Split Second skamm-1

by David Baldacci

  “It was about a month or so before Ritter was killed.”

  Michelle froze. “What was?”

  “It must have been two o’clock in the morning, I mean some crazy hour. I was asleep but some noise woke me. I slept upstairs when I was with my father. He could be up at all hours, and at first I thought it was my dad talking, but then the voice was different. I crept to the top of the stairs. I could see a light on in my dad’s study. I heard him talking to someone, or rather this person was talking and my dad was mostly listening.”

  “What was he saying? This other person? Wait, was it a man?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I couldn’t make out much of it. I heard my mother’s name used. ‘What would Regina think?’ Something like that. And then my father answered that times were different. That people changed. And then the other person said something I couldn’t hear.”

  “Did you get a look at him?”

  “No. My father’s study had a door to the outside. He must have left that way.”

  “What else did you hear?”

  “Nothing. They started speaking in lower voices. Probably realized they might wake me up. I thought about going downstairs and seeing who it was, but I was scared.”

  “Did your father ever mention who the visitor was, anything about it at all?”

  “No. I was afraid to let him know I’d overheard, so I never brought it up.”

  “Could it have been someone who worked at the college?”

  “No, I think I would have recognized his voice.” There was something in her manner, a furtiveness, that Michelle didn’t like, but she chose not to push it.

  “Did you ever hear the name Ritter mentioned by the man? Anything like that?”

  “No! That’s why I never talked to the police about this. I… I was scared to. My father was dead, and I didn’t know if anyone else was involved, and I just didn’t want to drag anything up.”

  “And the person had mentioned your mother, and you thought it might reflect badly on her somehow.”

  Kate looked at her with hurt, swollen eyes. “People can write and say anything they want. They can destroy people.”

  Michelle took her hand. “I’ll do everything I can to solve this case without doing any further harm. You have my word.”

  Kate squeezed Michelle’s hand. “I don’t know why I should, but I believe you. Do you really think you can find out the truth, after all these years?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  As Michelle rose to leave, Kate said, “I did love my father. I still love my father. He was a good man. His life shouldn’t have ended that way. That it did makes you feel like there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

  To Michelle, Kate sounded almost suicidal. She sat back down and put her arm around her. “Listen to me. Your father’s life was his to do what he wanted with. Your life is exactly the same. You’ve endured so much, accomplished so much, you should have more hope than anyone. I’m not just saying that, Kate, I mean it.”

  Kate finally let out a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

  Michelle jogged back to the truck and climbed in. While King drove she filled him in on her conversation with Kate.

  King slapped the steering wheel. “Damn, so there was someone. The guy who was talking to her father could have been the man with the gun in the closet.”

  “Okay, let’s break this down. There were two assassins but only one followed through. Intentional or not? Cold feet, or was it all about setting up Ramsey?”

  King shook his head. “If intentional and you know you’re not going to use your gun, why even bring it to the hotel?”

  “Maybe he and Ramsey met beforehand, and the other guy had to at least make a pretense of intending to carry it off. Otherwise, maybe Ramsey gets suspicious.”

  “Right, that could be. Okay, now we need to take a really hard look at Ramsey’s background, probably back to college. If the man knew Regina Ramsey, and Arnold Ramsey talked about times changing, the answer might lie in the past.”

  “And it also might explain why a Berkeley superstar was teaching at a little college in the middle of nowhere.”

  Michelle once again slid into the backseat. “You drive while I change back into my clothes.”

  King focused on the road as his ears picked up the sounds of garments being pulled off and on. “By the way, do you often strip to your birthday suit in the company of strange men?”

  “You’re not that strange. And, Sean, I’m really flattered.”

  “Flattered? About what?”

  “You snuck a peek.”

  50

  The four met back at King’s house late that afternoon. Parks placed a large file box on the kitchen table. “That’s the result of our search on Bob Scott,” he told Joan.

  “That was pretty fast,” she commented.

  “Hey, who you think you’re dealing with, some Mickey Mouse outfit?”

  King looked at her. “Checking out Scott? I told you he couldn’t have been involved.”

  Joan eyed him intently. “I like to verify things independently. It’s not like any of us are infallible.”

  “Unfortunately the reason it came so fast,” said Parks a little sheepishly, “is because those dummies crammed practically everything in they could find about people named Bob Scott. So a lot of the paper is probably worthless. But there it is.” He put on his hat. “I’m heading back out. I’ll call if anything clicks, and I expect you to do the same.”

  After he left, the three had a quick dinner out on the rear deck. Joan told them about her check on Doug Denby.

  “So he’s out of the loop,” said Michelle.

  “Apparently.”

  King looked puzzled. “So according to the woman you spoke with at the law firm in Philly, Bruno didn’t cheat when he was a U.S. attorney in D.C.?”

  “If we can believe her. I tend to think she was telling the truth.”

  “So maybe Mildred was feeding us a pack of lies about Bruno.”

  “Now, that I can believe,” commented Joan. She glanced inside to where the box Parks had left was sitting on the table. “We’ll have to go through the files Parks brought.”

  “I can start on it,” said Michelle. “Since I didn’t know him, I might not skim over stuff that the two of you might.” She excused herself and went inside.

  Joan looked out over the water. “It is really beautiful here, Sean. You picked a nice spot to start fresh.”

  King finished his beer and sat back. “Well, I might have to pick another spot.”

  Joan glanced over at him. “Let’s hope not. A person shouldn’t have to re-create himself more than once in a lifetime.”

  “How about you? You said you wanted out.”

  “To go to some island with my millions?” She smiled in a resigned way. “Dreams more often than not don’t come true. Particularly at my stage of life.”

  “But if you find Bruno, you get the big payoff.”

  “The money was only part of the dream.”

  When King shot her a glance, she quickly looked away.

  “Do you sail much?” she asked.

  “In the fall when the powerboats are gone and the winds pick up.”

  “Well, it is the fall. So maybe now would be a good time.”

  King looked at the clear sky and felt the nice breeze against his skin. They had a couple hours of daylight left. He stared at Joan intently for a few moments. “Yeah, now would be a good time.”

  King showed Joan how to manage the sailboat’s tiller. He’d attached a five-horsepower motor on the stern just in case the wind died down. They steered a course out into the main channel and then drifted.

  Joan admired the spread of mountains encircling the lake, the green still vibrant, although the nip of fall was clearly in the air.

  “Did you ever think you’d end up in a place like this after all those years of hotels and airplanes and pushing till dawn?” she asked.

&nbs
p; King shrugged. “To tell the truth, no. I never thought that far ahead. I was always more of a live-in-the-present sort of person.” He added thoughtfully, “I’m more of a long-range thinker now.”

  “And where do your long-range thoughts lead you?”

  “Nowhere until this mystery is cleared up. The problem is, even if we solve this thing, the damage has been done. I really might have to move from here.”

  “Running away? That doesn’t sound like you, Sean.”

  “Sometimes it’s just best to strike the tent poles and move on. You sort of get tired of fighting, Joan.”

  He sat next to her and took over the tiller. “Wind’s changing. I’m going to tack back into it. The boom’s going to come across. I’ll tell you when to duck.”

  After he completed this maneuver, he let her take the tiller back, but he stayed next to her. She wore a pantsuit but had taken off her shoes and rolled her pant legs over her knees. Her feet were small and her toenails were painted red.

  “You favored purple toenail polish eight years ago, didn’t you?”

  She laughed. “Red is always in but purple may mount a comeback. I’m actually flattered you remembered.”

  “Purple toenails and packing a .357.”

  “Come on, fess up, it was a wicked, irresistible combination.”

  He sat back and gazed off.

  They were silent for some minutes, Joan looking at him nervously and King doing his best to avoid eye contact. “Did you ever think about asking me to marry you?” she asked.

  He glanced at her with an astonished expression. “I was married back then, Joan.”

  “I know that. But you were separated and your marriage was really over.”

  He looked down. “Okay, maybe I did know my marriage was over, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to attempt another one. And I guess I never really believed two Secret Service agents could ever make a marriage work. That life is just too crazy.”

  “I thought about asking you.”

  “Asking me what?”

  “To marry me.”

  “You really are amazing. You were going to ask me to marry you?”

  “Is there a rule somewhere that says the man has to propose?”

  “Well, if there is, I’m sure you’d have no problem smashing it to pieces.”

  “I’m serious, Sean. I was in love with you. So much so that I’d wake up in the middle of the night with the shakes, terrified it would somehow all go away, that you and your wife would get back together.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he said quietly.

  “How did you feel about me? I mean really feel about me?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “Honestly? I was amazed you’d let me have you. You were on this pedestal, professionally and personally.”

  “So I was what, a trophy to be mounted on the wall?”

  “No, I actually thought I was.”

  “I didn’t sleep around, Sean. I didn’t have that reputation.”

  “No, you didn’t. Your reputation was the iron lady. There wasn’t one agent I knew who wasn’t intimidated by you. You scared the shit out of a lot of tough guys.”

  Joan looked down. “Didn’t you know, prom queens tend to be very lonely creatures. When I joined the Service, women were still an anomaly. To succeed, I had to be more ‘guy’ than all the other guys. I had to make the rules up as I went along. It’s a little different now, but back then I really didn’t have a choice.”

  He touched her cheek and turned her face to his. “So why didn’t you?”

  “Why didn’t I what?”

  “Ask me to marry you?”

  “I was planning to but something happened.”

  “What was that?”

  “Clyde Ritter’s getting killed.”

  Now King looked away. “Damaged goods?”

  She touched his arm. “I guess you really don’t know me very well. It was a lot more than that.”

  He looked back at her. “What do you mean by that?”

  Joan looked more nervous than King could ever remember. Except on that morning, at 10:32, when Ritter had died. She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

  King unfolded the paper and read the words there.

  Last night was wonderful. Now surprise me, wicked lady. On the elevator. Around 10:30.

  Love,

  Sean

  It was written on the stationery of the Fairmount Hotel.

  He looked up to see her staring at him.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “It was slipped under the door to my room at the Fairmount at nine o’clock that morning.”

  He stared at her blankly. “The morning Ritter was killed?” She nodded. “You thought I wrote this?” She nodded again. “All these years you thought maybe I was involved in Ritter’s death?”

  “Sean, you have to understand, I didn’t know what to think.”

  “And you never told anyone?”

  She shook her head. “Just like you never told anyone about me on that elevator.” She added quietly, “You thought I was involved in Ritter’s death too, didn’t you?”

  He licked his lips and glanced away, his features angry. “They screwed us both, didn’t they?”

  “I saw the note that was on the body found in your house. It clearly implied the person was behind the Ritter assassination. As soon as I read it, I just knew we’d both been used. Whoever wrote the note that was slipped under my hotel room door pitted us against each other in a way that guaranteed our silence. Or at the very least would have cast suspicion on one or both of us. But there was a difference. I couldn’t reveal the truth because then I’d have to tell what I was doing on that elevator. And once I did, my career was over. My motive was selfish. You, on the other hand, kept silent for another reason.” She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Tell me, Sean, why did you? You must have suspected I was paid off to distract you. And yet you took the full blame. You could have told them I was on that elevator. Why didn’t you?” She took a long, anxious breath. “I really need to know.”

  The jarring sound of the cell phone startled them both badly.

  King answered it. It was Michelle calling from the house.

  “Kate Ramsey phoned. She has something important to tell us. But she wants to do it in person. She’ll meet us halfway, in Charlottesville.”

  “Okay, we’re coming in now.” He clicked off, took the tiller and silently steered the boat back. He didn’t look at Joan, who, for once in her life, had nothing to say.

  51

  They met Kate Ramsey at Greenberry’s coffee shop in the Barracks Road Shopping Center in Charlottesville. The three bought large cups of coffee and took a table near the back of the room, which only had a few patrons in it this time of night.

  Kate’s eyes were puffy, her manner subdued, even deferential. She fingered her coffee cup nervously, her gaze downcast. She looked up in surprise, however, when King pushed a couple of straws toward her.

  “Go ahead and make your right angles. It’ll calm you down,” he said with a kindly smile.

  Kate’s expression softened and she took the straws. “I’ve been doing that since I was a little girl. I guess it’s better than lighting up a cigarette.”

  “So you had something important to tell us,” said Michelle.

  Kate looked around. The person closest to them was reading a book and scribbling some notes, obviously a student on a deadline.

  She said in a low voice, “It’s about the meeting my father had that night, what I was telling Michelle,” she explained with a glance at King.

  “It’s okay, she filled me in,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, there was something else he said that I caught. I mean I guess I should have told you before, but I really believed I must have misheard. But maybe I didn’t.”

  “What was it?” asked King eagerly.

  “It was a name. A name I recognized.”

  King and Michelle exchanged glances.

&
nbsp; “Why didn’t you tell us that before?” asked Michelle.

  “Like I said, because I couldn’t believe I’d heard right. I didn’t want to get him in any trouble. And my father secretly meeting with a stranger late at night and his name coming up-well, to a fourteen-year-old girl it seemed bad. But I knew he’d never do something illegal.”

  “Whose name was mentioned?” asked King.

  Kate took a very deep breath. King noted that she was now bending the straws into knots.

  “The name I heard the man say was Thornton Jorst.”

  Michelle and King once more exchanged a significant glance.

  “You’re sure,” said Michelle. “You heard him say Thornton Jorst?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent certain, no, but what else could it have been? It’s not exactly a name like John Smith. It sure sounded like Thornton Jorst.”

  “What was your father’s reaction to that name?”

  “I couldn’t hear that clearly. But he said something like it was risky, very risky. For both of them.”

  King thought about this. “So the other man wasn’t Thornton Jorst—that seems clear—but they were talking about him.” He touched Kate on the shoulder. “Tell us about Jorst’s relationship with your father.”

  “They were friends and colleagues.”

  “Had they known each other before coming to work at Atticus?” asked Michelle.

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. If they did, they certainly never mentioned it. But they were both in college in the sixties. People went all over the country doing insane things. It’s funny, though.”

  “What is?” asked King.

  “Well, sometimes it seemed to me that Thornton knew my mother better than he knew my father. Like they’d met before.”

  “Did your mother ever mention that they had?”

  “No. Thornton came to Atticus after my parents did. He was a bachelor, never really dated that I could tell. My parents were very friendly with him. I think my mother felt sorry for him. She would bake him little things and take them over to him. They were good friends. I really liked him. He was almost like an uncle to me.”