A Slow Walk to Hell

by Patrick A. Davis

  Simon made a big show of conveying his reluctance to give in. He shifted between a series of unhappy grimaces and regretful head shakes. Finally, he threw up his hands, as if being forced to concede.

  “You win, General.”

  Sam wasn’t much of a thespian. He nodded stiffly and swung the gun around to Crenshaw. “David, do you keep copies of the tapes stored anywhere else but here?”

  Crenshaw fixated on the barrel. He tried to speak and coughed instead. “No.”

  “If you’re lying…”

  “I’m not. The only copies that exist are ones Mr. Slater sent to the individuals.”

  “He doesn’t have any copies of his own?”

  “No. He only makes them when he needs them.”

  Sam raised the gun to his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  Crenshaw’s body spasmed in panic. “Why the hell would I lie?”

  Sam contemplated Crenshaw’s trembling form. “How many computers contain memberships rosters?”

  “Mine and Sally’s. My secretary’s. That’s her desk outside.” Crenshaw couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  “No central database?”

  “Too risky. Anyone who worked here could download the information, so Mr. Slater—”

  Sam abruptly turned away from Crenshaw and asked, “Who’s good with computers?”

  “I am,” Amanda said, after a moment.

  “Here.” Sam passed her a CD-ROM he’d slipped from his jacket.

  She read the label. It was a program to scramble the data stored on hard drives. She sat down at Crenshaw’s computer and inserted the CD.

  Sam dug out car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Enrique. “The green Caddy. There’s a bag containing lighter fluid, in the back seat. Get it.”

  “First,” Simon said, “I’d like him to remove the tapes we’re keeping.”

  “Fine.”

  While Simon retrieved the Harris tape from the VCR, Enrique gathered the four Talbot videos from the desk. I never believed Sam would allow Enrique to walk out with the video of him and Talbot.

  But as Enrique departed with the tapes, Sam never said a word.

  He eased into a chair, the gun still trained on us. I thought this part was overdone, but I understood why he was doing it. He wanted to make it look good.

  “How long will it take?” he asked Amanda.

  “A few minutes to upload the program in each computer, General. Another thirty minutes or so to scramble all the files.”

  By the time she finished uploading the program on the secretary’s computer, Enrique had returned and we’d placed the remaining videotapes in a cardboard box.

  “Let’s go boys and girls,” Sam said.

  The bar had an enormous stone fireplace, one that actually burned wood.

  Under Sam’s watchful eye, Enrique layered the videos on top of several logs. After dousing the tapes with lighter fluid, he set them ablaze and moved aside. Sam came forward and stared into the smoky flames. Facing us, we saw his shoulders sag and tension escape his body. This had been important to him, something he’d been compelled to do.

  “This was Franklin’s goal,” he said quietly. “Before exposing what was going on, he wanted to force Slater to turn over the tapes to us. To prevent anyone else from being hurt.”

  We all nodded our understanding.

  Simon said, “Now tell us everything you know, General.”

  “There’s one more thing I have to do. It’ll only take a second.”

  Stepping around us, Sam walked over to Crenshaw. He gave him a big smile right up until the moment he punched him flush in the jaw. Crenshaw dropped in a heap, out before he hit the floor. Sam stood over his still form, watching the blood ooze from a cut in Crenshaw’s lip. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  “Do you believe he was aware of the murders?” Simon asked.

  “No. Crenshaw’s weak. Slater knew he wouldn’t have the stomach for it.” He passed his gun to Simon. “I’m ready, Lieutenant. You want to do this back in the office?”

  “Please.”

  Sam made a couple of false starts, as if he wanted to say something to me. Unable to voice the words, he left the room.

  As we followed him out, Simon said to me, “I misjudged him. He’s a good man. He deserves our respect.”

  His way of telling me I should consider apologizing first.

  Simon wanted to get Sam’s account on tape, so while Enrique revived Crenshaw and helped him to his suite upstairs, I went out to the limo and retrieved the small cassette recorder.

  Returning to the office, I found everyone except Enrique seated in the waiting area of the anteroom. Since all the chairs were taken, I set the recorder on the coffee table and stood against the wall, near where Sam was sitting.

  His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, ignoring me. Several uncomfortable seconds passed, as I tried to figure out how to break the ice. When nothing came to mind, I went with the way I felt.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. About everything.”

  At first nothing. Then Sam’s head tilted up and I saw the beginnings of a smile. “That makes two of us,” he said with feeling.

  “Look, a lot of the stuff I said—”

  “We both made mistakes. Said things we shouldn’t.”

  “So we’re okay?”

  His smiled widened. “We’re getting there.”

  For a moment, the years disappeared and we were back at Virginia Tech. Two young men filled with the hope and promise of the future that awaited us. It was an image I wanted to preserve.

  But when I blinked, I’d returned to the present and the reality of what we were facing.

  Sam squeezed my arm and something caught in my throat. At the start of the case, I’d hoped to keep him out of it, but that wouldn’t happen now. He would be our chief witness, which meant the world would soon learn that a Baldwin was gay. The reaction would be swift. Some would empathize and understand, but most wouldn’t. He would be the butt of jokes, his family ridiculed.

  It wasn’t right. Sam had served his country honorably. He didn’t deserve this.

  But the ugly lesson we’d both learned was that life wasn’t fair.

  “Clayter Lake?” he said quietly.

  “Just say when.”

  When Enrique entered the room, Simon immediately started the tape. “Whenever you’re ready, General…”

  47

  Sam spoke in slow, measured words, aware of the significance of what he was saying.

  “Teresa Harris was into sex. Any kind of sex. It was a sickness with her. Men, women, it didn’t matter. Boys too. Franklin was eleven when she first molested him. It freaked him out. His parents were barely in the ground and here was his aunt doing these things to him. Franklin begged her to stop, but she wouldn’t. He didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. She said no one would listen to him if he told, and he believed her. She was this important woman and he was only a kid. So he kept his mouth shut and took the abuse for almost a year. Until he was twelve.

  “That’s when he ran away the first time. It wasn’t only the sex he was running away from, it was also the control she had over him. By then, Teresa had gotten into his head. She could make him do almost anything. Sick stuff. He considered suicide. Thought about it all the time. Twelve years old and he was going to kill himself. Jesus, I thought I had it tough, being different. But when I think about what Franklin went through…what it must of been like…”

  Sam blinked hard, trailing off. He turned away until he regained his composure. “Anyway, he stayed gone for almost a month. Then he got busted for shoplifting and was sent home; Teresa punished him. He never told me what she did, but it was bad. Franklin shook like a leaf when he mentioned this part. After a couple months, he took off again. This time when he was returned, his uncle shipped him off to military school. He’d had it with Franklin and wanted to get rid of him. Little did Congressman Harris know, he was saving Franklin’s life. Teresa couldn’t get to him when he
was at school. A Catholic priest there also helped. Franklin was suicidal when he arrived and the priest spent months counseling him. The priest tried to convince him to report his aunt, but Franklin never would. Like I said, Teresa had this control over him. Even when he got older, he could never say no to her. I couldn’t understand it, but…hell, you saw the tape. She still had this power over him. Sick fucking bitch.”

  He shook his head angrily. We waited for him to continue and when he didn’t, Amanda said, “Maybe I missed something, General, but Major Talbot was gay, right?”

  A nod. “It was something he discovered in school. Part of it, most it, must have been reaction to the abuse. A kind of defense mechanism. For a while, he hated women.”

  Now came the dicey part. I had to bring it up because of what I’d seen on the tape. I said, “He seemed to perform with her physically. Mrs. Harris.”

  “And only her,” Sam said. “She was the one woman who could arouse him. Go figure.”

  I couldn’t. I doubted anyone could.

  Simon asked, “Was Father Carlacci the school priest?”

  Sam nodded, his voice thick. “He was a good man. A saint. And that crazy bitch killed him.”

  At this remark, Simon’s face hardened. A reflection of his own hate simmering below the surface. “You’re certain Mrs. Harris was responsible?”

  “I know she killed Talbot. She and that black woman. Her assistant.”

  “How do you know, General?”

  Sam measured Simon with a long look. “Easy. I saw them.”

  Amanda and I stared at him, but Simon showed no reaction. He calmly leaned forward and slid the tape recorder closer to Sam.

  “Go on, General.”

  Sam had been on his way to the Pentagon athletic club when Talbot called him on his cell phone. It was around 4 P.M. Talbot told Sam that a car was slowly driving by his house. Talbot was convinced it was Slater’s people. He was frightened. Could Sam please come?

  Sam rushed right over without notifying his office. When he arrived, he noticed a car rolling up the front drive. Initially, he was also convinced it had to be Slater’s people. Then he saw two women get out.

  Teresa Harris and Abigail Gillette.

  Sam said, “I asked Franklin over the intercom to let me in. He said it would be better if he talked to his aunt alone. He said it would be okay. She would never hurt him. I blame myself. I knew what she was like. I knew what she was capable of. But I let him talk me into leaving. Walking away. I should have insisted he let me in. If I had, Franklin would still be…but I left. I left and…and they killed him. Butchered him like an animal.”

  He stared at his big hands, his face etched with guilt.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I was there, Marty. I was there.”

  Sam was determined to bear responsibility for Talbot’s death. Because of my own demons, I knew that nothing I could say could remove that burden. Sam would have to do that on his own…if he could.

  He sagged back heavily in his chair, saying over and over, “I was there…I was there…” We let him talk, get it out. At some point, he closed his eyes, as if overcome by the burden pressing down upon him. I was worried for him. He was on edge, close to coming apart. Ideally, it would be better if we left, questioned him at a later date. But that wasn’t an option. Five people were dead and we had to know the truth.

  Simon asked Sam about the motive, the reason behind the killings. Sam didn’t answer. He lay there with his eyes closed. He could have been asleep, but we knew he wasn’t.

  Simon prompted, “General?”

  Sam’s eyes fluttered open. “I told you. Franklin was going to expose the blackmail operation.”

  “We need to know the details. How it all began.”

  He reluctantly sat up, looking at Simon. “It began with a phone call…”

  As Sam laid everything out, the remaining pieces of the puzzle came together. Not every space was filled, but what we didn’t know, we could guess at.

  Last year, Slater made a call to Teresa Harris. He informed her he had a videotape of her and Talbot—the one we’d viewed—and threatened to release it unless Teresa convinced her husband to hire him as campaign manager. Teresa resisted. She asked Talbot to negotiate with Slater, see if he would take money instead.

  Slater wouldn’t. He wanted to manage the Harris campaign and would accept nothing less. In the end, Teresa Harris surrendered to Slater’s demands and convinced her husband to hire him.

  Initially, she despised Slater, for the hold he had on her. But because of the campaign’s spectacular success, her attitude soon changed. She came to realize that Slater was a brilliant political strategist. Moreover, she began to accept the fact that she needed him to achieve her dream of becoming first lady. An alliance was formed, a pact between two ruthlessly ambitious people who would do almost anything to succeed. With every primary win, they became increasingly convinced they would succeed. They believed nothing could stop them.

  They forgot about Talbot.

  He was the one person who knew of the alliance between Teresa and Slater. Once Congressman Harris became president, Talbot realized Slater would try and control him, through his influence over Teresa. That was the reason for the two-for-one candidacy. Slater wanted Teresa to have political clout in her own right, because she was the source of his power.

  Years of military schooling coupled with his deepening Catholic faith had changed Talbot. Once a troubled youth, he’d evolved into a young man with an uncompromising ethical and moral center. To him, it was unconscionable that a blackmailer might actually control the next president of the United States. He told his aunt he couldn’t agree to this. He begged her to reconsider.

  She promised she would.

  The next day Talbot received his own call from Slater, telling him to keep his mouth shut. That same afternoon, a tape arrived. Several days later, another video was delivered. Slater wasn’t screwing around; he was going to make sure Talbot behaved. For a while, his tactics worked and Talbot, stung by his aunt’s betrayal, was cowed into silence.

  As time passed, Talbot’s resolve gradually stiffened. Despite his fears, he knew he was the only one who could stop Slater. But he also agonized how to accomplish this without destroying his aunt.

  It came down to control. The control she held over him. While he hated her, he also loved her at some level.

  For months, his feelings for his aunt kept him from revealing what he knew. He held out hope that perhaps Harris wouldn’t win his party’s nomination. As the primary victories piled up, that hope dimmed and Talbot realized he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to act.

  So he did by confiding in Sam, Major Coller, and Father Carlacci, informing them of his intentions and enlisting their help.

  “What he wanted from Major Coller and me,” Sam explained, “was help in doing what I did today. Destroying the tapes and membership lists. Also, he wanted us to support his assertions that Slater was a blackmailer. We were the obvious choices; we were his partners on the two tapes Slater had sent. Father Carlacci provided moral support. He was Franklin’s conscience. Whenever Franklin wavered, the father reminded him—Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  Simon edged forward as if to ask a question. When he voiced it, Amanda and I winced. This was something we’d wondered about, but hadn’t had the nerve to ask.

  “General,” Simon said, “did it bother you that Major Talbot had other partners?”

  Sam sighed. “Sure it did. But that was the reality of our lives. Because of our professions, we could never have an exclusive relationship. It was too dangerous for our careers. We rarely got together more than once or twice a month.” He shrugged. “He was a young man; he had needs.”

  “But he tried not to…stray?”

  Sam seemed to smile. “He tried hard. Hated himself when he did. You saw his bedroom…” He waited for Simon’s nod. “He understood homosexuality was a mortal sin. He knew he was
going to Hell, for what he was.” Sam paused, his voice turning quiet. “I hope that’s not true.”

  Simon was silent. He was too much of a Catholic to voice reassurance if he believed it was false.

  Changing the subject, I asked Sam to expand on something he’d alluded to earlier.

  “By coming forward,” I said, “Major Talbot realized he was going to destroy his military career. Everyone would know he was gay…”

  “Right. Sure.”

  “What about Major Coller? He would also be exposed—”

  “Coller never agreed,” Sam said. “He had a lot to lose because he was separating from the Air Force to work for Teresa Harris. Once the scandal broke, he knew the Harrises would be dead politically and he’d be out of a job.” His eyes held mine, knowing where I was going with this. When he spoke, I heard his sadness. “The answer to your next question is no, Marty. I also told Franklin no. I couldn’t come forward. I asked him to destroy the tape of us.”

  It was a stunningly candid admission and explained Sam’s overwhelming sense of guilt.

  I said, “And the reason you’re allowing us to keep that tape…”

  “There has to be a tape of someone who can testify to being blackmailed. Teresa Harris certainly won’t admit it and everyone else is dead.” He shrugged. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter anyway. It’s all going to come out in the end. And you know what, Marty? I don’t give a damn. I’m tired of living a lie. I’m tired of being scared and hiding in the shadows. I don’t care what people think any more. I really don’t.”

  Sam sounded as if he genuinely believed what he was saying. Was he rationalizing to make the inevitable more palatable? Only he knew for sure, but the conviction in his voice told me he wasn’t.

  “I’m glad for you, Sam.”

  “Don’t be. I should have done this years earlier. If I had…”

  He didn’t complete the thought.

  I asked my remaining question now: Did Sam know the extent of Congressman Harris’s role in the murders?