Hand of Fate (30 page)

At the same instant, they both sucked in their breath. There it was. The missing piece. The thing that had been nagging at Cassidy for days.

Only it wasn't a thing.

It was a person.

Allison tapped a short fingernail on the screen. "Isn't that ... ?"

Cassidy turned the knob to shuttle back the footage. The cameraman had panned the audience of activists. And there in the middle was a familiar face. One she had seen recently in person. Only in this footage, the woman wore her hair in two swinging braids and was dressed in black Carhartt overalls. At Jim's funeral, her hair had been in a sleek twist, and she had worn a tailored black suit.

Willow Klonsky. Jim Fate's intern.

Somewhere in the intervening years, Willow had gone over to the other side, gone corporate, forgotten her roots as an activist.

"Wait," Allison said. "What group is this again?"

"Some kind of environmental group. But narrow. I'm trying to remember. They focused on . . ." Cassidy thought a moment. "On food. Stuff like keeping antibiotics out of animal feed, more frequent factory inspections, banning that additive they give milk cows now."

Allison peered at the frozen photo of Willow. "Looks like she parted company with the group. I can't really see one of those activists going to work for someone like Jim Fate."

"She couldn't have been much out of high school in this photo. Maybe not even." Cassidy felt the final puzzle piece fall into place. "So Willow grows up, forgets about her youthful ideals when she realizes that otherwise she'll never be able to keep herself in iPods and Nikes, decides to go corporate, and starts working for a guy who opposes all kinds of governmental regulations. But what if one of these people"--she pointed at the blurry figures in the background--"saw what she did as a betrayal?"

"Jim Fate was a big name," Allison said slowly. "The kind of guy who always had an army of people to do his grunt work for him--clean his house, pick up his dry cleaning, get him coffee. The kind o
f g
uy who would have someone else open his mail. But he always insisted on doing it, because he sometimes got personal items in the mail."

Cassidy almost got sidetracked, wondering what those items had been. She dragged her tired mind back to the question at hand. "So maybe the package was never meant for Jim at all? What if they addressed it to him, knowing that it would throw the cops off the scent, but they expected all along that Willow would open it?" She started to pick up the phone. "We need to talk to her."

Allison put one hand on top of the receiver. "No. Law enforcement needs to handle this. I'm going to go talk to Nicole, see what she knows about this group. Do you remember their name?"

"It was something like SAFE or SANE. Some four-letter acronym that started with S."

"Okay. But I'm serious, Cass. Do not call Willow. If her group did target her, we don't need her alerting them."

"I promise. But you have to let me have first dibs on the story. If I didn't have this footage, you would never have seen this."

Allison nodded, already grabbing up her purse. As soon as Cassidy saw her turn the corner, she grabbed her keys and hurried the other way, toward the parking garage. She had promised not to call, but she hadn't said a thing about not talking to Willow in person. This was her scoop. This was the story that might put her back on top.

And Cassidy ignored the little twinge she felt that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the right thing to do.

Chapter
41 KNWS Radi
o t
was five thirty by the time Cassidy got to KNWS, and the parking lot was beginning to empty out. The receptionist was putting on her coat as she told Cassidy where to find Willow's space. The cubicles Cassidy passed along the way were mostly empty.

Willow's cubicle looked like it had been assembled out of rejects. The once cream-colored head-high walls were stained, and the desk chair she sat in, typing away on her computer, was orange and lacked arms.

"Willow?" Cassidy said.

"Yes?" The girl turned around and stood up.

"Hi. Cassidy Shaw from Channel 4. 1 just need to ask you a few questions. I'm working on a memorial piece about Jim."

"Now?" Willow's brows pulled together. "It's the end of the day."

"Would you mind? It wouldn't take long. And I'm on deadline." She gave Willow her best smile, one that had disarmed an uncounted number of people.

"I really don't know that I have that much to say about Jim. I mean, I was just his gofer."

Cassidy lowered her voice. "Look, Willow, I found out about your past."

The girl's face froze. "What do you mean?"

"You were an environmental activist, but then you left that life behind and went to work for Jim. And your old comrades didn't like that, did they? You betrayed their beliefs. They knew you were his gofer, so they figured you opened his mail too. They sent the package to Jim, but you were the target."

Willow laughed, a single short burst of sound. She sounded both surprised and amused. She shook her head and said, "Really--that's what you think happened?"

"If it's not, then tell me what did happen. I was looking at some old footage, Willow. And there you were, at the governor's press conference about food safety. You gave all that up, but they weren't ready to give you up, were they?"

Willow stood totally still for a long moment. Cassidy could tell she was balanced on the edge, trying to decide whether to tell a truth or a lie. Cassidy had been in that same position so many times herself. Finally Willow got her purse from a drawer.

"Come with me," she said. "There's something I want to show you."

Cassidy followed Willow down a corridor. Fumbling in her purse with one hand, Willow opened a door with the other. Inside was a long room filled with banks of equipment, watched over by a silver-haired man wearing headphones. A glass window separated the control room from a radio studio, this one empty.

The man pulled back one of his headphones, looking confused. "Willow, what are you doing?"

"You need to leave, Greg. Now. Leave or die."

Leave or die? What? And then Cassidy saw what Willow had just taken out of her purse--a small, black gun. She had seen far too many guns recently. Far too many guns, far too much blood, and far too many dead people.

Greg stared at Willow, uncomprehending. "But I can't leave. I'm running the board."

Cassidy felt like she was about to burst out of her skin. She had seen what guns could do, and she didn't want to see it again. "I think she means it, Greg," she said. At least that's what Cassidy meant to say, but it came out as more of a shriek. "Get out now. Get out!"

Greg yanked the headphones off, set them down, and left in a hurry. Her eyes never leaving Cassidy, Willow went to the door and turned the lock. Then she opened a drawer, scrabbled through it with her free hand, and tossed Cassidy a roll of silver duct tape. "Sit down in that chair and tape your ankles together. And do a good job."

Cassidy's eyes darted around the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Then she remembered her purse, which was still slung over her shoulder. She could stab Willow with a pen or a metal nail file, or squirt hair spray in her eyes.

But there were problems with these ideas. One was that a gun was a far more efficient and effective weapon. The second was the near impossibility of actually locating any given item in the bottomless depths of her tote. Her only hope was that Allison was sure to be right behind her.

"So you did it," Cassidy said as she leaned over and taped her ankles together, trying not to do it too tightly. "Not your old friends."

"What? No." She shook her head. "SAFE is all about lobbying. Or, if they really feel like pushing the envelope, demonstrations. They're not willing to put their lives on the line. When I saw that they were just going to stick to their petitions and their protests, I decided someone needed to really fight back. The big food companies have deep pockets. They can get stories swept under the rug, pay people to go away and forget about what happened. But I can never forget. Never. Which is why Jim Fate had to die."

The girl's face froze. "What do you mean?"

"You were an environmental activist, but then you left that life behind and went to work for Jim. And your old comrades didn't like that, did they? You betrayed their beliefs. They knew you were his gofer, so they figured you opened his mail too. They sent the package to Jim, but you were the target."

Willow laughed, a single short burst of sound. She sounded both surprised and amused. She shook her head and said, "Really--that's what you think happened?"

"If it's not, then tell me what did happen. I was looking at some old footage, Willow. And there you were, at the governor's press conference about food safety. You gave all that up, but they weren't ready to give you up, were they?"

Willow stood totally still for a long moment. Cassidy could tell she was balanced on the edge, trying to decide whether to tell a truth or a lie. Cassidy had been in that same position so many times herself. Finally Willow got her purse from a drawer.

"Come with me," she said. "There's something I want to show you."

Cassidy followed Willow down a corridor. Fumbling in her purse with one hand, Willow opened a door with the other. Inside was a long room filled with banks of equipment, watched over by a silver-haired man wearing headphones. A glass window separated the control room from a radio studio, this one empty.

The man pulled back one of his headphones, looking confused. "Willow, what are you doing?"

"You need to leave, Greg. Now. Leave or die."

Leave or die? What? And then Cassidy saw what Willow had just taken out of her purse--a small, black gun. She had seen far too many guns recently. Far too many guns, far too much blood, and far too many dead people.

Greg stared at Willow, uncomprehending. "But I can't leave. I'm running the board."

Cassidy felt like she was about to burst out of her skin. She had seen what guns could do, and she didn't want to see it again. "I think she means it, Greg," she said. At least that's what Cassidy meant to say, but it came out as more of a shriek. "Get out now. Get out!"

Greg yanked the headphones off, set them down, and left in a hurry. Her eyes never leaving Cassidy, Willow went to the door and turned the lock. Then she opened a drawer, scrabbled through it with her free hand, and tossed Cassidy a roll of silver duct tape. "Sit down in that chair and tape your ankles together. And do a good job."

Cassidy's eyes darted around the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Then she remembered her purse, which was still slung over her shoulder. She could stab Willow with a pen or a metal nail file, or squirt hair spray in her eyes.

But there were problems with these ideas. One was that a gun was a far more efficient and effective weapon. The second was the near impossibility of actually locating any given item in the bottomless depths of her tote. Her only hope was that Allison was sure to be right behind her.

"So you did it," Cassidy said as she leaned over and taped her ankles together, trying not to do it too tightly. "Not your old friends."

"What? No." She shook her head. "SAFE is all about lobbying. Or, if they really feel like pushing the envelope, demonstrations. They're not willing to put their lives on the line. When I saw that they were just going to stick to their petitions and their protests, I decided someone needed to really fight back. The big food companies have deep pockets. They can get stories swept under the rug, pay people to go away and forget about what happened. But I can never forget. Never. Which is why Jim Fate had to die."

Whatever this was about, Cassidy realized, it was personal. "What is it you can't forget?" she said softly.

"I had a little sister, Sunshine. We called her Sunny. She died when she was six." Willow's mouth trembled and then firmed into a thin line. But the gun never wavered. It was pointed right at Cassidy's chest.

"What happened to her?"

"She ate peanut butter crackers. Something millions of little kids do every day. But the peanut butter was contaminated. She started throwing up. The next day she had bloody diarrhea, and my parents took her to the emergency room. She ended up in pediatric intensive care. In agony. They kept giving her painkillers, but they didn't help at all. She just lay there and whimpered. My parents were talking to the doctors when Sunny started crying and saying she knew she was going to die. And I was saying of course she wasn't going to, she was going to be okay, the doctors would help her." Willow's eyes shone with tears. "I was so scared, but of course I had to say those things. And at the time, I believed them. I still trusted the system to work.

"An hour later, she had a massive heart attack. All the doctors and nurses were there, trying to get her back, shocking her poor little body, but it was too late. They said there were no signs of brain activity. I was only sixteen years old, but I knew what that meant. They let us hold her, and then they unplugged the machines."

"Oh no," Cassidy breathed.

But Willow wasn't done. "A year to the day after my sister died, my mom killed herself. She was the one who bought those crackers for Sunny."