by Lis Wiehl
Mama reached up and put her hand on Nic’s shoulder. “You just keep it simple. You just say that their father made a mistake and hurt you. But that you love them, no matter what.”
Nic twisted until her mama’s hand fell away. “I can’t. It’s not this child’s fault, but it needs to be where it will be wanted and loved.”
“And that’s why you should keep the baby,” Berenice had said. “You’re the mother.”
Now Leif said, “But you did keep her.”
Nic sighed. “When my daughter was born, I was afraid if I held her it would make things worse, since I was giving her up. But then my mother held her, and the baby cried. The nurse held her, and she just squalled. Then finally the nurse brought the baby to me. She had just come on her shift, and I don’t think anyone had told her I was giving the baby up. I reached out”—she demonstrated, holding up her empty arms—“and touched Makayla lightly on the forehead. She stopped crying right away and looked—I don’t know—interested. She seemed to know me and be secure with me. And suddenly I was filled with love for this beautiful, innocent little creature. And maybe it wasn’t fair to the parents who were going to adopt her, and maybe it wasn’t fair to my daughter, but I decided to keep her. And she is the light of my life. She’s one of two good things that came out of that horrible day.”
“So what happened to those two guys?” Leif asked, looking grim.
“Kirk and Miller? Kirk got twenty-five years. Miller got thirteen.” She had wanted to kick their teeth down their throats for ruining the lives of so many women. Instead, the resolution had hardened in her that no one would ever take advantage of her again.
“Did you testify?” The pain in Leif ’s eyes somehow made it easier for her to go on.
“In the end, they decided my case wasn’t strong enough without video evidence. They had those other women on tape, and they testified. Before that, they had done a DNA test while I was still pregnant and determined paternity. It showed it was Miller’s baby. But of course, he’s not really Makayla’s father. Not in the real sense of the word.”
“Does she know?”
Nic shrugged and made a sound that was something like a laugh. “Actually, she’s never asked me. I keep rehearsing what I’m going to say when she does. Sometimes I wonder if she knows I don’t want her to.”
Leif ’s expression softened. “What’s your daughter like?”
“She’s smart. Straight A’s. Spunky. A little sassy. She’s tall. Last summer, I had a couple of people from modeling agencies ask me to give them a call.”
“Did you do it?”
“No way. I don’t want her to end up with a job where sooner or later people tell you that you’re not thin enough, not pretty enough.” Her stomach clenched. “She got the height from Miller. He’s tall, like you.”
Leif winced. “Does he know that she’s his child?”
“He might. Even though my case was considered non-prosecutable, my name and the information about the pregnancy were in the pretrial discovery that Miller’s attorney got. But he’s never tried to contact me.”
Leif ’s eye’s narrowed. “You said he got thirteen years. How old is your daughter?”
“Ten. The thing is, Miller got paroled two weeks ago and put on electronic monitoring. They didn’t even notify me until yesterday.”
“Wait—he’s here?”
“In Medford. It’s where his mom lives.” Medford was five hours to the south.
“Do you think he’ll try to come up here?” Leif ’s hands tightened into fists.
“I don’t think so. He’s wearing a GPS monitor. Even if he wants to get revenge, I’m not one of the women who put him in prison.”
“You said two good things came out of what happened.” Leif touched the back of her hand with the tip of his finger, and Nic felt it all the way down to her bones. And she didn’t shatter. Instead, it felt like something inside her began to knit together. “What was the other?”
“During the course of the investigation, I was interviewed by a special agent, because Roy had raped girls in three states. That agent made a big impression on me. And when Makayla was two, I applied to join the Bureau. But I never talk about her father. To anyone. People have no right to know. And if someone asks, I just give them this look I have, and they don’t ask again.”
“You know what we call that look?” Leif ’s voice broke with relieved laughter. “The death stare.”
CHAPTER 35
Channel 4 TV
Monday, February 13
Quentin Glover’s called a press conference at 12:15 to, quote, provide an update on the situation, end quote,” Eric said at Channel 4’s morning staff meeting.
“He’s going to resign,” Brad said with certainty. “That search warrant must have turned up something.”
When Cassidy saw how adoringly Jenna regarded him, it was hard to keep from gagging.
“It’s possible,” Eric agreed. “Cassidy, I’m sending you and Andy over to cover it. We’ll run it live on the noon news. Glover was already looking at jail time for his financial shenanigans, but there are rumors this is connected to Jim Fate’s murder.”
Cassidy felt a grim satisfaction. She had never liked Glover. Cassidy hated politics. Show her a politician, and as far as she was concerned, show her a liar. And now, it seemed, quite likely a murderer as well. If so, she couldn’t wait to cover his trial and sentencing. It wouldn’t bring Jim back, of course, but it might restore some balance to the universe.
An idea nagged at her, but when she tried to pin it down, it flew away. Something about Jim. Something she had seen recently that didn’t seem quite right. But what was it?
The press conference was packed, but Cassidy judiciously used her elbows and high heels to maneuver her way to the front. Glover looked bad, sweaty and pale, his eyes wide as he faced two dozen microphones.
Looking at him, Cassidy felt zero sympathy. Let him suffer. Whatever anguish he was experiencing was nothing compared to what he had put Jim through.
“Some of you are probably here today expecting to see me slink away in defeat. But I won’t.”
Glover shook his head so hard that Cassidy saw a drop of sweat fly off his face.
“I want to repeat that I am innocent of these accusations. I will not resign from the post that Oregonians have entrusted me with. I have been granted fifty-two years of exciting challenges and stimulating experiences and, most of all, the finest wife and children any man could ever desire. Now my life has changed because of a politically driven vendetta. That hack, Jim Fate, would not let up despite the lack of evidence. He did his best to destroy me and my family.”
There was absolute silence in the room.
“Well, I’m happy to say that Jim’s no longer here to badger me.” Glover smiled, but it was more of a grimace. “But when those flapping gums of his were finally closed for good, the FBI, in its incompetence and its continued drive to persecute me, fixated on punishing me. So Jim continues to taunt me even from beyond the grave. I’ve come to realize that there is nothing I can do to escape these lies and slanders. Even though the man who set them into motion has been stopped, they still continue to spread, like the cancer that they are.” A red stain spread up Glover’s cheeks.
“Some people have been calling and e-mailing and telling me that they believe me. They know I’m innocent, that I never took a single dollar and that I certainly did not take Jim Fate’s life. These people want to help. But in this nation, the world’s greatest democracy, there is nothing they can do to prevent me from being prosecuted for crimes they know I did not commit. Jim Fate set into motion a juggernaut of political persecution and smears that have not only brought me pain, but have also hurt my family, friends, and colleagues! I had to watch my mother spend her last few weeks in agony because she couldn’t believe the things Jim was saying about me.” His words were coming faster, so fast he was almost spitting.
“Jim brought his own death on himself by the hate and lies he sp
ewed. But while I understood the reasons behind it, I did not cause it. I have done nothing wrong. I ask those who believe in me to continue to extend friendship and prayer to my family, to work untiringly for the creation of a true justice system here in the United States, and to press on with the efforts to vindicate me, so that my family is not tainted by this injustice that has been perpetrated on me.”
From the podium, with its Medusa head of microphones, he took three manila envelopes, two slender, one bulky. He looked off to one side. “John, could you take these, please?” One of Glover’s staffers, appearing confused, stepped forward to take the two thin envelopes. And then Glover picked up the third and ripped it open. The crowd gasped.
It was a gun.
His face now oddly peaceful as he picked it up, Glover said calmly, “Please leave the room if this will offend you.”
Around Cassidy, everyone pressed back.
John yelled, “Quentin, don’t do this!” Others called out, “This isn’t right, Quentin!” and “Quentin, listen to me!”
Glover held up one hand, signaling them to stop, while the other pointed the gun at the ceiling. “Don’t try to take it, or someone will get hurt,” he warned.
Cassidy felt like she was watching herself. It was as though the intervening weeks had never happened, and she was back in the home of the murdered Senate page, Katie Converse, with her eyes fixed on a gun. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even draw a breath.
Twisting his hand so that the gun was upside-down, Glover slipped the barrel into his mouth. People gasped and cried out.
Before anyone could move, he pulled the trigger and fell back against the wall. He slid down the wall until he was in a sitting position, his legs splayed in front of him. Blood poured from his nose and the exit wound at the top of his head.
All around Cassidy, people were screaming and swearing and crying out in shock. A few ran toward Glover as if to render first aid, but it was clear he was dead.
Come on! Half his head is gone, Cassidy thought, not moving. And then she had a terrible thought. Hadn’t Eric said that Channel 4 would broadcast this live?
CHAPTER 36
Pastini Pastaria
Wednesday, February 15
Allison met Nicole outside Pastini’s. “Have you seen Cassidy yet?” Allison asked.
Nicole was just shaking her head when Cassidy pulled her car up next to them. She got out, nearly getting run over in the process, seemingly oblivious to the honks and squealing brakes. On the sidewalk, she gave them each a hug. Underneath Allison’s palms, her body seemed to hum. Cassidy had been through so much lately. Standing a few feet from a killer as he shot himself could not have helped her already stressed mental state.
“Cassidy, you can’t park here,” Nicole pointed out. “It’s a fifteen-minute zone.” The three of them squeezed closer to the car to let a mom with a double stroller pass by.
“I’ll move it in a second,” Cassidy said as she opened the passenger door and pushed the seat forward to reach into the back of the car. “Nicole, I just want to give you your birthday present before I forget. I know it’s not for ten days, but with everyone’s schedules being so busy . . .”
Allison felt a twinge of guilt. She had been so preoccupied with catching Jim Fate’s killer that she hadn’t given any thought to Nicole’s upcoming birthday. The two of them watched as Cassidy began to paw through the detritus that covered her front passenger seat: granola bar wrappers, a pair of Nikes, a tube of mascara, an umbrella, a crumpled McDonald’s bag, and a couple of People magazines.
“It was just here,” she complained, leaning in farther.
Cassidy had always aspired to be bone thin and worked hard to maintain a weight that Allison privately thought too low and Cassidy publicly felt was never low enough. But now it looked like she had given up the fight. Her narrow skirt was far too tight.
Allison turned to see if Nicole was registering the same thing. But instead of looking at Cassidy, Nicole was transfixed by something else inside the car. Allison followed her gaze. In between the seats was a cup holder that held, not a coffee cup, but a small dish of change. With something slightly larger resting on top.
“Here it is,” Cassidy declared, unearthing a pink package about the size of a deck of cards. As she was straightening up, Nicole was leaning into the car.
“Hey!” Cassidy said in surprise as Nicole stood up again. All of them looked at the silver earring, shaped like a Chinese character, that now rested on Nicole’s outstretched palm.
“What is this?” To Allison’s ear, Nicole’s voice was ominously casual.
Cassidy shrugged. “Half a pair of earrings. I don’t know where I lost the other one. They’re handmade, so I don’t want to just toss it. I figure the minute I do, I’ll find the missing one at the bottom of my purse or something.”
“I’ve seen one just like this recently.”
“Do you remember where? Because I would love to be able to wear them again.”
“The one I saw is in an evidence bag,” Nicole said without inflection. “Leif found it under Jim Fate’s bed.”
Cassidy’s mouth made a small, round O.
“Tell me what you were doing there,” Nicole demanded. “And in his bedroom.”
“It’s not what you think.” Cassidy lowered her voice, and the three of them made a tight little knot on the sidewalk, no longer noticing the passersby.
“Oh no, Cassidy,” Allison said, her heart sinking. “What do you mean that it’s not what we think?”
“Jim and I have known each other for a long time. He wanted me to quit Channel 4 and take over Victoria Hanawa’s job.”
“What?” said Allison. Part of her couldn’t believe it. Part of her realized it fit everything they had learned so far.
“So we made a recording at his condo like we were doing a show together. I went back there the morning he died so I could take it off his computer before anyone else found it.” She looked from Nicole to Allison, seeking understanding. “I had already turned Jim down, but Channel 4 would have fired me if they had ever found out about it. I could have lost my job for nothing!”
“And you didn’t think this information was worth telling us?” Nicole’s eyes were blazing. “We’ve been searching for the woman the neighbor told us about, the mysterious blonde who left his apartment—and it was you, wasn’t it? You lied to us, Cassidy. You said you were just friends with Jim. And you never told us that he wanted you to take over Victoria Hanawa’s job.”
“We were just friends. Basically. Jim wanted to be something more, but I didn’t, which is where the earring must have come off. And I didn’t tell you that I had been there because I didn’t want you to think of me as a suspect.”
“You withheld evidence, Cassidy! The fact that he offered you Victoria’s job would have pointed toward Victoria being the killer.”
Cassidy scuffed her toe on the sidewalk, looking like a five-year-old caught in a lie. “But I was worried about my job. I didn’t realize that telling you about Jim and me would have pointed the finger at Victoria. But it worked out okay. You solved it.”
Allison sighed. “Look, Cassidy, we can’t keep secrets from one another. Not about important things.”
She hung her head, her blonde hair falling on either side of her face like two wings. “I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think it through.”
Despite the apology, there was still a jangly feeling among them as they went inside. Nicole unwrapped her present—a bracelet made of polished tiger’s-eye stones—and unfroze a little bit as she thanked Cassidy. When the waitress came, Allison ordered the ziti vegetariano, Nicole the linguini with chicken piccata, and Cassidy the ziti con molta carne.
After the waitress left, Cassidy asked, “Were you surprised when it turned out to be Glover?”
Allison said, “Surprised is maybe not the right word. And in some ways Glover’s death makes things easier. Despite everything he’s done, Glover still has some fans in this state. It woul
d have been hard to find an impartial jury. And hard to convict him based on circumstantial evidence. But the fact remains that he hated Jim for good reasons, and his mother was on the same type of drug that killed Fate, and he had access to smoke grenades. The lab tests still aren’t finished on Fate’s blood, but I guess now it will be moot. The task force has already been disbanded. Now it’s just Nicole and me tying up the loose ends.”
“What was in the other two envelopes?” Cassidy asked. “The ones Glover handed to his aide?”
“One was his organ donor card. The other was a suicide note.” Allison had read it so often that she had it memorized.
The media and the FBI have accused me of so many things. In their bureaucratic world, there are no shades of gray, only black and white. In their false view, gifts from old friends became bribes. Cancers that needed to be cut out before they spread became fine, upstanding citizens, mourned by thousands. Personal matters were dragged out into the public square.
I think about my life and feel I’ve done most of the right things. I told the truth as I saw it. I paid what I was asked to pay. So why do I end up like this, with a target on my back? I can’t go on. No matter what the outcome, people will look and point. I can’t take that. I’ve only done what had to be done.
I’m sorry for what I’ve put my family through. You will be better off without me. I never meant to hurt you. My burden is so great that I can’t go on with it any further.
Please, please, please, I ask the rest of you, please leave my children in peace.
“Do you think he was crazy?” Cassidy asked.
Nicole’s mouth twisted. “Maybe crazy like a fox. Since Glover died in office before he was convicted of anything, his wife gets full survivor benefits from his pension. It turns out they don’t have a suicide clause.”
Their food came. Allison was tired of thinking about Jim Fate, thinking about whether things really added up. She said, “I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, Cassidy, but I watched your piece on domestic violence. Good for you for coming forward. I mean, I volunteer at Safe Harbor, but that only helps one woman at a time. You offered hope to hundreds, maybe thousands of women.”
