“And this?” Ben asked, gesturing to the sweat suit which Tony had failed to make presentable through his efforts in the men’s room.
Tony knew Ben wasn’t criticizing his dress, but was wondering what had happened to him. “I’m anxious to tell you all about it, Ben. I swear. But let me make this call first. Molly said it was urgent, and if she left the message before office hours this morning, it’s at least four hours old.”
“I agree. Come see me when you’re done.”
Tony looked on his smart phone, then rummaged through his desk and finally realized he didn’t have Lisa’s old cell phone number at work. If he had it at all, it was at home, where he jotted it on the desk planner after he and Lisa first met. So he decided just to call her at work, hoping she wouldn’t mind too much.
Honoring her bizarre request, he went to the Bat Phone and called party headquarters. The Bat Phone was what reporters labeled an old-fashioned desk phone, which sat in a niche at the side of the newsroom. It was a phone on a separate line from the Crier’s regular phone system. It served as a backup phone in case the computer system that ran the modern phones crashed or lightning or some natural disaster knocked out the service. Tony had actually heard of this happening, so the idea of a backup made sense to him. However, as far as he could remember, this would be the first call he had ever seen made on the phone.
“Re-elect Governor Roskins!” A very perky and young-sounding voice spoke in his ear. “How can I help you? Will you be making a contribution today?”
“Sorry, no,” Tony said, smiling to himself as he thought: you don’t sound anything like Commissioner Gordon. “I would like to speak to Molly Parks please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Ms. Parks isn’t here at the moment. Can someone else help you?”
“No. I’m returning her call, so I need to speak to her.”
“Really? Did she call you today?”
“Well, yes. I think so. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, well, it’s just that she didn’t show up to work yesterday or today. She’s usually so reliable and everyone’s been a little worried about her. We’ve tried calling her but haven’t had any success.”
Tony could hear some noise in the background on the other end of the phone line, and then a male voice: “Cynthia, who’s that you’re talking to? Did I hear you talking about Molly?”
“Oh jeez, uh, sir, who did you say was calling?”
Tony realized he didn’t want to say and simply hung up the phone.
He made a beeline for Ben’s office. Ben motioned for him to sit, but Tony stayed in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, Chief, but I need to run home. I don’t seem to have that phone number for Molly here at the office, and I just learned from one of her co-workers that she’s been AWOL from work for the past couple days. With everything else that’s happened around here, I’m a little anxious to reach her.”
“Of course,” Ben said. “Go rescue the girl and then get your butt back here and write about it.”
It was Ben’s stab at a humorous comment, but it landed with a thud in Tony’s ears. He said, “Thanks,” and turned to go. Then spun back into the office. “By the way, can I borrow your pick-up? I rode my bike here.”
Ben smiled and without further comment pulled the keys to the truck out of his pocket and tossed them across the desk to Tony’s outstretched hand.
Ben owned a beautiful Chrysler 300. Tony had seen it once or twice. But Ben’s normal ride to work was a 1963 Chevrolet Fleetside pickup truck. It was in nice, if not pristine, condition, and it was one of the things Tony loved about Ben.
He tossed his bike in the back of the truck, jumped in the driver’s seat and spun the tires on the gravel lot as he headed home.
***
After taking ten minutes to shower and change and another ten minutes to find the faded telephone number on a long-outdated desk calendar, Tony raced back to the pickup and drove to the Emergency entrance of the Quincy County Medical Center. The hallway near the ER lobby was the only place in town that Tony could think of that still had a pay telephone. He parked outside and rushed through the glass doors. The waiting room was busy, as usual, but not jammed, and as Tony headed down the hall, he was pleased to see the phone nook was unoccupied. He slipped onto the stool below the phone, pulled out some quarters, and dialed the number.
“Hello?” The voice was quiet, small somehow, and hoarse. Had she been crying?
“Is this Molly? It’s Tony, Molly.”
“Oh, Tony. Oh thank you. God, I’m so glad you called. What are we going to do? Oh, Tony, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey…slow down.” Tony tried to sound soothing, even confident, but it was difficult as his anxiety rose again. “What’s this all about?”
“Tony, we have to talk fast. They could have this number and I can’t let them find me.”
“Who? What are you talking about, Molly?”
“I have something I must show you. Oh, Tony, it explains everything…everything. They did it. These bastards and the governor, they did it.”
“Did what, Molly?” Tony asked, straining to keep his voice under control and dreading what he knew the answer was going to be.
“We have to meet, so listen carefully. You know of course that Lisa went to Northwestern. But do you remember where she almost went to college, but didn’t?”
Tony hesitated only for a moment. “Oh sure, of course I do. It was…”
“Stop! Don’t say it. I’m trying to prevent them from finding us.” Tony realized Molly was assuming someone was listening in, even with the precautions they’d taken. “Okay, I got it. What about it?”
“Now listen closely. There’s an Italian woman who lives in that town. She has a nice family and I’m going to take a chance that she’ll understand and allow us to meet at her house. Please get there as fast as you can.”
“Okay, I promise I’ll leave right away. But I’m not sure I know who…” He stopped, suddenly realizing what Molly was saying. Lisa had almost gone to college in Iowa City. Molly was headed there. “I get it,” he said. “I know where you’re going and I’m sure you’ll be welcome there.”
“And Tony…”
“Yes?”
“I said I’m sorry because I meant it when I said this explains everything. And God help us both, what I mean is…Lisa too.”
The line went dead. Tony sat stone-faced staring at the receiver until it started beeping at him to hang up. He dropped the receiver and slid off the stool onto his knees. He curled forward as the tears started flowing again.
Three different people in various hospital garb stopped to ask if they could help him, but he shrugged them all away. Regaining a measure of composure, he stumbled into the restroom and washed his face with cold water. He slowly raised his head and stared into the mirror. “You fuckers!” he said fiercely, and then was off.
Tony made the three-hour drive to Iowa City in two hours and forty minutes. He was still driving Ben’s old pickup, figuring if the DCI or anyone else was still looking for him, he’d be less likely to be spotted in Ben’s vehicle. He also knew that in a ’63 pickup he didn’t have to worry about being tracked by some fancy GPS or LoJack or other electronic system connected to the grid. Ben would be pissed at first when Tony failed to return with the truck. Then he would be worried. But Tony was pretty sure Ben would keep quiet for a while at least, buying him some time do what he needed to do.
Tony hoped he had guessed right about Molly’s disguised directions. He was pretty sure he had. He and Lisa used to rib each other a lot about the Big Ten rivalry between their universities and, early on, Lisa had admitted she came “this close” to attending the University of Iowa. Tony often had wondered what might have happened if she had. Would she have found someone and been married before he ever met her? As much as he hated the thought of it, Tony had to consider that she might still be alive if her life had taken that alternative path.
Tears welled up in his eyes again, and he force
d himself to set those thoughts aside. There’s no going back. Now there was only making sure the bastards didn’t get away with it.
It was late afternoon when Tony arrived at the Iowa City exits on Interstate 80. He took Dubuque Street south along the Iowa River. He continued through Campus Town to the southeast side of the city and pulled into the driveway of the stately old home where he had grown up. He entered the back door and climbed the four stairs into the kitchen. There, he saw Molly Parks seated at the butcher-block table, sipping a cup of tea and talking quietly with his mother.
***
Carla Harrington smiled and jumped up to embrace her son. “Tony! Welcome home,” she said, finally releasing him from her grip.
“Hi, Mom. It’s good to see you too. Is Dad here?”
“No, he has workshop this evening, so he’s staying on campus as usual and working until it starts.”
Tony nodded and said, “You should call him and ask him to slip home now. While I’m grateful to you for helping Molly and, I must say, I’m impressed with Molly’s inventiveness to think of this as a meeting place, I’m afraid she may have put you in danger.”
“Well, she warned me of that when she first arrived, but of course I couldn’t turn her away.”
“Of course not, Mom. What you did is great, but I’m serious about the danger. Molly’s here to tell me about some terrible crimes some important people have committed. If those people think she told you or Dad or Rita, then they could come after you.”
“Really, Tony, I know you’ve seen some terrible things recently, but isn’t that being a little overly dramatic?”
Tony took his mother by her shoulders and looked right into her eyes. “Mom, I’m not fooling around here. Someone tried to shoot me this morning and…”
“They what?” Tony’s mom shrieked.
“Easy Mom, I’m fine. But I’m serious. Call Dad and tell him to come home, now. While you do that, Molly and I are going into his study to talk.”
Tony avoided his dad’s desk and opted for the two chairs in front of the window. Before he could speak, Molly began, “Tony, I’m sorry. I should have thought about…”
“Forget it,” Tony said. “My Dad will know how to take care of the family and, besides, he’s gonna love this crap. Remember, he used to write books with plots like this.”
Molly almost smiled and then pulled onto her lap the purse that had been hanging from her shoulder. She reached in and pulled out a flash drive.
“It’s all there,” she said, handing it to Tony.
He held it gingerly, as if it was as fragile as a snowflake and just as likely to melt away.
“Before I look at this, tell me about it,” he said, settling back into the chair.
Molly then explained how, with just three weeks left in the campaign, McCabe had directed everyone in the office to do a thorough review of what they had stored on their computers. “He wanted to be sure we didn’t have any potential donors listed in our contacts who hadn’t been solicited, or unfinished work hiding in a documents folder, or things like that. So, I did what I was told and spent the day before yesterday going through my computer folders and files.”
“And?”
“I came across a file with a name indicating it was my ‘Christmas list.’ The thing is, I was sure I never put a Christmas list on my computer or a file with that name. McCabe was a stickler about paid staff using their time or office tools for personal stuff. Naturally, I opened the file to have a look. I almost fainted, literally. You won’t believe what was in that file; what’s now on that flash drive.”
“Actually, I think I will believe it. So then you copied it onto the flash drive and left the office?”
“Exactly. Well, I waited for the end of the day. I didn’t want to attract any attention before I had the chance to get a long way from there. I was so scared. I was sure someone would see my hands shaking as I tried to type. Tony, it seems obvious to me that Lisa found this file somewhere in the office and copied it to my hard drive before she died. I’m not sure why she did that – maybe she had to hurry and didn’t have a flash drive handy; maybe this was a second copy she made for insurance; who knows? But if McCabe found out she had taken it, then there’s no doubt in my mind her death wasn’t an accident. And there’s no doubt in my mind I’ll…I’ll…be next.”
Molly was shaking and wringing her hands. Tears dripped from her cheeks. Tony reached over to the desk, grabbed a tissue, and passed it to her. She continued, “I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I was headed for Chicago but didn’t know what I would do when I got there. As I passed Iowa City, I decided to find a room where I could hide for a few days. I figured a college town has plenty of motels that are used to young people getting rooms without reservations and paying cash. This morning when I got up, I remembered you were from here and thought maybe I could ask you and your family for help.”
Tony reached out and gripped her hand. “Thank you for bringing this to me. You could have just erased it and pretended to never have seen it and no one would have been the wiser, but you…”
“No, I could not have done that,” Molly said forcefully. “Lisa probably died for this, and you’ll see other people died too. How could I have lived with myself if I just ignored all that?” The tears flowed more heavily and Tony could tell he was on the verge of joining her.
He stood up. “Well,” he said, “I guess it’s time I had a look at it.”
He walked over to his dad’s PC, plugged in the flash drive, pulled up the file, and began to read. It was all there, in a proposal to the governor from Lyle McCabe, dated more than two years ago. It was all there.
Chapter 26
Tony stared at his hands. They looked small grasping the steering wheel as he sat quietly in the dark. Clean, well-manicured, free of calluses, they made him feel soft. Inadequate was the word that formed in his mind. One of those four-syllable words that Ben Smalley discouraged. “Remember your audience,” he would say. Tony made a face. His audience tonight would understand the words all too well. The only question was whether Tony had the courage to tell the story.
He glanced up through the windshield and felt even smaller. He was parked on a street he knew well but only because Lisa had lived here, in that house, the one he was looking at now, at the end of a very long lane. It was a neighborhood where newspaper people only came to cover the occasional tragedy or to attend a Christmas party thrown by someone with political ambitions…or to date a rich man’s daughter. Despite his privileged youth, Tony felt out of place here and always would. It was simple. Tony loved his work, and his work paid for rented two-bedroom bungalows with one-stall garages – not stately mansions with tree-lined drives and multiple fireplaces.
Tony had been sitting in his darkened car on this street for a long time. It was nearly 10 p.m. and he was exhausted. He had driven straight here from Iowa City after receiving his dad’s assurances that he and the family and Molly would leave immediately for Chicago and would stay there until it was safe to return. Nearly every minute of the drive back had been consumed by Tony’s anguish regarding what to do with the evidence in his pocket. Go to Ben and convince him to put it all in the paper? Call Rich Davis? Confront the governor himself? Run away? Get serious, he thought.
Throughout the debate with himself, there was only one certainty. The very next step had to be talking to Lisa’s dad. Nathan Freed had a right to hear the whole story; to hear it first; and to hear it from Tony personally. Next to letting the EMTs take Lisa’s lifeless body from his arms, this was the hardest thing Tony had ever had to do. Freed was not only an adoring father, but he was friends with the man who had sanctioned her death. Tony had no idea what to expect when he went inside, but he had no doubt it was what he must do.
Tony had expected to find Lisa’s father at home and by himself. Unfortunately, when Tony arrived, the lane had been lined with cars. He didn’t know if the gathering at Freed’s was social or business. It could easily have been both, and
he didn’t much care. He simply knew he had to talk to Mr. Freed alone, and that meant he would have to wait.
The waiting was hard, exacerbated by the dropping temperature and thoughts of the task ahead of him. After more than an hour, the last car pulled out. As Tony stared at the house, he could feel his stomach churning. His mouth was dry. He found it hard to make himself move. He realized how tightly he was gripping the wheel. Slowly he released the fingers from each hand. Too soft to handle the evils of reality, Tony mused again. He flexed them to reduce the discomfort. Well, here goes, he thought, swallowing hard but coming up dry. He reached down, started the car, and drove up the lane.
As Tony stood in front of the double oak doors at the front of the house, he ached with the memories of times he had stood there in anticipation of seeing Lisa. Sometimes dressed to kill for a dinner date or party, sometimes in blue jeans and an old college sweatshirt, she always flung open the door as if she couldn’t wait for him to get up the portico stairs. She reminded him of a puppy with boundless enthusiasm and energy and unquestioning affection. My God, it was wonderful. Now it hurt to stand here and know she was not on the other side of these doors. The pain was nearly crippling, but Tony wanted to savor it, wallow in it.
The pain, however, also served to strengthen his resolve, and he reached out to touch the doorbell. Before his finger found the button, the door swung open and a startled Tony looked up into the warm smile of Nathan Freed.
“Good evening, Tony. I’m sorry if I startled you. I saw you on the security monitor. Come in, come in.” Freed was dressed in khaki slacks, a navy golf shirt, and deck shoes. He held the door and Tony walked in, mumbling his thanks.
“I’m not sure if I’ve seen you since…since the funeral,” Freed said carefully. Tony was already sorry he had made Mr. Freed revisit his pain. He was barely into the house, and he knew how much worse it was likely to get.
Burying the Lede Page 24