priscilla that she did indeed plan to stay with the company. That she would forgo her request for a leave of absence. As required by her contract, she’d be here on payout day.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Addie unlocked and opened the door to an ebullient Priscilla.

  Priscilla stepped toward Addie for an intended embrace, but then pulled back. “Addie, are you okay? I know you’re worried about your father, but with Immunone’s approval tomorrow…” Priscilla frowned. “Well, you don’t look too good.”

  “I didn’t sleep well,” Addie admitted. Doesn’t everybody use that excuse for an off day?

  “You do know, don’t you? We got the Immunone approval!”

  Addie wasn’t sure how to answer. Laura Nelson had told her in the parking lot yesterday, but said the news was confidential. Would Priscilla assume Jake had told her?

  “I…heard it would happen tomorrow.” Addie couldn’t control a stammer. “I am thrilled because I’ll be a full-time employee.”

  “But you don’t look too happy,” Priscilla said. With a frown she added, “Isn’t that the same suit you wore yesterday?”

  “I’m worried about my father,” Addie was quick to respond. “But I can put off going to him. Work something out with you. I just hope so much that he lives long enough.”

  “Next week, once this thing gets approved, we can talk about your leave of absence. Take whatever time you need for your family. I do understand. I felt awful when the lawyers denied you yesterday.”

  “Thanks, Priscilla, you’ve been so kind to me.” Addie was about to say, “I’ll miss you,” but no use going into that right now. Just get through until tomorrow’s approval.

  “The reason I’m here right now is that we want you to play a role in tomorrow’s press conference. Our biggest ever. For the medical and scientific press and the financial media. Television, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post…”

  “Why me?” Addie wanted to disappear, attention from the media was the worst scenario she could imagine.

  “Replica hired you because you discovered the drug. You developed Immunone to the stage we could sell it to big pharma. Tell me, who could be a better choice?”

  “I was not born in this country. My English—”

  “Your English is fine. The board has discussed this, Addie. This is not a
request. They want you out there, standing next to Keystone’s media choice, Dr. Laura Nelson.”

  “Laura Nelson,” Addie repeated. A woman she’d only met twice, but a woman she felt she could trust. And she had to trust someone. In ordinary times, she’d be honored to share a press conference with Laura Nelson. But these were not ordinary times.

  “The Year of the Woman Scientist.” Priscilla grabbed Addie’s hand. “Two beautiful, smart, incredibly successful scientists—the human interest angle is almost overwhelming.”

  “Overwhelming,” Addie repeated, slumping back, resigned.

  “Now, we have to get you the proper clothes. I’ll call in my personal shopper,” Priscilla said, with a glance at her own perfectly tailored gray suit with just the finest of pinstripes. “I’ll arrange for a hairdresser to do your hairstyle in the morning.” After a glance at Addie’s hands, she added, “And a manicurist.”

  Addie noticed only now that Priscilla was carrying a leather folder, offering it to her.

  “This is for you,” she insisted, but politely. “Your talking points. You’ll make a brief statement. It’s all in here. Take a good look at all the possible questions, and the answers you need to have at your fingertips. A media consultant will go over this with you this afternoon. The idea is, no matter what they ask you, you answer with one of these points. You’re okay with that?”

  What could Addie say or do but nod her head, “yes,” accept the folder, and try to keep her hand from shaking?

  “I’ll leave these with you then. Really, Addie, you’re perfect for this role. You’ll do just great.”

  When Priscilla closed the door behind her, Addie locked it. She went back to her desk, sat down, forced herself to breathe in and breathe out. She must calm down. Then she reached into her purse, found Laura Nelson’s business card, dialed.

  “Dr. Nelson is out of town, Dr. Abdul,” the kindly voice said. “I can leave her a message.”