Absolute Power (58 page)

“My God!”

They were silent for a moment.

“Jack, do you have any idea who’s behind all this?”

Jack shook his head, a small groan escaped his lips. “I’ve got a bunch of loose threads sliding around in my head but none of them have added up to spit so far. I’m hoping that status will change. Soon.”

The finality with which the last word was spoken hit her like a sudden slap. His eyes told her. The message was clear. Despite the disguises, the elaborate travel safeguards, despite whatever innate ability he could bring to the battlefield, they would find him. Either the cops or whoever wanted to kill him. It was only a matter of time.

“But at least if they got what they wanted back?” Her voice drifted off. She looked at him, almost pleadingly.

He lay back on the bed, stretched exhausted limbs that didn’t seem to belong to him any longer.

“That’s not something I can really hang my hat on forever, Kate, is it?” He sat up and looked across the room. At the cheap picture of Jesus hanging on the wall. He would take a dose of divine intervention right now. A small miracle would do.

“But you didn’t kill anyone, Jack. You told me Frank’s already figured that out. The D.C. cops will too.”

“Will they? Frank knows me, Kate. He knows me and I could still hear the doubt in his voice at first. He picked up on the glass, but there’s no evidence that anyone tampered with it or the gun. On the other hand there’s clear, take-it-to-the-bank proof, pointing to me killing two people. Three if you count last night. My lawyer would recommend my negotiating a plea and hoping for twenty to life with the possibility of parole. I’d recommend it myself. If I go to trial I’ve got no shot. Just a bunch of speculation trying to tie Luther and Walter Sullivan and all the rest into some landscape of conspiracy of, you have to admit, mind-boggling proportions. The judge’ll laugh my ass right out of court. The jury will never hear it. Really, there’s nothing to hear.”

He stood up and leaned against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t look at her. Both his short- and long-term prospects had doomsday written all over them.

“I’ll die an old man in prison, Kate. That is, if I make it to old age—which is a big question mark in itself.”

She sat down on the bed, her hands in her lap. A gasp caught midway in her throat as the sheer hopelessness sank in, like a boulder dropped in deep, dark waters.

*   *   *

S
ETH
F
RANK OPENED HIS EYES
. A
T FIRST NOTHING CAME INTO
focus. What his brain registered resembled a large white canvas on which a few hundred gallons of black, white and gray paint had been poured to form a cloggy, mind-altering quagmire. After a few anxious moments, he was able to discern the outline of the hospital room in all its stark white, chrome and sharp angles. As he tried to sit up, a hand planted itself firmly against his shoulder.

“Uh-uh, Lieutenant. Not so fast.”

Frank looked up into the face of Laura Simon. The smile did not entirely hide the worry lines around the eyes. Her sigh of relief was clearly audible.

“Your wife just left to check on the kids. She’s been here all night. I told her as soon as she left you’d wake up.”

“Where am I?”

“GW Hospital. I guess if you were gonna have your head pounded in, at least you picked a place close to a hospital.” Simon continued to lean over the bed so Frank wouldn’t have to turn his head. He stared up at her.

“Seth, do you remember what happened?”

Frank thought back to last night. Or was it last night?

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“So it happened last night?”

“Around eleven or so. At least they found you about then. And the other guy.”

“Other guy?” Frank jerked his head around. Pain shot through his neck.

“Take it easy, Seth.” Laura took a moment to prop a pillow next to Frank’s head.

“There was another guy. Homeless. They haven’t identified him yet. Same kind of blow to the back of the head. Probably died instantly. You were lucky.”

Frank gingerly touched his throbbing temples. He didn’t feel so lucky.

“Anybody else?”

“What?”

“Did they find anybody else?”

“Oh. No, but you’re not going to believe this. You know the lawyer who watched the tape with us?”

Frank tensed. “Yeah, Jack Graham.”

“Right. The guy kills two people at his law firm and then he’s spotted running away from the Metro about the time you and the other guy get whacked. The guy’s a walking nightmare. And he looked like a Mr. All-American.”

“Have they found him yet? Jack? They’re sure he got away?”

Laura looked at him strangely. “He got out of the Metro station if that’s what you mean. But it’s only a matter of time.” She looked out the window, reached for her purse. “The D.C. cops want to talk with you as soon as you’re able.”

“I’m not sure how much help I can be. I don’t remember all that much, Laura.”

“Temporary amnesia. You’ll probably get it back.”

She put on her jacket. “I have to go. Somebody’s got to keep Middleton County safe for the rich and famous while you’re counting sheep in here.” She smiled. “Don’t make a habit out of this, Seth. We were really worried we might have to hire a new detective.”

“Where would you find someone as nice as me?”

Laura laughed. “Your wife will be back in a few hours. You need to get some rest anyway.” She turned to go to the door.

“By the way, Seth, what were you doing at the Farragut West Metro at that time of night?”

Frank didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have amnesia. He recalled the night’s events clearly.

“Seth?”

“I’m not sure, Laura.” He closed his eyes and then re-opened them. “I just don’t remember.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll come back to you. In the meantime, they’ll catch Graham. That’ll probably clear everything up.”

After Laura left, Frank did not rest. Jack was out there. And he had probably initially thought the detective had set him up, although if Jack had seen the paper he would know that the detective had walked blindly into the ambush that had been laid for the lawyer.

But they had the letter opener now. That’s what was in that box. He was certain of it. And without that what chance did they have of nailing these people?

Frank again tried to struggle up. There was an IV in his arm. The pressure on his brain caused him to immediately lie back down. He had to get out of here. And he had to get in touch with Jack. Right now he had no idea how he would accomplish either.

*   *   *

“Y
OU SAID YOU NEEDED MY HELP
? W
HAT CAN
I
DO
?” K
ATE
looked directly at Jack. There were no reservations on her features.

Jack sat on the bed next to her. He looked troubled. “I’ve got some real serious doubts about getting you anywhere near this. In fact I’m wondering if calling you was the right thing to do.”

“Jack, I’ve been surrounded by rapists, armed robbers and murderers for the last four years.”

“I know that. But at least you knew who they were. This could be anybody. People are getting killed left and right, Kate. This is about as serious as it gets.”

“I’m not leaving unless you let me help you.”

Jack hesitated, his eyes turned away from hers.

“Jack, if you don’t, then I’m going to turn you in. Better you take your chances with the cops.”

He looked at her. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight I would. I’m breaking all the rules by being here with you now. If you let me in on it, then I forget all about seeing you today. If you don’t . . .”

There was a look in her eyes that, despite all the horrific possibilities he was contemplating, made him somehow feel fortunate to be here at this exact moment.

“Okay. You need to be my contact with Seth. Outside of you he’s the only one I can trust.”

“But you lost the package. How can
he
help?” Kate could not hide her dislike of the homicide detective.

Jack stood up and paced. Finally he stopped and looked down at her. “You know how your dad was a freak for control? Always have a backup plan?”

Kate said dryly, “I remember.”

“Well I’m counting on that quality.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That Luther had a backup plan on this one.”

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

*   *   *

“M
RS
. B
ROOME
?”

The door opened another notch as Edwina Broome peered out.

“Yes?”

“My name is Kate Whitney. Luther Whitney was my father.”

Kate relaxed as the old woman greeted her with a smile.

“I knew I’d seen you before. Luther was always showing pictures of you. You’re even prettier than your photos.”

“Thank you.”

Edwina jerked the door open. “What am I thinking about. You must be freezing. Please come in.”

Edwina led her into the small living room where a trio of felines were cloistered on various pieces of furniture.

“I just made some fresh tea, would you like some?”

Kate hesitated. Time was short. Then she looked around the narrow confines of the home. In the corner sat a battered upright piano, thick dust on the wood. Kate looked at the woman’s weakened eyes; the pleasures of a musical pastime had also been taken from her. Husband passed on, her only daughter dead. How many visitors could she possibly have?

“Thank you, I would.”

Both women settled into the old but comfortable furniture. Kate sipped the strong tea and she began to thaw out. She brushed the hair out of her face and looked across at the elderly woman to find a pair of sad eyes upon her.

“I’m sorry about your daddy, Kate. I really am. I know you two had your differences. But Luther was as good a man as I’ve come across in my life.”

Kate felt herself growing warmer. “Thank you. We both have had a lot to deal with in that regard.”

Edwina’s eyes drifted over to a small table next to the window. Kate followed the gaze. On the table numerous photographs displayed a small shrine to Wanda Broome; capturing her in happy times. She strongly resembled her mother.

A shrine.
With a jolt Kate recalled her father’s own collection of her personal triumphs.

“Yes indeed.” Edwina was looking at her again.

Kate put down her tea. “Mrs. Broome, I hate to jump right into this, but the fact is I don’t have much time.”

The old woman leaned forward expectantly. “This is about Luther’s death, and my daughter’s too, isn’t it?”

Kate looked surprised. “Why do you think that?”

Edwina leaned forward even more, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I know Luther didn’t kill Mrs. Sullivan. I know it as if I’d seen it with my own eyes.”

Kate looked puzzled. “Do you have any idea who—”

Edwina was already shaking her head sadly. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Well how do you know my father didn’t do it?”

Now there was definite hesitation. Edwina leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. When she finally reopened them, Kate had not moved a muscle.

“You’re Luther’s daughter and I believe you should know the truth.” She paused, took a sip of her tea, pressed her lips dry with a napkin and then settled back into her chair. A black Persian drifted across and promptly went to sleep in her lap. “I knew about your father. His past, so to speak. He and Wanda got to know each other. She got into trouble years back and Luther helped her, helped her get back on her feet and get settled into a respectable life. I will always be grateful to him for that. He was always there when Wanda or I needed anything. The fact is, Kate, your father would never have been in the house that night if it weren’t for Wanda.”

Edwina spoke for some minutes. When she had finished Kate sat back in her chair and realized she was holding her breath. She let out a loud gasp that seemed to echo around the room.

Edwina didn’t say anything but continued to watch the young woman with her large sad eyes. Finally she stirred. A thickly wrinkled hand patted Kate’s knee.

“Luther loved you, child. More than anything.”

“I realize that . . .”

Edwina slowly shook her head. “He never blamed you for the way you felt. In fact he said you were entirely right to feel that way.”

“He said that?”

“He was so proud of you, your being a lawyer and all. He used to say to me, ‘My daughter is a lawyer and a damned fine one. Justice is what matters for her and she’s right, dead right.’ ”

Kate’s head began to swirl. She was feeling emotions she was ill-equipped right now to deal with. She rubbed the back of her neck and took a moment to look outside. A black sedan pulled down the street and then disappeared. She quickly looked back at Edwina.

“Mrs. Broome, I appreciate your telling me these things. But I really came here for a specific reason. I need your help.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“My father sent you a package.”

“Yes. And I sent it on to Mr. Graham, like Luther said to.”

“Yes I know. Jack got the package. But someone . . . someone took it away from him. Now we’re wondering if my father sent you something else, something else that might help us?”

Edwina’s eyes no longer looked sad. They had collected into twin masses of stark intensity. She looked over Kate’s shoulder.

“Behind you, Kate, in the piano seat. The hymnal on the left.”

Kate opened the piano seat and lifted out the hymnal. Inside the pages was a small packet. She looked down at it.

“Luther was the most prepared man I have ever met in my life. Said if anything went wrong with my sending the package that I was to send this to Mr. Graham. I was getting ready to do that when I heard about him on the TV. Am I right in thinking Mr. Graham didn’t do any of the things they say he did?”

Kate nodded. “I wish everybody thought like you did.”

Kate started to open the package.

Edwina’s voice was sharp. “Don’t do that, Kate. Your father said that only Mr. Jack Graham was to see what was inside of there. Only him. I think it best if we took him at his word.”