by Jan Coffey
“I don’t want a word of this to get out.”
Her mouth opened to argue, but she snapped it shut as she saw the anger blazing in his eyes.
“Do you hear me, Linda?” he repeated more threateningly. “I’ll take care of the police. But for right now, not one damn word about this can get out.”
Chapter 29
They were at least six hours away from Philadelphia, but as far as Sarah was concerned, they might as well have been six hundred hours away. After all, it would take her at least that long to understand everything that was going on.
Owen’s phone rang again. And again, she had very little success in comprehending the one-way conversation. Sarah felt her fuse begin to burn shorter.
Back in Newport, after seeing the burned-out storage facility, Owen had insisted that there was no way she was handing herself in to the authorities in this town. He had no faith, he said grimly, in their ability to keep her safe.
They were going to Philadelphia.
As soon as they’d started on the road, she’d heard him call someone named Stu Ramsay, whom she gathered was his lawyer in New York. And immediately following that, he’d called an Agent Hinckey. FBI, she assumed, though she had no idea where he was located. From what she’d been able to hear at her end, this conversation wasn’t the first time the two of them had spoken about Sarah’s case. In fact, the tone of the conversation had sounded more as if Owen was just keeping Hinckey up to date.
Listening to this conversation had confused the heck out of her. She’d never guessed how much Owen had involved the outside authorities in her situation.
As they rode through Connecticut, Owen explained to Sarah that after Hal’s stabbing, it was clearly demonstrable that there was indeed a conspiracy to kill her. That night, Owen had called his lawyer, who in turn had contacted the Bureau. Agent Hinckey had been the investigator already assigned to the case, based on suspicions they had that linked Sarah’s ‘murder’ to two other murders dating some years back. Hinckey had been in touch with Owen since that first day.
She didn’t know if she should be angry with him for not revealing any of it, or if she should be happy that he had enough sense to take those precautionary steps.
Well, whatever she was feeling, Sarah would no longer tolerate being left out of the loop.
Another glance in the side mirror bothered her. The same blue sedan had been following them for quite a while.
“We’re going directly to Fairmont Park,” Owen said as he ended the call. “Most likely, they’ll meet us when we hit Kelly Drive in Philly.”
“Somebody is following us.” She glanced again in the mirror.
“Good! I was wondering when he was going to get here.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Not really.” He gave her a half smile, obviously conscious of her darkening mood. “At least we haven’t met personally. But I was told he is with the FBI, as well. Out of their regional office. He’s also the guy who ran down your would-be killer yesterday after Hal’s memorial service.”
“Really.” She stared back at the car, feeling better. “Where’s the dent from the accident?”
“They must have given him another company car.”
“How come he doesn’t have the guy’s head mounted on the hood?”
“I…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe there was a line at the taxidermist.”
Sarah suppressed a smile. Though she felt nothing for the dead killer, she didn’t want to look happy. She wanted to tell Owen that she was angry at not being trusted with her own life.
“He’s been staking out my place and keeping an eye on you since Friday.”
She restrained the urge to say something sharp about why he’d felt the need to take her to that lovely cottage last night. But then again, she thought…
“After the attempt on your life yesterday, I wasn’t sure how long it would take him to get clear of the Newport authorities. I wasn’t about to risk putting you in any more danger than necessary. That’s why we went out to the place in Little Compton.”
Brilliant, she thought. Now he was starting to read her mind. Why had she let him get this close? Surely, after she was in the hands of the authorities, this would be the end of it. The end of them.
Five days was not enough time for someone of Owen’s celebrity to form a serious attachment to someone like her. They lived different life styles. They had different needs. Different goals in life.
She wasn’t going to be another Tori in his life—obsessed and too blind to see she was not wanted.
It hurt to think of ending this almost before it began. But there seemed to be no options.
“Hinckey is going to call back in a few moments. He didn’t say much about it just now, but it seems that while we were speaking on the phone, he was getting other information coming to him about the Strawberry Mansion Bridge.”
It would certainly help with the explanations she’d be making if something substantial did come out of this discovery, Sarah thought. She was fully prepared to take whatever should come as a result of her decision not to go to the police immediately. And if they didn’t believe her, so be it. She knew no matter what happened, there would probably be charges. Obstructing a murder investigation. Tampering with evidence. Leaving the scene of a crime.
The phone rang again disrupting Sarah’s train of thought. From Owen’s greeting, she knew the caller was Agent Hinckey again.
“That makes it much simpler.”
His blue gaze turned in her direction, and her treacherous stomach fluttered at the feelings he wrought in her. When he hung up the phone, his hand reached for hers.
“They are starting to dig.”
“Dig where?”
“At a spot beneath the bridge.”
“But from the way you described it, the bridge must be a huge structure. How do they know where to start? Or what to look for?”
“Judge Arnold has decided to make a deal.” Owen said. “He told them exactly where to dig.”
“And did he say what to look for?”
He nodded, turning his attention back to the road.
“A woman’s body.”
~~~~
Ike Bosler nodded to the group of men before him as he put down the phone. “They’re starting right away.”
They were too many people stuffed in the small conference room at the state’s Intake Service Center. At the moment, no one seemed to mind.
Judge Arnold accepted a cigarette from Dan Archer and let the police detective hold a light for him. He took a deep drag and sat back in the chair, crossing his legs.
“Okay, Ike,” the judge said. “What’s next?”
“We’ll go through with our part of the deal. You’ll get the complete immunity you’ve requested.” Bosler frowned as he looked over a pad of paper containing his assistant’s scribbled notes. “In addition to what you’ve already given us—where we will find the body, et cetera—we’ll need all the other details, as well. Dates, names, places, other clients who were involved. Whatever information you have regarding the second incident. And then this last one. We’ll only get one chance at this, so we—meaning both sides—need to put everything on the table.”
“We all have the same goal, sir,” Archer added, speaking to the judge. “The more comprehensive a report we put together now, the sooner we’ll have him.”
The judge glanced over at the unreadable expression on Scott Rosen’s face. The attorney leaned forward and spoke confidentially to him. “Are you sure about this, Your Honor? You’re sure you want to do it this way?”
The older man took a long drag from the cigarette. The tic in his neck was jumping uncontrollably. He finally gave a thoughtful nod to his lawyer.
“Yes I do, Scott. Too many people have died. I want to strike back now, before he gets me. And I also want to get even. I want to kick that son of a bitch’s ass for what he did to Sarah. She mattered to me in a way I’d be hesitant to try to explain to this crowd.” He wave
d his cigarette in the direction of the others in the room. “But there was no reason for that bastard to kill her like that.”
“Judge, are you telling me the district attorney’s office has not informed you of the latest findings regarding Sarah Rand?”
The judge stared in confusion at his lawyer for a moment before turning angrily to Ike Bosler. “They haven’t told me dick. What’s going on, Counselor?”
Rosen also looked at Bosler, who showed nothing of the discomfort he must have been feeling.
“We are done talking, Ike. No more statements. No deal.” He rose abruptly to his feet. “Time to clear this room.”
“Now, just a minute.” The district attorney was on his feet in a flash. “Listen to me, Scott. There is no reason to act rashly.”
“No reason, Ike?” Rosen towered over the other man. “You don’t bother to tell my client that Sarah Rand is alive…and you call that no reason?”
The judge’s weight sank back against the chair, and his cigarette dropped to the floor. The room fell dead silent. His hand shaking, he reached up and rubbed his neck.
“She’s not dead…she…” He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Arnold’s eyes were red when he finally looked into the lawyer’s face. “They didn’t tell me a goddamn thing.”
“No reason?” Rosen repeated his accusation, and pandemonium broke out in the room.
“We really haven’t had much time to talk now, have we?” Bosler said, silencing the other voices.
“You had plenty of time to coerce some key information out of him before I even got here, Ike.”
“Hey, the judge asked for this meeting. Your client voluntarily surrendered the location of—”
“What are you trying to do? Pin a twenty-year-old homicide on him and let the real killer walk again?” He picked up his briefcase off the metal table. “You call this putting everything on the table? Mr. District Attorney. Well, when I’m done with you and these clowns, you can kiss that governor’s mansion—”
“Stop right there, Rosen.” Bosler retorted. “Damn it, we were running short on time. We have no intention of failing to follow through with our part of the deal.”
The D.A. looked at Archer and McHugh.
“Besides, with the Newport Police leaking information to every paper and TV station between here and Boston, I just assumed every goddamn person on the East Coast knew Sarah Rand was alive.”
“Hold on a fucking minute,” McHugh put in, looking like a bomb about to go off.
“Shut up, Bob,” Archer said quietly before turning to Scott. “We did find our leak. We suspended one very sorry dispatcher this morning. But as far as no one notifying the judge directly, blame it on me. So many people knew she was alive. I mean…you knew. We just assumed…wrongfully assumed, maybe that the judge had already been told. But we’re playing it straight. We’ll give you everything we have, now. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bosler?”
The district attorney gave a curt nod. Archer gestured for Rosen to sit. The lawyer glared at the detective.
“Let’s listen, Scott,” the judge said gruffly.
With a fierce frown at the D.A., Rosen settled into his chair. “We’re listening.”
“Thank you. I won’t repeat what I’m sure everyone knows. But you have to understand, much of this is still just theory.” Archer ran a hand through his thinning hair. “We know there were at least two killers tied into all the recent events. We believe both of them were contracted by the suspect to commit all the murders. This includes the murder of someone—still unidentified—in Sarah Rand’s apartment and the removal of the body. Also, we believe the same two were responsible for the stabbing death of the judge’s stepson, Hal Van Horn, the shooting of Andrew Warner and his wife, and also the murder of a local low-life named Frankie O’Neal. This last murder was committed because Frankie had been an eyewitness to Hal’s stabbing. They even planted the murder weapon in his house.”
“Unfortunately, one of the two hired killers was a former Newport police officer, kicked off the force six months back,” Bosler put in. “Through his connections on the force, he was able to access information that he and his partner used in the killings.”
“Both killers are dead. The ex-cop’s body was found last night in a Portsmouth boatyard. The second man was killed yesterday in Newport. He was hit by a car driven by an FBI agent who wisely did not identify himself at the scene as a law enforcement officer.” Archer glanced at the judge before meeting Rosen eye-to-eye. “That’s pretty much it. Everything new, anyway. Now I say we just move forward—starting now.”
Surprisingly, Archer’s explanations calmed the room. Scott Rosen turned to look at his client, who’d never moved from the chair. His gray eyes were pensive as they watched the scene unfold before him.
“What do you say, Your Honor?” Rosen asked.
The man’s gaze focused on the lawyer’s face. “So Sarah is really alive.”
Scott nodded.
“As we speak,” the D.A. offered, “Attorney Rand is being escorted to FBI agents, where she’ll remain under police protection until we all decide on the next step.”
As the judge fell silent again, the tension in the room mounted. Bosler watched him, but he was not alone in his concern that Judge Arnold might change his mind.
Dan Archer kept an eye on the D.A. They both knew they needed the judge to catch the bigger fish. And Rosen was right; without him, Ike Bosler could kiss the governor’s mansion goodbye.
Archer shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Actually, they all had a lot riding on this. And there was a lot more at stake now than just the stinking case sitting on his desk. For him, at least.
He’d known years ago that women like Julia Rutherford didn’t just run off.
He’d known her when she’d been Julia Byrne. Of course, no one had ever expected her to stay put in Newport. She was too good for the Fifth Ward. Beautiful and smart, she’d always known where she was going.
And she’d known how to get there. It was no secret in the neighborhood. An apartment on Bellevue, a couple of society parties, and pretty soon she was running with the right crowd. And as soon as she hooked Rutherford, nobody seemed to recall where she’d come from, either. When the political nod had come, she’d been ready for that, too. She was going to take the ride right to the top.
But then, when Gordon Rutherford was looking like a shoe-in as the next U.S. Senator from Rhode Island, she runs off with some other guy? Never to be seen again? No way. Not Julia Byrne.
Archer had known it then. He knew it now. Julia Byrne would never have thrown everything away practically on the eve of seeing her husband becoming a U.S. Senator. No way.
“I can testify until my teeth fall out.” Judge Arnold’s words drew Archer’s attention. “But after the fire at the storage facility last night, we don’t have a lick of proof that supports anything I say. Nothing that links him directly. It’s my word against his.”
“We can fix that.” Bosler replied. “We’ve got the plan to nail him this time. But there is one question that we need answered first. Did the suspect have any knowledge of what exactly was contained in the letter that Attorney Rand holds now?”
Arnold chose his words carefully before answering. “He knew I was holding for safekeeping two pieces of evidence or documentation that, together, tied him to the original crime. To insure that he wouldn’t be tempted to eliminate me, I let him know long ago that one of those pieces was a taped telephone message from him in which he admits, in rather panicky tones, his direct responsibility. He also knew the second item was a letter from me. But as far as what information the letter contained, he has no idea.” Arnold rubbed his neck. “The tape was really the only worthwhile thing I had on him. But that was destroyed, along with everything else in the fire last night.”
“You’re assuming Attorney Rand didn’t remove it beforehand.” Archer put in thoughtfully. “I believe we want, at this point, everyone to think she had the means and
opportunity to take possession of that tape.”
Chapter 30
They never made it to Fairmount Park. Just before crossing the state line from Connecticut into New York, two more unmarked cars joined their caravan and their route was redirected to Justice Department offices in Manhattan.
Arriving at their destination, Owen found himself being nudged into a separate channel while Sarah was whisked away for questioning by lawyers who’d just come in from Washington.
Owen’s lawyer, Stu Ramsay, arrived on the scene. There was never a question that this was only a fact-finding session, since these same people had been aware of every step he and Sarah had taken over the past few days.
Almost every step, Owen corrected himself, thinking of the cottage.
Hours dragged by, but he still wasn’t allowed a chance to speak to Sarah. And as the afternoon edged toward evening, he was still waiting.
Earlier in the afternoon, and on Owen’s direction, Stu Ramsay had tried to inject himself into the middle of Sarah’s questioning, but he had been instructed that Attorney Rand was fully cognizant of her rights, and that she was in no need of additional counsel.
Sometime later in the afternoon, one of the investigators approached Owen, telling him that he was free to leave. The agent wanted him to know that it was critical that nothing of what had taken place should be discussed for some time. For the purposes of the investigation, no one should know that Owen Dean had ever met Sarah Rand. Just two strangers. No connections. No association. Thank you, Mr. Dean. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.
But Owen wasn’t ready to go.
A little after eight o’clock, Stu came back from a discussion with the Justice Department official who had taken charge of the operation. They had yet to see Sarah reappear from the conference room door that she’d passed through hours earlier.
“She’s fine, Owen,” the lawyer assured him. “And I’ve been talking with Hinckey on the phone. He’s on his way here from Philadelphia. He guarantees that they are not investigating her. They understand she was the victim. They’re after bigger game.”
