The President Killed His Wife (A Rogan Bricks Thriller Book 1)

by Steve Richer

  He loved how her hands felt in his, her skin so soft and warm in spite of the bowl of ice cream she’d just held. He suddenly wondered how he’d been able to resist this feeling for the last five years.

  “I murdered someone,” he blurted.

  Chapter 25

  Rogan regretted crossing the Rubicon, telling her his deepest secret. There was no going back.

  “It was before I joined the Bureau. Hell, it was before I was even an adult.”

  She was clearly shocked but made no move to leave his presence. She wasn’t afraid of him which counted for a lot.

  “Tell me, I know you’re not a monster. There must’ve been a reason.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, there was a reason. I was stupid and greedy.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me.”

  She stepped even closer, squeezing his fingers. Her body heat was comforting. Before he knew he was doing it, he had a hand on her waist.

  “I was 17, living in this foster home in Texas. It was the longest I’d been at the same place so I’d made a friend. His family had a little farm. Early one Sunday morning I took my old bike and rode 20 minutes to go to his house, anything to get out of mine. I’d just gotten a new CD and I was eager to show it to him. It was the soundtrack of Reality Bites, I’ll always remember that.”

  Cass grinned. “I had that one too.”

  “Anyway, as I got there I realized I’d come for nothing. His family had gone to church. But I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to my own place. They’d just make me do chores or something. So I putzed around, walking through their cotton field. That’s when a plane crashed down next to me.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “It wasn’t a big plane, something like a Cessna, and it wasn’t exactly next to me either. Maybe 200 yards. Anyway, I started running toward it and found it on fire, most of it anyway. There were two men inside. One was already dead and the other was burning up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I did nothing. As I got closer, I saw there were two big suitcases in the back and one of them had come open in the crash. It was filled with money, stacks and stacks of money. That’s when I remembered there was a rumor going around that Mexican cartels smuggled drugs around there. I guess these guys were coming back with the money. There was so much money, Cass. I’d never seen anything like it.”

  Her lips were parted and she was hanging onto every word. Rogan barely even saw her though. He was back in that field, feeling the heat of the fire wash over him.

  “I came closer and opened the door. I could have dragged the burning man out but the fire was getting stronger and stronger. I knew that I had time to save either him or the money, not both. I chose the money. But that’s not all. As I reached inside, the man grabbed my forearm. It was like fate giving me a second chance to do the right thing. I didn’t take that chance.”

  He was starting to sweat and he pulled back from her so he could breathe. She didn’t stop him.

  “I was so startled, so afraid, that I kicked him. He fell back into the plane. I took the opportunity to grab the two suitcases and then I closed the door again. The guy looked at me, he was in so much pain. He was pleading for me to help him and I didn’t. At the time, I told myself he was a drug dealer, he had it coming. Christ, this was Texas! If people had found out they probably would’ve given me a medal. But I knew the truth. I knew that I had killed someone.”

  “Oh Rogan…”

  “Not a day has gone by I haven’t tried to forget that day. I can’t. I felt so guilty, even at the beginning. I hid the money, there was $10 million in cash and a pouch filled with diamonds. I figured, out of sight out of mind, right? But then I turned 18 and graduated high school, I had to leave my foster home. So I took my money and I decided to spend everything, maybe this way it would take away the guilt.”

  “And it didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to spend $10 million when you don’t have any notions of luxury. I traveled out west, sleeping in hotels and buying rounds in bars, but I was lucky to spend $5,000 a week. I barely made a dent in my stack.”

  “So that’s how much you’re worth, $10 million?”

  This time he smiled. “I was in Vegas, having finally figured out a way to blow my money, when this old guy spotted me. He was some sort of mob lawyer and he figured out I wasn’t exactly a trust fund kid. We went 12 rounds, you know, tiptoeing around the subject, and ultimately I admitted I had some cash that wasn’t on the up and up.”

  “Did he steal it?”

  “No, he helped me move it. I gave him my diamonds – for all I knew that was worth another ten million, I don’t know – and he used his contacts to transfer my money offshore. He taught me about finance, about living off the government radar. So for a while I moved to Europe, Asia, and just partied up a storm. I invested absolutely everything, again hoping to lose it all, but I hit pay dirt with the tech bubble. Yahoo alone made me a very rich man. I took that as a sign that maybe I wasn’t meant to lose all that money.”

  He swallowed and wiped his moist hands on a dishtowel. He took a deep breath before continuing.

  “So I went on investing and I became even richer. I also decided to make up for what I’d done. I couldn’t change the past but I could change who I would become. That’s why I came back to the States, went to Harvard, joined the Marines, the Bureau. I have a foundation I use to distribute most of my profits. I know I’ll never be able to atone for what I’ve done, but I have to try, right?”

  “Rogan, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were so young.”

  Cass came closer and took his hand again. He let her.

  “I should’ve known better.”

  “It’s in the past,” she whispered as she pressed her body against his.

  She tilted her head back and he found that he wanted the same thing she did. This confession was liberating, he had never told anyone about his past, not even his wife, and for her to be this accepting was a relief. It proved that there was hope for salvation.

  He leaned down and kissed her lips. He didn’t go fast and neither did she. He cupped her sweet face and basked in the tenderness of her skin. Her lips were heaven on his and he took his time savoring her.

  He brought her deeper into his arms as they continued to kiss. They were waiting for the lawyer and his wife was in bed upstairs, there was no way they could do any more than this, but it was strangely enough. Rogan could see changing his entire life around if it meant being with Cass.

  But first they had to survive.

  Less than half an hour later, Gerald Butrymowicz returned. He stormed into the house and didn’t bother taking off his coat. He found the two federal agents in the kitchen and Rogan couldn’t help noticing his ashen face.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I know why the President did what he did.”

  Chapter 26

  They followed the lawyer out of the kitchen and into the living room. Rogan was eager to ask questions and yet didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make him clam up. Butrymowicz headed for a sideboard built into the wall – something Rogan hadn’t noticed before – and revealed a selection of booze.

  He chose a single malt scotch and poured himself two generous fingers. He swallowed most of his drink before turning to the visitors.

  “Get you anything?”

  “Sure, why not?” Rogan replied while Cass shook her head.

  Butrymowicz refilled his glass and poured a second one which he handed to the younger man. Rogan took his drink but didn’t sample it yet. He took their host’s hint and they all sat down on the funny-looking couches.

  “So, what’s going on?”

  The attorney took a deep breath and drank some more. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at something on the carpet, obviously unsettled.

  “Mr. Butrymowicz, what did you find out?”

  A few more seconds went by before he met the two federal agents’
eyes, as if he was suddenly remembering they were there.

  “He wouldn’t tell me anything at first. He even accused me of being part of the plot against him.”

  Rogan nodded. “Understandable. What changed his mind? How did you make him talk?”

  “I told him about you, Special Agent Bricks.”

  “Me?”

  “I told him what you told me, about how they’re after you too now. This awakened something in him. That’s when he realized it wasn’t just him anymore.”

  “You got that right,” Rogan said before finally taking a sip. It was one of the best whiskeys he’d ever tasted, with just a smidge of smokiness.

  “What I say next can’t leave this room, you understand?”

  Cass exhaled. “It’s gonna have to be revealed sooner or later, either to exonerate him or us.”

  “Of course but the stakes are much higher than previously believed.”

  Saying this seemed to rattle him and he swallowed almost everything he had left in his glass.

  “Go on, Gerald.”

  The older man nodded, coming to grips with the fact that he couldn’t delay any longer.

  “When he was a senator he had an affair with one of his staffers, a woman named Lela Wiebe.”

  Rogan whistled and was unable to stop himself from writing this down. After all, his life was in the balance as well now.

  “A politician with a mistress, didn’t see that one coming.”

  Cass flashed him a reproving glance but he ignored it.

  “Continue, please.”

  “I’ve known Christopher Rudd for many years, he wasn’t a womanizer. He didn’t sleep around, not pathologically anyway. Some people on the Hill make it a sport to seduce as many of their colleagues as possible, but not the President.”

  “He still dipped his wick outside of holy matrimony,” Rogan snorted.

  “It wasn’t like that. Mrs. Rudd, it was a marriage of convenience. Her father had some money, great connections in the political machine. She was attracted to power. I think they really loved each other but in their own way. Still, it was more than a fling with Lela Wiebe, he really loved her too.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “She got pregnant. The President tells me he urged her to get an abortion but she wouldn’t hear of it. So he supported her. She went back to Iowa with the usual cover story of a one-night-stand. And then she died in childbirth.”

  Cass inhaled sharply. “How awful…”

  “The baby girl went into foster care but within a few years they found she was developmentally challenged. When Mr. Rudd heard about this, he found a way to funnel money to her and she was placed in a care facility in Virginia, been there for the last 19 years. He visits her any time he can, about once a month. He used to anyway.”

  “Father of the year,” Rogan said.

  “Baby of politics.”

  “Doesn’t make it any better. My cockles? They’re not warming up.”

  The lawyer shrugged and finished his drink.

  “What’s her name?” Cass inquired.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The baby girl, what’s her name?”

  Butrymowicz was taken aback by the question but quickly recovered. “Andi, Andi Wiebe. She’s 21 now but has the mental age of a three-year-old.”

  “So what’s the deal? Somebody was blackmailing the President?”

  “No, it’s worse than that. She’s been kidnapped.”

  At that, Rogan gasped and stood up. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place and things were no longer as hazy as they used to be. He wiped his moist hands on his pants before running them through his hair.

  Cass looked up at him and they shared a knowing gaze. They now understood why the concept of a conspiracy wasn’t so far-fetched anymore.

  “And that’s why the President did what he did? His wife was in on it?”

  The attorney shook his head. “No, he said he was contacted about the kidnapping. The instructions were clear, he had to shoot his wife during the State of the Union address. On TV.”

  “That’s insane!” Cass said as she stood up and began to pace. “He’s the leader of the free world. Couldn’t he have told someone? He has the FBI, the CIA, the goddamn Navy SEALs only a phone call away! Surely this could have been prevented.”

  Rogan shook his head. “I’m the living proof the FBI is involved. Who’s to say it isn’t the same with the other agencies? Gerald, did you ask him about Hyperion Foxtrot Protocol?”

  “He says it’s a call for help,” the man answered as he went to top off his glass again.

  “Okay, maybe I’m dense, maybe it’s living in Alaska all this time, but wouldn’t it have been easier to, you know, just ask for help? Something like ‘Hey Special Agent Bricks! Love your suit. By the way, could you help a brother out with this little kidnapping thing?’ I mean, sounds like a reasonable request.”

  “I asked him about that. Like you said, he doesn’t trust the FBI. And there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “He says the request for help wasn’t meant for you.”

  Cass frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It was like an SOS. He knew that you would dig and once word got out the right people would be alerted.”

  Rogan’s mouth went dry. “Or killed.”

  He caught Cass’s eye and she nodded. They were both thinking about Blair Purdie. He had tasked the kid with researching this cryptic term and he had been eliminated. Just like they had tried to assassinate Rogan.

  “The President is involved with some nasty people.”

  “And other people who are apparently on his side, if he’s asking for their help.”

  “They’re not doing a good job with that. If it was up to me, their Yelp rating would be severely affected.”

  The older man sampled his fresh drink and then slammed it down on the sideboard. “I have to get my people on this. This new information could exonerate the President.”

  “You really think so? He shot his wife on national TV.”

  “It may be enough to sway public opinion. And with public opinion on your side there’s no limit to what you can achieve. I have to call my people.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing. Rogan rushed forward and wrenched the phone away.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry but we have to discuss this.”

  “We’ve been discussing this. This is a bombshell, it could save my client.”

  “It could kill your partners, Gerald.”

  “What?”

  Rogan took a deep breath. “They tried to kill me, not once but twice. Now that you know you’re also a target. You want your fellow lawyers to also have a bull’s-eye on their back?”

  “No but…”

  “All I’m saying is let’s wait until morning, all right? Let’s think about this, let’s make a plan. I’m sure we can figure out who’s trying to kill us. We can’t really fight back until then, can we?”

  Their host was disappointed but he nodded anyway. “You’re right. Uh, it’s late anyway. How do you wanna proceed?”

  “I was hoping we could stay the night? Any objections? The couch looks comfy and I’ll make breakfast myself.”

  “Yeah, sure. We can do that. And in the morning we blow the lid off this thing.”

  “It’s a promise.”

  Rogan extended his hand to shake his. Precisely at that moment, the front window shattered and Gerald Butrymowicz’s head exploded in a mass of blood.

  Chapter 27

  It wasn’t a sniper’s bullet that killed the attorney and sent his mushy brain splatter against the wall, making it as if it was part of the postmodernist artistic design. Immediately came a volley of automatic gunfire.

  “Get down!”

  Rogan couldn’t hear his own voice because at the same time as he barked his order Cass was shrieking in surprise. On top of that, the noise was ear-piercing as the windows were splintered and round
s found targets in the wall, sideboard, and liquor selection.

  The attorney’s corpse landed with a thud and already the two federal agents had their weapons drawn. Rogan kneeled behind the couch and swept the area from left to right. He couldn’t see anything aside from the curtains billowing from the hail of gunfire, the fabric punctured until it hung in tatters.

  Cass instinctively rose from behind her cover and squeezed off two rounds even though neither of them could make out what was going on or who was shooting.

  “Can you see anything?” Rogan asked her.

  She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the window. The gunfire became sporadic.

  Rogan waddled forward. In front of him were the dead attorney and the cell phone he had dropped. The carpet was littered with broken artwork, glass shards, and alcohol. The green crème de menthe was a nice touch, he thought.

  He turned toward the foyer. Maybe they could reach the door, open it, and return fire with a hope of hitting someone for once. He snapped his fingers to get Cass to look his way and then he pointed at the door. She nodded.

  They were on their way when the door was kicked in. Two men poured inside. They were wearing black as well as matching ski masks.

  Rogan extended his arms and fired at them. They just had time to roll sideways behind the foyer wall, the bullets cracking the sheet rock.

  “What’s going on?”

  Mrs. Butrymowicz was coming down the stairs, wearing only her nightgown and her hair unkempt. She was confused.

  “Ma’am, get back up!” Rogan shouted. “Go hide!”

  She was halfway down the steps when her head turned toward the living room. She spotted the body of her husband, half his face missing. She froze and screamed.

  This made her immobile for a few seconds, just long enough for one of the gunmen to aim a submachine gun at her and shoot her. She was thrown backwards, dead before she hit the steps, and she slid down heavily to the ground.

  Rogan had never been more convinced that his hour had come.

  For this reason, he was determined to go out in a blaze glory. If he was going to die, then he would take as many of these fuckers with him.