Quick greeted her with a smile. "Miss Kaufman, this is Agent Varden and you met Agent Thackery. Thank you for coming in. Please have a seat." Once she sat where he directed, the others took chairs around her. "I just need to ask you a few more questions," Quick said, still maintaining his friendly demeanor. "Perhaps the best place to start is for you to tell us everything you've done from the time you left Wells's hospital room at eleven-fifty last evening."
She reminded herself that this man was not her friend, despite his smile or tone of voice. He was an FBI agent, just like Rachel, and he would be more apt to believe his colleague than a stranger. She straightened in the chair with her hands folded on her lap and tried to remember every detail of the time that had passed.
"I took a cab—a Yellow one—to the Miami International Airport. The next flight back here was on Delta at six-thirty this morning, so I took a room in the airport hotel. The plane had mechanical difficulties, and we never left Miami until about nine. Then there was a stop in Atlanta, and I think it was around one-thirty when we landed at Dulles. As it turned out, I could have taken a later, nonstop flight and gotten in sooner."
"And from there?" Quick prodded when she stopped her narrative.
"Um... since my car was at National Airport, I had to take a cab there. With everything that had happened, I really didn't feel like going home yet, so I decided to go by my office and catch up on some paperwork. Oh yes, I went through a McDonald's drive-through on the way and picked up lunch. By the time I got to my office, it was a little after four. The building security guard checked me in and out again about eight. I'm afraid I fell asleep at my desk. It all just caught up with me at once, I guess. Then I went home and Agent Thackery was waiting for me."
Agent Varden spoke to Quick. "I should be able to verify the cabs, the hotel stay, the airlines, and the time spent at the office without any problem."
"Fine," Quick replied. "Then contact the rental car agencies out of the Miami airport. Other than a cab, that's about the fastest way she could have gotten up to Boca Raton and back in time to catch that flight."
"Boca Raton?" Holly asked. "Why would I have gone there?"
Agent Thackery looked skeptical. "Are you implying that you haven't heard any news today?"
"No, I haven't. I just told you what my day was like. Besides," she murmured, "every time I've listened to the news lately, it's been bad."
"It's all right, Miss Kaufman," Agent Quick said in a soothing voice. "Before I explain, I just want to clarify one thing. You checked into the hotel, went directly to your room, and stayed there until... When?"
Holly frowned. "Four-thirty, I think. Wanted to make sure I got through security and had time for coffee before boarding. But I didn't stay in the room the entire time."
"Oh?" Quick asked. Varden and Thackery inched closer expectantly.
Holly shook her head. "I couldn't sleep and thought I'd go buy a magazine or book to read. But the newsstand was closed."
"What time was that?" Varden asked.
"About two."
"Did you see or talk to anyone at that time?"
The memory made Holly smile despite the circumstances. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. There was this very nice maintenance woman changing the trash bag in the can near the newsstand. She guessed what my problem was and offered me a book that someone had thrown away and she had salvaged. She was only going to leave it in the employees' lounge at the end of her shift, so I took it."
"Describe her," Quick said abruptly, and Holly did the best she could. "What happened to the book?"
"I have it right here," Holly replied, then realized where it was. "I mean, it's in my overnight bag. I left it with the doorman at my apartment building."
Quick dismissed Varden, instructing her to get started on verifications. Turning back to Holly, he began the explanations she'd been waiting to hear.
"Jerry Frampton was murdered in a hotel room in Boca Raton around the time you say you were talking to the maintenance woman. If that checks out, you're in the clear."
Holly felt the blood rush from her head. "Why would you suspect me? I was the one that warned you that he might be next."
"That's true. Unfortunately, we never had a chance to warn him. Since I took your statement in Miami, I've been temporarily assigned to work with the task force investigating the murders here. But to answer your question, you are a suspect because Rachel Greenley accused you of doing the Frampton murder."
"Dear god! She knew I was flying down there. All she had to do was follow me down on the next flight, kill him, and blame it on me."
"If she did follow you down there, she used a false name and ID. We're checking the security video as well as showing her picture to all the airline employees on duty yesterday and this morning to see if anyone remembers her going out or coming back. The thing is, she would have known that would be the first thing we'd do, but even with fake ID and a disguise, her size would still make her somewhat easy to spot in a crowd. It's why she wouldn't have normally been assigned to field work. On the other hand, she could have felt safe accusing you because she really didn't do it and believed you did."
Surprisingly, Holly followed his logic. "But even if she didn't kill Frampton herself, I have a feeling she knows who did. Can't you force the truth out of her?"
Quick shook his head. "Not anymore. Rachel Greenley committed suicide a few hours ago. Left a deathbed confession—which is usually considered strong evidence—that she killed Ziegler and O'Day, and you murdered Frampton."
Holly wrung her hands together and looked from one man to another. "It's not true. I could never kill anyone. And even if I could, wouldn't it be stupid to let the authorities know what was going on right before I did it?"
Agent Thackery arched one eyebrow at her. "A very smart killer might do just that to throw us off."
Holly leaned toward Quick with a pleading expression. "Don't you see? She's done exactly what she threatened to do if I told anyone about the Little Sister Society."
"Personally, I think that's what it is. However, my opinion doesn't hold much weight in a court of law. We have to verify everything you said before you're off the hook. Of course, that automatically presents another problem. If Greenley lied about you killing Frampton, what else did she lie about? Maybe she lied about taking out Ziegler and O'Day. There's a possibility that she's protecting a third person."
"Erica."
"That was my first thought after what you told me about them, but Erica Donner has a solid alibi... for this morning, at least. We're still checking on the other times, but my instincts are telling me we're on the wrong track entirely."
Holly remembered what David had said about trusting his instincts. "Bobbi Renquist?"
Again Quick shook his head. "Not for Frampton. She was working in her office on a special project with several others until after midnight last night. By the way, she and Rachel were both suspended yesterday pending an investigation of their files. If Renquist tampered with any of the men's accounts on that list, she'll pay for it."
"Is that why Rachel killed herself?"
"In a case like that, the reasons have often been building up over many years, but there's always that one last straw. I guess for Greenley, getting caught was it."
"What about Bobbi's claim that Erica murdered her husbands?"
Quick shrugged. "The three cases will be reviewed, but it's unlikely that they'll be reopened based on an accusation from a confirmed schizophrenic. Donner will be questioned—politely—but unless she confesses, there's no new evidence against her. As to April MacLeash and Cheryl Wallace, we dispatched an agent to question them this afternoon, but he hasn't checked in yet."
"Rachel mentioned some suspects that the computer came up with."
Thackery responded to her. "We're still working on those as well. So far that angle hasn't panned out, but we aren't eliminating the possibility that the perpetrator is an outsider with a more obscure motive. We're just going to have to expan
d the area of our search for possibles."
Quick stood up and Thackery followed his lead. "Under the circumstances, Miss Kaufman, I see no reason to officially detain you at this time. However, I'm going to ask you to stay here while Agent Varden completes her verifications. Then she'll take you home and stay with you."
"Stay with me? Like, under house arrest?"
Quick waved his hand in a negative gesture. "Just a precaution. We don't want anything to happen to you while we're trying to unravel this puzzle."
Holly didn't want to think about what his words implied. She knew when she decided to talk that there were risks involved. "Wait," she said as Quick was about to close the door on his way out. "Please. Could you leave it open? I promise I won't go anywhere."
"Of course," he replied with an apologetic smile. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or a soda?"
"Coffee would be nice, light, no sugar. And I, uh, I need to—wash my hands."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll have Agent Varden escort you in just a minute."
The minute turned out to be twenty, but Quick did bring her a cup of coffee and several magazines to occupy herself in the meantime.
What she really wanted was to make a phone call, but she didn't have the nerve to ask. It wasn't that anyone was expecting her to call. She just wanted to hear a familiar voice tell her everything would be all right. She assumed her parents would be home from their trip by now and hoped it had been a pleasant weekend for them. But if it hadn't been, she certainly didn't want to burden them with her multitude of problems. Now that she thought about it, she hoped they hadn't been listening to the news either.
Philip would undoubtedly like to hear from her, but he could wait for an update until tomorrow. She frowned at the thought of how he would react to what she'd done. He'd been so firm about her not going to the authorities and endangering herself and her parents. And he would certainly not be happy to learn that she had flown to Florida to see David, but she was sure she could reassure him, once—
Her thoughts froze and hung in space for her to examine. Did she really want to reassure him again? Did she honestly look forward to reestablishing their relationship on the same old ground now that David had exited from her life? Could she truly be satisfied being with Philip because it was better than being alone? An image of April and Theodore flashed in her mind.
Although she had repeatedly turned down Philip's marriage proposals and told him numerous times that she didn't love him the way he loved her, hadn't she also allowed him to think that her feelings might change someday? In other words, hadn't she purposely kept him dangling at arm's length just so she wouldn't be all alone? Somehow, she had always justified it before, convincing herself that he was as pleased with their relationship as she was.
How cruel she had been!
What she had been doing all these years was not that much better than what Ziegler and Frampton had done to her, or what David and she had done to each other. Using another human being without concern for their feelings was despicable, no matter how that use was softened or sugar-coated.
She had to put an end to the lies. Even if it hurt Philip terribly to hear the truth, eventually he would be better off than waiting forever for something that was never going to come. And if he chose to end their friendship, or even their professional relationship, she would manage... somehow.
With that decision made and put off till tomorrow, she found she could think more clearly about her most immediate dilemma. Quick had told Varden to check car rentals from the Miami airport. To rent a car, one had to show a driver's license, a major credit card and sign an agreement. Since she hadn't done any of that, there would be no doubt about her having remained in the airport while Frampton was being murdered.
Unless I hitched a ride, or stole a car, or forced someone at gunpoint to be my driver, then killed that person as well. Those alternatives were so ludicrous, they made her smile. But that was because she knew she could never do those things. What might an FBI agent think who didn't know her personally?
Her smile vanished. Regardless of what the law stated, they could think she was guilty until proof of her innocence was established.
Holly didn't remember seeing the desk clerk at the hotel when she had gone looking for something to read. That left only the maintenance woman. Surely they would find her, and she would remember giving the book to the lady in front of the newsstand. Wouldn't she?
Suddenly she realized how general her description of the woman had been—between thirty-five and fifty years old, shorter and plumper than she, wearing a green or blue uniform with a printed scarf covering her hair, and slightly accented speech, probably Spanish. Would that be enough? Would the woman have any better recollection of what Holly looked like? How hard would the agents in Miami work to find the woman?
Holly forced herself to leaf through the magazines Quick had given her, but with each passing minute, her fears mounted. If only she could talk to David....
No! Thinking about him was worse than considering what would happen to her if they didn't find the maintenance woman, or if they found her, but she didn't remember Holly. David simply represented another part of her life to be boxed up and stored away behind a carefully locked door, to be ignored, if not completely forgotten. She reminded herself of what April had told her. David was practice, nothing more. And now, practice was over.
At one in the morning, Agent Varden took Holly home. Outside of the office, the agent relaxed considerably.
"Please call me Diane. This situation is difficult enough without the formality."
"Thank you. I prefer Holly, also. Are you allowed to tell me what you learned?"
Diane asked for directions to Holly's apartment and got them on their way before filling her in on her progress. "So far, so good. Your schedule checks out the way you gave it. There's no record of your renting a car, no regular taxis took a passenger to and from Boca Raton during the hours in question, and no public transportation was available for the trip. That eliminates all the obvious methods, but not the more, shall we say, inventive modes of travel. You'll be in a much better position if we can find your book-rescuing cleaning lady. Which reminds me, I'll need to see the book before you unpack your bag."
Holly nodded but the reminder that she was still very much under suspicion countered Diane's earlier attempt to put her at ease.
Diane was content to stretch out on the couch with a pillow and a light blanket. She seemed to fall asleep instantly, but Holly had the distinct impression that the slightest unusual sound would bring her to her feet with her gun cocked.
The nap Holly had taken in her office ruined her own chances of sleeping any more that night but she remained in her room, trying to read until she thought it would be reasonable to get up and move around.
Shortly after sunrise, she and Diane gravitated to the kitchen table for a light breakfast and coffee.
"It would be best if you remained here for the next few days," Diane told her.
Holly hated the idea of being confined and yet she also understood the reasoning behind the advice. She figured a cooperative attitude would aid her questionable status of being somewhere between a witness and a suspect. "All right, but could I have someone bring me some work from the office?"
"Certainly. We want to make this as comfortable for you as possible."
After they cleared the dishes, Holly called Philip and asked him to come by with a few files. In spite of her insistence that there was nothing to worry about, she could feel his tension vibrating right through the phone.
"I'll explain everything when you get here," she promised.
As she waited for Philip's arrival, Holly told Diane a little about him and their long-term relationship. Diane wouldn't leave the apartment, but when Philip got there, she did go into the spare room that Holly had set up like an office. Since she left the door ajar Holly knew she'd easily be able to hear anything that was said in the outer room but it was nice of her to make a pretense of giving them
some privacy.
Philip's reaction was as bad as she had expected. Pacing back and forth, he was too upset to keep his voice hushed. "How could you stick your neck out like this? We discussed the risks involved. I thought you agreed with me to let the professionals handle it."
"I did, but when Rachel threatened to make me look like the guilty party, I figured it was riskier to remain quiet."
His face was flushed as he stopped pacing and hovered over her. "But what in god's name possessed you to go to Florida like that? If you had stayed at your friend's like you said you were going to, no one would have been able to accuse you of anything."
Tipping back her head to face him, she tried to keep her voice level in hopes of calming him. "I told you, I felt responsible for David being shot. I couldn't stand not knowing if he would live or die because of what I'd done."
Philip sat down beside her and grasped her hands. "Is that the real reason, Holly?"
She had to fight the urge to squirm away from his intent gaze. Though she intended to put an end to his illusions about their relationship, now was hardly the best time. "Yes. I felt guilty that I hadn't warned him about what he might be walking in on. As it turned out, Frampton was next on the killer's list."
"The hell with that reporter and Frampton. It's you I'm worried about. My god, Holly, there's an FBI agent camped in your apartment!"
"Agent Varden is here for my protection. I have every confidence my innocence will be proven and the real killer will be found." She hoped he believed that more than she did. His distressed features slowly smoothed and he eased the tight hold he had on her hands.
"I'm sorry, honey. You don't need me adding to the weight already on your shoulders. What can I do to help?"
He sounded like the old Philip again and she was able to relax. "Nothing, really. Just cover for me in the office for a few days, and I'll work on the project you brought me while I'm here."
Suddenly Philip moved his hands to her face and held her in place for a hard kiss. Holly was even more stunned by what he said next.
"Marry me, darling. Let me protect you and care for you like I've always wanted to. I just know everything would work out if you were truly mine in every sense." He glanced toward the office and suddenly his eyes glowed with an idea. In a conspiratorial whisper, his words came out in a rush. "We could sneak out of here while the agent's in the other room. We could drive to West Virginia, get married tonight. Then we could go away, maybe a honeymoon in Australia. I've got more than enough money saved up. By the time we came back, this whole mess would be cleaned up and no one would punish you for leaving."
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