by Jack Bowie
“Is the FBI convinced Braxton really killed Chamberlain?” Flanagan asked.
“How the hell do I know?” Rydell barked. “I guess they are, but who cares? I will not allow any investigation to taint the reputation of this laboratory. We will convince them that we have no connection to this tragic event. Is that clear?”
Flanagan was tempted to snap a salute and yell “Yes, sir” but controlled the impulse. She nodded curtly instead. There was no reason she had to stand here and listen to him whine like a spoiled adolescent. She was sure he was much more concerned with saving his own precious reputation than he was in protecting CERT/CC. Still, she would have to be careful with her staff. Rydell would not tolerate anyone who wavered from the party line.
* * *
Officer Randy Collins had followed the out-of-state car when he saw it make the turn at Jamison’s. It was still a little early for the tourists to descend on Woodstock, and he didn’t recognize the flashy Camaro. When he saw it pull onto the narrow path, he decided it was time to check in.
“Jan?” he called over the radio.
“Dispatch,” Janet Faraday responded. “What’s up Randy?”
“I’ve been following a car with Mass plates over in Merritt. Number is seven eight five charlie david xray. It just pulled into the Terrel place. Didn’t we hear something about him?”
“Hang on. I’ll ask Weaver.” Collins listened to static as the dispatcher checked with Lieutenant Mason Weaver. “Got it. Terrel was killed last week down in Cambridge. His parents called asking about getting someone to help them sell the cabin. Weaver says he gave them a couple of realtors’ names.”
“I guess it could be someone checking out the property. I’ll go in and take a look. Run the plate, then try to find out who the parents called. See if they’re expecting anybody. Collins out.”
“Okay, Randy. Take it easy. Dispatch out.”
Chapter 51
Merritt, New Hampshire
Friday, 2:30 p.m.
GODDARD RETURNED FROM the store with copies of the Herald and Globe, more canned goods and a few candy bars to stimulate Braxton’s appetite.
She was sorting her purchases on the kitchen counter when she heard a noise out front. Going to the window, she looked out and gasped. Terror-struck, she saw a uniformed New Hampshire State Trooper getting out of his cruiser and approaching the cabin. He stopped at her car, looked inside, then continued to the porch.
Oh god! What can I do?
Braxton was still asleep in the bedroom; she had checked right after she had arrived back. She couldn’t let the Trooper inside and see him. Rushing to the door, she stepped outside just as he was coming up the steps.
“Good afternoon, officer,” she blurted out a little too loudly. “What can I do for you?”
“Officer Collins, ma’am. And you are?”
“Ah, Susan Goddard.” Damn. She should have made up a name.
“What brings you up to New Hampshire, Ms. Goddard?” Collins stopped at the foot of the steps. He stood ramrod straight, his right resting by his handgun. “Is this your cabin?”
She was sure Collins knew it wasn’t. What kind of a story could she use? The best lies are always based on the truth, she had heard somewhere. So it had to be something to do with Terrel and not Braxton.
“Oh, no. It belongs, belonged, to a friend of mine, Paul Terrel.” She tried her best to will tears to appear. “He died last week. I came up to get some things I’d left in the cabin and clean up for his parents.”
“Are you from Boston?”
“Eh, no. I live in D.C.” The Trooper gave her a puzzled look. “But I used to live in Boston. That’s when we became friends. Paul let me use the cabin whenever I needed to get away from the city.”
“I see.” Collins’ eyes wandered over the porch. She saw them stop at the pile of dirt by the door.
“I did that last night.” Her voice was high and staccato. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how nervous she was. “It was rather late when I got in and I stumbled against the pot. Guess I better clean it up,” she said with a feigned smile. This wasn’t going well. She had to get rid of him.
As Collins continued his silent search she saw a movement of curtains out of the corner of her eye. Braxton’s face appeared through the shears.
“It was awful about Paul,” she said stepping down off the deck. “Did you hear about it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Collins responded uncomfortably, having to follow her away from the door. “We heard he was killed.”
Goddard continued walking over to her car. “He interrupted a burglary in a friend’s apartment. It was so awful. He was a really wonderful person.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure he was. How long will you be staying?” They stopped halfway between the rental and the cruiser.
“Just a few days. Then I’ll head back to D.C.”
“Will you be all right out here by yourself?”
She managed a casual laugh. “Oh yes. I’m really a very independent woman. It’s just a little sad being here without Paul. Is there anything else, officer?”
Collins paused and scanned the front of the cabin one more time. When he returned to Goddard, she felt like he could see into her every thought. “Not at this time, ma’am. If you need anything, be sure to give us a call. Afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat and walked back to the cruiser.
She watched as the cop got into his car. Please don’t look around back, she prayed.
He pulled up to the house, turned around, and drove out the path. When he had disappeared around a bend she ran back inside. Braxton was standing by the window wrapped in one of his blankets.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “He might have seen you!”
“I woke up and heard voices. What did he want?”
Goddard grabbed the wall to steady her shaking legs. “He wanted to know what I was doing here. I guess he was just checking up on the cabin since he knew Paul had died. I told him I was a friend and was here to pick up some of my things.”
“Did he believe you?”
She nodded. “I think so, but he might come back. You have to be more careful and stay out of sight. And we are going to have to do something with the Jeep.”
Braxton staggered slightly and she reached to steady him. “You’ve got to lie down. Would you like to stay in here for a while?”
“Yes. And I want to get some clothes on. I feel funny running around naked.”
“I thought it was rather cute.”
She walked him back to the bedroom and pulled the covers off his bunk while he rummaged in a bureau drawer for some clothes.
“Guess I’ve lost a little weight,” he commented looking at the bagginess of his attire.
“You could say that.” Actually he was frighteningly gaunt and yellow. Only his best friends would recognize him in this state. Which may be a blessing, when we have to get out of here.
She steered him back to the sofa and stood him against the wall while she smoothed out the sheets and positioned his pillows.
“Is that better?” she asked when he was finally settled.
“Much. I don’t feel too bad.”
“Well you look awful. Lie down there and rest.” She threw one of the papers at him. “You look through that one. I’ll check the Herald.”
She shuffled through the first few pages. “Adam, you won’t believe what’s here about you and Chamberlain! It says the police have found evidence in Chamberlain’s house that you and he were secretly lovers. They believe you had been stalking him and then killed him because he threatened to go to the police. His secretary confirmed you went to see him two days before the murder.”
Braxton let his head fall back on the pillow. “Whoever is behind all this certainly does a complete job. I bet all the evidence was electronic. In another week no one will believe me.”
She couldn’t help thinking of all the parallels. “Adam, you don’t think . . .”
He looked up from the paper. �
�What?”
No. Don’t make things any more complicated than they are. “Oh, nothing.”
She continued to scan the article. “Here’s some more. ‘Police also confirmed that Braxton was the owner of a handgun matching the size of the bullets taken from Chamberlain’s body. The gun has not as yet been recovered and may still be in Braxton’s possession.’ Do you have a gun?”
“Yes, didn’t I tell you that?” The expression on her face told him he hadn’t. “I knew it was mine as soon as I saw it on the floor. I didn’t see how leaving it there would do me any good so I took it.”
“How did it get there?”
“Whoever killed Paul must have taken it. I forgot all about it when I spoke to the police. Could they have planned all this that far ahead?”
“Where is the gun now?”
“It should be in the car somewhere.” He tried to stand but hesitated when his head started spinning.
“Take it easy.” She grabbed his shoulders and lowered him back to the sofa. “I’ll go out and get it later. I don’t think you need it right now. Remember, I’m your nurse and I say when you can get up. I’ve got to fix you something to eat.” She tossed the paper onto the floor and walked into the kitchen area. “What does the other paper say?”
He read the first section. “It’s about the same. The prose is a little less sensational but the message is the same. The Globe’s got a better picture of me, though.”
She glared back at him. “This isn’t funny. What are we going to do?”
He turned and fixed his gaze on her. “We have to get back.”
“Back where?”
“To D.C. I have to try to read Chamberlain’s drive.”
“Adam, you’ve barely got the strength to sit up. We’ll stay a few days then see how you’re doing.”
“No. The police have already been here once. They’re bound to come back. And I can rest all day tomorrow in the car.”
“It’s only a couple hours to Boston.”
“We can’t go to Boston. There is too much publicity. And we can’t take a plane; it’s too easy to track our credit cards. Do you mind driving all the way?”
“I guess not. Are you sure you want to go back now?”
“Yes, I have to get back and check those files. It’s the only way to clear my name.”
Unfortunately, she knew he was right. If they waited any longer they were sure to be recognized. “Okay. As long as you continue to improve. And that means doing everything I say. Deal?”
“Okay. I’m yours.”
She poured a cup of hot soup and brought it over to him. “I just wish we didn’t have to drive so far. How about flying from another city? We could fly under false names if we had enough cash.”
“What did you say?” he asked quickly.
“I said we could fly out of another city.”
“No, after that.”
“Uh, we could use false names if we had the cash. Why?”
“That’s what Chamberlain said, ‘use the cash’.”
“When?”
“When he was dying. He said ‘use the cash’. It has something to do with the drive.”
“Why would he say that? Use what cash? Did he want you to cash something? What does a disk have to do with cash?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure that’s what he said. I’ve got to take a look at that disk.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it now. Lie back and get some rest.”
He leaned back then bounced right up again.
“What is it now?”
“Fowler. We need to talk to him. He can tell us if they’re looking in D.C.”
“Now? It’s Friday afternoon. He’ll be on duty.”
“Then we’ll wait ‘til later. But we have to speak with him.”
“Okay. But later. Now you rest. Remember your promise?”
He gave her a sour look, but slid down on the sofa. She fluffed up his pillow, tucked the blankets around his neck, and headed for the door.
“What are you doing now,” he called to her.
“If we’re going back tomorrow, I’ve got to get you ready. Be back in a flash.”
* * *
“Dispatch?” Collins called as he drove back to Merritt.
“Yes, Randy.”
“Did you check out that car for me?”
“Of course. It’s a rental. Checked out of Logan Thursday night to a Susan Goddard from Washington, D.C.”
“That checks with what she told me. Said she was a friend of Terrel. See if you can find anything else on her. I’ll go back tomorrow and take another look.”
“Back so soon, huh? She must be cute.”
“Come on, Jan. You know she couldn’t compare to you. Collins out.”
Chapter 52
The Russell Building, Washington, D.C.
Friday, 4:00 p.m.
NICHOLSON WAS HEADS down into a stack of folders piled on his normally spotless desk when Potterfield strutted into his aide’s office like a puffed peacock.
“You missed all the excitement, Nick. The Bill passed fifteen to three.”
Nicholson looked up and smiled at his boss’s unusual show of emotion. “Congratulations, David. I knew you could pull it off.”
“We’re all going out for a drink. Care to join us?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m still trying to track down Goddard. I’ve followed her to a car rental agency at Logan. Then the trail dries up.”
Potterfield’s eyebrows furrowed. “When did she go to Boston? And why?”
“She charged a ticket on the four o’clock flight yesterday. I’ve had an investigator at her apartment since three, he must have just missed her. As to why, I don’t know yet. It could just be for a weekend visit with some friends. She should be back in a day or so.” There was no reason to involve Potterfield in the now Goddard and Braxton search. It would only make dealing with him all the harder.
“You’re sure this is Lynch’s daughter?”
“I’m positive. I’ve checked her records at Georgetown. She’s the right age and I can’t find any record of her before Lynch’s death. She’s hidden her past pretty well. That’s why we couldn’t find her.”
“But a woman, Nick? And from Georgetown? How could she have figured out all the computer crap?”
Potterfield thought you had to be a genius to use computers. Maybe it was about time he retired. “She’s been taking Computer Science classes at George Washington. She probably got someone to teach her the details.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. You gonna wait until she comes back to town?”
“If necessary, but I’d rather locate her in Boston. It would be better to have an accident as far away from here as possible don’t you think?”
“You’re always looking out for us, Nick,” Potterfield replied cheerily. “That’s what I like about you.” Potterfield’s effuse mood was going to make Nicholson sick.
“Well then, if you’re not going to join us, I’ll leave you to finish.” He headed for the door then stopped and turned around. “I’m taking the weekend off, Nick. Mary Jane and I need some time together. Can I assume you’ll take care of things by Monday?”
“Yes, David. Next week things will be back to normal. Oh, I set up that meeting with Greystone you wanted for Wednesday. Camille put it on your calendar.”
“Good. Now that we have the Bill on the way and this email thing resolved I can focus on squeezing Greystone dry. I do love this job, Nick.”
“Yes, David. I know you do. Have a good weekend.”
“You too, son.”
Nicholson opened another folder and went back to his PC. He could wait until she appeared back at her apartment, but it would be better to locate her now. If he could find Goddard, she might lead him to Braxton. Then Greystone would owe him one.
He hacked into the TRW credit data base. His best chance was new credit card charges.
* * *
Goddard propped his head over the basin an
d squeezed in the rinse.
“What are you doing to me?” Braxton complained.
“If I’m going to be driving you all over New England tomorrow, I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to take advantage of your new hungry look.”
She had scoured the local store and brought back a collection of hair dyes and eclectic clothes. It took a whole bottle of black color rinse to hide the natural brown tone of his hair. She slicked it back and let it curl over the collar of his shirt.
Next came his beard. Braxton had one of those faces that showed a five o’clock shadow at one in the afternoon. His whiskers grew incredibly rapidly. She had noticed it that first morning in her apartment. After two days in the cabin he had a growth that would take most men weeks to develop. It wasn’t quite enough for a full beard, but a little trimming produced an acceptable mustache and just the right amount of stubble.
She completed his transformation with a fitted vest, a lean pair of jeans, and cowboy boots.
“What do you think?” she asked, as he stood before the bathroom mirror.
“Unbelievable. I doubt my mother would recognize me.” The result was startling; the upscale computer consultant had been turned into a gaunt, dark, artiste. “Is this another of your hidden talents? Disguising escaped felons?”
“But of course,” she replied tossing her hair in the air and mimicking an Eastern European accent. “I am an expert in these ways. You will be quite at home in the liberal community of Georgetown.”
“I should have known.” He walked over and took her in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for everything.”
She held on to him as if to never let him go. When she finally pulled away, a single tear ran down her cheek.
“Back to the sofa for you,” she ordered. “I’ve got to get us packed for the trip.”
“First we call Fowler.”
Goddard checked her watch. It was 6:45. “Okay, okay. He should have left work. You’re such a nag.”
“Will you call? Just in case someone is there?”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too paranoid?”
