Full Disclosure

by Dee Henderson

  16

  Ann leaned back in her chair, comfortably cradling a mug of hot chocolate while she talked with Paul via video. “Sure, my weekend is free, assuming no one calls.”

  “I’ve talked to Neva, and she’s agreeable to a guest for a couple of days. I can be there Friday around six. We’ll go out somewhere for dinner.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Her phone rang. “Hold on, Paul.” She muted the video link and reached for her phone. It was a secure call. She punched in her code and answered. She’d been expecting it.

  “Good evening, sir.”

  She had known him for twelve years, considered him a friend, and no matter how many times he asked her to call him Jim, she still felt most comfortable with sir.

  “I’ve been reading the third volume from beginning to end this week, and I’m pleased, Ann. The final year as vice president, the campaign for president, the defeat, and the years retired from public life—it’s all there with good balance and clarity. I know the hours you’ve spent asking questions in the margins, suggesting words, reordering passages, helping me find that clarity so the book will be readable to all who dip into its pages. Before the crowds begin to read it, I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been to have your help on this whole project—the current volume along with the prior two. You’ve done a more than fine job. You’ve turned my attempts at writing this memoir into editions which will stand the critical test of time.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s been a pleasure to work with you on them. It’s a good legacy you’re leaving to your family, and to history.”

  “How are you doing, Ann? Any second thoughts about chapter twenty-eight?”

  “No, sir. It’s time. It will be good to have this behind us.”

  She had known for years this day was coming. Get chapter twenty-eight expert-reviewed and vetted, get the third and final volume of his autobiography released, and then keep her head down as the press swarmed. She could think of better ways to end her year. But at least it would be over.

  “I’m thinking about asking Paul Falcon to be the one to investigate and verify the chapter. I think it would be wise to make it a cop you already know, as you’ll be the one walking him through the material. And it needs to be federal, given the scope of the investigation to be done.”

  She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. Paul couldn’t investigate the chapter, stay impartial to even the appearance of a conflict of interest, and be dating her at the same time. At a minimum it would push off whatever might be between them until well after the book was released. But if the worst came to pass, she would want it to be Paul—would need it to be him—who investigated the chapter.

  She took a deep breath. “He would be my choice, sir,” she replied, at peace with her answer.

  “Open the door and show him the case. Once he’s up to speed, and if you still think he’s the guy, bring him to see me. I’ll call his director, and then I’ll lay out for Paul the contents of the chapter. From that point he’ll be running the investigation, and you’ll be his guide through the materials. I would imagine the first ten days or so after we tell him will not include much sleep. You should factor that into your plans.”

  “That sounds about right, sir. He works with two people who have been with him for years. Sam Truebone and Rita Heart. It will move faster with three, and time is going to matter once you open the door.”

  “I’ll make arrangements once he’s seen the chapter. I want you to let me know if there is anything I can do for you as this process unfolds.”

  “I will, sir. I’ll be in touch once I’ve shown him the case, possibly this weekend.”

  “I’ll look forward to your call.”

  Ann disconnected the secure call and held the phone for a moment, thinking through the implications of what she had agreed to, now needed to do. Of everyone she had thought the vice president might ask to review the chapter, she hadn’t considered Paul.

  She went back to the video call.

  “Everything okay, Ann?”

  She forced herself to smile. “Not an MHI case, thankfully. Yes, I would love it if you could come down for the weekend.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Paul, just in case, pack for an extra couple days.”

  “Ann?”

  “It’s the girl scout in me. You assume you’re going for a day, it turns into a week.”

  “I’ve had those trips as well. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Paul looked past her on the video link. “Want to say good night, Black?”

  The dog thumped his tail but didn’t bother to lift his head.

  Paul grinned. “I’m getting to him.”

  Ann laughed. “’Night, Paul.”

  Ann closed the video connection. She thought for a moment, then ignored the time and placed a secure call to Vicky.

  “This is a nice surprise.” Ann heard the background noise drop off. “I’m all yours, Ann.”

  “How seriously am I interrupting you?”

  “A secure call comes in from a friend—who cares what you are interrupting. I promise no one’s life or property is depending on me being available for the next ten minutes.”

  “Thanks. I’ve got news. The VP is considering giving chapter twenty-eight to Paul to investigate.”

  Vicky was silent. She finally said, “I’m married to Paul’s brother Boone, and yet somehow Paul hadn’t even crossed my mind as a possibility. Paul’s got a solid reputation, and we both know he will do a thorough investigation. What he writes will stand up to scrutiny. He’s fair. He’ll protect the VP position even if he questions the VP’s actions. When the press swarms the issue, his instinct will be to protect his family. That may be important to factor in. So, yes, on the whole I would say it’s a good choice. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m getting used to the idea. I’ll take my share of press, but I plan to duck and hide, let it flow past, and hope the worst of it tails off in a year. The assumption will be, rightfully, that I know who the unnamed individuals are in the chapter. I just worry about the what-ifs. Are you going to tell Boone, just in case?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not going to tell Paul either.”

  Vicky was quiet again. “It might be good if you could, Ann. Once you see how he reacts to the chapter, you might want to consider telling him.”

  “It opens too many complications. I plan to take the truth to the grave with me.”

  “So when does he get the chapter?”

  “Possibly this weekend. I’m going to show him the case and see how he reacts to it first, then let the VP break the news.”

  “You want company? I could get away for a few days.”

  “Depending on how this unfolds, I wouldn’t mind some company when we travel. I assume part of this will end up with us crisscrossing a few states by air. It would be nice to have some company that isn’t part of the investigation.”

  “I’ll talk with the VP and arrange a visit. It will be easy enough for me to slide in as extra security once I’m already there. Paul will accept the security—he’s going to want Agent Lion focused on answering questions rather than being on the job providing security, and I’m a known quantity.”

  “Thanks, Vicky.”

  “I’ll tell you, I’m curious enough I would like to be there as this unfolds. Boone has been talking about visiting his parents for a few days of business conversations, so this will dovetail nicely with him and me both traveling at the same time.”

  Paul pulled into Mrs. Rawlins’s driveway just after five p.m. on Friday. Ann was sitting on the porch swing with Neva, the two ladies sipping from tall glasses of ice tea while Black sprawled across the porch.

  Ann came to meet him as he stepped out of the car. “Hi, Paul.” She gave him a hug.

  “Hi, Ann.” He returned the hug and simply held her, enjoying it more than he could put into words. She stepped back. And then he saw her face. His smile faded. “What is it?”

&nbs
p; “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. Let’s get you squared away here, and then we’ll walk to my place. I’ll explain on the way.”

  He nodded, went and retrieved his bag plus the gift he had brought, and locked his car.

  “I appreciate you putting me up for a few nights, Neva.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Paul.”

  “Your son mentioned it was your birthday this month. You’ll forgive me for spotting something you might like and, further, for talking your son into going in on it with me.”

  She accepted the gift and unwrapped the box, drawing out a porcelain vase. “Oh, my, Paul.” The flush that came into her face was matched by a delighted smile. “You found the last piece I didn’t have.”

  “It’s a beautiful collection. Even I can tell that.”

  She carefully set the vase back in the box and rose to give him a hug. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  She held out a key ring. “You are no longer a guest. I’ve put you in the same room as before, and you can come and go as you like. Don’t worry if it’s late. I’m visiting my sister tonight, as her daughter is getting married, and I plan to stay in town depending on how much needs to be done.”

  “Thank you.” He took his bag inside, wondering at Ann’s news as he put it on the guest bed and took time to hang up his suit jacket. His plans for this weekend were changing before it had even begun.

  Paul reached for Ann’s hand as they walked toward her home. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to show you a case. And I need you to get up to speed on it, and to understand it in detail. And to complicate it, I can’t explain why. I just need you to work blind for the moment and trust me that there’s an important reason behind my request. It’s for someone else to explain.”

  “You’ve certainly got my interest. Do we need to travel?”

  “It’s on the murder board at my place.” She eased her hand from his. “But before we get there, Paul, I need to release you from the possibility there is going to be something between us. You will need a distance from me.” She looked over at him. “I like you, a great deal, so I’m telling you now that I’m going to pull away for your sake. There are legal implications for me with what is coming. When you know the truth, if you want to pick something up again, then you can ask me.”

  He missed her hand in his. “How serious a legal problem?”

  “It will start with a lot of press, and who knows where it goes from there. I’m expecting at least a few depositions before this is all over. I kept a secret. This is the price of it.” Her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. “I’m sorry, this one I have to take.”

  She entered her security code and answered, “Hello, sir.”

  She glanced over. “Yes, sir, he’s right here. Hold on.” She held out the phone. “Paul Falcon, former Vice President Jim Gannett. He would like an update on the lady shooter. He was the FBI director when she first started killing, and knows the case even better than you—if that’s possible.”

  He accepted the phone. “Good evening, sir.”

  Ann half listened to his side of the conversation as they walked. She didn’t particularly care tonight about the latest on the lady shooter case, as fascinating as she would otherwise find it to be. She had prepared for tonight as carefully as she could, and she still didn’t know if she’d made the right decision on how to introduce him to what awaited them. She’d felt slightly queasy all day, and Paul’s arrival had only intensified that churn.

  “Ann . . .” Paul handed back her phone.

  She slid it in her pocket, saw his face, and smiled. “He’s retired, and he is a nice guy.”

  “You still call him sir.”

  “I’m a bit in awe of him in spite of having known him for years. He asks me to call him Jim, but I can’t do it. He dominates a room like the state of Texas towers over Delaware. You didn’t tell him about the letters or the tapes.”

  “Eleven people know they are coming in, and that’s already too many. Gannett knows about the cash gift you made, so I told him about the one hundred twenty-three interviews under way. It’s nice to have your cash. Otherwise I would’ve had to tell him I’m being stalled by budget concerns.”

  “I’m glad you told him about the interviews, as he was instrumental in that award transfer, and he likes to be helpful. He’s had the lady shooter case as a personal interest for as long as I’ve known him.”

  She pushed her hands into her pockets and her smile faded. “I’m known for being able to keep a secret, Paul. It’s why I’m trusted as the MHI. It’s why I’ve been working on the VP’s autobiography. But sometimes a secret comes with a price. I weighed years ago what keeping this secret was going to cost and concluded I could live with the costs. The legal risks are part of that. It’s not going to be a secret much longer. I can tell you this much: in about a week you’ll have a good understanding of what is going on. Please trust me that I’m not interested in causing you trouble. And I’m not trying to hide things from you—it’s simply not mine to explain.”

  “The case you need to show me is part of it.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not comfortable with you pulling away, Ann.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “I’d prefer you to trust me, let me make my own decisions.”

  “In a week, after you know what this is, I’ll let you make whatever decision you would like regarding the possibility of us.”

  Paul thought he could almost feel her sadness. But he didn’t know how to untangle her desire to pull away until he understood why she thought it was necessary. He reached for her hand, even though she was reluctant to accept the reassurance. “There’s going to be an us, Ann.”

  “You’ll understand soon, Paul, why that may not be the right decision.”

  They reached her home. She unlocked the front door, let Black enter first. Paul followed as she led the way into her living room. And he stopped. Surprised.

  He walked over to the murder board filling the wall. The O’Malley series was gone and in its place was laid out a complex case. Buried skeletal remains, crime-scene photos, missing-person police reports—and a lot of victims. “Ann?”

  “Sixteen years ago there was a serial killer who worked the Midwest,” she said quietly. “We didn’t even know he was out there until he called to confess. We just had missing-person cases that we hadn’t put together with a common suspect.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “He called to confess, and at the end of the call shot himself in the head while the cabin he was in burned down around him. We have his DNA, dental work, the locations he gave for his eighteen victims’ remains, and no name. He’s the John Doe Killer.”

  “This is a closed case, not an active one?”

  “Yes. I’m writing a book about the case.”

  “Are you trying to identify him? You know the day he died. You know his victims. Even the fact his DNA wasn’t in the database will tell you something about him. You can eliminate any suspect in the original missing-persons investigations who’s still alive.”

  “His identity is not a priority for me. The book is mainly profile pieces on the victims—eighteen chapters, one for each victim. I’m working on it with the help of the families, and they will split whatever royalties the book generates.”

  Paul was surprised at her answer. There was a reason the killer had chosen these eighteen victims. Identifying the killer would turn a good book into a bestseller. A murder cop not wanting to name a serial killer and give him notoriety for his crimes? Yes, that might be reason enough for her not to pursue it.

  “I don’t understand what it is you want me to do, Ann. Do you want me to fact-check your work? Find a problem in the case? Are there more victims he did not admit he killed? Is one of these victims not his?” He looked over at her.

  “I need you to know this case inside and out. That’s the best description I can give you of what I need. When you feel like you have the case solid in your mind,
tell me. And I will take you to someone who will explain the whys. It’s all I can give you now. I know it’s not much. But I need you to take it on blind faith that there’s a reason behind this, and it’s a big deal.”

  He knew a few things she didn’t consider a big deal. If this was a big deal to her, it was something critical. “How long have you been working on the book?”

  “I’ve known about the case and the victims from its earliest days when cops were recovering the remains. I secured written agreement from all the families three years ago, and I’ve been working on the story since then. It’s my first true-crime, nonfiction book, focused more on the victim profiles than the crime itself.”

  “Can I read what you’ve written so far?”

  “Those soft gray pages on the corner of the table are the latest draft. It’s about done. The families have the right to read the chapter about their loved one, ask me to not include it in the book, or add a family-written five-page addition to it. I’ve verbally heard back from every family that they are comfortable with what I’ve written, but I’ve asked that they think about it a few weeks before they sign the final approval paperwork.

  “The book covers a lot of the personal information I was able to find out about the victims, the texture of who they were that goes beyond what the missing-person case file includes. I don’t know how relevant it will be for what you need, but it does bring the victims alive.”

  The case files occupied more than twenty boxes. And her manuscript looked to be more than three hundred pages. He’d be reading for hours to get through what was here. Something in this case put her at legal risk—something she had learned about one of the victims?

  “Did you work this case?”

  “No. What’s here is what I’ve collected from the cops who worked the various missing-person cases, and the cops who worked on the recovery of the remains. I’ve added to it what the families could provide—letters, photos, calendars, details about the victims before they disappeared.”