by Pamela Clare
Kara dipped her tea bag one last time, drained it with her spoon, and set it on the tray. She raised the cup to her lips and took a careful sip. The flavor of peppermint splashed over her tongue. Mulling over the facts, she strolled back to her desk, sat, and sipped.
How did Mike Stanfield feel about money? She needed to find out. She’d gotten a list of questions ready for him this morning just after Reece had left, but she’d been putting off calling him.
Chicken.
She tried to ignore her irritating inner voice and pretended for a moment that she hadn’t heard it. But the voice was right. For the first time in her career, she was afraid to interview someone. The realization left her feeling stunned and disgusted. Had she really let them get to her? Had they intimidated her so thoroughly that she was afraid to make a phone call?
As if to redeem herself, she grabbed her notepad, reached for the phone, and dialed Northrup’s number. In a matter of seconds, she found herself speaking with his executive assistant. She clicked the record button.
“He’s not available at the moment, but he was expecting your call. He instructed me to tell you he’d be available this afternoon.”
Kara hid her surprise. “What time do you expect him back? I’ll call back then.”
“He’s marked himself out until four. Would you like me to take a message?”
“Just tell him Kara McMillan from the Denver Independent will be in touch this afternoon.” She hung up the phone, chills pricking down her spine. The bastard was playing mind games with her. He’d left that message with his assistant for one reason—to intimidate her. He wanted her to know she wasn’t going to catch him off-guard. He wanted her to believe he was one step ahead of her. Well, Mike Stanfield could go to hell.
She reached for a stack of documents, ready to begin working on the first sidebar—a timeline detailing findings in the state’s inspection reports. Agitated, she succeeded in knocking the documents onto the carpet, where they scattered out of order.
“Great, McMillan. Perfect.” She got down on her knees and tried to sort through them.
It was then her gaze fell across one sheet of paper, and she saw it. Forgetting everything else, she picked up the document—a citation against a shift manager for improper storage of solvents—and stared at the name. “Oh! Oh, God!”
She leapt up, picked up the phone, and called her source at the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. “Hi, it’s Kara. I need a background check ASAP. The name is Juan de la Peña.”
“SENATOR SHERIDAN, you have the floor.”
Reece could see the gloating satisfaction in Devlin’s eyes. He waited until the Senate chamber fell silent, gave Devlin his most genial smile, and then leaned into the mic. “Mr. President, I would like to make a motion that Senate Bill 46, regarding the burning of waste tires as fuel, be postponed indefinitely.”
Devlin looked surprised, and for a moment he said nothing. “I find your motion to be out of order.”
Go ahead, Devlin. Dig your grave deeper. “Point of order, Mr. President, the bill is on the schedule. It is my bill. And I do have the floor. How can the motion be out of order?”
The silence in the chamber seemed to deepen, and Reece knew the other senators were straining for the subtext, trying to figure out what was really happening in front of them.
Devlin stared at him for a moment, seeming to be at a loss. Clearly, he’d expected Reece to try to pass the bill today. Perhaps he thought being framed for murder would bring Reece to heel. Fat chance.
“The bill has already passed first and second reading. Trying to P.I. it now is—”
Reece interrupted, almost enjoying himself. “Entirely in keeping within the Senate rules.”
“I call a ten-minute recess for a reading of the rules.” Devlin slid out from behind the president’s podium, probably headed for a private phone from which to call Stanfield, when Reece intercepted him.
He spoke so only Devlin could hear him. “I think it’s time you and I had a little chat about TexaMent.”
Devlin looked at him through gray eyes that held contempt. Or was it fear? He motioned to a side conference room. “Make it quick.”
As soon as Devlin shut the door behind him, Reece spoke. “How long have you been in Mike Stanfield’s pocket?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, come off it, Devlin. I know Stanfield has been slipping you big bucks using his employees’ names as cover. I’ve combed through your campaign-finance reports for the past few years and found dozens of contributions that all came from the same address—TexaMent’s Northrup plant. What do you think an investigation would reveal? Did all those employees truly make contributions, or did the money come from TexaMent and Stanfield? How much is he paying you to be his lapdog? Whatever it is, it’s sure as hell over the legal max.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Miguel popped his head in, a worried look on his face. “Reece—”
“Not now, Miguel!”
Looking surprised and more than a little angry, Miguel shut the door.
Devlin glared up at Reece and puffed out his chest. “You can’t prove anything.”
“I think I can.” Reece held up the stack of documents he’d photocopied. “I’ve got campaign-finance reports dating back to your first House campaign, and they all show the same thing—thousands in donations from one address, Northrup.”
Devlin did a good imitation of surprise. “That’s not my fault. You can’t hold me responsible for his mistakes.”
“Sure, I can, and so can the Secretary of State. I’ve also got a copy of the letter you wrote to the state health department demanding that they back off their enforcement action at Northrup.” Reece shuffled through the papers and held the letter out so that Devlin could see it. Then he bluffed. “The signature is blacked out, of course, but Owens was more than happy to tell us who’d written it when he realized what was at stake.”
Devlin’s gaze dropped to the paper, and his nostrils flared. “I might have made a few phone calls, but I didn’t write that. Owens is full of crap.”
“Save it for the ethics hearing, Devlin. Northrup was faking its emissions reports, lying about its equipment, dumping toxins in the water, coating the farmland downwind with caustic dust, and making people sick. They were breaking federal and state environmental laws, and by forcing the health department to back off, you were aiding and abetting them.”
“I didn’t force them to do anything!” Devlin’s face flushed an angry red.
Reece ignored him. “So how does it work? Stanfield pays the big bucks, and you watch his back?”
Devlin took a step in Reece’s direction. “Do you think I’m the only politician who takes care of the people who fund his campaigns? That’s how the game is played, Sheridan!”
“Speaking of games, you had it all worked out, didn’t you? You waited in the shadows while Stanfield got me to sponsor the tire-burning bill to ensure the environmental vote and then you signed on.”
Devlin sneered at him. “That was my idea. I found it rather funny, really. It seemed like a great way to win over the tree-huggers and piss you off at the same time.”
Reece watched Devlin brag and decided to play to his ego. “I have to give you credit. It worked—for a while. But then Kara McMillan got those whistleblower tapes and everything went to hell, didn’t it?”
“Some people don’t know when to quit.”
“You can say that again. Stanfield tried to get her to back off with threats, and when that didn’t work, he tried to have her killed. Then when I figured out what was going on and tried to withdraw the bill, he had Alexis murdered and framed me.”
Devlin watched him warily. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“I think you do.” Reece held out several pages he’d printed out this morning. “I also happen to have your phone records, including those from two days ago. I know that shortly after I called Stanfield to tell him I was killing the bill, he called
you at home. Two hours later Alexis was murdered.”
Devlin’s body jerked as if he’d been hit. “You can’t access those records!”
“I already have. I suspect that when I bring this information to Chief Irving he might have a few questions for you.”
“You’re crazy! I didn’t kill Alexis! I liked her!” He started to sweat. “Stanfield wanted the tire-burning bill put on the next day’s agenda, that’s all.”
“I passed the polygraph, Devlin. Will you?”
He was shaking now. “All I’ve ever done is watch out for TexaMent’s interests here at the Capitol—carry a bill now and then, watch over the health department. I’ve never conspired to kill anyone!”
“I’ll leave that to the cops to sort out. In the meantime, there’s the little matter of the tire-burning bill. You know damned good and well my motion isn’t out of order. You called this recess to delay the vote. But we’re going to go back out there, and you’re going to approve my motion and call for a vote. Got it?”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“No. If I were blackmailing you, I’d threaten to make everything I know public unless you cooperate. But I’m turning all this over to the police and calling for an independent audit no matter what you do.”
“So what’s to stop me from denying your motion just to spite you?”
“You don’t have a leg to stand on, and every senator in that room knows it. Deny my motion, and you’ll just look worse in the end. Besides, I have every word of this conversation on tape.” Reece ignored the shocked look on Devlin’s face, turned his back on him, and walked to the door.
“You can’t do that! It’s illegal!”
“If you paid more attention to the laws of the state you pretend to serve, you’d know that covertly recording a conversation is legal in Colorado, provided the person doing the recording is a party to the conversation. Ask legislative legal.” Reece pushed open the door and found Miguel pacing in the hallway outside the door. He looked pale, sweat beading on his forehead.
Miguel stomped over to him. “Have you gone loco? We have to talk.”
“It will have to wait, Miguel. I believe Devlin is about to call for a vote.”
KARA READ through the lengthy background check the Colorado Bureau of Investigation had faxed over for her. Juan de la Peña might be the brother of a state senator, but he was also absolute scum. He had a juvie record stretching back almost to the day he was conceived—mostly petty drug charges, theft, vandalism, that sort of thing. He’d served a couple terms in prison, once in Cañon City for assault and once in Leavenworth for assault and possession with intent to sell. And now he was working at Northrup as a shift manager, where he’d been cited for improperly storing toxic chemicals.
It was interesting information. More interesting was the fact that Senator de la Peña hadn’t seen fit to include among the materials Kara had requested the fact that his younger brother worked for Northrup. Reece was his close friend. Did Reece know?
Kara picked up the phone and dialed Tom’s desk. “Hi, it’s McMillan. I’ve got—”
“Have you heard from your mother today? How’s she doing?”
“What? No, I haven’t spoken with her yet today.”
“Well, when you do, tell her I said hello.”
Kara bit back a groan. Her editor had the hots for her mother. It was enough to make her ill. “Actually, I’ve called with some interesting information relevant to my investigation. Senator de la Peña’s brother works as a shift manager at Northrup, but somehow the good senator didn’t see fit to account for this fact in my open-records request.”
“That is interesting. What do you know about the brother?”
“I know he’s spent almost as much time in prison as out of it, mostly drugs. He served a five-year sentence in Cañon City in the nineties and spent most of this decade so far in Leavenworth.”
“Leavenworth? Hold on. Let me get Novak in here.” He bellowed for Tessa. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. Tell Novak what you just told me.”
Kara recapped the details. “He was released from Leavenworth in July 2004, and somehow he managed to land a job as a shift manager at Northrup. I don’t know if he has any prior experience in—”
Tessa interrupted. “When did you say he entered Leavenworth?”
“It says here February 2000.”
“That places him in Leavenworth at the same time as John David Weaver. Hellfire and damnation, Kara, you found the missing link.”
CHAPTER 27
* * *
JOHN DAVID Weaver. The man who’d tried to kill her.
Kara was glad she was already sitting down. “You’ve been investigating him.”
“Of course!” Tom sounded indignant. “Someone tries to take out one of my reporters, I’m damned well going to find out everything I can about him!”
It was perhaps the most caring thing she’d ever heard Tom say. Except, of course, that it was all about him. His reporter?
“I’ve been following every lead I have, trying to kick this dead man’s ass for you,” Tessa said. “I’ve been hoping to tie him to Northrup or TexaMent, but so far all I’ve been able to prove conclusively is that he was a lifelong loser. He’s been in and out of prison since he was fifteen. Seems he liked to hurt women.”
When I’m done with you, you’ll do anything I tell you to do. Or maybe I should let you die with me inside you.
His voice, steeped in hatred, filled her mind.
Kara squeezed her eyes shut and blocked out his words. “Yeah. I’ve got no trouble believing that. Is there any way Sophie can use her prison contacts to find out whether he and Juan de la Peña knew each other? Anything we can do to prove the connection will help.”
“I’ll have her get on it.” Tom bellowed for her. “Alton! Get in here!”
“So what’s this mean for your investigation?” Tessa asked.
“I’m not sure. We’ve already got a paper trail tying Devlin to TexaMent. Maybe it’s just coincidence that Senator de la Peña has a brother working there. And even if his brother is caught up in this, it’s possible that the senator is clean.”
Tom made a sound of disgust. “He needs to explain why he failed to disclose his family ties to Northrup when he responded to your open-records request. I refuse to believe it was just an oversight on his part. Time for you to give him a call and play indignant reporter. In the meantime, I’m going to have Novak here see if we can persuade Irving to give us a crack at his case file in exchange for this bit of information you’ve unearthed. Someone had to be paying your buddy Weaver, and the cops are the only ones who are going to be able to access his accounts.”
Her buddy? Tom had the sensitivity of a rock.
Kara let it roll off her. “The Senate’s in session today, so there’s not much chance that I’ll catch de la Peña until late this afternoon, but I’ll call now and leave a message.”
In the background, Tom was telling Sophie to look into any in-prison ties between Weaver and Juan de la Peña.
Tessa spoke, the tone of her voice changing from professional to personal. “How are you doing, Kara?”
“Better.”
“We all miss you. You need to come back before Holly drives Sophie and me nuts. She called me last night at almost midnight to ask—”
Tom’s voice interrupted. “We’ll fire you an e-mail if we find anything new. Otherwise, we’ll have an I-team meeting by speakerphone tomorrow morning at nine. I want this story in the bag in forty-eight hours.”
“Got it. And Tessa—thanks.”
“My pleasure. We’re a team, remember?”
Kara hung up and dialed Reece’s cell phone. Something told her she needed to warn him.
AS HIS fellow senators filed past him for their lunch recess, Reece packed his briefcase, a feeling of grim satisfaction in his gut. The bill was dead, consigned to eternal legislative limbo. Although there was no way to prevent someone from carrying a similar bill next year, at
least he’d proved to Stanfield and to himself that he was not for sale, no matter what the price.
He shut his briefcase, reached into his trouser pocket for his cell phone, hoping Kara had left him a message, but his cell phone wasn’t there. He grabbed his coat off the back of his Senate seat and reached into its pockets, but his cell wasn’t there either. He’d used it to check messages this morning on his way into the Capitol, so he knew he hadn’t left it in Kara’s hotel room. Deciding it must be upstairs on his desk, he picked up his briefcase, draped his coat over his arm, and strode up the steps of the Senate chamber toward the door.
He needed to grab a quick bite to eat, but first he wanted to call Chief Irving and send Kara an e-mail to tell them both what he’d learned from Devlin. The bastard had all but admitted to working for Stanfield and to forcing the health department to back off its enforcement action at TexaMent. And although he’d denied having anything to do with the memo, the attack on Kara, or Alexis’s death, he’d admitted that he’d gotten Stanfield’s call the night of the murder.
Reece was so deep in thought that the crush of reporters waiting for him in the hallway outside the Senate chamber took him by surprise. The moment he opened the door, they rushed in on him, firing questions like bullets, cameras clicking, their flashes flaring like strobes. Unable to hear through the chaos, he held one hand up for quiet. Then, as he would do in a classroom of noisy teenagers, he spoke so quietly that everyone fell silent to hear him. “I can’t answer your questions if you shout all at once. One at a time, please.”
“Is it true you and Ms. Ryan had a sexual relationship?”
“Yes.” Out of respect for her family, he refrained from pointing out that there was hardly a lawmaker at the Capitol who hadn’t.