Full Disclosure

by Dee Henderson

  “You’re spoiling my fun.” She jotted a name and number on his pad of paper. “Hangar six, east end of Victory Airport. He runs a charter with three planes, and he’s working on repairing a plane he just picked up, so he’s practically living at the hangar. He’ll get in the air as soon as they show up, tonight, tomorrow, whatever you arrange. He’s flexible.”

  “I’m calling them after this meal. It’s a good steak.”

  “It’s a wonderful steak. There is a place here on the grounds for guests. I can arrange for the three of you to stay here for the duration of your work. Or if you prefer, there is a hotel about thirty minutes from here that is a comfortable place for an extended stay.”

  “For security reasons, make arrangements here. I want to spend another hour reading tonight, and then I want to go enjoy a piece of Neva’s pie on her front porch swing with you. Tomorrow we’ll come back here for breakfast with the VP and get this officially started.”

  She ate more French fries. “It needs to be thorough-beyond-thorough, and it needs to be fast. And for the VP’s sake, it needs to be right. I’ve done what I can do, but I’ve got butterflies in my stomach that have me wondering if something was missed. If it was, I need you to find it.”

  “Eventually every secret comes to the surface. You know that.”

  “I won’t be able to keep my name out of this. The victim profiles’ book would be enough to put me in the spotlight, but I know my involvement with the VP’s autobiography will eventually be out there. People will assume I have known the truth for a number of years, and they would be right. I’m planning for a pretty ugly six months to a year ahead once the book is released. That’s why I want some distance between us, Paul. I’ve known this day was coming, and now that it has arrived, I would rather not mess up more lives than I have to with the fallout.”

  “One day at a time, Ann. Right now I simply want to know this material as well as you do. The idea of the press doesn’t bother me. But I agree, the report itself has to be credible and above reproach, or it is not going to do the job that needs done. When you need a lawyer, and you will, you’ll let me give you a name?”

  “When it gets to that point, I’ll ask.” She pointed her fork at him. “And before you wonder and ask, money for it is not going to be a problem. I’ve known this was coming. There’s been a legal fund building value for a lot of years. I managed to acquire a sizable amount of silver back when it was trading at four dollars an ounce, and it will more than cover what could come.”

  “Dave mentioned you had built a fabulous rare-coin business.”

  “I found an Indian-head penny in a roll of pennies I got from the bank when I was eight years old, and it was worth two dollars. That started a lifelong love affair with coins. My childhood hobby turned into a nice business in the years after I graduated college. I had enough capital to start acquiring coins that ran in the fifty- to five-hundred-dollar range. I sold the business and its inventory a decade ago, but moved most of the proceeds into silver bullion since fiat currencies are an accident waiting to happen over time. It sits there and grows in value year after year without me having to do anything but pay the insurance and storage fees on a good vault. I kept a handful of beautiful coins—silver-capped bust half dollars from 1834 to 1838, the ones I personally love. And I dabble from time to time when I spot a value I can’t resist.”

  “Dad is like that with business. He says he’s retired, and he lets my brothers run the day-to-day of the Falcon empire, but he’ll dabble again when he spots something he can’t resist. He’d be bored if he didn’t have his hand in the happenings of a business.”

  “I like your dad.” She gathered up the dinner plates and left him the brownies. “I’ll come get you in an hour.”

  “Thanks.”

  The next morning, Paul loaded his suitcase in the trunk of his car for the trip back to the VP’s estate, wondering if he could get the investigation done before the lady shooter sent her next letter, and wondering what he was going to tell his family to explain his absence.

  Ann stepped out of her car and offered the coffee mug she held. “Did you sleep much?”

  “Not so much. You?”

  “I’ve known this was coming for a long time. Let’s get you settled in at the estate, and then I’ll go and pick up Sam and Rita.”

  Paul nodded but didn’t get in his car just yet. “It feels big, Ann. Not just what happened, but what will happen when the news is known. This changes history. Not many cases I investigate have ever truly changed history.”

  “You have to treat it as a puzzle—the eighteen murders, what did people think the chief of staff was doing, what you can prove he was really doing. You convince yourself he was a serial murderer, then you deal with what the VP says happened to him. It doesn’t hang together if the first part isn’t true. People will hear the VP’s story and that’s all they will focus on, but the horrific crime is the eighteen murders.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll start. Is there a donut shop around here? My team does better with donuts and coffee.”

  Ann laughed. “I can find something for you.”

  18

  After breakfast with the VP, and Paul’s official decision to accept the task, Ann left to pick up Sam and Rita at the airport. She didn’t offer them much commentary on why they had been asked to come, but she saw the look they exchanged when she pulled into the estate. She parked next to Paul’s car at the back of the house and led the way to the side door and entered the kitchen. Reece came in to meet them. Ann made the introductions. “Sam Truebone, Rita Heart, may I introduce the VP’s lead Secret Service Agent Reece Lion.”

  “Welcome to the Gannett estate. You made good time.”

  While they exchanged pleasantries, she unpacked the sack she had brought in, left the smaller box for Reece, and picked up the larger box to take with her. “Paul?”

  “The archive room,” Reece replied.

  “I’ll take them back.” She nodded to the smaller box. “Save me one of those.”

  Reece looked at what she had brought and smiled. “Don’t delay.”

  Ann led the way through the house. “I’ll give you both a tour later so you can find your way around, and introduce you to the VP. He’s a nice guy who will ask you to call him Jim, and you’ll find he will enjoy a conversation on just about any subject. I tend to stick to ‘sir,’ just on principle. Here’s Paul.” She tapped on the door, then punched in the security code. “Sam, Rita, and one box of donuts, as requested.”

  Paul looked up from his reading, smiled and took the box she offered. “Thanks, Ann. Hello, guys.”

  “I’m going to go catch a walk with Black. Call if you need me.”

  “I will.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  Sam pulled out a chair. “You dragged us from Chicago, to the former VP’s estate, into a secure room. This is going to be interesting.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Paul opened the donut box and approved of the choices Ann had made. He picked up a plain glazed donut. “Help yourself to coffee and a donut and get ready for a roller coaster.” He looked at Rita. “Zane’s up to speed on what to watch for in the mail?”

  She nodded. “We’re covered there, boss. I cleared him for our email traffic as well, just in case she changes up her approach. Zane won’t miss her offer. I do worry about getting my office back—he looked awfully comfortable at my desk. The official cover is he’s doing a statistical review of case results since his retirement as part of the director’s review of our team structure. Our guys will treat his presence with kid gloves, and be very nice to him.”

  Paul laughed. “Nice cover. The day our lady shooter sends a letter, we’re on a plane back to Chicago within an hour. We won’t miss out on anything good, and here we’ll avoid some of the twiddling of our thumbs waiting for her offer to arrive.”

  Rita set her coffee mug on the table and chose a chocolate-iced donut. Sam tapped his donut against Rita’s in their n
ew-case ritual and nodded to Paul. “Okay, boss. We’re settled and ready. Why are we here?”

  “The VP was abducted by a serial killer, who murdered eighteen people. The serial killer was his chief of staff, Aaron Crown. And the VP covered up what happened.”

  Sam swallowed his bite of donut. “So . . . nothing too urgent.”

  “Just another day on the job,” Rita offered, licking icing off her thumb.

  Paul felt the urge to laugh at their attempted straight-faced reaction to his news. “I’ve missed the two of you. You should have seen my jaw trying not to drop when the VP gave me that set of facts.”

  “Is he criminally liable for the cover-up?”

  “That’s for someone higher up than me to figure out. Gannett is releasing to us a chapter in his autobiography detailing what occurred.” Paul tapped the printout of it. “We’re on a fact-finding mission. Is this written record of events accurate? Or is it another cover-up? Or . . . ?”

  “You don’t trust it to be true?” Sam asked.

  “I’m staying neutral. We figure out what is here, what we think about it, and we keep this to ourselves. Even the director is in the dark for the time being.

  “I would like you both to start by reading the VP’s account of what happened. We’ll use that to start planning how we unpeel the layers of this onion. This room holds an archive of the chief of staff’s life—his schedules, financial records, letters, et cetera. There is a detailed diary dictated by Aaron Crown of his murders that is grim reading.

  “According to the VP, only five people know this information. Reece Lion helped him in the cover-up, as did a retired Secret Service agent named Ben Harmon, now deceased. Aaron Crown dictated the diary to a lady he abducted. She was to be the witness to the murder of the VP. Her name is being withheld, as is the person who helped her return to her life. So it’s a very small group.”

  Sam noted, “They kept it hidden by keeping those who knew to a minimum.”

  Paul nodded. “Other than the fact this is going to consume our time, I don’t know what to tell you to expect. It may be exactly what they are saying, an attempt to tell the world the complete record of what occurred. If it’s the partial truth, they have had years to decide what they selectively do not want to reveal. I don’t know. Until I do, just stay skeptical along with me.”

  “I can do skeptical,” Sam said.

  “And I can do suspicious, which is the cousin of skeptical,” Rita offered.

  Paul handed over copies of the VP chapter Ann had printed out for him that morning. “It’s fascinating reading.” He chose another donut and returned his attention to the diary text, which was, as Ann had warned him, grim reading.

  Four hours later, there was a tap on the door. “Come in,” Paul called.

  A click as the door unlocked and then Ann opened it and leaned against the doorpost. “Paul, four things. There’s a meal set up in the garden room, end of this hall, back of the house, and you’re welcome to break and eat there or bring it back here. I had the murder board on the eighteen victims and case files from my place transferred here. They’ve been set up in the general conference room two rooms down. The security database did an update roll, and there are now access codes for the three of you to this room.” She offered him the cards. “And the VP is going to play bridge with friends this afternoon. Reece is going with him.”

  “Thanks, Ann.”

  She nodded and disappeared.

  Paul nodded toward the closed door. “Ann wrote a book about the eighteen victims of the chief of staff, profile pieces, and it’s a solid read. Her book is going to be released alongside the VP’s autobiography. I’ve read the case files she has on the victims, and it is extensive. Ann also worked on the VP chapter, had a hand in generating this text file of the diary, and organized most of the material in this room. The VP trusts her, and has her in place as a major source of information for us.”

  “But—” Sam began.

  “Just a fact I’m mulling. We’ll talk about it later. Do you want to break for food?”

  “Let’s bring it back here.”

  While they ate, Sam put in the video of the retired Secret Service agent who had passed away. The video showed him sitting in a comfortable chair in what looked like a family room of a middle-class home. His own, given the family photos on the wall behind him.

  “Hello, watchers of my tape. My name is Ben Harmon. I spent thirty years with the Secret Service, and my last seven working in the White House. I was part of VP Jim Gannett’s security detail during his presidential campaign. I helped the VP cover up the fact he was abducted on August twelfth, 2003.

  “I was contacted on the twelfth at home by Reece Lion. I was aware the former VP was missing, that a boating accident was the media report. Reece said something else had happened, and the VP was personally requesting my help. I was asked to drive immediately to a location near Petersburg, Georgia, and to tell no one this news or the reason I was leaving.

  “I arrived to find four people at the scene. VP Jim Gannett, Secret Service Reece Lion, and two women I had not met before. I heard their first names, but was not introduced, and will not reveal those names here.

  “The structure was an old cabin, with a dock at the lake, suitable for a hunter or fisherman to shelter from a storm, a reasonably isolated place, rarely in use, with weeds nearby as tall as my waist. I entered the cabin to find four rooms—two small side rooms, a bathroom, and a main commons area. There was power to the cabin and an active phone line.

  “Aaron Crown was dead of a gunshot wound to the head in the main room, the gun beside him on the floor. I recognized him visually.

  “The VP gave me a brief description of his abduction, laid out a plan to cover up what had occurred, his reasons for doing so, and gave me the choice of whether I wanted to be involved. I made the decision to help, knowing that what I was going to do would corrupt a crime scene.

  “As instructed by the VP, I took photos of the scene in detail, including photographs of the VP and his condition, and then gave the camera and film to Reece Lion. I took no photos of the two ladies present. Nor did I photograph any of the vehicles at the scene.

  “The VP had copied from a diary a list of locations for the victims’ remains. I rewrote the list in my own handwriting, then burned the VP’s list.

  “I collected and gave to Reece the chief of staff’s wallet, keys, and all papers I could find in the cabin and in the chief of staff’s car. They were placed in a paper grocery sack, which was sealed shut with duct tape.

  “I left the scene in the chief of staff’s car, followed by Reece in his car. I destroyed the chief of staff’s car at a junkyard, acquired a boat by cutting the lock, parked the boat at the cabin dock, and returned to the cabin with gasoline cans.

  “The two ladies had left the scene.

  “The VP and Reece Lion now left the scene.

  “I used the cabin’s phone to place a call to my own phone and set the phone receiver beside the body with the line still open.

  “I then burned the cabin down to destroy all fingerprints and traces of who had been present.

  “I drove to the police station in Petersburg and presented my Secret Service credentials. I gave the police a statement, indicating a man had called me to confess, given me locations of his victims, and I had heard a gunshot. They traced the last call to my phone to the cabin. Officers responded to the location, where his remains were discovered in the burned-out cabin, and beside the body a burned phone and a handgun. I stood back and watched as the investigation proceeded under its own course. I repeated my original statement as other officers joined the investigation. I took no further actions to change events as they unfolded.

  “DNA tests did not yield a name. He was cremated and buried as a John Doe.

  “My handwritten statement on this matter is included with this video and repeats what I have said here. I am making this video at the request of the VP and will give it to him.

  “I have t
old no one what occurred that day. I will take it to my grave. This ends my statement.”

  “We need those photos of the scene, boss,” Sam said when the video ended.

  “We do. And apparently those photos, his wallet, and the rest of the evidence from the cabin are buried in the chief of staff’s otherwise empty coffin. We can’t exhume his grave without attracting interest. We’re going to have to figure out a cover story and do it as late into this investigation as we can. If the story leaks, the press gets wind of a piece of this, we may only have a matter of hours to get a preliminary report issued.”

  “You have got to admire the cover-up they did with only a couple of hours to plan it,” Rita said. She pushed back her chair and gathered up empty plates. “Anyone want dessert?”

  “Bring back that plate of cookies. It’s going to be a long night of reading,” Sam replied.

  Rita took the next-to-last cookie from the plate. “What are you mulling over, boss? You’ve been gazing at nothing long enough something serious is on your mind.”

  Paul rippled the diary text with his thumb. “It took someone a long time to write this diary by hand. The text is over twenty thousand words, so at least a hundred handwritten pages.”

  “Several days at least.”

  “The lady he abducted to write the diary doesn’t want her name known, and the VP is going to honor that. He made the comment that she was in pretty bad shape when this ended.”

  “Given the details we know, she likely would have been.”

  “The VP also said this information was known to only five people. The VP, two Secret Service agents, the diary writer, and one who helped the diary writer return to her life.” Paul paused. “Ann knows about it. Either the VP didn’t count himself, or Ann is one of the original five.”

  Sam looked up from what he was reading.

  Rita hesitated. “Ann wrote the diary or helped the diary writer return to her life.”

  “She’s a good writer. She would have been known to the chief of staff from her help with the early work on the VP’s autobiography. As a cop, her testimony would have extra credibility. She would have been a logical choice for the chief of staff to abduct to write the diary. Equally, the VP and the Secret Service agent knew and trusted Ann. She could have been the one they tapped to help return the diary writer to her life.