Alex Kava Bundle

by Alex Kava

  “Hey, you!” Maggie grabbed the dog’s head and hugged him. He jumped back when the file folders opened and the contents started sliding down on top of him. “It’s okay, big guy,” Maggie reassured him, but she was already out of her comfortable position and on her feet by the time Gwen came over to help pick up crime scene photos and lab reports.

  “Thanks for bringing him,” Maggie said. She stopped and waited until Gwen met her eyes. “And thanks for coming.”

  “Actually I was glad you called.” The truth was Gwen had been surprised, not by the call but by the request. Harvey may have started out as a good excuse, but Gwen had heard the vulnerability in Maggie’s voice immediately, long before her friend quietly told her, “I need you here, Gwen. Can you please come?”

  Gwen hadn’t hesitated. She had left linguine in a colander in the sink, a pot of homemade Alfredo sauce probably now congealing on a cold stove. She was out the door and in her car, heading for Quantico by the time Maggie finished giving her what scant details were available. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “Or do you even know?”

  “You mean since I don’t get to participate?”

  Gwen studied her friend’s eyes. There was no anger. Good. “You know it’s best that you don’t. You do know that, right?”

  “Sure.” But Maggie was watching Harvey investigate the corners of her office, pretending to be distracted by his curiosity. “Cunningham says the government has an informant. Someone who just recently came forward. He works in Senator Brier’s office and he’s also a member of Everett’s church. His name’s Stephen Caldwell.”

  Gwen helped herself to a Diet Pepsi from the minifridge in the corner of Maggie’s office. She looked up at Maggie. “No Scotch?” Maggie smiled at her and held out her hand, so Gwen grabbed another Pepsi. “This informant,” she said, “how do we know he’s not double-crossing us, too? How do we know that he can be trusted?”

  “I’m not convinced that he can be. For one thing, it may have been Caldwell who used his high-level security clearance to gain access to those retired weapons, the ones found at the cabin. But Cunningham tells me it was Caldwell who arranged my secret meeting with Eve.” She saw Gwen’s question before she asked. “Eve is an ex-member. I talked to her when you and Tully were in Boston.”

  “Ah, yes. Boston.” Gwen felt uncomfortable at the mere mention of the trip, but Maggie didn’t seem to notice. As far as Gwen knew, Maggie hadn’t even heard about Eric Pratt’s attempt on her life. No sense in bringing it up now. “If Caldwell has been stealing weapons and possibly leaking classified information to Everett, why is he suddenly willing to help the government?”

  “Evidently, he’s grown attached to Senator Brier and his family.” Maggie wrestled a tennis shoe away from Harvey. “Ginny’s murder shook up Caldwell’s loyalties. He claims he’s convinced Everett that they need to proceed to Cleveland, that Everett doesn’t know about the arrest warrants, only about the negative media attention. Caldwell claims we can safely arrest Everett and Brandon in Cleveland at the prayer rally, in public with little resistance and no threat of Everett being able to stage a standoff. That Everett won’t be expecting such a public arrest and will be taken completely by surprise.”

  “Wait a minute,” Gwen interrupted. “If Everett didn’t know about the warrants, then what about the dead bodies the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team found?”

  “Cunningham said the unit announced themselves. Too many booby traps around the compound to sneak in. They think those left behind got scared, did the one thing they were prepared to do when the FBI came knocking at their door.”

  “Jesus! Are we sure they weren’t in contact with Everett?”

  “That we don’t know for sure. But there wasn’t a whole lot of time. It happened quickly.”

  “But what about Caldwell?”

  “He was informed about the arrest warrants. He wasn’t tipped off about the raid. It was meant to be a surprise. A surprise so no one would get hurt.”

  At this, Maggie avoided Gwen’s eyes again. She noticed Harvey scooting under her desk and reached down, rescuing the tennis shoe’s mate. She set the pair on the bookcase, out of his reach. The big dog sat and watched as if waiting for compensation. Gwen watched, too, quietly waiting for Maggie to continue. She knew the distraction was intentional. Maggie was doing an excellent job of giving her all the difficult details while sidestepping the subject of her mother. Even Gwen remembered the countless times Maggie had mentioned her mother’s new friends, Emily and Stephen. This Stephen Caldwell had to be the same Stephen.

  “And Caldwell’s conflicted loyalties,” Gwen finally said, “how do they affect your mother and her safety?”

  “That I don’t know. As far as we know, Caldwell is still with Everett. And so is my mother.” She sat back down in the chair and Harvey went to her, laying his head in her lap as if this was an expected routine. Maggie absently petted him while leaning her head back into the soft cushion. “I tried to talk to her about Everett. We ended up…it was pretty awful.”

  Gwen knew to be quiet. Maggie had shared very little about her childhood, and what Gwen knew of Maggie and her mother’s relationship came from hints, personal observations over the years and a few rare and accidental admissions from Maggie. She knew about the alcohol abuse and learned about the suicide attempts only after the fact, even though there had been several attempts within the time since Gwen and Maggie had become friends. But Maggie had kept her mother and their relationship off-limits, and whether it was right or wrong, Gwen had allowed it, hoping that one day Maggie would decide on her own to share that obvious struggle. Even tonight and under the present circumstances, Gwen expected little insight, little sharing. She leaned against the corner of Maggie’s desk and waited, just in case.

  “She always does and says such hurtful things,” Maggie said quietly without moving her head from the back of the cushion, avoiding Gwen’s eyes. “Not just to me but to herself. It’s like she’s been spending a lifetime trying to punish me.”

  “Why in the world would she want to punish you, Maggie?”

  “For loving my father more than I love her.”

  “Maybe it’s not you she’s trying to punish.”

  Maggie looked up at her with watery eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Could be she’s not trying to punish you at all. Did it ever occur to you that all these years she may have been trying to punish herself?”

  CHAPTER 70

  THURSDAY

  November 28

  Thanksgiving Day

  Cleveland, Ohio

  Kathleen looked out over Lake Erie and for the first time in years found herself homesick for Green Bay, Wisconsin. An unseasonably warm breeze ruffled her hair. She wished she could forget everything and leave it all behind her like one more black mark in her past. She wished she could take off her shoes, run down to the beach and spend the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of her life walking with no destination, no intention other than to feel the sand between her toes.

  “Cassie will begin to lead the prayer rally,” Reverend Everett said from behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder without moving from her place in front of the open patio door. Reverend Everett had checked into a ritzy hotel in order to shower, shave and have access to a telephone to finalize their arrangements. Earlier, when she used the bathroom, Kathleen had been amazed at the wonderful luxuries: perfumed soaps, a shoe-shine kit, a real razor with a real blade instead of the disposable kind, a shower cap and even a jar filled with Q-Tips.

  Now, while Stephen and Emily took notes and concentrated on everything Reverend Everett was telling the three of them, Kathleen stood quietly, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze.

  She felt like she needed to learn how to breathe again after last night’s humiliating ritual and then the cramped bus ride. She hoped the fresh air and sunlight would help wipe away the feel of Everett’s hot breath, the sounds of his grunts and groans while he thrust himself in
to her over and over again. When he was finished, he had pointed to her clothes, instructing her to get dressed with a coldness in his voice that she had never heard before. He had told her she needed this cleansing ritual in order for him to be able to trust her again.

  Without a word, she had slipped her clothes on over her sticky flesh, the smell of his aftershave so pungent she wanted to gag. And as she left his compartment to return to her seat, she couldn’t help thinking he had also cleansed her of every last remaining bit of her self-respect.

  “The FBI will most likely be surrounding the park,” Stephen said. “Father, you can’t possibly think of showing up at the prayer rally.”

  “What time will the cargo plane be ready?”

  “It’s scheduled for a seven o’clock takeoff. We must be there early to board.”

  “How can we be certain the FBI won’t be waiting at the airport?”

  “Because I told them you would be at the rally. That you wouldn’t expect an arrest in such a public arena. Even if they do suspect something, they might be waiting at the international airport. However, they won’t even think to check a government relief-aid cargo jet leaving from Cuyahoga County Airport.”

  Reverend Everett rewarded Stephen with a smile. “Very good. You’re a good man, Stephen. You will be justly rewarded when we get to South America. I promise you that.”

  The reverend sat down to finish the platter he had ordered from room service; a platter with several different cheeses, fresh fruits, shrimp cocktail and a loaf of French bread. He made no offer for the others to join him. Instead, Kathleen thought he looked as though he enjoyed having them watch him, and before he had even gotten started on this tray, he had called down to place a whole new order.

  None of them had eaten since yesterday’s lunch, and it was almost dinnertime. Was this yet another important lesson, another important sacrifice that they were supposed to willingly accept? She turned back to the tranquil view of the water. At the moment, it seemed to be the only thing that didn’t threaten to rip away at her sanity.

  “You honestly don’t intend to go to the rally?” Stephen asked again.

  “I suppose I can stay here until it’s time to leave.” He waved a hand as if making do with his current surroundings. “But the three of you will need to be my eyes and ears at the rally. You’ll need to gather those on the list when the time comes. Cassie will keep the rally going so as to give the appearance that everything is as scheduled.”

  Kathleen turned at this, stunned by the realization. “You don’t want Cassie to come with us?”

  The woman had attended to Reverend Everett’s every command and probably desire for as long as Kathleen could remember.

  “She’s a lovely woman, Kathleen, but I’m quite certain there are many beautiful dark-skinned women in South America who would probably give anything to be my personal assistant.”

  She turned back to the sunshine, wondering if it would have been any different had they been able to go to Colorado. If Reverend Everett would have been any different. Or had he always been this way, and she was the one who was changing, who was seeing things differently?

  “Now, you all must go,” he said while still chewing. He took a drink of wine as if to cleanse his palate. It was certainly not to be polite, because he took a bite out of a huge strawberry, the juice dripping down his chin, his mouth full again as he said, “Go now. The rally will be getting started soon. No one will be suspicious if my faithful counsel is there waiting for me.”

  Stephen and Emily didn’t hesitate. They waited at the door for Kathleen.

  “Oh, Kathleen.” Reverend Everett stopped her. “Find Alice and send her up to my room. I have some things I need to discuss with her before the trip.”

  Kathleen stared at him for a minute. Did he honestly have something to discuss with the girl or did he have another of his cleansing rituals in mind? Did she dare say anything? Could she afford to make him angry with her again? Did she even care? She decided she would conveniently forget to tell Alice, but she nodded and followed Stephen and Emily out.

  She slipped her hand into the pocket of her cardigan. She caressed the metal razor she had stolen from the bathroom. It gave her an odd sense of relief and calm to know it was there, a comfort as if it were an old friend. Yes, an old friend, this simple metal razor with the real metal blade.

  This time she would finally get it right.

  CHAPTER 71

  “Come in,” Everett yelled, not even bothering to check whom he was allowing to enter his hotel room. Could it possibly be any easier?

  He smiled and rolled the room service tray into the room. Then he waited. The excitement, the anticipation was better than any homemade concoction the Zulu tribe could brew. After all, this was the moment he had been waiting for all along. And so he stood patiently and waited as if expecting a tip.

  Finally Everett turned, his hand ready to wave him away, when his eyes swept across his face, then back. A quick double take.

  “You? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Thought I might bring you a treat, a surprise before your last rally.”

  “I would think you’d be down wandering around, looking for another young girl. Looking for ways to destroy me.”

  “I can’t take all the credit.”

  Everett shook his head, discounting him, unafraid as if he were one of his ordinary followers. “Go away,” he told him. “Go and leave me alone. I’m tired of your shenanigans. You’re lucky to have gotten away with only warnings.”

  “Right. Only warnings. Is that because you wouldn’t dare hurt your own son? Is that the only reason I’ve been so lucky?”

  Everett stared at him. But there was no surprise. Had he known all along? No. It was impossible. It was simply another one of his performances.

  “How did you find out?” His voice was calm, steady.

  Oh, Jesus! He did know. Did it make this more difficult? Or no, it would make it easier. The bastard knew. All these years and he knew.

  “She told you before she died,” Everett said, as if he had known all about it, as if her death was something he shared. He had no right and yet he continued, “I read about her death. I think it was in the New York Times or perhaps the Daily News. You know I did care about her. Did she tell you that, too?”

  He wouldn’t listen. It was lies. “No, she didn’t tell me that. She managed to leave that part out of her journal.” He needed to confine the anger, but the concoction had already begun to seep into his system, and Everett’s words felt like hot, liquid lava scalding his brain, contaminating his memories. “But she did mention what you did to her. There are pages and pages about that. About what kind of a bastard you really are.”

  He felt his fingers twisting into fists. Yes, he’d let the anger fuel him. The anger and the precious words of his mother, that mantra he had memorized from her journal entries. Her words had empowered him throughout his mission. They wouldn’t fail him now.

  “I wondered when you would find out.” Everett’s voice still sounded too calm, not a hint of fear. “I knew it was only a matter of time. I thought perhaps that was what all this was about—all those young girls. You were trying to get back at me, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You wanted to hurt me.” Everett smiled as he gave him a nod of confirmation, almost acceptance, as if it was exactly what he had expected from a son of his. “Maybe you even wanted to punish me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Destroy my reputation.”

  “Destroy you.”

  The smile disappeared.

  “There’s only one thing left now,” he said, picking up the tray from the room service cart. He held it out to Everett, and with his other hand lifted the insulated cover. The tray was empty except for one small red-and-white capsule, sitting on a perfectly folded cloth napkin.

  CHAPTER 72

  Justin looked for Father or even his henchmen. Already, the pavilion was jam-packed with giggling teenage
rs mixed in between the others, an odd assortment with little in common except that they all looked like lost souls. They were fucking pathetic, is what they were. Though he had to hand it to Father. There were plenty who looked like they would be ideal recruits and gullible donors.

  He had spent the night on the bus trying to plot a strategy and the entire afternoon scoping out as much as he could see of Cleveland. Someone had told him that Edgewater Park was on the west side of Cleveland. There was a circular lot adjacent to the upper section of the park, overlooking the downtown area. Still, he had no idea where the hell he would go. All he knew was that he had to escape while the rally was going on. He’d need to find a way to duck out without Alice or Brandon noticing. Where he’d go seemed a small detail at the moment.

  He dug his hands into both his jeans pockets and made sure the wads of bills hadn’t disappeared. Then he pulled down the hem of his T-shirt to make sure the bulge couldn’t be seen. He wasn’t even sure how much he had taken.

  While the men who were digging up the strongboxes hauled each box to the bus, Justin stole two fistfuls. He was in such a hurry, all he took time to do was open one of the boxes, reach in and grab and stuff his pockets. Later, he tried to pick out the mothballs and smooth the bills into a neat, folded wad. Then he helped the women at the bonfire, standing in the smoke so he would smell like burnt trash and not mothballs.

  He couldn’t help wondering what good the money would do if he had no fucking place to go. He saw Cassie walking to the stage. She waved to the crowd, and the sight of the long purple choir robe she wore got them clapping. Soon she’d have them singing, too. This might be a good time.

  Justin looked down at the bike trail and the beach below. There was a statue near the pavilion and some playground equipment. There wasn’t much cover, all the trees were back behind. But he’d already checked. There was a six-foot fence on the other side of the trees, a dead end.