“Rachel Santana, Washington Post.”
Wait a minute! Reyes’s antenna went up. What the hell is this? Santana wasn’t on the list. Shit!
“Mr. President. With all due respect, sir, you talk about Wall Street greed, and solutions based on supposed increased government oversight. Who’s going to watch over the politicians conducting the oversight? Who’s going to keep them honest and hold them accountable when they aren’t doing their job? This is why so many Americans think the country’s in the mess we’re in today. We’re talking about government officials whose coffers have been—and are still being—filled by corporate lobbyists to get them to look the other way. We’re talking about government officials being paid fat consulting fees for … who knows exactly what. We’re talking about one government official after another who somehow doesn’t pay his or her own taxes like we’re all expected to do. Including, I might add, several in your own administration.”
“Rachel, I don’t think that’s fair. These are hardworking, dedicated public servants seeking to protect the public interest.”
“Certainly true of some, Mr. President, but most have been gilding the lily instead of faithfully and properly honoring their public trust. Isn’t this the prevailing perception about our three recently murdered representatives, Senator Wells, Secretary DiMarco, and SEC Chairman Johnson? Is this perhaps why someone murdered them?
“Mr. President, don’t we already have more than enough oversight in place to have prevented the present financial chaos if our public officials had actually been using these resources and standing up to Wall Street instead of protecting their own private interests—interests underwritten and funded by Wall Street?”
“Rachel, you know I can’t comment on specific criminal proceedings taking place as we speak. What I can tell you is that I am committed to seeing that we put into play systems to assure the American people that they will not again find themselves in this kind of circumstance. We will learn from our past mistakes. We will see that they are not repeated.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attention. Good night, and may God bless us one and all.”
The president walked away from the podium to where Reyes waited. “I blew it, Manny, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t see that coming at all and I wanted to be accommodating to a pretty, young Latina. Fool me once, shame on her. Fool me twice, shame on me. Last access that bitch ever gets to my White House. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President, I do.” And he did. It was the president who hadn’t.
CHAPTER 24
Tuesday, February 10, 6:30 p.m.
HE TURNED OFF THE TV and sat in the dark. He was alone, at least for now, with nothing but his thoughts. Goddamn politicians! It’ll all be clear very soon now. I’ll see this doesn’t happen again, Mr. Stinking President!
* * *
JUDGE AND MRS. CYRUS Brooks watched the replay of President Tuttle’s press conference on the news while they ate dinner. Neither one of them said much. They were now doing the dishes together. She washed. He dried. She said, “You’re kind of quiet, Cyrus. What did you think of the president’s performance?”
“Performance is the right choice of words, love. To me, that was pure theater. I guess our president thinks we’re all just a bunch of potted plants. But that last reporter, Santana, must have forgotten her lines. Now, that exchange was worth the price of admission.”
* * *
THE PAIN WAS INTOLERABLE. Still. Anger turned to rage, rage turned to … confusion. It’s all your fault. You did it. You killed Ryan. I’m going to get you, all of you.
CHAPTER 25
Wednesday, February 11, 7:30 a.m.
LOTELLO WAS BACK IN the large conference room at police headquarters, in yet another special task force meeting. Present were the exact same participants.
Chief Murphy led off. “We have copies of the coroner’s reports on all three murders. I’m passing them out now. They are confidential and not to be shared outside of this room. Coroner Ellis, do you have anything to add?”
“The news is not good. The murderer has been very clean. We have nothing specific to go on.”
Deputy Mayor Arnest jumped in. “Chief, what can I tell the mayor we are doing to move this ball forward?”
Murphy turned to Lotello, basically ducking the question. “Detective Lotello?”
Lotello had expected the ball to be thrown to him. He had been thinking about what he was going to say. Everything he and Barnet had been pursuing so far had gotten them absolutely nowhere.
Each neighborhood had been thoroughly canvassed and vetted. Not once, but twice. No suspicious people had been spotted. No strange vehicles had been parked on any nearby streets. As for Senator Wells, Ayres seemed to be the hurdle, resisting sharing Wells’s calendar for no good reason that Lotello could see. There was also his as yet unexplained reference to Cliff Norman.
But Lotello was uncomfortable sharing too much with the people in this room, that what he might say would get out in front of him. He decided to stay away from Norman for the moment and just divert attention from him to District Attorney Reilly. Two can play that game.
“As you know, we’ve been trying to get Senator Wells’s calendar from her chief of staff, James Ayres. So far, he’s been refusing. Through the DA’s office, we’ve been trying to get a subpoena issued for the calendar or a search warrant allowing us to seize everything in the senator’s office and home. We’re hoping to have one of them soon.”
District Attorney Reilly jumped in. “Frank, I have both a subpoena and a search warrant right here. I had to try three different judges. I was finally able to persuade Judge Williams to sign them for me last night at his home. So, we now have them. For whatever good that may or may not do us.
“As we’ve already discussed, the official records of a U.S. senator is a gray area of the law. Judge Williams said he wasn’t sure what he’d do if any motions to quash are filed. When do you plan to serve Ayres?”
“I’m on the way the minute we adjourn here.”
Murphy knew the task force needed some luck, and soon. They all knew that. Murphy took his cue and ended the meeting. Everyone hurriedly cleared out of the room like they each had somewhere else more important to be.
CHAPTER 26
Wednesday, February 11, 9:15 a.m.
LOTELLO LEFT THE TASK force meeting and swung by the precinct to pick up Barnet. “C’mon, J, we’re rollin’.”
“Where to?”
“To see our buddy, Ayres. Again. This time with a subpoena and search warrant in hand. And movers to box up and carry out everything in Wells’s office and home. Reilly delivered the court orders to me during our task force meeting this morning. You should have seen him grandstanding to the others. We’ll obviously grab ourselves a pile of computer equipment and files. But it remains to be seen whether we’ll find Wells’s calendar or little black book.”
When they arrived at his office, Ayres looked less than pleased to see them. “You guys again? You’re nothing if you’re not stubborn.” There was a bit of feigned impatience in his demeanor, Lotello thought, if not in his voice, too.
“I come bearing gifts from Judge Williams.” Lotello handed the court orders to Ayres. “We’re here to clean out Wells’s office. And her home next. You can save us a lot of time and effort if you just hand over Senator Wells’s calendar.”
“Sorry, Detective, I don’t have it.”
“What? If you’ve done anything with her calendar knowing we were pursuing these court orders, that constitutes obstruction of justice. I’m done screwing with you, Ayres. I’m going to haul your sorry ass off to jail this very minute.”
“Spare me the theatrics, Lotello. Wells’s calendar’s perfectly safe. I turned it over to the Senate’s attorneys. It’s in their hands now, literally. I’m not trying to give you a bad time, honestly. This was not my call. There are other interests at play here. I told you that. I’m accountable. If you still want the calendar
, you’ll have to take it up with them. As I understand it, the Senate will move to quash your search warrant and subpoena on the grounds of congressional privilege.”
Lotello backed off. He had done his best. They would empty out Wells’s office and home of whatever was there. It would then be up to Reilly to sort it out with the Senate lawyers and Judge Williams. “Look, Ayres, I understand you’re caught in the middle. I was just hoping you would have cared more about finding the person who killed your boss.”
“I can’t help you with the calendar, Lotello, but I do have something else you might be interested in.”
“I’m listening.”
“I asked yesterday if you’d ever heard of Cliff Norman. You said you hadn’t.”
“So?”
“Norman is a local guy who fell on hard times, lost his business and home in the economy. Then his kid died from cancer. He suffered some kind of a meltdown. He blames it all on the government. He’s not alone in that regard; a lot of folks obviously feel the same way right now. The difference is that Norman had been threatening to do something about it. A while ago, he was arrested and hospitalized after parading around the Capitol building here, downstairs, on the front steps. Shouting that he was going to get even.”
Lotello decided not to reveal what Barnet had dug up. “How’d you learn about all this?”
“Just before his arrest, Norman came to our offices here, upset and disheveled, demanding to see Senator Wells. It didn’t happen, of course. We turned him away. When I saw a newspaper story that he had been arrested a day or so later, I realized it was the same guy. After Senator Wells was murdered, I checked with the authorities to see if Norman was still locked up. He wasn’t. He was released before Senator Wells was murdered. No one’s seen him since. Or has any idea where he is.”
“How do you know no one’s seen him of late or knows where he is?”
“I have it on good authority that his whereabouts are presently unknown.”
“A moment ago, you accused me of theatrics. Please, no more cat and mouse. I’m out of time. You need to answer my question. If you don’t, I’m going to cuff and lock you up right now until you do. Or at least until your fancy Senate lawyers get you out. Up to you. Be smart. Make it easier on both of us. Just answer my questions.”
“Calm down, Lotello. I’ll tell you. I wouldn’t have raised the subject if I wasn’t planning to tell you what I know about Norman.”
“I’m perfectly calm, Ayres. What I’m not is patient. We’ve got three murders on our hands. I’m losing my patience. So’s the entire town, in case you haven’t noticed. Again, what’s the basis for saying no one knows where Norman is? Who’s ‘no one’?”
“Early yesterday morning, an envelope with my business card taped to it was delivered by some transient to the building here. The envelope was intercepted by security, but the transient took off while security was focusing on the envelope, thinking it might be a bomb or something toxic. The envelope turned out to be harmless, and had only one set of unidentifiable prints, presumably those of the transient.
“When the security people finally figured all that out, I was allowed to open the envelope. It contained a copy of the story that was originally run in The Post after Norman was arrested. That’s when I tracked down the medical authorities to see if Norman was still in custody.
“When I learned he had been released, I called Rachel Santana at The Post. She was the author of the story. She is the one who told me that she had been trying to follow up on Norman. But hadn’t been able to find him. What I meant when I said no one could find Norman was that Santana couldn’t find him. Or anyone else. Says she’s tried everything.”
“The envelope was delivered to you early yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Was that before or after my visit to you?”
Ayres paused a moment. “Before.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this yesterday, instead of just asking me if I knew anything about Norman?”
“I wasn’t ready. Norman’s already been through a lot. I wasn’t prepared to add to his problems. I needed more time to think about all of this. I was also unclear why this envelope was delivered to me in that weird way. And who did it. Or arranged it. And why. I’m still unclear about all this. Before saying anything to you, I wanted to see if I could find out anything more. When I couldn’t, I planned to tell you about all of this today. You just happened to get here first. Here’s a copy of the article Santana originally wrote for The Post. The one that was in the envelope delivered to me yesterday.”
Though he’d read it only the day before, Lotello skimmed through it again, including the quote of Norman’s threat to get even for the death of his son, Ryan. “Alright, Ayres, I appreciate the information, although I wish you had shared it with me yesterday. We’ve still got to get to the bottom of Senator Wells’s calendar, or little black book, or whatever it was she kept, as quickly as possible, but we’re done for now. We’ll be in touch.”
I still don’t get it, Beth. There’s definitely something going on here that’s not computing. The mysterious tips to the police and Rachel Santana had to come from the killer. But if Norman was the killer, why would he have wanted to draw attention to the murders sooner rather than later? This defies logic. Of course, Norman is possibly incapable of being logical. And what about the postmortem assaults—were they to further punish the people he blamed for his son’s death? Then why not before he murdered his targets? Was there some other reason for the sexual assaults? Are more murders on the horizon? And who sent the envelope with the Norman story to Ayres? Could it be Santana? Could it be someone else who knows more about Norman, but doesn’t want to become involved? Could it be Norman himself? Could he be faking his condition to cover his actions? There are just way too many unanswered questions, Beth.
CHAPTER 27
Wednesday, February 11, 12:30 p.m.
TWO TIMES IN AS many months, more than 100,000 people gathered in the National Mall in front of the Lincoln Memorial. In January, it was to celebrate and inaugurate the president. Barely one month later, it was to let the president and the rest of Capitol Hill know they were on borrowed time. They needed to clean up their act. And they needed to do it soon.
The organizers of the march were quite pleased. The assembly was unprecedented. Not left. Not right. Both ends of the spectrum, and in between, united together indivisibly in one common cause: time to take back the country, time to remind the country’s political leaders that they were there to serve, not to be served.
It was almost beyond imagination that so many people could demonstrate with such single-mindedness, and with such impeccable order. It showed just how unhappy, and united in that unhappiness, so many of the voters were with their political representatives, Republicans and Democrats alike. They were there to send a message. A bipartisan message. It was not lost on those who were expected to sit up and take notice.
* * *
TUTTLE AND REYES WATCHED quietly from the sanctity of the Oval Office. The picture on the television monitor was worth more than a thousand words. It was worth more like one hundred thousand words. In contrast, no words were forthcoming from either of them.
* * *
HOUSE AND SENATE LEADERS were similarly gathered around television sets throughout the Capitol building, with no sense of where they might find a safe harbor. Masses were demonstrating … against them. And someone out there was actually killing them. It was difficult to tell which was more frightening: a serial killer on the loose, specifically targeting the country’s political leaders, or liberals and conservatives alike banding together against a common enemy: their elected and appointed representatives.
* * *
IN THE PRIVACY OF his chambers, Judge Cyrus Brooks also watched the images flashing across the screen. He hadn’t ever seen anything quite like this. He found it hard to imagine such a diversity of interests coming together this way. He was glad not to be caught up in any of this. It made hi
m appreciate that he was a member of the judiciary and not the executive or legislative branches.
Brooks was not often wrong. He would soon learn just how wrong he was. This time.
CHAPTER 28
Wednesday, February 11, 2:30 p.m.
LOTELLO’S CELL PHONE RANG. It was Barnet. “Where are you, Frank?”
“Parents’ Day at the kids’ school. I’m on my way back to the precinct now. What’s up?”
“We got him! Norman. He’s here, in lockdown. He was arrested about thirty minutes ago, right out there in broad daylight. Marching up and down in front of the Capitol building. Again. Shouting, ‘It’s all your fault. You did it. You killed Ryan. Now I killed you.’ Past tense now.”
“I’m on the way, J. This is gonna be one helluva circus.”
PART THREE
The Circus
February 11–16
Circus. A place where horses, ponies and elephants are permitted to see men, women and children acting the fool.
—BIERCE
CHAPTER 29
Wednesday, February 11, 4:30 p.m.
ONCE AGAIN, HE WAS all alone, in the dark, with just his thoughts, and the pain, the never-ending pain. Anger turned to rage. It’s all your fault. You did it. You killed Ryan. I’m going to get you. Rage turned to confusion. Did I get them? Who did I get? What did I do? How could I do that? Isn’t someone going to stop me?
CHAPTER 30
Wednesday, February 11, 8:00 p.m.
JULIE ABRAMS WAS IN her first year of law school at Georgetown University. Her parents were gone, and her grandfather, Bernie Abrams, a well-known D.C. lawyer, was underwriting her education. He really wanted her to become a lawyer, or at least go to law school, so she would “have something to fall back on.”
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