“Let her go, Mike. She needs a minute alone.”
He knew that it was true. Despite everything they shared, there was still the past, which was what Danica had to come to terms with now. Sagging back into the sofa, he hung his head. “I wish you’d let me tell her, Jeff. It might have been easier without an audience.”
“Come on,” Cilla chided softly. “We care for her and she knows it. She’ll be back in a minute. You’ll see. And besides, there’s no easy way to tell a woman something like this. Better Jeff should take the flack than you.”
“I’m taking it anyway.”
“She’s upset. She’s looking for a heavy, and you’re here. She won’t hold anything against you, not when she can think clearly. She knows how much you love her and that what you did was out of that love.”
Michael took an unsteady breath and raised his gaze to Jeff’s. “It’ll hit the papers Monday?”
Jeff nodded.
“I won’t be touching it, if that’s any consolation,” Cilla offered. “I’m far too emotionally involved with this one. Damn, how could he do this to her!”
“I doubt he was thinking of her,” Michael said. “I doubt he’s ever thought of her. That was one of the big problems with their marriage. He put his career before everything else. Unfortunately, Dani’s going to suffer the fallout.”
Jeff screwed up his face. “I still can’t figure a motive. Several of the other companies we caught did it for the money; the records show they were floundering financially. A third company has known leanings toward the East; in hindsight, Commerce should have been wary of issuing it any license. But Eastbridge—I can’t figure it out.”
“Who will be named in the indictments?” Michael asked. “Lindsay and Magnusson?”
Jeffrey grew still. “Plus the corporation itself. At least, that was what we thought. Unfortunately, Magnusson showed up in an alley two days ago with a bullet in his head.”
“He was murdered?” Michael asked, stunned.
“Looks that way.” He dug through his folder and tossed a set of photographs on the coffee table. Cilla and Mike both leaned forward to study them. “Someone wanted him silenced. The cops haven’t got a lead yet.”
One of the pictures showed the body at the scene of the crime, a second the scene with the traditional white chalk markers, a third the body as it lay in the morgue. When Cilla leaned closer, Jeffrey took her arm.
“Maybe you shouldn’t, hon. They’re pretty gruesome.”
But she was staring at the morgue shot and was ashen for reasons other than the gruesomeness of the print. “My God!” she breathed, “that’s him!”
Jeffrey nodded. “Harlan Magnusson. The former head of Blake Lindsay’s computer division. He came to Washington with his boss, but he’s been shuffled from one position to another in Commerce.”
“No, Jeff.” She clutched his arm. “That’s him. That’s Red Robin!”
The air in the room went very still, only to be broken by a weak “Red Robin?”
Three heads swiveled around to see Danica approaching. Michael quickly gathered the photographs together and turned them over, but the harm was done.
Danica was staring at Cilla. “Harlan Magnusson is Red Robin?” she asked in a distant voice. “But Red Robin is…” Her eyes lowered to the photographs and grew glassy. “He was Blake’s right-hand man,” she murmured. “They went everywhere together…to meetings, on business trips…” She swallowed convulsively and seemed to gasp for air. Michael was by her side in an instant and she clung to his arm. “I never liked him. He was too nervous, too aggressive. He used to glare at me. I was jealous of the time Blake spent with him…” She swayed on her feet. Michael tightened his hold, but she was looking at Cilla again. “You said that Red Robin was…was…” She pressed a trembling hand to her throat and whispered, “I think…Michael, I think I’m going to be sick…”
Trembling nearly as badly as she, Michael helped her to the bathroom, where he supported her while she lost the contents of her stomach. When there was nothing left to lose, he bathed her forehead with a cool cloth and helped her rinse her mouth. Then he carried her to his bed and gently laid her down. She clutched his hand.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he soothed. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
For a time she said nothing, then, “I feel so sick. So…dirty and used. No wonder he never came near me.” Michael knew she was talking of Blake. “It wasn’t me after all. It was the fact that I’m a woman. He must have suffered through the few times we were together, when all along he wanted to be with…with…” She heaved again, but there was nothing left to vomit. Michael ran back to the bathroom for the cloth and placed it gently on her throat.
“Take it easy, Dani. It’ll be all right.”
The stillness with which she lay belied the roiling torment in her mind. “It all makes sense now—why he wasn’t upset when I started coming up here, why he hated the place, why he seemed almost relieved when I told him about you.”
“He may not have shown it, but he was probably under a great deal of stress.”
“You’re more compassionate than I am.”
“I wasn’t married to him. It’s natural that you feel hurt, and I’m not trying to condone what he did.” To the contrary. He felt a slow anger boiling within. “He did use you. You were his key to acceptance. No wonder he was so vehement against getting a divorce. You were his cover. As long as he had you, he didn’t have to worry about anyone suspecting the truth.”
Danica rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up tight. Her insides were trembling in the aftermath of shock. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as if doing so would erase the ugly images that dominated her thoughts. Then she laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “Wait until my father finds out. It’s poetic justice.”
“He’ll be as shocked as you are. He had no way of knowing, Dani. No one did.”
“Will he find out? Will it come out in court?”
“That depends on Blake’s defense attorney. The formal charges won’t mention it. There’s nothing illegal about a homosexual relationship between two consenting adults. As far as I know, the four of us here may be the only ones who know of the relationship between Red Robin and Blake. Cilla certainly won’t mention it, and she’s the only one who can identify Red Robin. Now that he’s dead, so is her lead…It does make sense now. Cilla’s always wondered why Red Robin went to her rather than another paper. He must have thought our papers would be that much more interested, given the relationship between Blake and your father and the history of animosity between your father and our papers.”
But Danica wasn’t thinking of either her father or the Buchanans at that moment. “Do you think Harlan specifically wanted to expose Blake?”
“If Blake had shunted him aside when they came to Washington, it’s possible. But Red Robin never did give Cilla Blake’s name. And there’s still the chance that the relationship between the two men was innocent.”
Danica’s mind was working clearly enough to realize the odds against that. “No. There were too many signs.”
Michael agreed, but he had to be realistic. “We’ll never really know, now that Harlan’s gone. As far as the trial goes, I doubt the issue of homosexuality will come up unless the defense attorney feels that it’s Blake’s best chance for proving that he was unknowingly duped.”
“God, I hope it doesn’t come out.” This time her laugh held a touch of hysteria. “I can’t believe the irony of all this. When my father warned me about being involved with you, he kept saying that he didn’t want the family embarrassed. He’s going to die if Blake’s…Blake’s…comes out.” Her voice broke and she curled into an even tighter ball, covering her head with her hands as though she was embarrassed even with Michael.
He wouldn’t have it. Easily overpowering her resistance, he cradled her in his arms and spoke softly. “What Blake did has no reflection on you. He may not have realized what he was w
hen he first married you. Gays have come out of the closet in the past ten years. He may have suppressed those instincts for a very long time.” When she burrowed deeper against him, he went on. “There are many men who lead dual lives for years, who are happily married even while they have lovers on the side.”
“We didn’t have a happy marriage. He used me.”
“In the end, yes. But he may have truly loved you once. He may still love you in his way.”
“His way makes me sick.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I feel soiled.”
“I don’t see you that way. Knowing what we do now, I respect you all the more. Over the years you’ve given him every benefit of the doubt. You have to be credited with sticking by him so long.”
“I didn’t know!” she cried, berating herself.
“How could you?”
“I should have seen, but it never occurred to me. I kept asking him about other women. No wonder he was repulsed by the idea.” She moaned softly. “I was so stupid. I actually forced myself on him that last time.”
“You what?”
She raised her head. “The last time we made love was two years ago last May. He hadn’t come near me in months, and I’d met you and was frightened by the attraction I felt for you, so I went home to Blake and seduced him.” Her eyes teared. “I was fantasizing about you the whole time, Michael. Who do you think he was fantasizing about?”
Michael pressed her head to his chest, unable to bear the pain in her eyes. “Don’t torment yourself, sweetheart. It’s not worth it.”
Her voice came muffled from his chest. “It’s not that I wanted him then any more than I do now. We never had much of a sex life. Now I can see why. It’s just that I feel so angry! He should have been honest. When I told him about you, he should have let me go. He had no right to do that to me, to us.”
“I feel angry, too. Believe me. But anger won’t get us anywhere. We have to think of the future. You have to think of the future.”
“I don’t want to. You know why.”
He did. He knew Danica. She would foresee the ordeal that Blake was facing and would feel it her duty to stand by his side, at least until the trial was done. Michael didn’t like the idea; in his book, Danica had suffered enough at Blake Lindsay’s hand. But he knew that she would view deserting Blake now as callous. He had to admire her for it.
They remained in the bedroom until Danica felt stronger, then rejoined Cilla and Jeff, who had cleaned up the remains of Michael and Danica’s brunch and had perked a fresh pot of coffee. Cilla insisted on making Danica a cup of tea, then took her out to the deck while the men talked inside.
“What do you think?” Michael asked softly.
“I think we may have our motive. If Lindsay and Magnusson were sexually involved, Magnusson could easily have swung his weight to get that shipment out. We know that he was the contact. Lindsay may never have even known about it if. Because of their relationship, he gave Magnusson an inordinate amount of freedom.” He paused, thinking. “I talked with Lindsay briefly at a party several months back. He said that the responsibility of the company had been his, that he knew of everything that happened. Of course, that may have been arrogance speaking.”
“So you do think he was conned by Magnusson?”
Jeffrey shook his head. “I think the guy knew exactly what was going on. His signature’s right there on incriminating documents. But I do think that’ll be his defense. And we’ll never know otherwise, will we?”
Michael had said similar words to Danica. The fact was that Harlan Magnusson, a key element in the case, was dead. Michael wasn’t sure he liked the implication. “Do you think Lindsay could have had something to do with Magnusson’s murder?”
“Nah. It doesn’t fit. As far as I know, Lindsay’s been strictly on the up and up as Secretary of Commerce. Sure, he already knew of the investigation when Magnusson was murdered, but I can’t believe he’d be so stupid. He’s in a powerful position. He’s well respected. Even if he was worried that indictments would be returned, he had to have known that he’d easily have the upper hand if it came down to Magnusson’s word against his. Murder is something else entirely. There’s no logical reason he’d risk it.”
“Who do you think did?”
“Probably someone representing the guy in Capetown, who just happens to be a paid operative of the KGB. I’m sure it was a professional job, which is another reason to rule Lindsay out. For something that professional, he’d have had to hire a hit man, which would have only given him someone else to worry about. No, Lindsay wouldn’t buy into that.”
“Do you think the cops will?”
“I’m sure they’ll consider it once the shit hits the fan on Monday, but I doubt it’ll go far.”
Michael sighed and sat back in his seat. “Christ, I hope not. That’s all Dani needs.” He glanced toward the deck. The two women stood at the railing, Cilla with her arm around Danica’s shoulder, talking softly to her. “Will the trial be held in Washington?”
“Uh-huh. That’s were Lindsay personally filed for the export license. Falsifying the information on that application will be one of the charges.” His voice grew even quieter. “You’re not still angry at me, are you, pal?”
“No. It’s done. Maybe it was for the best. I think Dani’s going to need all the support she can get over the next few days.”
Her emotions raged in an endless circle. She was angry, then hurt, then frightened, then self-abasing, then angry, again and again. Cilla and Jeff stayed until Sunday night. They bolstered her as best they could, talking openly, if gently, about every aspect of what had happened, agreeing with Michael that the more Danica got off her chest, the better. They talked about what she could expect when she joined Blake in Washington, as they all knew she would, and tried to prepare her for any ugliness she might find.
Cilla saw the ordeal through Danica’s eyes, and as a reporter whose stories had more than once prompted other ordeals, she found it a humbling experience. Jeffrey, an investigator who had seen many of his targets go to jail, had a similar view of the other side and was enlightened. Michael, who loved Danica, felt her pain as his own and wondered if things would ever be the same again.
When Monday morning rolled around, Danica clung to him for a long, long time.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly.
“I have to. It’s the only way.”
“You could stay here.”
“If I was a different sort of person, yes. But I’m not.”
“Are you sorry we told you?”
“No. It’s helped. If Blake were a man, he’d have told me himself. But you all were wonderful this weekend. I can think clearly now. I’m going to need a level head if I hope to make it through all this.”
Michael felt utterly helpless. “What can I do?”
She put her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his throat. “I’ll call you. Knowing that you’re here…that’s the biggest help.”
“Will you call? Will you let me know what’s happening?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
She drew back her head, studied the features she knew and adored, kissed him very lightly, then disengaged herself and ran toward the car. Michael was reminded of the winter before, when she had done much the same after he had told her he was going away. He hadn’t wanted a repeat of that. Damn it, he wanted her with him!
But the car was disappearing from the drive, its sound a low purr, then a growl, that faded and faded. He walked slowly around her house and down to the beach, knowing that all he could do was to wait and watch and hope that Danica’s strength would see her through.
Mrs. Hannah said nothing about Danica’s early return from Maine. The house, as always, was in order, but Danica could only look around and wonder at the farce she and Blake had lived there. One part of her didn’t want to touch a table, a lamp, a stick of furniture. The othe
r part very carefully took a seat in the den and waited for the inevitable call to come.
It was nearly two in the afternoon when the phone rang. Clenching her fists over her fluttering stomach, Danica willed herself to be calm. When Mrs. Hannah came to the door to announce that Mr. Lindsay was on the phone, she nodded politely, waited for the housekeeper to depart, then slowly, coolly lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Danica, thank God, I found you. I tried the house in Maine, then Buchanan’s house. He told me where you were. Danica, something’s happened. I need you here with me.”
Where she had thought herself emotionally played out, anger flared. She diligently curbed it, aided by the perverse satisfaction she felt at hearing Blake’s ruffled tone. “This is sudden, Blake. What’s happened?”
“I’d rather not talk about it now. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding. Look, I’ve been in touch with Hal Fremont. He’s going to pick you up and fly here with you.”
Danica tensely twisted a button on the soft leather sofa. “Hal? Your lawyer? Is there a legal problem?”
“Later, Danica. Can you be packed and ready in an hour?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.”
He was about to hang up when Danica blurted out, “Don’t you think you should tell me now?” She was thinking about the press, which, if it knew of the indictments, would be sure to meet her plane. It wasn’t every day that a member of the Cabinet was indicted on charges not far afield from treason.
“I can’t. Hal will fill you in on the plane. I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up then, and Danica could only seethe at the idea that he was leaving his dirty work to others. With great effort, she composed herself and marched upstairs to pack the suitcase that Mrs. Hannah had just finished unpacking. Of course, she mused cynically, the clothes she would need in Washington were a world away from those she had taken to Maine. Washington was a world away from Maine, where more than anything at that moment she wanted to be. But she had a mission, a final mission with regard to her husband, and that conviction gave her the strength to put her own wishes on hold.
Within Reach Page 33
