“Yes, I agree,” my dad said. “At any rate, by the time the dust had settled and we were divorced, you had been adopted.” He turned to Judy. “I asked but they wouldn’t tell me anything about where they placed you.”
“Wouldn’t you have to sign away your paternal rights for an adoption to take place?” I asked.
“My name was never on the birth certificate,” he said. “Ellie wanted it that way. She wanted to be a single mother. She always did things the hard way.”
“So if his name wasn’t on the birth certificate, how did you find him?” I asked Judy. She was looking at my dad like he was some kind of hero.
I guess I would have too. My dad, though pushing sixty, is a handsome and dynamic man. He goes to the gym every other day and he’s in better shape than I am. The few strands of grey in his dark hair just make him look more distinguished.
“Oh, his name was mentioned in one of the documents,” she said.
“Does she know about Ellie?” I asked my dad.
“Of course, I do,” she said primly. “My mother is a fugitive wanted by the FBI.”
“Honey, you’ve got to understand: Ellie is not a criminal,” my dad said. Now he was calling her honey. I felt the fury of a child who’s been dethroned. Interesting how birth order becomes part of your personality. After all of these years of being the baby of the family, I was suddenly a middle child and I felt like a middle child, squeezed out, invisible, ignored.
“She was just someone who cared too much,” he said. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The whole thing was an FBI setup and if we can prove it, we can get her cleared of those charges.”
“I want to meet her,” Judy said which seemed odd after her last statement.
“And believe me, you will,” said my dad.
“You know where Ellie is?” I asked. “Do you know how much danger she’s in? Do you know that Joel was killed? And before he was killed, he was tortured?”
My dad shushed me. “She’s in touch with me,” he said. “In fact, I’ve arranged for her to join us.”
There was a knock at the door. Judy got to her feet. She put her hands in her pockets.
Chapter 35
It was just room service.
“I’ve got an order for lunch here,” said a young man in a grey uniform, carrying a tray.
My dad frowned. “We didn’t order anything,” he said. Judy sat back down, poised at the edge of her chair, as if she were going to spring up at any moment.
The young man looked down at the slip on the tray. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I’m on the wrong floor.”
My dad shut the door, shaking his head.
“Tell me about my mother. Your dad, our dad, says you’ve met her…” Judy said.
I said, “You must remember her.”
Judy shook her head. “I don’t remember anything about my childhood. I’m told it’s some kind of traumatic amnesia.”
“Hard on a kid to be abandoned,” my dad said sympathetically. He reached out to touch her hair. She flinched a little.
Something was off about Judy. I didn’t know what but I thought about what Ginger had told me. “What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m an accountant,” she said.
“Really?” That seemed so crazy for a triple Pisces.
“What’s your horoscope sign?” I asked.
She looked confused. I could see her mentally trying to figure it out in her head. That was odd too. Didn’t everyone know their sun sign?
“Aries?” she said tentatively.
“What about your birthday?”
My dad frowned at me. “Rachel, what’s up with the interrogation? She’s not a suspect. She’s your sister.”
There was another knock on the door.
My dad went to open it, just a crack this time. Then he flung it wide. A slim woman with bleached blonde hair slipped inside. She was wearing running shoes and jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But even with the change of hair color, I recognized her immediately. Ellie Foley!
So did Judy apparently. She got to her feet.
Ellie stood in the doorway looking back and forth, at me, my dad and Judy. She looked like she wanted to devour us. “I don’t know who to hug first,” she said, at last.
“One at a time,” my dad said, gathering her into his arms. I saw that her eyes were wet when she let go of him.
Judy stood up and approached her. She seemed very awkward but that seemed right. The two gazed at each other for a long time, but didn’t touch.
“You grew up to be so beautiful,” Ellie murmured, her eyes full of love.
Judy winced at that. Perhaps she was thinking of all the time she had spent missing her mother.
Ellie turned to me. I didn’t want to approach her. I felt too weird about the way we had parted in Astoria.
“I’m sorry about your husband,” I said.
“I know they’re saying he committed suicide,” she said. “But I know my Jimmy. He would never kill himself. He was the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He had high hopes for that book he wrote. If that bastard killed him—”
“What bastard?” I asked.
Ellie looked at my dad. “You haven’t told her?”
He shook his head. “No, I figured it was safer.”
“Robb Ross!” Ellie spit out the name.
“What?” That was Judy. She looked confused.
“That bastard double-crossed me on the night of the robbery. He sent me into that bank to die. And now he’s going to run for Mayor. Not if I can help it!” Ellie declared. “I’m willing to go to prison if it means exposing him for the fraud that he is.”
“Robb Ross? Mom’s husband?” I asked.
“Silvia is married to Robb Ross?” Ellie asked my dad.
“Yes,” he said.
“Wow!” Ellie sat down on the bed.
“Anyway, Robb Ross didn’t kill your husband,” I said. “The Jimi Hendrix killer did.”
“What?” That was Judy again. She seemed to be on the edge of hysteria.
“Yes, someone’s going around killing the guys who were in a particular platoon in Vietnam. My friend Matt’s on the case. He thinks he knows who’s doing it.”
“This is crazy,” Judy murmured.
Bam! Bam! Bam! The door shuddered, then flew open. Framed in the opening was Fred Proctor, in his khaki sheriff’s department uniform. He had his gun raised.
My dad stepped in front of Ellie.
“What’s this about?” he asked, holding up a hand as if that would stop a bullet.
“Hey, he’s not a real cop!” I said. Fred turned his menacing gaze on me.
“Oh, you’re here! Good!” he said. “I can take you into custody as well.”
“You’re not taking anyone into custody,” I declared. “You don’t work for the sheriff’s department anymore.” As I put it together in my mind, I realized what was going on. “You’re just doing some kind of dirty work for Robb Ross.”
“How do you know this, Rachel?” my dad asked.
“Because I had the Seattle police department look him up,” I said. “Because I did my research. He once worked for Robb Ross until he was let go for use of excessive force.”
“You know too much!” said Proctor. “Too bad! Because I’ll have to kill you too.”
“I don’t think so!” That was Judy. She whipped a pistol out of her pocket. “I’m FBI. This woman is my prisoner.” She yanked on Ellie’s arm, pulling her up off the bed.
“What? You mean you’re not Sky?” That was Ellie, looking up at the petite woman.
“You mean you’re not my daughter?” That was my father turning around to look at her.
I put my hand into my purse which was lying on the floor beside the bed and hidden from view to both Proctor and Judy. What was I going to do if I got my hands on the gun? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I would feel safer with it in my hand.
“She’s going with me,” said Proctor, still in the doorway, still waving his gun.
<
br /> Judy shook her head. “She’s in Federal custody. I was here first.”
“Then I’ll just have to kill her right now,” said Proctor. “Because she’s got to go!” As he squeezed the trigger, Judy stepped forward and the shot hit her in the chest. Blood flared into the air. Judy staggered back, her pink suit suddenly stained a bright red. Ellie tried to hold her up, but Judy sagged in her arms.
“Don’t you have a gun?” I shouted at Ellie.
She shook her head, looking down at the woman in her arms. For a moment, I flashed on the Pieta: the grieving mother with the body of her dead son.
“I threw it away,” Ellie said. “There’s been too much killing.”
Proctor lifted his gun to shoot again.
I pulled out my pistol and fired at him, I didn’t aim. I didn’t even think about it. I just shot. He looked surprised when the bullet hit him. Then he fell with a thud to the floor. My dad wrestled the gun from his fingers. Proctor was squealing: “She shot me! She shot me!” Ellie was bending over Judy who lay on the carpet, not speaking, not moving.
And instantly the room was full of people. There were policemen in uniform and men in suits and eventually some EMTs who ministered to Proctor and to Judy. I wasn’t even sure her name was Judy.
I was separated from my dad and from Ellie and taken into a nearby room to be questioned. I could see that it was some kind of command post, full of computers and wires. From what I could determine in my stunned state, the FBI had used an undercover agent posing as Ellie’s daughter to lure her into the open so they could arrest her. They had been working with the Seattle police, who took custody of me. They put me in the back of a police car and drove me downtown for questioning.
I kept asking if Proctor was OK but no one would answer me. I kept asking about my dad but they wouldn’t tell me where he was. I kept asking about Ellie but all they would say was that she was in FBI custody. They swiped my fingers for gunshot residue and asked me for my version of what had happened over and over again.
After a while, Darrell Darnell showed up. I was never so glad to see anyone. He verified my story about Fred Proctor’s harassment and after that they went easier on me.
“Is he dead?” I asked, as Darnell was driving me home hours later. I was shocked to see that it was dawn. The sun was coming up through a haze of pink in the eastern sky. The police had taken away the gun. I was glad it was gone. I never wanted to see a gun again.
“No, he’s not,” Darnell said. He didn’t volunteer any more information.
“Thank God!” I said. And then, “I didn’t mean to shoot him.”
“If you hadn’t shot him, he would have killed everyone in the room,” Darnell said in his quiet way.
“But how can that be? The FBI was watching and listening.”
“I think they got confused, thinking that maybe he was really a King County sheriff horning in on their bust. Apparently that’s what happened back during the Mutual Bank robbery. Robb Ross was undercover for the sheriff’s department, trying to make a name for himself. He changed the date and time of the robbery, which is why the FBI didn’t have anyone on the scene. They thought Ellie had double-crossed them. But it was really Ross. Ross sent her into the bank instead of going in himself. She was just supposed to be the getaway driver. For all we know, he may have started the shooting.”
“So how do you know all of this?”
“Proctor is squealing like a little pig. Turned on his boss and is giving him up.”
“Oh, shit!” That meant my mother was going to be humiliated once again, this time by her latest husband. I wondered if she would stand by him, in the time-honored tradition of politician’s wives.
“Poor Mom!” I said.
Epilogue
He wasn’t really dead. I’m not sure how this story might have been different if he were. I know I’ll never touch another gun again. Of course, there was an investigation and I was fined for discharging a weapon.
Proctor admitted that he had been hired by Ross to protect his reputation. Ross insisted his mandate was nonspecific. Keep an eye on them. Proctor claimed that Ross told him: “Do whatever has to be done to neutralize them.” It turned out that my mom had unknowingly set the whole thing in motion by mentioning Ellie to Ross after I started asking questions about her.
There was not enough proof to go after Ross. But there was evidence linking Proctor to the death of Joel Wiseman. And there were plenty of witnesses to his shooting of an FBI agent. They threw the book at him. He would never get out of prison alive. We know he killed Melody too but the prosecutor thought there wasn’t enough evidence to pursue that case.
The resulting controversy resulted in Ross bowing out of the campaign. A law and order candidate can’t be associated with any whiff of impropriety. What surprised everyone was that my mother stepped in. Of course, she had to divorce him to distance herself from the scandal. She didn’t seem to mind.
She wasn’t sure whether to thank my dad or not. She was pretty ticked off at him when she found out he was hanging out with Ellie again. She told me about the scene when my dad came to her and asked her to adopt Ellie’s baby.
“Can you imagine?”
We still haven’t found my half sister.
Ellie got a deal from the FBI. I think they realized she had lost everything: her husband, her home and her “alleged” daughter. They gave her probation instead of prison time and she went back to Astoria, where she sold the house and the business.
She’s now in California with my father. I haven’t asked if they’re going to resume their relationship. So the Sixties came roaring back into our lives and blew everything apart.
Matt got the Hendrix killer. There was showdown in the woods. But it came at a cost. Matt was injured in the takedown. We did an intervention on him, trying to convince him to get some help. But Matt’s stubborn. He still thinks he can do it on his own.
I’m not ready to start dating again. How could I have been so wrong about Joel Friedman? I assume he was just pretending to flirt with me, because from what his friends and family said at his memorial he was a stand-up guy. Of course, that’s what everyone says at a memorial. That’s what I said too. His wife was the one who invited me to the memorial. I was surprised at that. I still felt guilty about his death and I wouldn’t blame her if she blamed me as well.
I got back into therapy to deal with my guilt. I spend a lot of time playing with the ferrets. I hang out with Taffy and Ginger. Doug and his wife have never said another word about custody. In fact, they’re talking about moving to New York.
And in my spare time, I search for my half sister. Karen says she’s got a good lead. It’s a frustrating and challenging task but I feel like if I can find her, that might be one way I can repair the damage done to the people I love.
Author Notes
This book was written back in 2000, closer to the timeline of the novel, so some of the technology is outdated. I doubt that Rachel Stern would be conducting the same kind of internet searches today that she was doing then. It was written in collaboration with Curt Colbert, who was working on All Along the Watchtower, a novel about a hard-boiled PI, Matt Rossiter, a Vietnam vet with PTSD who is tracking down the person killing members of his old platoon. He turns to Rachel for help with computer research and Rachel turns to him for muscle.
I was not living in Seattle in the Sixties and Seventies. I arrived in 1981. So I was very pleased when my publisher, Phil Garrett of Epicenter Press, who was in Seattle during these years, told me I got it right.
I did a lot of research about the student movement in general. One book that was not available when I wrote this book is Kit Bakke’s masterful Protest on Trial: The Seattle 7 Conspiracy, which was published by WSU Press in 2018. Bakke does a great job of describing how the student-led anti-war movements expanded to take into account other social injustices, and how the FBI and the police conspired to indict student leaders for conspiracy. I was delighted to see how much of what I had posi
ted was correct.
I often base characters in my historical books on real characters and certainly the life of Susan Stern, the only female member of the Seattle 7, informed the character of Ellie Foley since Susan Stern wrote a memoir, With the Weathermen: a personal journal of a revolutionary woman. I was happy to be able to read her personal correspondence and her letters with her publisher (Doubleday) in the Special Collection department at the University of Washington. She did start a women’s group in the basement of her home but the roommates I gave her are entirely fictional (one is a character from Curt’s book). But I also took enormous liberties with her life. Although a group of radical women attacked the ROTC building more than once in 1970, they did so with spray paint, not a grenade, and no one was killed. I invented the sad detail of a janitor killed after reading RADS by Tom Bates, an account of the bombing of the Army Math Research Center at the University of Wisconsin where a graduate student working in his basement lab was killed. The conspirators had called in a warning to the city police and chosen a time when they thought no one would be in the building before detonating a van full of explosives. Susan Stern did not get pregnant by her defense attorney nor did she go on to join another radical group after getting out of prison. Sadly, she died in 1976, of heart failure.
I used a similar strategy to develop the character of Gus Holliday and the history of the underground paper, the Freebie. Both were loosely based on Walt Crowley, who was the editor of the Helix, an underground paper which began in a similar manner. Like Gus Holliday, Walt Crowley had a father who worked at Boeing, enjoyed hanging out at the Blue Moon, and started a community council to address issues in the University District. Crowley eventually founded History Link, an online encyclopedia that is a rich source of information about Seattle and Washington state history. My speculations on his personal life are entirely fictional.
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