"Yeah, it's pretty huge."
"So will you be going with her on all the tour stops?"
"You bet. I'm going to be her assistant when it comes notifying her about what's coming. Something between media relations and security. Intel, you might call it. Still an aide in full title. But when we expand our team, there are more bodies, more aides. So I'll be helping out where I can."
"So on the road?"
"We're leaving for New Hampshire next week. And then we'll be in Iowa. Maybe Wisconsin and Michigan early, if we can. But definitely starting with those two states. We may pivot to Maine since they've become a swing state in recent years. She's planning to get out early now that the shutdown is on. Really wants to slam it down people's throats that she's working hard to give them what they want -- an open government."
"Seems weird to me," I say. "Working hard by seeing the country? She should be negotiating."
"She's falling in line with the Democrats," he says. "She'll align with whatever they want. I think she just wants this whole thing to end."
"Still, seems a little strange."
"Wow. You're a cynic this morning."
"It's the journalist in me."
"See, and I thought journalists were supposed to be objective."
"When you've been through what I've been through, you're definitely allowed to be cynical."
"Yeah," he says, leaning back against his chair. "So what happened last night? I don't really want to talk about work so tell me what happened with the police and everything."
So I tell him everything we talked about at the police station. I tell my story again because he has forgotten it, which I can't fault him for since he's had his own stressful nights. Basically, I saw a tall, shadowy figure in the national pool, choking someone underneath the water and ice. They took the body away, and they still haven't identified either person. I tell him about my Lyft driver and how she's feeling the impact of the shutdown.
At last, Ben leans forward again. Something clearly has his attention now. I wonder if he's put the pieces together like I have. I wonder if he realizes that Senator Simmons is tall and lanky, and she has the exact frame of the shadow I saw. It's unlikely he feels that way. Only my eyes saw that shadow figure last night, so there's no way he would think the same as I do right now.
"How do they now know who killed the victim? I mean, they have tons of cameras on those places, security walking the grounds. It seems weird to me they wouldn't automatically have enough cameras on the pool to see who did it."
"That's what I was wondering. The detective didn't really tell me anything. Just told me they were looking into it."
"So strange. I wonder if there are any blind spots in the cameras."
"There's no way," I say. "I don't think they would create a blindspot on one of the national monuments. That just seems crazy to me. I don't know. Maybe we'll find out more. I'm trying to stay out of this as long as possible."
"Hmm. A national, viral journalist like yourself witnessed a murder at a national monument in the country's capitol city. I don't think you can avoid this one, babe."
"Well, I was already getting calls from people at CNN and Fox News to talk about it. Shut off my phone and threw it on our bed. I'm not trying to get involved."
"You're not even checking your phone?"
"No. If someone wants me, they can come here and find me. Look, I've been through so many of these annoying news cycles. I'm just going to lay low for today and tomorrow, and then head out and start reporting on the shutdown and the tech hearings again. See if I can find anything out that I didn't see before."
"I don't know if you'll see much budging from anyone since everyone's home."
"Yeah, but you never know what aides have stuck around in D.C. Maybe someone can leak something."
"Who? Me?" Ben looks over at the TV again.
"No, not you. Someone, though. I'm sure I can find something out if I just wait long enough."
"Well, good luck with that. I just hope the government opens up again and--"
He stops speaking, his eyes firmly stuck on the television.
"Ben?" I ask and follow his gaze to the television screen.
The CNN screen brightens again with that breaking news red. The banner flashes and then appears a duo of anchors, who are spouting off words that we can't hear. I read them along the captions and it's enough to inspire me to find the remote. I flip on the sound and hear them say the words rather than just read them.
The chyron sitting at the bottom of the screen reads, "BREAKING: VICTIM IDENTIFIED IN MONUMENT MURDER CASE."
"We have just received breaking news from The Washington Scribe, and now CNN has confirmed, that the victim at last night's monument murder was Kaleigh Donnowho, a 23-year-old female who is originally from Norman, Oklahoma. She was in Washington, D.C., working for a company, quite remarkable, called New Surge, which has been at the center of the senate hearings leading up to the government hearings. She was set to testify in the case before the shutdown happened, and now she has been murdered at the monument."
The news stuns me so much that I fall back into my chair, my eyes wide and my eyebrows nearly scratching my scalp. My body is frozen over and goosebumps have risen across my arms and back. I lose all feelings in my legs and I can't help but stare absently at the screen.
First it was the shadow and the images of Senator Simmons. And now it's Kaleigh Donnowho. Kaleigh Donnowho was killed at the monument.
"Wow. Looks like your reporting is going to be a lot more important," Ben says. "A New Surge employee killed during the shutdown when she was supposed to testify? That's pretty crazy coincidence."
But I know this isn't a coincidence, not really.
"Annette? What's wrong?"
And it doesn't fully hit me what this means until I say it aloud to Ben. I really am back in the game. I tried to escape this for so long. But there's no avoiding it. Not anymore.
"I know her."
Chapter 6: New beginnings
Ben and I barely spend anymore time together that morning. He asks how I know Kayleigh and I tell him -- her name came up during one of my interviews. Or I talked to her at some point during my reporting. I just can't remember. He quiets my little theory that maybe the murder was targeted at me, given my history. He says it's completely possible, not totally out of the realm of possibility, but highly unlikely. This is Washington. Everyone is trying to kill everyone, he tells me.
With a groggy mind and baggy eyes, he tells me he's going to catch some sleep. He wants me to think things over while he's asleep. Maybe I can come up with a better theory about the murder, one that doesn't center around me, well, being the target of another murder spree.
But there are two things that haven't happened yet for that to be true -- there hasn't been more than one death. There's only been the one murder. And I have a pretty good idea about who committed the crime at the national mall. I just can't bring myself to tell him about it.
It would absolutely devastate him to know his boss was the killer.
Everyone is innocent until proven guilty so I can't immediately put her to blame. But the shape of her shadow, the tall and lanky frame, the features that I saw in the night. Put that side-by-side with the CNN video of her announcing her presidency. I couldn't be the only one who thought she would have been the murder.
The problem -- everyone has the footage of her announcement, and no one has the images swimming inside my mind.
Ben head off to bed, shutting the door behind him. I sit on the couch a little longer, curling up, crossing my legs into the butterfly position, sipping the last of my mildly warm coffee. When that's finished, I sit it down on the table and walk over to the kitchen counter where I find my iPad charging. I carry it back over to the couch and unlock it and head directly for the internet.
More specifically, I open up my author page on the Washington Scribe's website and then my latest article.
Headline: Senate hearing over New Surge go
es nowhere. So what's next?
I scan it quickly, reminding myself about how I reported on the final days of the hearing. The hearing was at its final moments, the last of senators -- Senator Ronald Burke of Texas and Senator Robyn Greenly of North Carolina -- didn't have anything more to add, other than their questions to New Surge employees about what they did with their data. I don't see Kaleigh's name so I move onto the next article.
Headline: A timetable of what's to come for the New Surge Senate hearing.
Perfect. As I open up the article, I find myself staring at five paragraphs of text explaining the meaning behind the trail. After that it's a full-on schedule of moments to come -- who is being interviewed, who is set to attend the Senate hearings.
And there, right at the bottom, the last name on the list, is the woman who just turned up dead at the national pool.
Kaleigh Donnowho.
I copy her name by pressing my thumb against the screen. I open Twitter and paste it inside the search bar. A number of profiles come up, most of them accompanied by a lock symbol, indicating they're private accounts. There's one unlocked account third down from the top. I open it up and see a face that I don't recognize and yet I do. One of those faces that look like a movie star, of a person you just can't quite place. Is this her?
The location linked to on the profile reads: New York City. Is that where New Surge is located? They have a number of offices across the country. The headquarters is in Utah. But they have a small outlet in New York.
Had I seen her somewhere else? Had I seen Kaleigh in Washington already?
I switch out of the internet tab and open up the Scrivener app, which I use for most of my writing, researching, and reporting. One of the folders attached to the left side reads NEW SURGE. When I double-tap it, another list of folders appear.
SOURCES.
DOCUMENTS.
LINKS.
DRAFT.
DRAFT TWO.
NEXT DRAFT.
RANDOM THOUGHTS.
SCRAPS.
I open up the sources folder and it reveals another list of folders. All sources I've spoken to. Some familiar, some not familiar. The different aides I've met, the janitor who worked at the capitol who leaked me the schedule, just a random assortment of people who spoke to me.
I click through each of the folders, scanning all of the notes from the different people I've spoken to. Senator Burke, aide John Goldberg, assistant Matthew Frannie, Scott Wrenshaw, Paul Westbrook, Emily Middleton, Marie Lopez. Over and over again I run through the names and their interview notes, and I don't see anything close to her name--
My finger freezes above the final name of the folder. Senator Simmons.
And suddenly I know that Kayleigh's name will appear at the bottom. I had forgotten I had spoken to her. But we had a brief interview outside the capitol. Ben had helped me arrange that a few weeks ago, right before the shutdown began and their schedule hadn't become as hectic.
I open up the interview notes and slowly scroll through, reminding myself of our brief conversation. So many of her little phrases and words start to make sense given the context of her recent announcement. I thought it was just rhetoric at the time. But it's the same rhetoric she pushed out with her announcement this week, so it's clear she was thinking of running for president longer than just this weekend. To be honest, that's a smart move. You should consider running for president long in advance of actually annoying your candidacy.
At the bottom of the notes, Kayleigh's name appears.
I wrote: "Simmons says she's interested in hearing the upcoming interview with Kayleigh Donnowho (intelligence officer for New Surge New York, due to arrive on Friday, last interview on the list). Says she might be the last person who can explain how the data transfers from New Surge to the government. Follow on this."
Follow on this.
That's just a little note for myself, but I can't remember what I wanted to follow through on when it came to that piece of information. Did I plan on talking to Kaleigh? If so, what did I plan on talking to her about?
There's my inexperience showing itself. I'm much better at the slow burn -- the drawn out, investigative reporting. That's what the Scribe had hired me to do, after all. Report a detail, longford piece on New Surge and its government dealings. But with all of this madness of the Senate hearings, I got roped into the daily reporting and ongoings. And now here we are -- my notes telling myself to follow through on something. Something that I never followed through on.
Past Annette can be so annoying.
I set my iPad down and let my mind rest for minute. Okay. Kaleigh Donnowho was murdered last night. That's what we know, that's what the police know, that's what the country knows. She was supposed to speak to Congress at the end of the hearings, but then the shutdown happened. That's too big of a coincidence to ignore. Someone must be connecting the dots.
And if not, am I the one to do it?
I pull out my phone and find Jon Simpson in my contacts. He's my old editor. He managed me for years at the podcast network before I went independent. He actually fired me just last year from the podcast since the advertisers were sick of the drama surrounding me and my adventures.
Jon picks up on the second ring.
"I was wondering when I'd hear from you," he says.
"You knew I'd call?"
"Your name is in the news again and not for something good. Well, I mean, it's not bad either. Murder and Annette Gardner seem to go hand in hand."
"Funny."
"But at least you're not a suspect this time, or the target. How does that make you feel?"
"A little weird, honestly."
"Well, what's up? Let's skip the pleasantries and just get on with this," he says. "You caught me at a good time. I'm reading a book. Your book, actually. All these little crime stories from across the country. Not bad, my dear."
"Thanks. I'll sign you a copy. Anyway, listen, Jon. I have to run some idea by you. You're always the best voice of reason for these sort of things."
"Shoot."
"Okay so I'm doing some reporting out here right now on the company New Surge. They're a tech company based out of Utah."
"I've heard of them."
"Okay, cool. Anyway, you know the story about the senate hearings and the shutdown?"
"Of course," he says. "It's been all over the news. And plus, I read some of your reporting on the stuff. So, consider me all caught up."
"Okay, good. So anyway, as I'm sure you've heard or seen if you've kept on the news, the girl who was murdered last night was also on the senate's list of people to interview before the hearings ended. And now fast forward to this week, and someone murders her in the national mall. Isn't that strange to you?"
"It's quite a coincidence."
"But it has to be more than a coincidence."
"Why's that, Annette?"
"Um, why isn't it? Girl wants to be interviewed by the senate over major tech company's hearing over regulation. And then she dies just a few weeks later. No, not just dies. Murdered. Literally murdered in such a gruesome way. I mean, that can't be just coincidence."
"It's coincidence, Annette. And you can't assume there's anything more than that. You have to be grounded in your reporting. You have to be grounded in the facts. So what are the facts?"
"A woman was murdered. She was due to speak at the senate hearings. She works for New Surge. The senate hearings were about New Surge."
"Okay. Those are the facts. That's what you got. Do you see the difference? You can't just assume that she was killed because of the hearings."
"Yeah, but don't you think it's a little too connected?"
"Look, Annette. You've been through a lot in your life. And I know your podcasts were about seeking out the truth and speculation. You connected dots. I mean, hell, all of that stuff that went down in your home city was exactly that -- putting the pieces together. But this isn't what you're doing anymore. You have to stay grounded in the facts. As long as yo
u're doing reporting, you can't start making connections and assumptions. I'm sorry, but that's not how it works now."
"Come on, Jon. You'd have to be an idiot to not draw the lines."
He sighs heavy and I can see him rubbing the bottom of his chin. He knows he's not getting anywhere with me. And he'd be right. I know I'm doing full on reporting for the Scribe now on these issues, but I so badly still have the urge to get on a radio broadcast and spread my theory. I want to do the research and connect the dots.
"Listen, I think you need to do the reporting. Talk to your editor, tell him the idea and that you want to connect the dots."
"And how the hell am I going to do that?"
"I've got a source for you," he says. "There's a man named Marty. He's an old friend. And he's the old editor of the Scribe, before things went messy about two years ago. So here, I'll send you his number. Talk to him and he can connect you with someone who might know a little bit more, and he might even have some good info for you. Does that sound good?"
Of course it does. It's a better lead than I've had on the topic in awhile. So I accept that as my answer, telling him I'll call his friend and go from there. And, for now at least, I'll keep my opinions to myself.
"Always nice talking to you," he says.
"Same. And I miss you. Hopefully we can get together soon. How's the new podcast doing?"
"Not as good as when you were hosting it. But we're getting by."
"Send my best to the new host."
"I will. Talk again soon."
And when we hang up, I can feel the itch of tears scratching at the back of my throat. Once again I am leaving my old world behind, taking a hard and true step into the new and scary world of the unknown.
Chapter 7: The Call
I'm sick of sitting around the house. The small empty walls, CNN playing on the television, the quiet air of the apartment as Ben sleeps away the day. So I decide to slip out of the apartment. I pack up my messenger bag with my laptop, a pad and some pens. I dump out the rest of my coffee cup and place it in the sink. Another dish I'll have to clean when I get home.
Into the Night Page 4
