“Nick excelled in law school up north. He came back down here, went into the family law firm. It was about then that he met Alyse Brador. There was some buzz that his parents didn’t approve of her, but they got married anyway, in a huge over-the-top wedding in King. He left the family firm and started his own practice there, because Alyse wouldn’t leave her own family home. Or at least that’s the rumor.
“A year later, their daughter Nell was born. And then some years after that, the scandal that you all referenced took place. Alyse Brador Massler went into a psychiatric facility, and for all intents and purposes, Nick removed himself from King and went back to his family.”
“Leaving his daughter, who was a child at the time, to be raised by strangers. And then when she needed him the most, history repeated itself and he stuck her in a mental hospital. Neat and easy.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“Tasmyn isn’t wrong,” Cathryn said, surprising me. “But what happened with Nell really isn’t important here. It’s something more current.”
Emma frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about him recently. Other than he’s heading up some big charity. I can’t remember what it’s for, though.”
“He is the president of the board for a charity that raises money for autism research. His sister’s son was diagnosed a few years ago. So he does a lot of work for that group, and using that as a springboard, there has been talk that he might try to resume his political career.”
Zoe whistled low. “Ah, well, that is news, then.”
Cathryn nodded. “Yes. All of this up to now is fairly well known, in certain circles. What comes next is not.”
This was when I missed being able to use my ability on my co-workers. My curiosity definitely had the best of me.
“Nick Massler is very discreet, and while his name has been linked with a few women here and there in the past decade, since his wife. . .was committed, there hasn’t been anything serious. But unfortunately, there is now a situation.”
She pulled three sheets of paper from the folder and slid them across the table, one to Zoe, one to Emma and the last one to me. I looked down at the smiling face of an unfamiliar blonde woman, dressed in an evening gown and dazzling jewels. Her eyes were bright and warm, as though she had just caught sight of an old friend.
“This is Helene Gamble. She’s a model, a local actress, originally from a little town outside Orlando. She met Nick Massler when she modeled at a benefit fashion show about six months ago. They began seeing each other.”
“She doesn’t look very old,” remarked Zoe.
“Twenty-six,” Cathryn answered. “But she and Nick seemed remarkably compatible. Her family isn’t on par with his, socially speaking, but nothing’s wrong with them, either. Just typical upper-middle class.”
“So what’s the problem?” I picked up the picture and studied it again.
“This is the problem.” Cathryn handed me another paper, and I sucked in a breath. It was a picture of the same woman, but she definitely wasn’t smiling this time. She lay on the floor, on a carpet whose color I couldn’t discern as it was covered in blood.
Helene Gamble’s eyes were wide open and her mouth gaped. The blouse she wore was half off her shoulder, which was also spattered with blood. The lower half of her body was not in the photo, but I assumed the cause of death had something to do with the multiple stab wounds I could see on her chest and neck.
“Oh, no,” Zoe breathed, and I realized that Cathryn had given both of the others the same picture. Emma’s face was white, and her eyes were fastened on the paper.
“She was found by a maintenance worker in an apartment not too far from the Massler family estate. She’d been dead for about six hours at that point, or so it appears.”
“Who. . .?” Emma asked, and she didn’t have to finish her question. We all knew where she was going.
“We don’t know, and neither do the police. But of course, Nick Massler is a suspect. Possibly the chief suspect.”
I flipped over the page so that I didn’t have to look at those horrible vacant eyes for one more minute. “What’s our job? Find the killer?”
“Not exactly. There’s another component to this case. Have you ever heard of John Remington?”
I shook my head and Emma shrugged, but Zoe nodded. “Congressman Remington, right? Is that who you mean?”
“Yes,” Nell affirmed. “John Remington is a U.S. representative for this district. But he has a history with Nick Massler that not many people remember. He actually started out working for Nick, many years ago, but after Nick’s political career tanked, he went out on his own, ended up running for office himself. I don’t know all the details, but there was a falling out between the two of them, and the rumor is that Nick plans to run against John for a Senate seat.”
“And that has what to do with all of this?” I asked.
“Nick believes that John might have had something to do with Helene’s murder, that he’s trying to frame Nick to ruin his political career once and for all.”
“Is that even a possibility?” Emma looked unconvinced.
“That’s our job, our mission. We’re going into Remington’s organization and determining if he set up the murder. We need to find any evidence that might remove the weight of suspicion from Nick.”
“Wait a minute—you want us to help Nick Massler get away with this? Really? Because from my point of view, the easier solution would be just ship him off to a looney bin. That’s how he handled his wife and daughter, after all. Why not?” I pushed my chair back and stalked to the window. My hold on the fury was tenuous at best, and I needed to breathe, to rein it in.
“We’re not helping him get away with anything. We’re merely trying to help him find out what part—if any—Remington played. And we need to keep it quiet, because if this kind of story gets out, it would be explosive, especially given the history of Nick’s marriage and his daughter. So far, it’s been buried. The police have been cooperative, as have the Masslers, but it’s only a matter of time before word gets out. Nick loses his last chance at politics, if we can’t help him prove he was set up.”
“What if we do find something?” Emma asked. “Even if Tasmyn hears a full confession, it’s not the kind of thing that’s admissible in court.”
Cathryn nodded. “You’re right. Our primary goal is to learn whatever we can and inform Nick. Of course, if we come across any concrete evidence, or if we can manipulate the situation so that a confession were actually heard, that would be extremely beneficial.” Her eyes slid to Emma.
“So how will this work?” I turned back to look at the table as Emma spoke again. “What are our roles?”
“Emma, since you are full time here at Carruthers, you’ll be going into Remington’s office under cover, so to speak. We’ve gotten you an administrative job there, thanks to some well-placed friends. You’ll keep your eyes open, but mainly you’re there to support Tasmyn.”
“Oh, and just what is my cover? How am I supposed to justify dropping into his office with any regularity? Am I supposed to be a campaign groupie or something more?” I knew my sarcasm was over the top, but I was tense, at the limit of what I could bear.
“You’re not totally off base. You’re going to be a volunteer. A lowly worker, and your primary job will be to be noticed by no one.”
I leaned back against the windows and smirked at Cathryn. “I can handle that.”
“And then when Tas comes in, she can listen to their minds, try to find out if Remington’s guilty.” Emma nodded. “I get it.”
“Exactly. And you, Emma, will be there as her backup. You’ll feed her any info she needs, and use your powers to nudge people into talking—and thinking—about Helene Gamble and her murder.”
I sat down again, propping up my head with one arm. “What if we don’t find anything? What if it turns out that Nick killed this girl after all, and he’s just trying to deflect the blame?”
“Then we report to the Masslers th
at we found no evidence implicating John Remington, and we let the police move forward with their investigation as they see fit.” She paused for a beat, as though waiting for me to protest. “Well? Any other questions?”
Zoe raised her hand. “What’s my job in this? Clearly you don’t need me on the scene.”
“No, we don’t. I brought you in, Zoe, to be Tasmyn’s sounding board, her safe place. If this assignment becomes too much, and she is at risk for exposing us, you must report that. Tasmyn, you’ll be conferring weekly with Zoe, so she can monitor your state of mind.” Cathryn was watching me closely, as though afraid I might explode at any moment.
I only nodded. “I take it Zoe will be replacing Aline, since I won’t be able to share any of this?”
“Exactly.” Cathryn didn’t need to elaborate; we understood each other perfectly. She didn’t trust me, and the feeling was mutual. She looked away from me.
“All right then. Zoe and Emma, I’ll talk to you later about the specifics of your work. I’d like to speak to Tasmyn alone for a minute. Emma, could you leave the perimeter in place until we finish?”
Emma nodded, shot me an apologetic smile and followed Zoe out the door. After it closed behind them, Cathryn leaned over and flipped the photo of Helene’s body back over.
“Tasmyn, I wanted to point out something to you that hasn’t been lost on either me or on Harley.” She traced her finger over Helene’s neck. “See this? Look at the cuts on her neck.”
I hadn’t examined the picture that closely before; I couldn’t get beyond her face. But now I followed Cathryn’s finger, and a chill ran down my spine. Before I could stop it, my hand raised to my own neck, touching the scars still there.
“Yes.” Cathryn was nearly whispering. “They are nearly identical to yours. Which concerns us. . .makes us think that perhaps there is more to this than even the Masslers realize.”
“Not Nell.” It wasn’t a question, because I had been to see her only the previous week. She remained unresponsive, unchanged. And even when she had been able to visit in my dreams—or during that last terrifying day with Marica—she had not been able to manipulate anything physically. The word non-corporeal sprang to my mind.
“No, that isn’t a concern. I know you’ve been visiting her, but we also checked on her this week. She hasn’t moved.” Cathryn stared down at the picture and then abruptly turned it back over. “But Nell’s mother is not comatose or vegetative. Alyse is very much awake and aware.”
“But she’s still in the hospital?” I had never met Alyse Massler, but I had heard stories.
“Yes. But. . .” Cathryn shrugged. “So was Nell on the day Marica Lacusta went crazy and claimed that Nell had been in her house. We’re not saying that Alyse definitely had anything to do with Helene’s murder, but it was certainly an interesting coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Not since I moved to Florida.”
Keeping something from Michael was an uncomfortable proposition, and not something I wanted to do. But at the same time, I respected the need for discretion Cathryn had stressed to us. I knew Michael would never repeat anything I shared with him, but I was also aware that there were others like me out in the world who might hear things in his mind without his knowledge.
So I told him everything I could without breaking Cathryn’s confidence.
“I’ve been given a top-secret assignment.” We sat on the ground in the least crowded part of the campus green, enjoying what was left of the afternoon sun. Late autumn was my favorite season in Florida, and I closed my eyes, savoring the cool breeze that wafted over my face.
“Oh, really?” Michael was leaning back, one arm hooked around my neck as I lay my head against his shoulder.
“Yup. I can’t say anything to you about it, not specifically, but I can tell you that I’m going to be working three days a week for a little while. That’s my cover.”
He nuzzled my neck. “Nothing dangerous, right?”
I shook my head. “No, just information.” I wished I could tell him that I would be, in essence, working for Nick Massler, but that was definitely on the do-not-discuss list.
“Okay. I promise I won’t ask anything, as long as you promise to keep safe.” He moved his fingers to my chin and gently nudged it in his direction, covering my lips. I smiled against his kiss and murmured my agreement.
And so began my new double life. My cover story was as close to reality as possible, so I remained a student at Perriman, volunteering for John Remington’s fledgling senate campaign. Cathryn explained everything to me on the first day of work as she drove me to Carruthers, where we would pick up the car I’d be using for the duration of the assignment. Apparently the Mustang didn’t fit the image they wanted for me.
“It just so happens that Remington put out a call for volunteers last month. It came through the alumni office, since Remington’s campaign manager is a graduate of Perriman. You saw the flier and decided to try it.”
“Don’t you think they might be suspicious if they investigate me and find out I was Nick Massler’s daughter’s intended murder victim?” I asked, trying to keep the skepticism from my voice.
Cathryn’s responding laughter didn’t contain a hint of humor. “Tasmyn, don’t you know? There is no mention of your name anywhere in Nell’s files. There’s not even a description of what happened, just that she had a mental break and was committed to a psychiatric facility. No crime, no record.”
“The magic of King,” I muttered, and shook my head. “Does it matter that I know nothing about politics and even less than that about John Remington?”
“Don’t worry,” Cathryn said. “That’s one of the reasons Emma is on this case. When you’re at the campaign office, if you’re asked any questions that you can’t answer, Emma will send you the info. Just be listening for her. Don’t panic.”
The car I was given at Harper Creek was a non-descript white compact. I glanced over at Cathryn and smirked. “I think I’d rather have your car.”
“Anyone who could afford my car wouldn’t work for John Remington,” she answered, laughing. “He’s the champion of the underprivileged. Remember, you’re a poor college student.”
The Remington campaign center was programmed into the dashboard GPS. I followed the directions carefully, and it only took about twenty minutes before I pulled up to a tall stone building in the middle of the county seat. John ran his campaign from a storefront located on the ground floor of the law firm he had helped to establish. I parked the car at the curb and climbed out slowly, scanning the vicinity with my ears and my mind.
The inside of the headquarters was nothing as I had pictured. I had a vague sense of these kinds of places from movies, and I had expected noise, bustling workers wearing promotional hats and stacks of posters on every flat surface.
Instead, the room was quiet. There were a few desks, manned mostly by people on computers or telephones. I spotted Emma off in a corner, but she didn’t acknowledge me aloud. Instead I heard her broadcasting a greeting into my head.
So glad you’re here. This place is dull as death.
I smothered a grin and caught the eye of the woman sitting at the desk closest to me. She looked up at me, distracted, and then smiled.
“Hello, welcome to Remington for Senate Headquarters! What can I do for you?”
I pasted on a matching smile. “I’m here to volunteer. I was sent by my college. They said you needed help?”
“Oh, Perriman? Sure, sure. Ben organized that. What’s your name?”
“Tasmyn Vaughan.” I watched her scan a list, and I crept into her head. More people to do work that isn’t even invented yet. God, Ben makes me crazy. . .what was her name. . oh, here.
“Okay, so cool. You’re on the list, good to go. So, come on in, I’ll show you around.” She swept a hand over the room. “Such as it is. We’re still almost a year out from election day, you know, so it’s pretty low key. Mostly doing demogr
aphic sweeps, some initial work for the primary election—not that it’s a big deal, John’s going to be uncontested except by the fringe element—but I hope you like to type and be on the computer a lot.”
“That’s fine. I can do that. I just, you know--” I flipped over a hand in my best typical college girl imitation—“wanted to get involved. Be part of the process.”
The other woman nodded, though I could hear her mental eye rolling. “Yeah, we hear that a lot. Oh, by the way, my name’s Chelle Hoffman. I’m kind of the head of the admins. Unofficially. I keep things rolling when John and Ben aren’t around.”
Ben’s the campaign manager, Emma supplied. Ben Ryan. Works in the law firm with Remington.
“I guess John and Ben are pretty busy, with the law office and all.” I had to sound as though I had some kind of clue.
“Oh, all the time. John is in DC a lot of the time, of course, and Ben keeps things running at the firm and here. He’s John’s right hand.” The note of irony that crept into Chelle’s voice was further borne out by her derisive thoughts. Clearly she was not a fan of Ben.
She walked me around the room, introducing me to the three other people sitting there. When we got to Emma, Chelle patted her shoulder.
“Emma’s our newest hire. We don’t keep many employees here on a permanent basis, but she came so highly recommended, and she’s done a great job so far. She organized our donor system, so I’m pretty much her biggest fan.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma,” I smiled.
“Hey, you, too. Let me know if you need any help.” I bit my lip to keep from giggling at the hilarious side conversation Emma was playing in her head.
“So grab a chair, and let me see what I can give you. We’ve got a mailing going out the beginning of next week. You can stuff some envelopes.”
Endless Page 14