The Negotiator (20 page)

“See. I told you.”

He turned back to the Cubs game, scoreless in the first inning, set down the remote, and slouched down on the couch to get comfortable.

“We’re still going to watch it?”

“It’s even better when you know the outcome. You don’t have to waste all that energy wondering who wins.”

“You and Stephen will get along great. He always has to watch from first pitch to last.”

“You can either go to sleep or watch it with me. Take your pick.”

“Give me the pillow.” He reached for the throw pillow to give her. She mashed it into a lump before settling back against his shoulder, her feet tucked up on the couch. He smiled at her. “Comfortable?”

A yawn popped her jaw. “Not entirely, but you’re better than that cot last night.”

“You’re welcome to go back to bed.”

“I’ll watch a while.”

She made it until the third inning. She didn’t snore, but she went limp as a dishrag. Her shoulder dug into his arm. Afraid both of them were going to end up feeling bruised, he woke her up. “You need to go to bed.”

“Yeah.”

She got up but nearly fell over. He grabbed her arm. “Okay?”

She rubbed blurry eyes and nodded. “Good night.”

He smiled as he watched her head for the stairs.

Lord, what am I going to do? You know my heart, and it just landed somewhere at that lady’s feet. Come tomorrow I’m going to have to scramble like mad to get some distance back so that every time she smiles my heart doesn’t stop. But for the record—she’s got beautiful eyes, a grin I adore, and I could see myself flirting with her for about the next fifty years.

Wooing someone to faith is what You do best. Please, I’d rather not get my heart broken.

Sixteen

D
awn was still an hour away, but the sky was beginning to tinge pink. Kate lay back against the pillows and watched the colors change. Today was irreversibly going to change her life. She knew it. The news about Tony Emerson Jr., if it all checked out, could not be contained more than a day. By nightfall the press would be looking for her.

She picked up the small book she had found in the side pocket of her gym bag and gave a rueful smile. Jennifer’s New Testament. The officer who had packed for her must have thought it was important.

She needed to do this, for Jennifer would be here soon, and there was no predicting when the next calm moment would appear in her schedule.
“Just read it without preconceived notions.”
That was so easy for Dave to say.

She retrieved the notepad and pen from her bag and opened the book to the bookmark. If Jennifer wanted to talk about the book of Luke, then they would talk about the book of Luke. Her sister was more important than her own unease with the choice of subject. The notepad was habit. Writing questions, notes, and observations would keep her focused. She started reading.

It was a struggle to get through the first three chapters. History had never been one of her better subjects. She was glad reading documents without having the full context was part of her job. Floundering a bit but determined to get through it, she kept reading.

Finally, she wrote on the pad of paper—3:38. Son of God.

Over an hour later she turned the last page in the book of Luke and clicked her pen. It was a relief to close burning eyes for a moment.

She read the four pages of concise notes.

Setting aside the questions, she focused on summarizing what she had read, consolidating the observations. The sketch she drew of Jesus made her hesitate because it was so unlike any other sketch of a man she had ever done.

He was not an ambitious man seeking power. He had power in Himself. People around Him, both supporters and enemies, acknowledged that He spoke as one having authority. He was a man that attracted crowds, but did not seek them out. Departing for a lonely place seemed to be His preference.

He was a man of compassion, gentle, kind, and liked children. He spent Sabbaths teaching. He traveled. There was never a question or hesitation on His part. No doubt. One insight in Gethsemane of a man facing an enormous coming burden.

He healed. The accounts were astounding. They were accounts of immediate, complete healing. A high fever seemed the most minor. Lepers. Paralytics. He raised the dead.

He claimed to have the ability to forgive sins, was personally a forgiving man.

She brought her summary to a conclusion with a stark observation—
Jesus did not receive justice.
He was the Son of God. He was innocent. And He was crucified. She had turned the last pages in Luke and read of the Resurrection on the third day, hard to believe, but at least it gave some justice. Jesus should be alive; He had done nothing to deserve death.

He said the Father was merciful.

Why had He not said the Father was just?

The book she had just read showed within it a culture divided over the issue of Jesus. Betrayal. Plots. Conspiracies. Adoring crowds. Power brokers. Politics.

People had died because they believed this book.

If someone had written Luke as a hoax, they had done a compelling piece of work. She had spent a lifetime studying people. People by nature wanted to lie in a way they would be believed. As a hoax, the book would have been written less grandiose, so that it would be accepted, not scoffed at. To dismiss this as a lie, she had to accept someone had written such a masterful forgery. It was harder to imagine that than it was to at least wonder if it could actually be true.

Jennifer believed, as did Dave. That was also not easy to dismiss.

Troubled, wanting to ignore the topic but unable now to do so, she stared at the ceiling and wondered.

If Jesus were real, the Bible were true, why doesn’t He heal Jennifer?

Great. Telling Jennifer that would be just wonderful.

She had to get out of here, do something. Dave would protest, but Marcus would understand. If nothing else, she would go shoot hoops at the gym for an hour. She reached for her phone and paged Marcus. He could tell her the news from overnight while he drove her to the gym.

Any more body blows like she had taken lately, and she didn’t think her composure would hold. She really didn’t want Dave to see that. The tears last night had been embarrassing enough. She was glad she had told him about Jennifer, but it was hard to envision what it was going to be like when he found out Tony Jr. was her brother. Hopefully, Marcus had been able to make other arrangements for where she could stay. She was realistic enough to know the news would hit like a lead balloon, and she wanted to be far away from here before the fallout hit.

Dave bounced a tennis ball with one hand while he watched the second hand sweep around the face of the hall clock. Kate had barely said hello this morning before she had made a hurried excuse and left with Marcus. If he didn’t know better, he would say she was running. She had refused to meet his eyes, mumbled something about needing to shoot some baskets, and swept Marcus out the door. He glanced at his watch to make sure the hall clock was right and knew that if she didn’t get back soon, he would have to leave for the morning update meeting without her.

His hand clenched around the tennis ball, then he sighed and tossed it back into his gym bag. He had wanted to wrap his arms around her and give her a hug, nudge her chin up and get her to smile at him; instead, he’d shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her leave.

He was falling in love with her, and it was one of the scariest propositions he had ever faced. He was desperately afraid he was going to end up in a situation where the one thing he wanted most, he couldn’t have.

“I envy you. You can still hope.”

Remembering her words from the night before, he half smiled. Did hope born out of desperation count?

He was taking every grain of evidence that she was inching toward considering faith and hoping it would actually mean something. And yet, he knew he was blowing the evidence he had out of proportion. Kate was moving toward a decision, but she was still far from it. And his hands were tied until she did.
“You can’t believe just because Jennifer wants you to.”
He would give anything to be able to take back those words from last night. He wanted desperately to be able to say,
“Believe because I want you to.”

It didn’t help that he had no idea what she was thinking—if she even thought about having a relationship that was more than a friendship. He’d deflected her early comments, and she had taken the hint. She was treating him like one of her brothers. Well, almost—she didn’t trust him enough to tell him why she was scared.

And she
was
scared. That fact haunted him. He’d already asked Ben to look into it, to see if he could uncover why. There was little he could do about the pressures hitting her, but at least he could look into that. Maybe if he could simply make her feel safe, she would finally begin to trust.…

The alert from the front gate security pushed him to his feet. She was back.

He checked the monitor and his disappointment was acute. “Come on up, Ben.” He met him at the door.

“I’ve got some information I think you need to see.”

“Sure.” Dave glanced at the folder in Ben’s hand and gestured to the formal dining room table where there was room to work. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“I’m fine.”

Dave looked over at Ben, and something in his voice warned him. “What have you found?” he asked quietly.

There was a rare hesitation from his friend before Ben opened the file folder and laid down several pieces of paper. “Tony Emerson is her brother.”

Dave lowered himself into the chair he had pulled out, shocked. “Her brother.”

“We had to go back into the juvenile court records to find all the pieces. She changed her name at age nineteen to Kate O’Malley. Before that it was Kate Emerson.”

Dave pulled over the indicated piece of paper. “It’s not a coincidence?”

“No. Once we were into the court records, we got access to birth certificates.” Ben handed him the photocopies. “She was made a ward of the state when she was nine. You really don’t want to read the court record,” Dave raised one eyebrow at that comment. “Suffice it to say there was sufficient reason for parental rights to be terminated. She was taken from the home a year before Tony Emerson was born. Dave, I don’t think she knows.”

“She knows,” he said wearily. “I’ll lay odds she found out yesterday.” He rubbed his eyes. “I think Marcus has been checking into it, so he’s probably told some of the Washington guys, her boss. Who else knows?”

“Susan. It wasn’t easy to find, Dave. If you hadn’t told me to look for a connection between Tony Emerson Jr. and Kate O’Malley, I doubt I would have found it. I did some checking. They put a watch on Emerson’s house last night; there are patrols looking for him, so the information is getting acted on. Somebody high up must have made the call to keep this close to the vest.”

Tony Emerson J r. was her brother.
“Can you cover the morning update meeting? She’s at the gym with Marcus. I’m going to head over there.”

“Sure. I’m sorry, Dave.”

He slowly nodded, and even after Ben left, he sat motionless, staring at the folder.
Why not just rip out my heart, Kate? You could have at least trusted me.

Marcus was alone at the gym, shooting hoops when Dave strode in. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Dave felt more than fear at the realization Kate was not here; he felt betrayed. “Where is she?”

“Safe.”

“Marcus, don’t give me that. She’s a material witness to this, a target, something; she’s so far into the middle of it I can’t figure out which way is up.”

The basketball came his way hard enough to sting his hands as he caught it. “And she’s my sister.”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard, emotions roiling. They were one wrong word away from a fight. “You’re sure she’s safe?”

“She’s with Stephen.”

Dave tossed the ball back without the stinging speed. “And that’s shorthand for safe.”

“In this case—yes. The media will have this information today; we both know it. She doesn’t want it landing in your lap. She’s somewhere safe, and hopefully distracted.”

She didn’t want it landing in his lap—great—she really was running. She had run to her brothers, at least there was some comfort in that. But having her somewhere else was only going to make it worse for him. “I want to talk to her.”

Marcus considered him for a moment, then turned back to shooting baskets. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Marcus froze, then looked over at him. Dave almost backed down… almost. He could still remember Kate sitting at his kitchen table spinning a marshmallow on a pretzel stick, too tired to see straight. He wasn’t backing down.

“She said you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

The mild answer surprised him, then amused him. “Did she?”

Marcus walked over to the bench and picked up his towel. “Get your car; I’m parked in the side lot. You can follow me.”

Marcus led him to a nice neighborhood north of the loop where trees shaded the streets and older homes showed the impact of new money restoration. He stopped in front of a brick, two-story home that was undergoing major reconstruction. Dave spotted two surveillance cars keeping watch on the house.

Marcus led the way up the walk. “Stephen is always restoring something. It’s his escape as much as his hobby.”

“What’s Kate’s?”

“Sports.”

That made sense.

Marcus unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

The hallway was torn down to open studs and new drywall waited to be hung. The home smelled of fresh paint and new plaster. Dave looked around with interest. A couple walls had been taken down, opening up the rooms on the main floor. Empty of furniture, the potential was obvious to see.

Stephen came down the stairs, wiping his hands on a rag. “You’re back soon.”

“Where is she?” Marcus asked, glancing around.

“The back bedroom. I pulled the carpeting last night and found hardwood flooring.”

“Really?”

“It’s in great shape, too.”

Marcus moved upstairs, and Dave decided to stay put. Stephen was blocking his way, and it wasn’t accidental.

They waited in silence.

Kate finally appeared, coming down the stairs. Any fragileness he had sensed yesterday was nowhere in evidence. When she got near him, the fire in her eyes cautioned him he had better be careful. She was cornered, by the situation, now by him, and she was going to come out fighting.

“Stephen.”

Dave gave Marcus points for tact. He waited until Stephen disappeared up the stairs. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? Trust me?”

“Tell you what? That I might have a brother who is possibly a murderer?” Kate swung away from him into the living room. “I’ve never even met this Tony Emerson. Until twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t even have a suspicion that he existed.”

“Kate, he’s targeting you.”

“Then let him find me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“There is no reason for him to have blown up a plane just to get at me, to get at some banker. We’re never going to know the truth unless someone can grab him; and if he gets cornered by a bunch of cops, he’ll either kill himself or be killed in a shootout. It would be easier all around if he did come after me.”

“Stop thinking with your emotions and use your head.” Dave shot back. “What we need to do is to solve this case. That’s how we’ll find out the answers and ultimately find him.”

“Then you go tear through the piles of data. I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Don’t you understand that? I don’t want to be the one who puts the pieces together. Yesterday was like getting stuck in the gut with a hot poker.”

He understood it, could feel the pain flowing from her. “Fine. Stay here for a day, get your feet back under you. Then get back in the game and stop acting like you’re the only one this is hurting. Or have you forgotten all the people that died?” He saw the sharp pain flash in her eyes before they went cold, and he regretted his words.