A Primary Decision

by Dr. Kevin Leman

  Just as Sarah was ending the call with Darcy, Sean’s cell rang. It was the bellman. He’d already checked his ledger when Sean phoned earlier. He’d said he was out with the flu that day, so Reginald, the new substitute bellman, had been on duty.

  “Talked to Reginald,” the bellman announced. “He remembered that day exactly because it was his first official one on the job. Said he was nervous.” The bellman laughed. “But he told me a guy did stop by and ask whether he could deliver a letter to your door. Reginald said no, that was against the rules, and wouldn’t let him go up. But Reginald agreed to deliver the letter personally to your door. Your housekeeper accepted it.”

  “Did the guy sign in?” Sean asked.

  “Yes. I checked the records. Said he was from Jackson Couriers.”

  “Haven’t heard of them before.”

  “Neither had I,” the bellman announced, “so I did some checking in the last half hour. I don’t think the company exists.”

  “Does Reginald remember what the guy looked like?”

  “Already asked him that.” The bellman seemed proud to have thought of it first. “He said the guy was about five ten, medium-brown hair, midthirties. Seemed too slick and professional to be a delivery boy. A little cocky too, like he was used to getting his way.”

  “Thanks a bunch. You’ve been most helpful.”

  When he explained to Sarah, she frowned. “That sounds a lot like—”

  “Jason Carson,” he finished.

  “Now we just have to connect the rest of the dots and prove it.” Sarah’s eyes glinted. “I’ll take the note to Darcy. Then we can use that minnow to catch the bigger fish we’re after.”

  17

  “We got it,” Darcy announced to Sarah on Friday afternoon. “Pushed the lab guys to get it done before the weekend.”

  “And?” Sarah prompted.

  “The ink on the two notes was an exact match. The elements of the ink are a unique mixture, found only in a very high-end pen. Specifically a Mont Blanc Ballpoint. The lab techs tell me it’s one of the most expensive ballpoint pens in the world and can sell for over $700,000.”

  “So whoever wrote the note was definitely not your ordinary street thug. There probably aren’t a lot of those pens around,” Sarah said. “What about the handwriting?”

  “As close of a match as possible for someone trying to fake another person’s handwriting. Some of the attempted letters were almost cookie-cutter.”

  “So the same person wrote both notes.”

  “Yep. Now all we have to do is find that pen to find the person.”

  “I’ll call Jon and see if he has any ideas,” Sarah said. “He’s pretty good at ferreting out that kind of stuff.”

  “What about Will? If Stapleton is involved somehow with the bomber, Will’s the one who knows him best. Giving Will that info might jog his memory about something he’s noticed,” Darcy suggested.

  “You’re right. He’s so detail oriented. So is Jon. Though the one drives me a lot crazier than the other.”

  “So,” Darcy teased, “the reporter is growing on you, huh?”

  “Oh, hush up. I’ll give them both a call.”

  Will was scanning a profit spreadsheet for AF with Drew when his sister called.

  “A Mont Blanc Ballpoint?” Will shrugged. “There’s got to be lots of those in New York City.”

  “No, this is a special kind. The kind that sells for over $700K. Let me send you a picture of it. I want to see if you remember anybody using anything like that.”

  “Okay, sis, but you’re hunting for a needle in a haystack, you know.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

  “I always did love that about you. But it would help if you could give me some more information.”

  “That may sidetrack you from your total recall, and I wouldn’t want that.”

  Sarah and Sean both joked about Will’s ability to look at a flat image and turn it immediately into 3-D in his mind. If he hadn’t ended up working with their father at Worthington Shares, he probably would have gone the route of an engineer or an architect.

  He sighed. “I’ll call you back.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be waiting here patiently while you do your mind thingy.”

  “No you won’t, but you’ll have to wait anyway.”

  The picture came through on his cell. He showed it to Drew, then stared at it before ending the call.

  Drew nodded and stepped out. He knew Will’s pattern and would inform Will’s secretary he was not to be disturbed.

  Sitting back in his leather executive chair, Will closed his eyes and focused on the object. Had he seen anything like that? If so, where?

  Half an hour later an image blurred into Will’s consciousness.

  Jason Carson sitting on the bench in the park. The day he showed me the photo of Sean with the Polar Bear Bomber. He’d unclipped a pen from a folder, handed the folder to me, and then tucked the pen into his breast pocket.

  Will sat up straight in his chair. He could now see the pen with laser-like detail in his mind. It looked exactly like the picture Sarah had sent him.

  Sarah fidgeted at her desk while she waited for Will to call back.

  The instant her cell rang, she grabbed it. “So?”

  “Carson. The day he showed me the photos, he was carrying that kind of pen.”

  “That’s all I need to know. I’m on it.”

  A SECURE LOCATION

  “I know how to get what we need,” he told the man.

  “Enough to make it stick?”

  “That and more. I’ll take care of it. He won’t see it coming.”

  18

  NEW YORK CITY

  “We have to be missing something. Let’s go over it all again,” Sarah told Darcy that night as they sat cross-legged on the floor of her penthouse.

  “The facts we already know: Justin Eliot carried a backpack bomb and blew a chunk out of the AF building. A suicide note was found in his friend Michael Vara’s Brooklyn apartment, where Justin sometimes stayed. Justin jumped off a 30-story building,” Darcy reported.

  Sarah took over. “His single mom owned a home but never worked, had no insurance, etc. Justin had psychological issues that required private schooling and expensive medicine. He did a stint as an actor but didn’t get very far. Michael was confident the handwriting on the note was not Justin’s and said neither of them would use a blue ballpoint pen.”

  “Not to mention a $700K kind of pen,” Darcy added.

  “Michael doesn’t believe his friend, who couldn’t hurt an insect, could ever knowingly hurt another human being. But he also said Justin was desperate enough for money to do some underground shows and was happy about getting a simple acting job that would pay well. With that money, he was considering taking Michael up on his offer to leave New York and stay with him in London.”

  “We also know from Michael that a shadowy ‘uncle’ showed up and spent time with Justin’s mom. And he looks an awful lot like Frank Stapleton.”

  “Stop. Let’s follow that angle a bit.” Sarah jumped up and opened the door for Jon, who’d just arrived.

  “Follow what angle?” Jon asked.

  “About exactly how Frank Stapleton could know Rebecca Eliot,” Darcy answered.

  “He wasn’t a true uncle. Rebecca was an only child. Stapleton is an only child. I checked on all that,” Jon said. “They didn’t attend the same schools. Rebecca only attended through her junior year of high school. I can’t trace anyone who remembers much about her except that she worked at a diner sometimes. Seems like she was a loner.”

  “Stapleton’s got to be in his midfifties,” Sarah figured. “That would make him about 40 when he was visiting Rebecca’s house—if the ‘uncle’ really was him.”

  “And about 30 when Justin was born,” Jon added. “Just when Stapleton’s career in finance was flying, and he was starting to become a high roller in politics too.”

  Darcy stared at both of
them. “What if—”

  Jon nodded. “A star on the rise is nice to a waitress who doesn’t get much attention. They play around. She becomes pregnant.”

  Sarah jumped on board. “But she refuses to get an abortion. To keep things quiet, he says he’ll take care of her, buy her a house, provide for her and the baby.”

  “With perhaps some fringe benefits on the side,” Darcy said sarcastically.

  “Then why would he take care of them all these years but drop out of sight when Rebecca died?” Sarah asked.

  “Maybe because Justin didn’t know who Stapleton really was—his birth father—and wasn’t in contact with him except through Rebecca. She was the only one who knew the truth, so after her death, there was no reason to continue the charade,” Jon said.

  Sarah frowned. “That’s cold. Not even providing for your son, who is clearly troubled?”

  “But real life,” Darcy stated. “I doubt the prestigious CEO of the largest finance organization in the US would want it public that he has a son out of wedlock. He’s married, right?”

  “Yes, and I’m pretty sure he has a son, from what Will has said. I’ve seen Stapleton’s wife multiple times, but I don’t remember ever meeting the kid,” Sarah said.

  Jon did a few searches on his iPhone. “Philip. Looks like he’s a few years older than Justin. But I can’t find any public profile other than his birth record to Frank and Margaret Stapleton. That’s odd. No driver’s license either.”

  Darcy peered at his iPhone screen. “Plenty of media photos of Stapleton with his wife over the years, but no son in the photos.”

  Sarah held up a finger. “I know who’ll know.”

  She dialed Will.

  A SECURE LOCATION

  “I’ve procured the item,” he told the man.

  “That fast?”

  “Easy as taking candy from a baby.” He chuckled.

  “Fingerprints too?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  “He won’t have a clue where it went,” he assured the man. “But when he’s presented with the evidence, he’ll sing any tune to save his sorry hide.”

  “When will the package be delivered?”

  “Monday.”

  “Same protocol as before?”

  “Yes. No one will be able to trace its origin.”

  19

  NEW YORK CITY

  Sean was glad to be home on a Friday night. The last few months he’d been traveling a lot. He loved his work assisting people around the globe with growing companies that solved real problems. He thought of the people he’d recently met in Malaysia, and their passion for purifying drinking water for the locals and providing cost-effective medical equipment. Being the money backer for such enterprises brought Sean great satisfaction. But what he loved the most was being hands-on with the locals. Helping people was in his DNA. And that innate drive allowed him to go into nearly any setting across the world and become a part of its fabric, interacting with people in every stratum.

  But right now he only missed one of them—Elizabeth. Without her, his apartment felt sterile and empty. He picked up the bright yellow pillow she’d added to his black, white, and gray environment. It was just a touch, but it reflected the sunshine she brought into his life.

  They’d already settled the question of love. But marriage? How exactly would that work, with her based out of Seattle for her research, and him based out of New York City? And them both traveling the world for their careers?

  “Hey, does Frank Stapleton have any kids other than his son?” Sarah blurted out.

  Will grimaced. He’d picked up the call by instinct. Now he regretted it. His sister sounded like she was on a roll. “Hey, sis, can this wait? I’m watching a movie with the kids.”

  “No, just answer the question,” she demanded.

  He extracted Davy from his lap and got up from the couch. After he was out of earshot of the kids, he said, “No, only a son.”

  “What do you know about Philip? Have you ever met him?”

  He sighed. She was in grilling mode. He accepted the inevitable. “Frank only mentioned him a couple of times. One was when the kid graduated from high school. Said he wasn’t quite sure what the next step would be for Philip since he has some significant challenges.”

  “What challenges?” she asked.

  “I think he was diagnosed as bipolar.”

  Sarah’s voice raised a notch. “You’re saying Frank’s son is bipolar?”

  “Yes. Even had tutors to help him catch up after some of his times in the hospital.”

  “Dad! You’re missing the best part!” an energetic voice interrupted, tugging at him.

  He gave Davy the one-minute sign, then asked, “Seriously, sis, what is this about?”

  But she’d already hung up on him.

  He shook his head and went back to the movie.

  Darcy’s eyes were wide when Sarah got off the phone. “Bipolar? Like Justin was?”

  Sarah again held up a finger. “Wait. Jon, do you know if bipolar disorder tends to run in families?”

  “Yes, it often seems to. From all I’ve read about it, there’s a genetic component to it.”

  Darcy crossed her arms in triumph. “So we’ve found another connection.”

  “You still have a DNA sample of Justin at DHS, right?” Jon asked her.

  “Yup. You guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Sarah nodded. “There’s got to be a blood test or DNA sample somewhere of Frank Stapleton, right? Enough to see if it’s a match for paternity?”

  “I’m sure there is,” Darcy declared. “I’ll get going on it first thing Monday.”

  20

  Saturday morning, Will woke up grumpy and disconcerted. When he’d barked at the kids for the third time in an hour, Laura lifted an eyebrow and jammed a thumb in the direction of his office.

  He knew what that look meant. He’d better hightail it into that office, shut the door, and deal with his attitude before he came out.

  So he did what he didn’t usually do—he phoned Drew on the weekend.

  After explaining Sarah’s line of questioning, Will concluded with, “What do you think she’s up to?”

  “She’s on the trail of something. You know Sarah. She won’t give up until she’s ferreted out every clue.”

  “I just don’t want her to get in over her head.”

  Drew laughed. “Sarah’s always up to her eyeballs in something. But let me assure you, she’s never been in over her head. Unlike you now, for instance.”

  Will scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re calling me because Laura quarantined you in your office for your bad mood, right?”

  Will sighed. “You got it,” he said meekly.

  “Well then, you better deal with the alligators in your own swamp for now.”

  Sarah hated waiting. She wanted to be able to snap her fingers and have that DNA test pronto. But since that wasn’t possible, she focused on the upcoming week. By the end of it, she should know what was next in her destiny. The full Senate vote was slated for Thursday.

  Her mind had been so full of her DOJ work and the Polar Bear bombing that she hadn’t started looking for a place in D.C. yet. She’d thought about asking her mom to help out, but Ava had seemed more introspective than usual lately. Maybe it was because her father had been home a lot recently, and she was adjusting to a new schedule. Sarah hadn’t wanted to push.

  Maybe she should start scanning possibilities in the D.C. area this weekend. After all, if she was confirmed, she’d be swept into a whirlwind of responsibilities.

  Just then her cell rang. It was Jon.

  “Have any more thoughts about our theories from last night?” he asked.

  She chuckled. “I’m trying hard not to, since there’s nothing else we can do about it until Monday.”

  “Ah,” he said. “To change the subject then, how are you doing with finding a place in D.C.?”

  “Tha
t’s assuming I get confirmed,” she replied.

  “You will. So, have you started looking?”

  “No time.” She sighed. “I was just thinking about that.”

  “I’d be happy to help, but I’m not exactly a connoisseur of fine apartments. You’ve seen mine.” He laughed. “But I bet Drew could help out with that. I already told him I’d be more than happy to help you move whatever you want to take there. I deserve a few days off.”

  “Actually, I’m keeping the place here so I can come back on weekends, so I won’t be taking much. Just some clothes and a few basics to get me started. I can get the rest there when I get a place. But I’d welcome the help in hauling a carload.” She paused. “You two have been talking about me, huh?”

  Somehow that didn’t bother her, like it did when Will and her father talked about her.

  “Yes, we have,” Jon replied. “Drew’s a really good guy, Sarah. What he does isn’t merely a job.”

  “I know,” Sarah said. “Dad has always surrounded himself with people of integrity. He says if you can’t look somebody straight in the eye and they can’t look straight back at you, no waffling, he doesn’t want them around his family. He’s built a lot of his business on handshakes. But he did a great thing when he hired Drew all those years ago when we kids were little.”

  “Where did he find Drew anyway?”

  She thought for a second. “I think an old friend of Dad and Mom’s recommended him right after he got out of university.”

  “Anybody I know?”

  “Yeah. Thomas Rich.”

  “The former president of the United States? That Thomas Rich?”

  “Indeed.”

  He whistled. “That’s some friend. But then again, why should I be surprised?”

  “We’re not as high and mighty as you might think,” she teased. “Hang around us even more and you’ll find that out.” She sobered. “Mom and Dad don’t see him anymore, though. Life just got too busy and all that, I think.”