Silenced (32 page)

“Save it for your fucking campaign.”

Sean felt Paxton’s hatred rolling off him.

Paxton said, “Sergio and I took him out for drinks. He’s a lightweight. He told us Jocelyn was helping a young prostitute, and he thought she was too involved. It’s all she was working on, a mission. I didn’t know who it was at the time, but Sergio started following Jocelyn.

“Sergio took pictures and subsequently identified the prostitutes Jocelyn was helping,” Paxton continued. “Including Ivy. It was easy to put together that Ivy and her girls worked for Wendy James. I knew Wendy was having an affair with Bristow, a prick of a congressman from Colorado. But Bristow was single, so I didn’t think anything about it. Then Sergio said he had evidence that Wendy wasn’t a mistress, but a prostitute like Ivy and the others.

“Sergio got pictures of Ivy, Wendy, and the others with several prominent people—but nothing compromising. Then Bob—” He stopped.

Sean waited. He would wait all night, because this story just kept getting more and more interesting. And unbelievable. It was increasingly difficult to separate the truth from the lies.

“Sergio found out Bob was involved with Ivy. He was single, but I thought it odd that he would pay a call girl, considering he’s a judge and older than I am. We’d been friends a long time, but I couldn’t fathom being friendly with a man who was sleeping with a woman as young as Ivy.

“The day after Morgan’s suicide, I had Sergio confront Ivy, and set up a meeting with me. At first she didn’t want to talk, but I told her Bob was an old friend, that I wanted to know why he killed himself. She confessed that she’d been paid by Wendy James to make sex tapes with her clients. And then I realized, Wendy was blackmailing these people.”

“A twenty-eight-year-old secretary blackmailing congressmen and judges? You think she could have pulled it off?”

“Ivy was truly upset by Bob’s suicide. She said he’d been a client for three years and she regretted videotaping him, but she’d been paid twice what Wendy usually paid her. I offered her ten thousand to prove Wendy James was blackmailing anyone, preferably someone in a position of power. Something to use to avenge Bob’s death, which had to have been connected. But she and Wendy had a falling-out over it. All she could get were pictures with Crowley. I used them, hoping that when they were exposed, the truth would come out. But Crowley and Wendy covered it up, called it an affair! It wasn’t an affair. It was a paid relationship.”

“And you reneged on your deal with Ivy Harris.”

“Hell no! You know who she is. You did the research.”

“I know she’s the supposedly dead daughter of a wealthy televangelist.”

“Her father is sick, and he’s on my list.”

“Stop.” Sean closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He had already crossed the line, but he couldn’t go any farther. “Do not tell me anything about crimes you plan to commit.”

“What crimes?” Paxton answered with sincerity. Or fake sincerity.

“Who killed Wendy James?”

“I don’t know!”

“You have to go to the FBI with this information. They have no idea about Judge Morgan, and they’re just now figuring out the blackmail, but they don’t have names or motive.”

“I’m not going to the FBI. They need to figure it out themselves. And they’re close. After talking to Noah and you, I think they’re very close.”

“How many innocent people are going to die because you’re trying to protect your ass?”

“I didn’t figure it out until Chris was killed this morning.” He looked at the clock. “Yesterday morning. I can’t believe the feds haven’t put it together!”

“Noah didn’t tell you everything, but they don’t have all your information. They don’t know that Wendy was a prostitute, but they did find a room where recording equipment had been.”

“Had been?”

“It was cleaned out.”

Sean watched Paxton carefully. He was used to playing God. Sean wanted to take him down a peg.

“Five people are dead because you remained silent.”

“That’s
not
what happened!” He pounded his fist again. “I didn’t have anything to take to the police! I haven’t even really been blackmailed. I simply got the threat from this elusive
they
about Lucy’s note and my locket. They’re waiting to use it; I have to find them before they do.”

“These meetings were three weeks ago.”

“Correct.”

“And no one has asked you to do anything specific.”

“Correct.”

Sean sat back down and opened his laptop.

“Do you remember the trial that Judge Morgan was running when he killed himself?”

“No—I think it was a homicide. He sat on a lot of capital cases.”

Sean did a quick Internet search. “Commonwealth of Virginia versus Thomas Joseph Crandall. Ring a bell?”

Paxton shook his head.

Sean ran a program to pull out all the data he could find on Crandall.

“Anyone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyone else you know about who Ivy or Wendy were blackmailing. We need a connection between those being blackmailed. And since they haven’t asked you to do something yet, we don’t have that—except we have a list of people who had access to your office that week. So think! Who else in the last year or so has voted in a way that had you suspicious?”

Paxton leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sean thought he had fallen asleep. Maybe everyone was for sale and the list was too long to remember.

Sean read the report on Crandall. The thirty-three-year-old mechanic had been accused of killing a bank executive for no apparent reason. He refused to talk, had a history of misdemeanors and one felony hit-and-run when he was eighteen, which landed him three years in prison. It seemed like an open-and-shut case, though it was odd that even the prosecutor found no apparent motive.

There was a retrial, with a change of venue because Crandall’s attorney argued that after the suicide of Judge Morgan the jury pool was tainted. Morgan was a known law-and-order judge with tough sentencing standards. The case was moved from Fairfax to Richmond, and a judge dismissed the case with prejudice because of prosecutorial misconduct. Crandall was a free man. He spoke to no one except his attorney during the entire yearlong process.

“There’s Gene Carpenter.”

Sean looked at the senator, who still had his eyes closed. “Who’s he?”

“Senator Carpenter. This was over a year ago. He’s a friend, and I believed his excuse, but last week he told me he’s not seeking reelection. One term in the Senate—it’s rarely done.”

“And he did what exactly?”

“The bill had something to do with a federal grant, but it was related to government unions. Gene was a big supporter of unions in general, but he opposed government unions on the grounds that no one represented the taxpayers in the negotiations. He wouldn’t have had a complete change of heart on something like this, not without making a floor statement or publicizing it. I called him on it, and he said his wife had convinced him he needed to change his mind on the matter. It didn’t sound right, because I had met her a few times and she seemed very uninterested in politics. But I let it slide because pillow talk always wins.”

Paxton leaned forward and pulled up the legislation on his computer and printed Sean a copy.

“I don’t know how this helps,” he said.

Sean took the paper. “If you’re right about Carpenter, it tells me that someone who benefited from the passing of this bill is involved. That, coupled with your list of appointments, will narrow it down. Wait—”

Sean stopped mid-sentence.

“Wendy James worked for a lobbyist, correct?”

“DSA.”

“Does that stand for Devon Sullivan and Associates?”

“Yes.” Paxton rose from his desk and leaned over to look at Sean’s laptop.

“Bingo! DSA carried the bill your friend caved on. Devon Sullivan had a meeting with you the day you noticed the locket missing.”

“Devon Sullivan.”

“You know her?”

“Yes, but I know her husband better.” Paxton sat back in his chair, his face surprisingly calm. “I will kill him,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Who are we talking about?”

“Her second husband is Clark Jager.”

The name was familiar. “A criminal defense lawyer, correct?”

“Yes. He—”

Sean interrupted. “He represented Crandall, the guy who was on trial when Morgan committed suicide.”

“He also represented Fran Buckley.”

“Lucy’s former boss?”

“She’s bitter and angry and hates me. She knows not to say anything against me because I know far more about her that never came out. But she knew I wanted Monique’s locket. She might have thought it was for a reason other than nostalgia.”

“I think she’s right.”

Paxton stared at Sean and shook his head, but his lips curled into a snarl, reminding Sean that they were enemies. “I think we have our blackmailer.”

“We need to take this to the feds.”

“It’s two in the morning. I’ll think of a plausible reason to talk to Noah Armstrong at nine about Devon Sullivan. I’ll steer him in the right direction. You have seven hours to find the locket.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Friday

“Thank you for agreeing to talk with us,” Kate said over the speakerphone after introductions. Kate and Lucy were in their family room, the files spread around them. Hans was patched in on the conference call from his office at FBI Headquarters. Kerry, Mrs. Carson, and Agent Rachel Burrows were at the Carson house in Richmond.

Kate informed Kerry that they were recording the conversation.

The situation had become more volatile than they’d planned when Mrs. Carson wanted to wait until she could find a lawyer to represent Kerry’s interests. The other missing girl, Bryn, was also staying at the Carson’s. She was Kerry’s fifteen-year-old sister. Hans convinced her that they had no intention of prosecuting Kerry, that they were trying to find Ivy before she ended up dead. Time was critical.

Kerry wanted to talk, and once Mrs. Carson reluctantly agreed, it was early Friday morning. Dawn had just broken by the time they had everyone on the phone.

Kate began asking the questions. They quickly recounted what Kerry had already told Rachel, then Kate said, “The arson investigator said that the cause of the fire was inconclusive. Meaning, he needs to investigate further as to whether the fire was arson or not.”

“It was on purpose,” Kerry said. “Ivy smelled alcohol and saw someone in the next yard, then woke everyone up.”

“Alcohol?”

“The kind they use in hospitals.”

“Did you smell it?”

“When I got downstairs. By that time, the smoke was coming up through the floor vents. Ivy said to run out the front because she saw someone in the back.”

Kate asked, “Did anyone else see the intruder?”

“No, why do you care?”

“I’m just trying to get an understanding of what happened, maybe someone else could identify him.”

“It was dark, and we’ve always been security conscious, but particularly now.”

“Now? Why now?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with the fire.”

“Is it because Ivy brought her sister to live in the house?” Lucy asked carefully.

“Partly.”

“After the fire, what did you do?”

“We split up. We had to disappear. We didn’t know if the intruder was hanging out or what.”

Kate asked, “Did you have reason to believe someone was going to attack you?”

“No, but—” She hesitated.

Lucy asked, “Kerry, we understand that you want to protect Ivy. It sounds like you and Ivy were very close.”

“You don’t understand what we’ve been through. The last two weeks have been so hard on her—”

“Since Sara came to live with her.”

Again, hesitation. “Do you know who their father is?”

“Yes.”

“Ivy was terrified of him. And
nothing
scared her. Ever since I met her, when she finally trusted me enough to tell me her plans, it’s been about saving enough money to rescue Sara and disappear. That’s why she agreed to Wendy’s proposition.”

Kate and Lucy exchanged an optimistic look.

Kerry continued. “Wendy ran our group. I don’t know how Ivy and Wendy hooked up, they knew each other before I met them. Wendy had a great system. We were making enough money for the house, and to save money for S-Day.”

“What was S-Day?”

“February second. Sara’s birthday. The day we planned to rescue her.”

“That’s still seven months from now—” Kate began.

“No,
last
February.” Kerry took a deep breath before continuing. “Ivy didn’t think it through. She wanted to get Sara away from her father before her fourteenth birthday. Because Ivy knew he would rape her on that day. It’s what happened to her older sister, it’s what happened to Ivy.

“But,” Kerry continued, “she didn’t factor in that for six years, Sara thought she was dead. Then all of the sudden, her sister is standing in her bedroom telling her that her father is an evil prick who’s going to rape her. What would you do if someone you loved had died, you went to the funeral, then they just walk in and want you to run away?”

Lucy could picture the scene vividly. “Were you there?” she asked Kerry.

“I was the driver, waiting in the woods.” She laughed humorlessly. “I tried to warn Ivy, but she can be stubborn. And I guess I wanted to save Sara before she had to suffer through that.”

“What did Sara do?” Kate asked.

“Started screaming. Ivy had to leave her or be caught. At that point? He would have really killed her, not just pretended she was dead.”

“Pretended?” Hans asked. “Did Edmonds know Ivy faked her suicide?”

“Faked? She ran away. She tried to take her sister with her, but Sara was only eight and didn’t want to go. She found out through his television show that he’d told everyone she’d killed herself. But that was before we hooked up.”

Lucy understood now how Ivy had spiraled into such dangerous activities. While anyone can disappear into a big city, surviving cost money. If everyone thought you were dead, it was both freeing and soul-destroying. At fourteen, young Hannah Edmonds had no one to help her.