Frames Per Second (29 page)

Most of the time, the ship would get to its destination with all crew alive and well; the cargo delivered; the ship itself safe.

The tugs turned away and returned to harbor. He watched the ship steam away under its own power, until it was far enough away so that its imperfections were no longer recognizable even under the magnification of Ben’s binoculars. And then Ben went down to his studio, grabbed his bag, and headed off to the senator’s town house.

He made a call from a phone booth down the street. It was just past seven-thirty.

“Senator Cheever’s office,” a woman said, crisply.

“Please tell him that Ben Harris is calling.”

“The senator doesn’t take calls until nine. Would you like to leave a message?”

“But he’s in?”

The woman paused. “Would you like to leave a message, sir?” Her tone was still polite, but ice was forming.

“Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Sir—”

Ben hung up.

The senator met him at the door.

This time, the senator was sober, freshly shaved, and with the whiff of morning coffee about him. He called out Ben’s name with a hearty boom, put his hand out. “Glad to see you.”

All this presumably for whomever else was in the house.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Ben gestured to the Boston Common across the street.

The senator looked out, clearly torn. Glancing up the stairs and then out at the golden light of the Common. He stepped outside onto the steps. His eyes narrowed. “You got somebody waiting out there for me? Another camera, maybe one of those long distance microphones?” He said this as if he were joking, but Ben could see that underneath his bonhomie he was still frightened.

Ben felt choked with sudden frustration. These scared, guilty men. And now he was out behaving like one himself. “Here,” he said, abruptly. He shoved the packet containing the negative and Kurt’s copy of the five by seven print into the senator’s hands. Ben had destroyed the disk himself before leaving Kurt and Andi’s house.

The senator quickly put the packet into his inside jacket pocket.

“It’s over,” Ben said to Cheever. “That’s the negative and the last picture. I suggest you burn them and consider yourself lucky. You won’t hear from the person who sent you the letter again, I guarantee it.”

“Who was it?”

“You don’t get that.” Ben started to leave.

Cheever put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You can’t just leave it at that. I’ve got to know.”

“No, you don’t, Senator.” Ben knocked Cheever’s hand off his arm. The man flinched.

“Was it you?”

Ben just looked at him.

The senator’s gaze faltered. “I apologize.”

“Look, consider this a one-time ‘Get out of Jail Free Card.’ If I run across you with your pants down next time, I’ll take the shot. And you’ll wind up in the news.”

“No risk of that,” Cheever said, quietly. Looking back up the stairs again. “I told Teri it was over.” He shook his head. “She took it harder than I expected.”

Ben nodded, his patience at an end. “Good-bye, Senator.”

Kurt’s secretary, Lisa, was waiting for Ben when he reached
Insider.

“Welcome back,” she said, sunnily. “He’d like to see you now.”

Kurt smiled with his most statesmanlike smile as Ben came into his office. “Lisa, hold my calls, please.”

Kurt closed the door behind her as she left. The blinds were already drawn.

“How’d it go?” He said it like Ben had been out at any other interview, but his face still had that gray pallor from the night before. Dark bags under his eyes.

Good, thought Ben. He should be losing sleep, too.

Ben said, “He was relieved.”

“Did he ask who sent it?”

“Sure.”

“But?”

Ben sighed. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“I do. I appreciate it, I really do.”

“I didn’t do this for your appreciation.”

“I understand. Nevertheless, I do. And I want you to know I called Reed this morning and said the two of us have come to an agreement. He said it was up to me if I wanted to hire you back, so that’s a done deal. I’ve already notified personnel. And at the staff meeting this morning, I’ll welcome you back in a more informal manner. I’ll just say that we’ve settled our differences.”

“Fine. There’s a couple of things you’ve got to watch out for yourself around here.” He told Kurt about Lucien and Huey. Ben kept Sarah’s knowledge to himself.

Kurt’s face flushed. “He’s been listening in on my messages? And you asked Huey about the Cheever negatives? Jesus.” Kurt stood up, nervously.

Ben shrugged. “Hey, I was chasing a lead. I didn’t know it was going to come down to you.”

“But do they have enough to put it together?”

“I don’t think so. I never suggested to either of them that Cheever was being blackmailed. That would have violated my confidence with him. Most likely Lucien and Huey will be more concerned with what you have on them, small as it is.”

“That’s right,” Kurt said, slowly. “Besides, there’s no evidence. They can guess all they want, but there’s no evidence.”

“Volunteer nothing,” Ben said. “And we’ll go back about our business. For me, I want to get back onto McGuire. I’ll see if Sarah can join me. Have you got a problem with that?”

“No. No, of course not.” Ben supposed it would be that way from now on with his assignments. Probably the same with Lucien and Huey.
Whatever you want.

Useless as an editor.

Ben sighed. “You remember how I was in here before the explosion? The two of us offering our hands in friendship for the sake of the family and all that?”

Kurt nodded. Looking wary now.

“I realize you’re in no position to be without a job right now,” Ben said. “But I think it’s time you found yourself another one— away from me. Somewhere in Boston, at the same or better salary. You won’t be able to find a job like that overnight, but I think it’s time you started looking.”

Kurt sat back. “Or?”

“Or nothing. I won’t expose you. But it’s the right thing for all of us.”

Kurt nodded slowly.

Ben saw him look out the window. Most likely saying good-bye to the corner office, the prestigious career path, the national view that he commanded at the helm of the
Insider.
Kurt might find the same money editing a trade publication, but there were only a handful of news publications in Boston with the clout of the
Insider,
and the editor-in-chief positions were well defended.

“God,” Kurt said, quietly. “I wish I could take it all back.”

Ben said, “This is as close as you’re going to get.”

“The staff meeting from hell,” Sarah said as they got into the van. “All those wary looks and false smiles.”

“Insider
is just one happy family.’’ Ben pulled out of the parking garage and took a left onto Boylston Street. It was a brilliant day and they both rolled down the windows.

“So …” She took off her sunglasses. “Kurt did it, didn’t he? He was doing the blackmail.”

Ben was silent.

She continued. “After two aspirins and about a half dozen glasses of ice water this morning, I thought about everything we’d learned and everything you’d told me. About him needing money. And here you are this morning back at your job.” She stared at him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t go to the police right now.”

Ben laid out what Kurt had told him, including the timing of his constructing and sending the photo. “Kurt didn’t even conceive of the idea until weeks after Peter was killed.”

“And you believe him?”

“It corresponds with what the senator told me. And Dawson had already attacked me.”

She was silent, then nodded. “All right. So this comes under the heading of ‘incidental’ as far as Peter is concerned.”

“That’s the way I see it. So I’m asking you to let it go. Bury it. Just what I told you might happen.”

She stared at him. “Why’d he do it?”

He hesitated. “This has turned into a … a family situation, Sarah.”

Hating it. Hating the words, the situation.

She said, “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust. These aren’t my confidences to give away.”

“Since when does a reporter worry about that?”

“Since his own kids will get screwed because their new stepfather is an idiot,” Ben flared. “That’s when.”

“Ah,” she said, looking out the window. “Extenuating circumstances.”

“That’s right. Extenuating circumstances.”

“Sure you’re not just covering up for him so you could get your job back?”

Ben looked at her. “What do you think?”

She continued to watch him. He felt the weight of her intelligence and kept himself from saying anything else.

“No,” she said, finally. “That’s not what I think. But I do think this sucks. How can I work for this guy? I don’t have the slightest respect for him.”

Ben told her of his and Kurt’s agreement.

“So he’ll be gone.” She looked straight at him. “This is the end of it. Right?”

“I’ve quit making promises.”

That brought a smile. Faint, but there.

She said, “Good for you.”

CHAPTER 34

LAINNIE ROLLED OVER INTO SOMETHING AS ANDI WALKED INTO THE room. Andi looked more closely. A file folder was visible just past her daughter’s hip.

“What’s that?” Andi made a point to smile. Her nerves were jagged from the night before and she was trying not to take it out on the kids.

“Just some pictures.” Lainnie said it with such elaborate indifference that Andi went into high alert.

How could she know?

In two strides, Andi was across the room. She tugged the folder away.

“Mom!”

Lainnie grabbed at it, and the black-and-white glossies fell over the bed and floor.

In a glance, Andi saw it wasn’t the picture of the senator and Teri Wheeler.

There were dozens of prints of women wearing some kind of uniform …

Then Andi recognized the shots. The women in prison at Framingham. Photos that Ben had shot for the upcoming issue. Kurt had asked Andi to read the piece Ed Liston had written. Something Kurt frequently did, asked her opinion.

Except about blackmail, she thought. Keeps that to himself.

“What’re you doing with these?” Andi said.

Lainnie stuck out her lower lip. “I just saw Daddy’s handwriting, and I wanted to see what he was doing. Was he here last night?”

“What makes you think that?” Andi looked at her carefully.

Lainnie shrugged. “I guess I dreamed I heard his voice.”

Andi glanced on the outside of the manila folder. Indeed there was a brief note from Ben to Ed Liston:

Ed—the selections we discussed.

Ben

Andi said, “Where did you get these?”

“On the desk downstairs. It was just lying there. Did Daddy bring these over?”

“No. Kurt brought them home earlier this week. You took them off of Kurt’s desk?”

Lainnie nodded. In a small voice, she said, “Sorry.”

“You know better. Come on now, I’ll help you pick them up.” Together they began putting the pictures back in the folder. Andi looked at the photos as they went.

“You can tell Daddy is sorry for these women, can’t you,” Lainnie said. “I don’t know how he does that.”

“Yes, you can.” Andi stopped to look at a group shot of the women crossed by the shadows of prison bars. Before long, Andi and Lainnie had spread out the prints on the bed.

“I miss Daddy,” Lainnie said. “Don’t you?”

“Sometimes, sweetie.” Andi thought about Kurt sitting up after she had left him, looking at these shots. That’s what he must have done. Gone up to the office and sat there at his desk, poring over these shots. She wondered what he was thinking. The possibility of prison? Or maybe he was looking at these women and thinking about his manipulation? His failure to his family?

If she knew him like she thought she did, it would be all those things.

But then again, what do I know?

After Ben had left, she and Kurt had gone down to the family room. “What have you done to us?” she had said.

A tear had slipped down his face abruptly, which he wiped away. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

She had sat there on the couch, just about choking on everything she was feeling. She was furious. Hot, bursting anger that forced tears into her eyes and made her dig her fingernails into her palm.

She felt some pity for him, but not a hell of a lot.