by Dave Conifer
“He just called me. Don’t do it. Please. It’s hard. I know it’s hard, but I’ll help you. I’ll be better. Just give me a chance. Give yourself a chance. You have a lot to live for. You just don’t know it yet.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” she said. “I need you, Billy. I need you like I never needed anybody before. Please, don’t do this.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m in my car on the way back to the cabin.”
“Where’d you go, Joanie? I thought you were gone for good.”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. I have something to show you. You’ll be there, right?”
“Maybe, after I take care of something.” He pushed the car door open and stepped out. “Gotta’ go.”
“No! Billy, I love you!”
He froze, the door wide open and the phone pressed against his ear. “What?”
“I love you!” she repeated. “Come back to me, Billy! Please!”
The hotel, only fifty yards away, went blurry. His eyes stung so bad that he clamped them shut. It only got worse when he tried to wipe his eyes with his free hand. What the fuck? Second time I cried today. When he opened his eyes again he couldn’t make out anything.
“Billy? Still there?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Don’t do this, Billy. It’s gonna be all right. The guys have a plan. Give them a chance. I need you, Billy.”
He thought it through. He could always do this later. “Okay,” he said simply. “I’ll be there.”
-- Chapter 22 --
Fargo held his hand up before either Bismarck or Morris, who were waiting on the cabin porch, had a chance to say anything. “I’m here,” he said. “Leave it be.”
“Okay, Billy,” Bismarck said. “Glad to have you back.”
“Where’s Joanie? She back yet? I don’t see her car.”
“Not yet. Billy—“
But Fargo was already inside the cabin. Gail was there, sitting on the couch with her arms folded. “I heard what happened. You did the right thing,” she said. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“How ‘bout you? You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she told him.
“Where the hell’s Joanie?”
“She called Ricky and said it was taking longer than she thought.”
“What? She told me she was on her way!” Fargo said. “And what’s she doing in the first place?”
“She wouldn’t say,” Gail said. “Ricky pressed her, but she wouldn’t tell him.”
“She lied to me!”
“Yeah, I know,” Gail answered. “And where would you be if she hadn’t?”
“I know where Mike Minot would be.” He sighed and sat down next to Gail. “Where is she, Gail? What’s she doing?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Gail said. “I’m scared for her. We don’t even know if she left here by choice. What if somebody grabbed her?”
“What does Ricky say?”
“He’s not here either,” Gail said. “He went into town to find some internet.”
“What for?”
“He already wrote up a summary of everything we know about what Minot did,” Gail explained. “He’s sending it out to every reporter he can think of.”
“We’re gonna sink that bastard,” growled Bismarck, who’d just come in with Morris. “Before he has a chance to make up any bullshit. You know he won everything tonight, right?”
“Shit,” Fargo said. “But hopefully it ain’t gonna matter, right?”
“He’s dead in the water,” Morris said.
“Yeah, don’t worry, Billy,” Bismarck agreed. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“I wish he was just plain dead,” Billy said.
When they heard a car door slam, Fargo was the first one up and out the front door. It had to be Joanie. But it wasn’t, and he couldn’t hide his disappointment at the sight of Willmar walking toward the cabin with a laptop computer tucked under his arm. He almost turned around and went back inside, but then he remembered how much this man had done for him. So he waited.
“How ya’ making out there, Billy? We were worried there for a while.”
“I’m okay, except where the fuck’s Joanie?”
“I Don’t know. I was hoping she’d be back by now.” He tapped the computer. “I think we’re in business, though. By tomorrow morning our friend will be out of the race, guaranteed. He might even be in handcuffs.”
For the next few hours they all sat around the TV watching a gloating Minot doing interviews and making repeated appearances on stage at the Hyatt for his unofficial coronation as the Republican nominee. Meanwhile, Willmar took phone call after phone call from maniacal members of the media who had seized upon the information they’d received from him, including a transcript of Minot’s last conversation with Colfax, and were ready to pounce. Fargo spent a lot of the evening on the porch waiting for Joanie, but by two o’clock he’d given up and gone inside. A minute later, despite his worries, the blaring TV, and Ricky’s booming voice as he worked the phones, he was asleep in his chair.
~~~
He wasn’t sure what time it was when he was awoken by what sounded like a stampede out the front door. Bismarck was walking Gail inside by the time Fargo reached the door, but he didn’t stop to ask why. When he stepped outside Willmar met him with his phone in his hand. “Joanie called,” he said. “She’s about to pull in and she said to make sure Gail’s sitting down.”
“She’s okay? What’s this about Gail?”
“Here she comes,” Willmar said as a set of headlights appeared. “I guess we’ll find out.” They watched anxiously as the Honda neared the cabin and stopped next to the other cars.
“Don’t shoot,” Joanie called from the darkness to the group that had assembled on the porch. “It’s me.” Fargo could swear he heard the footsteps of at least one extra person besides Joanie as they crunched through the thin layer of snow.
“Sounds like she’s got company,” Morris said. He’d heard it too. Bismarck clicked off the safety of the pistol and passed the shotgun to Willmar.
“I saw that,” Joanie said as she approached. “Put your damn guns down, will you?”
“Who’s with you?” Willmar asked. Two teenagers followed Joanie onto the porch.
“Holy hell!” Fargo said. He recognized the older one as the girl with the broom in the little store at the dairy farm. “What did you do?”
“Everybody come inside,” Joanie said. “I been driving all night, I’m beat to hell, and I’m only explaining this once.”
But there was no explanation needed once they were inside. Gail’s mouth fell open when she saw the teens. Before anybody could speak she slumped sideways and passed out. Gail’s reaction was enough to make Fargo understand. Now that they were standing in the light he could see that somehow, someway, these were Gail’s daughters. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly.
“Somebody get Gail some water and wake her up,” Joanie said. “Erin and Emily are home.”
~~~
Later, as Joanie explained what she’d been doing all day, Fargo worried that Gail was crying so hard that she would explode. It was only a few seconds before the barrier created by years of separation, during which both girls had grown up, was broken down. Both girls were in their mother’s arms even before she regained consciousness. Neither seemed bothered by her scarred face. Joanie had probably prepared them for it. Besides, Fargo reminded himself, it’s their friggin’ mother. Even the little one seemed to know she was finally where she belonged. Ten minutes later Gail still hadn’t settled down enough to speak, and neither had her daughters.
Fargo had lived with these girls once, and wondered how he hadn’t recognized Erin in the store. Like everybody else, he thought they died that night in the fire. He still pictured them as little kids. Now he realized that she’d recognized him back in the store at the dairy farm. “How can thi
s be? How old are they now?” he asked.
Joanie looked at Erin, expecting her to answer for herself, but she couldn’t yet. “Seventeen and thirteen,” Joanie said. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked with tears in her own eyes. “They’re like Gail clones.”
Fargo took Joanie’s arm gently and pulled her into the kitchen. Everybody else except Gail and her daughters followed. “Are you sure about this?” Fargo asked softly.
“Damn sure. I knew as soon as I saw those pictures this morning.”
“But what about the farmers?”
“I didn’t stay around to get the whole story,” Joanie said. “I’m a kidnapper now. I hid, I found them, I showed them a picture of their mother. They came.”
“But how’d they get there?”
“I don’t know who the farmers are, but I’m guessing that the girls were brought there by Rip Mankato,” Bismarck whispered. “Gail always said he was trying to get them away from her. That must have been his end of the deal with Minot and Colfax. They burned the house but snatched the girls first. That’s probably where he hid them.”
“Well I’ll be,” Willmar said. “All the reports said they never found any remains. Now we know why.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her the first time,” Fargo said.
“But why would they stay at the farm if they were kidnapped?” asked Morris, speaking for the first time.
“Who cares why? It happened, didn’t it?” Bismarck snapped.
“It’s like the girl in California,” Willmar said. “They locked her up in sheds in the backyard for fifteen years and she never tried to escape. She was on the internet all the time, working for her kidnapper’s printing business, but she never tried to tell anybody what happened. She knew she’d been kidnapped the whole time. Something must happen in your brain after a while.”
“What do we do now?” Bismarck asked.
“That’s easy,” Willmar said. “We play it completely straight. We go to the police and explain what happened. We’ve got nothing to hide. One DNA test and it’s all over. We can do it tomorrow.”
“We have a lot of police business to take care of, all of a sudden,” Bismarck said. “We have to tell them about Minot. And thanks to Colfax, we have audio.”
“Maybe once that’s done they’ll clear Billy once and for all,” Joanie said.
“I think we should play that by ear,” Willmar said. “He’s still a parole violator. We’ll have to make some deals before we hand over the Minot evidence. I’ll work on that. But in the meantime, Billy needs to stay underground. Right here’s as good a place as any.”
“As long as your buddy who owns the place doesn’t mind me shackin’ up here a little longer.”
“Or me,” Joanie said. “I’m not leaving you again, Billy. Never.”
Fargo stared at his own feet. “Good. So long as you don’t mind hitchin’ your wagon to an ex-con.”
Joanie smiled. “Is that a proposal?” She squeezed him around the waist. “You sweet-talker, you!”
“Yeah,” Willmar said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
THE END
-- Epilogue --
Stories about the misdeeds of Michael Minot appeared in the back pages of most newspapers the morning after the primary elections, even as his Super Tuesday victories dominated the front pages. By the end of the day he’d retained a team of attorneys, but refused to drop out of the race. After virtually all political bloggers and talk show hosts picked up the stories and began to confirm the details that had been released by Richard Willmar, calls for his withdrawal came from within the Republican Party. When the Justice Department announced that an investigation was underway, Minot finally released his electoral votes and bowed out. Two months later he was indicted for murder, racketeering, and a host of other felonies. Sara Litchfield went on to capture the nomination.
William Fargo appeared in a Trenton courtroom three weeks after the election, represented by a lawyer he’d chosen from among the scores who’d offered to take the case on a pro bono basis. The judge reprimanded him for repeated parole violations but, citing time served for a conviction that now looked dubious at best, all current and pending charges were dropped. After agreeing to participate in a jobs counseling program he was released from his parole agreement. He immediately left the Garden State to move in with Joan Hibbing in Bristol, Pennsylvania.
After being reunited with her daughters, Gail Mankato brought them to live in suburban Philadelphia, to be nearer to those who had rescued them. Plastic surgeons worked on cleaning up the skin grafts on her face, but so much time had passed that they were unable to reverse much of the damage. She didn’t care.
Erin and Emily Mankato received psychiatric counseling after it was determined that they were in good physical health. Based on the recommendations of psychiatrists, they were mainstreamed into parochial schools in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. It was never explained why neither attempted to escape from the dairy farm despite knowing that Clay and Edith Brinks were not their parents. Erin revealed that she’d written their names on the back of the envelope and mailed it. A month later she’d sent a more detailed message, but by then Gail had left Ewing and never received it.
A court-ordered exhumation and DNA testing confirmed the death of Walter Mankato, two and a half years after the fire in Ewing. Two bullet holes were still visible at the base of his skull.
Clay and Edith Brinks were charged with harboring kidnapped children after acknowledging that Walter Mankato had brought Emily and Erin to live at the dairy farm eleven years earlier. Both were deemed mentally unstable, hospitalization was ordered, and prosecution stalled. The circumstances under which Walter Mankato passed the girls to them were never explained.
Russell Bismarck lived six more years in his Tacony row house, keeping in close touch with his niece and her new husband. He died while watching the Phillies in his favorite chair, with a can of warm beer between his legs and a smile on his unshaven face.
Richard Willmar accepted a reality TV deal on HBO in which he agreed to showcase the primary activities of his business: private investigations, bail bonds and bounty hunting. Within a year it became one of HBO’s highest rated shows.
The body of Ryne Colfax was never found, his killers never apprehended and his murder never prosecuted. Thanks to ample amounts of insurance and two state pensions, his wife and daughters lived comfortably at the Jersey Shore after his death.
Arria Morris voted Democrat in November, while her husband Kevin voted Republican.
Dave Conifer is a fitness fanatic living in South Jersey with his wife and three kids.
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If you liked Primary Justice, you might like another of Dave Conifer’s thrillers…
Man of Steel
When twenty-something journalist Joe Jonas is sent to cover a press conference in Texas he figures it’s just another crackpot JFK assassination conspiracy theory. But as he’s half-assing through the legwork he stumbles across something that makes him realize this one might be for real. It gets even better when Abby Reno, a saucy reporter from Austin, insists on working on the story with him.
As Jonas and Reno circle closer to the plot they come to realize that the protectors of the secrets are still on the job and they don’t take prisoners. The bodies pile up while the reporters look over their shoulders wondering if the story of the century is worth their lives.
"Very intriguing twist on the JFK assassination story! Was there really a plot behind the assassination, and not just a single shooter? The author has clearly read the findings of the Warren Report -- and the footnotes, which in
clude some strange and interesting facts!"
-- Smashwords review
