by Lis Wiehl
“Let us calm down with all this and have a conversation,” Blackstone said in a light tone. He sat beside his nephew and slapped him hard on the back, making Marcus wince and sit stiffly beside the older man.
Lisa kept aware of the other men as well. One stood at the side, watching every move. The other moved around the church, out the doors of the sanctuary, and eventually back inside.
Molly reached for Lisa’s hand, but Lisa didn’t sense fear in the woman. When she glanced at her, Molly gave a slight nod as if to say she was with her, no matter what.
“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been gathering information about me. Why is that?”
“Why would I answer you?” Lisa asked. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. And if he wanted answers, he needed to keep them alive.
“There’s one particularly good reason. Please give me your telephone,” Blackstone said, holding out his hand.
Lisa rose from the step, dropped her phone, and stomped on the screen.
“Now why would you do that?” Blackstone said, shaking his head.
“You aren’t calling my father from my phone.”
Blackstone smiled. “Even though you’ve hardly seen him in years, you’re a protective daughter. That’s nice to see.”
The man actually sounded genuine when he said this.
“You have a daughter as well. Gwendolyn Hubert, isn’t that right?”
Blackstone’s back straightened at the mention of his daughter’s name.
“Do you know why she e-mailed me last night?” Lisa asked, studying every nuance and intake of air. She also saw Marcus react to this news, glancing at his uncle, then back to his hands.
“Gwen e-mailed you?” Blackstone said, and Lisa could almost see his mind clicking through reasons why. She assumed from his reaction that while Gwendolyn had distanced herself from him, he didn’t expect betrayal from his daughter.
“She doesn’t use your last name. You’re estranged, correct?”
“I’m her father.” His tone had turned deadly.
Marcus chewed on the corner of his thumbnail.
“I don’t believe that she e-mailed you,” Blackstone said, now studying Lisa.
But Lisa knew he didn’t have the experience of dissecting people, not the way she did. That was her life. He wouldn’t be able to guess her methods or motives. He obviously wasn’t in tune with his nephew or daughter, though his narcissism probably made him oblivious to this fact.
“I can show you the e-mail, but not from my phone.” Lisa looked down at the screen, shattered in a spiderweb pattern. She might regret that, but she wasn’t going to risk Blackstone luring Dad here as he’d done to her through Molly’s phone.
Blackstone’s demeanor had changed completely. This was getting to him. The pieces weren’t as clear, and Lisa knew that made him more unstable than usual. She needed to be very careful.
“Mr. Blackstone, we have a lot of information on you. And it’s spread around now. You can’t contain this.” She tried to sound compassionate. She sat beside Molly again and realized the woman was silently praying.
“This all began with your father trying to help some black man in prison? A man like that, he was on the fast track to the pen anyway,” Blackstone said in disgust.
“He didn’t kill Benjamin Gray.”
Blackstone didn’t react.
“What did your father find in New York?” Blackstone asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“He was investigating some items that belonged to his old FBI partner, Peter Hughes.”
“I’m unfamiliar with Peter Hughes.”
“He’s the one who shot you at the rally in Fort Worth,” Lisa said, as if everyone knew the fact.
“Interesting,” Blackstone said, but still he had not confessed.
“Was Madeline Fitzgerald a witness of the shooting as well?” Lisa saw the man’s immediate irritation at her name. Another weakness.
“We know that she was engaged to Benjamin Gray,” Lisa said.
Marcus looked at his uncle from the corner of his eye. So the nephew didn’t know this story.
“She would not have married him,” Blackstone said.
“You were friends with her when she was young. Lovers perhaps?”
Blackstone stared at her, and Lisa continued, “But she was half black.”
Marcus’s eyes widened, and the crony on their left reacted ever so slightly as well.
“Do not talk about her again,” Blackstone said through clenched teeth.
Lisa decided to pull back. “When my father was in New York, he met with a newsman he’s known since the late sixties or early seventies. William O’Ryan. He’s quite well known now.”
“William O’Ryan, the news guy?”
Lisa nodded and spoke as if concerned about Blackstone. “O’Ryan has gathered quite an extensive background on you and your company. And also on your daughter, Gwendolyn, especially since she’s running for Senate.”
Again Blackstone appeared upset. His daughter was certainly his greatest weakness.
“Mr. Blackstone, we’ve sent out information all over the place. But we hadn’t found enough to prove Leonard was unfairly convicted or any evidence that a DA could use to prosecute you. At least, there wasn’t enough before today.”
Marcus dropped his face into his hands, and Blackstone glanced at him with disgust. Lisa’s heart kept making odd leaps, but she couldn’t give way to the fear. She took a few deep breaths and then pushed forward, hoping she was saying the right things.
“We have dozens of paper trails, and they all lead straight to you. My father talked to that Detective Martin in Florida. He’s convinced you murdered a local businessman and his girlfriend. He’s piecing together evidence.
“Then in my hotel room, my house in Boston, my father’s house, a major news agency in New York, colleagues of mine … we’ve enlisted a large network to help us free Leonard Dubois before his execution. Are you going to track down all of that and make it disappear? How will you cover this up, Mr. Blackstone?”
Blackstone leaned back and crossed his arms at his wide chest. He stared at Lisa, seeming to weigh her words. Marcus looked crushed.
Blackstone cleared his throat. “What you don’t understand is that we are not in Dallas. You are, but our plane is in New Orleans. Right now we are in our suite, sleeping off a late night on Bourbon Street. We have witnesses who saw us. We’ll have witnesses who are seeing us today as well.”
“That is good but not foolproof. It’s, what, seven or eight hours between the two cities? Did you go through any toll roads, bridges, or pass under any surveillance cameras at traffic lights? And how will you dispose of all the … evidence?”
“I like you,” Blackstone said, chuckling as he regained his sense of power. “And as for evidence, there are always options. In fact, there’s a cemetery in back of this church. There’s a fresh grave already there. More than one body can fit in a grave.”
Lisa squelched the shiver that ran through her spine, and she realized her hands were shaking. She’d forgotten to eat, what with getting ready to leave. If this lasted too long, her strength might fail her.
She thought of John, of Drew, of Dad, suddenly fearing she’d never see them again. Her calm exterior was a sham, and it wouldn’t take much for Blackstone to realize it.
“We have my old family plantation on the drive back to New Orleans, or my private plane. An uncharted stop at a private airport in Mexico wouldn’t be difficult. And your father’s house and all of the papers and information inside are quite flammable. You see, my dear, there are plenty of possibilities. And you said yourself there is no evidence against me. With all of these paper trails, as you called them, nothing is conclusive. Remember, that is essential.”
“Essential for a conviction, yes. But if a pastor and a federal prosecutor disappear—the daughter of a retired FBI agent—you’ll have more than one agency after you. The Justice Department, FBI, the IRS. Ev
ery inch of your business, your plantation, your homes, your plane … every part of your life will be torn apart. Some won’t follow the law, like my father. They won’t stop with you either. Your daughter’s life and campaign will be exposed and scandalized. Whether she’s innocent or not, she’ll be linked to you and crucified in the press. You didn’t think this one through. Just like the first one back in 1965.”
Blackstone’s features had turned to stone.
“But I do have a solution,” Lisa said.
Marcus looked up from staring at his hands, while Blackstone sat with an unwavering glare since she’d mentioned Gwen again.
“You can get on your private jet and be in South America or a Caribbean island before anyone tracks you down. I’m sure you have money in offshore accounts. You can live in luxury in a dozen different countries.”
Lisa could see Blackstone waver. She’d struck a nerve, brought some hard truths that showed the cracks in his plan, but going on the run would be hard for him to accept.
“You wouldn’t get caught, and you wouldn’t be a hunted man, because other than this short episode, there are still no real crimes against you.”
Marcus turned to his uncle with a look of expectation.
“You think I’d give up everything?” Blackstone asked.
“Uncle Stanley, this makes sense. If they go through the company, you’ll lose everything. Not just the plantation. They’ll turn over every rock, and they will find enough then.”
“It’s a sacrifice. But one to save your daughter,” Lisa said.
Stanley Blackstone’s eyes jumped to hers, holding her for a long moment. He rose from the front bench and walked up the stairs of the altar. He stood at the pulpit, grasping its sides and gazing across the empty sanctuary. No one spoke for what felt like a long stretch of minutes.
There was a silence to the church that Lisa found to be beautiful. It surprised her, especially given the circumstances. Perhaps it was Molly’s praying, but she doubted that Blackstone could feel it as well.
“You made good points, Ms. Waldren, however—” Blackstone was interrupted by a loud noise outside, disrupting the quiet.
The double doors to the sanctuary burst open, and her father ran inside. “Lisa?” he called.
No, Dad, Lisa wanted to cry out as she and Molly stood.
Dad raced to her, grasping her arms.
“Are you all right? Let me see you.” Dad looked her over as if afraid she’d break into pieces.
“What are you doing here?” Lisa asked quietly.
“I was looking everywhere for you. I was at your hotel when a man approached me and told me where to come, but that I was not to tell anyone.”
Blackstone watched them from the pulpit with interest.
“You didn’t need to break your fancy phone after all,” Stanley said, raising his eyebrows. “But the sentiment was nice. Special Agent Waldren, your daughter was trying to protect you. After all of your failings as a father, isn’t it comforting to know your daughter would do that?”
Dad ignored Blackstone. He reached for Molly’s arms and seemed to assess her for injuries as well.
Blackstone walked away from the pulpit and down the stairs. His jacket opened as he walked, and Lisa realized he carried a gun at his waist.
“Dad,” Lisa said, but her father had bent down and grabbed a pistol from his ankle holster.
Dad turned, keeping himself between Lisa and Blackstone. He pointed his pistol at Blackstone before anyone could react.
“You didn’t check for a gun?” Blackstone said to the man coming from the back of the sanctuary. The man on the side wall hurried forward, drawing his gun as well.
“I did take his gun, I thought,” the man said.
Blackstone laughed. “We have you slightly outgunned here, Special Agent Waldren. Frank, let’s start by killing the black minister, unless Waldren puts the gun down so we can resume our discussion.”
There was a moment of indecision. Dad kept his gun trained on Blackstone. Blackstone’s men had guns pointed in their direction. But if Dad relented, they’d all be dead. Dad knew this as well.
“I’m not giving up the gun. We can talk, but this isn’t going anywhere,” Dad said. He motioned for Molly and Lisa to sit down behind him. Lisa took Molly’s arm as they sat on the edge of the altar, somewhat shielded behind her father.
“Not an ideal arrangement for a discussion,” Blackstone said with an edge in his tone.
Then from outside, a loud commotion of cars and sirens burst the quiet, growing louder until they seemed to overrun the church. Red and blue lights flashed through the stained-glass windows.
“We were so close to resolving this peaceably. Your daughter is an excellent negotiator. But you had to call the police?” Blackstone pulled out his own gun, looking at Dad as if he were incredibly stupid.
“It wasn’t me,” Dad said. He remained stationed in front of Lisa and Molly with his gun trained on Blackstone. Lisa wanted to pull him behind or beside her, but Dad firmly pushed back.
“It was Gwen,” Marcus said, jumping to his feet and wringing his hands.
“Gwen?” Blackstone turned to Marcus in disbelief.
“It had to be her. She’s been following you for a while now. She’s determined to take you down. She told me.”
“When did you speak to Gwen?” Blackstone asked.
“She planned on leaking the photographs from the plantation. She flooded the Internet with them, knowing someone would eventually find them. That’s not all she’s done.”
“And how did she do that?”
Marcus took a step back. “With my help.” He blinked his eyes. “I made copies when I took Leslie there.”
“How did you know where I kept them?”
Lisa wondered if this was their moment to escape. Blackstone appeared distracted; however, his other two men were not.
“Gwen told me. When she was a little girl, you showed her the safe and the photos because she needed to know what was required of a Blackstone. She said your father had done the same with you. You told her the combination was the address to the plantation.”
Blackstone frowned in thought.
“You never showed me the safe. You never showed me anything like that because you never trusted me,” Marcus said, almost whining.
“You’re such a parasite, Marcus.”
“Gwen was taking you down. She didn’t want to, but you have to be stopped.”
“Did you ever think that you’d be going down with me?”
“She said she’d try getting me immunity or something. This wasn’t all Gwen. I planned the poisoning at the prison—she wasn’t happy about that, but if the prison had done a better job, that would’ve led to you. How’s that for initiative?” Marcus spoke as if trying to be brave, but he was moving closer to Dad as he spoke, as if her father would protect him.
Suddenly the doors at the side of the sanctuary burst open and police officers raced in.
“Put the guns down and get on the ground!” an officer shouted.
“Get down,” Dad shouted to Lisa and Molly. He pushed his gun out a few feet in front of him and called out, “I’m FBI.”
Blackstone kept his gun trained in their direction. Lisa could see the barrel focused specifically on Dad. Blackstone’s man on the side had put out his hands and was already being cuffed.
“Slow down now and just back off,” Blackstone said over his shoulder to the approaching officers.
“Put the gun down,” the lead officer said.
Blackstone glanced at the cop and laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Put the gun down!”
“I’m not backing down to you,” Blackstone said.
Then Lisa saw that the officer was black. She knew Blackstone wouldn’t give himself up now.
Shots erupted from close by, followed by several from around the church.
“Hold your fire,” the officer in front shouted.
Lisa opened her eyes,
fearful of what she might see. Her father and Molly were sprawled out near her.
Lisa saw Blackstone staggering backward, the gun dropping from his hands. His chest was pocked with bullet holes, and blood spewed down his shirt.
From the floor a few feet away, Lisa saw Marcus holding Dad’s gun.
“You?” Blackstone muttered, staring at his nephew with surprise.
Marcus’s face reflected terror, his hands were shaking, but he fired again, then dropped the gun to the floor.
Blackstone collapsed backward, crumpling against the rise of the altar.
Marcus dropped to the ground and covered his face as he broke into sobs.
“It’s over,” Dad said as his hand grasped Lisa’s, squeezing it tightly.
The police interviewed them, then the FBI arrived and the questions started over again. Someone brought them coffee, and Lisa didn’t refuse it, but she quickly ate a granola bar from her purse to avoid waking up on the ground.
An EMT checked their vitals despite Dad gruffly trying to refuse. Crime scene investigators came in, and the coroner arrived. Marcus and Blackstone’s two men were arrested and led away.
Finally, they were allowed to leave the church sanctuary. Night had fallen and the church grounds buzzed with activity. Police vehicles, the SWAT van, and several ambulances surrounded the parking lot, blocking in their cars. Crime scene tape kept out some curious onlookers and several media trucks. Camera crews were taping every piece of the scene and turned immediately upon them.
“Jimmy!” Rosalyn pushed around numerous police officers and raced toward her father, nearly tackling him as she burst into tears. “If something had happened to you … ,” she cried.
“I’m all right.” Dad grinned as he patted her back.
She pulled back. “I arrived right after the police, but they wouldn’t let me in. I used that locator app I put on your phone when I heard over my scanner that the police were coming here.”
“So who called the police?”
Rosalyn motioned toward Gwen. “She did.”