by CJ Lyons
Able to fill her lungs again, Lucy straightened, hand clenched around her phone, wringing the life from it and wishing it was Burroughs' neck. Or better yet, a certain TV reporter's. "Surely I misheard you, Detective Burroughs."
"Look, don't get like that. It's not my fault." His voice dropped, became rushed, earnest. "I'm trying to help you out here. Would you at least give me a chance?"
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Cindy and her cameraman were at your house this morning. Shot some film of it and your husband and daughter going to Church, the ambulance coming—"
"You've got to be kidding me. That bitch! Endangering an undercover federal agent's identity is a felony. Go ahead, take her into custody. I warned her. Did she think I was playing?"
"All Cindy ever thinks about is the story. And she got one. She also has pictures taken with camera phones of you in the ER this morning. And eye-witness accounts of how you terrorized the hospital."
"I did no such thing."
"All I can say is, it looks bad. Real bad. Anyway, I was thinking we could maybe make a deal with her. Instead of arresting her, maybe we can get her to lose this story in exchange for a bigger one, a better one." He paused. "One that might help us nail Fletcher."
"What did you have in mind?"
"We let her air an interview with Fletcher's mom. One that implies that you're considering arresting the old lady as an accessory or something nasty like that. Something bad enough to draw Fletcher back to town. You said he was obsessed by his mom. We'll give him a chance to play hero."
"Just like his father." She considered it. "It will take some finessing. No way Alicia Fletcher will cooperate."
"Cindy says she won't have to. Her computer guys can digitally edit things so we can make her say almost anything we want. And most of it will be in the way Cindy sells it on air."
"Start working on a script. I'm on my way."
Chapter 32
Sunday 8:02 pm
Of course it wasn't as easy as merely writing a script. By the time she reached the Golden Years nursing home to meet Burroughs and Ames, Lucy had spoken with John Greally, the WDDE station manager, the nursing home administrator, legal affairs—three times—Burroughs' zone commander, the Pittsburgh Police Bureau's media information officer, and the Assistant Chief of Police.
After assuring everyone that they were not setting up a trap at Golden Years, that they'd arrange the leak to draw Fletcher elsewhere to a secure location, that they would in no way endanger Alicia's health or trample over her rights, that the proper releases would be signed by all, that no monetary compensation was changing hands, and that anything Ames reported would be unbiased—a statement that made Lucy gag, but satisfied the TV station's lawyer—and that all standards of Bureau ethical and moral conduct would be met at all times during the encounter, permission was finally, officially, irrevocably, denied.
"What makes you so certain Fletcher would fall for it anyway?" John Greally had argued when he'd called to break the bad news. "He isn't stupid. He'll know it's a trap."
"Didn't I ever teach you the rules of fishing?"
"Find out what they want and don't give it to 'em."
"Exactly. Fletcher wants to be a hero like he imagines his father was. That's why he called to warn us about the bomb at his house—he doesn't want us to think of him like he's a badguy. He wants to be a knight in shining armor."
"I really, really hate it when they turn out to be looney tunes. Makes it hard to predict—and the outcome if we make it trial is never guaranteed. Especially as Fletcher has done a good job of erasing his tracks."
"He's already rescued Ashley, so he's going to feel confident that we can't stop him, that he's outwitted us. If we look like we're targeting his dear ole mum, we'll look that much more incompetent and desperate."
"So he's the hero and he needs us to be the bad guys?"
"Exactly."
"Still just a theory. Not enough to jeopardize the integrity of the Bureau or risk any harm coming to civilians. Sorry, Lucy. You'll think of something else."
"Right." It was useless to keep arguing. The suits didn't care about a young girl's life. All they thought about was how it would play on the evening news or in front of a jury. She hung up just as she pulled into the nursing home's parking lot.
Good thing she wasn't a suit. She knew what was priority here and playing by the rules sure as hell wasn't going to save Ashley Yeager.
Lucy was probably tossing her career down the toilet, flushing a cherry bomb in after, but hell, what else was she gonna do with a girl's life at stake?
She climbed out of the car, slamming the door with enough force to rock the SUV. Across the parking lot, haloed by a bright spotlight, Cindy Ames stood in front of her news van, filming with Burroughs.
"Detective Burroughs, explain to me why this seventy-eight year old woman with severe health problems faces arrest?"
"First of all, Cindy," Burroughs said, turning his wide smile onto the camera, "it's not the Pittsburgh Bureau of Police who have issued a warrant for Ms. Fletcher's arrest. That order came from the FBI, not us."
"Who at the FBI?"
"Supervisory Special Agent Lucia Guardino. She's in charge of the Ashley Yeager case and she feels that Mrs. Fletcher was not forthcoming with vital information regarding her son's whereabouts. In Special Agent Guardino's mind, this information may be the key to finding Ashley Yeager alive."
"But at what cost? Alicia Fletcher is blind, diabetic, in kidney failure. How could she possibly survive an arrest?"
"Agent Guardino has arranged for Mrs. Fletcher to be admitted to the prison hospital ward where she'll be under guard and able to receive any medical care she requires."
Ames wrinkled her pert and perfect nose in distaste. "It seems to me that the federal government is retaliating because their main suspect in the Ashley Yeager disappearance is one of their own employees. Do you agree, Detective Burroughs?"
"I try not to second guess the FBI, but I'm sure that's a consideration."
They exchanged knowing nods as if they both could say more, if only given the chance. A pause, then Ames signaled to her cameraman.
"All right, cut. That's good for now, we can add more depending on how it goes with Alicia." She turned to Burroughs, wrapping her hand around his arm. "You're a natural at this, Burroughs."
Lucy stepped forward. "Are we all set?"
"Ready." Burroughs disengaged himself from Ames. "Cindy says we should just make it for the ten o'clock news. She's arranged for the other stations to pick it up for their later broadcasts."
"Good. Then there's just one more thing." Lucy held out her hand, palm up. "Ms. Ames, all footage of myself and my family."
Cindy's too-white smile looked ghoulish in stark lights. "Certainly. I keep my word." She reached into the van's front seat and slapped a computer disk into Lucy's hand.
"I told you before the consequences of involving me or my family in a news story. They haven't changed. I will have you arrested if you ever come near us again."
"Ahh...but Nicky was so sweet. He told me to come back anytime I wanted."
Lucy gripped the disk so tightly the edge threatened to slice through her skin. "Just make this work. A girl's life depends on it."
"What? No thanks?"
"For what? You're getting an exclusive story, you'll get your ratings. It's not like you care about Ashley or what happens to her—as long as you're the one reporting it."
Ames shrugged, her expression conveying contempt for Lucy's idealism. "Way of the world. If it bleeds, it leads." She crooked a finger at her cameraman. "Come on, Felix. Let's go granny-bashing."
Cindy didn't trust Guardino. No way in hell the uptight pols in Homeland Security approved this charade. This was the real world, not some made for TV movie. In this world upper echelon federal law enforcement officers were political appointees and depended on Congress for their budget and future. The life of one Pittsburgh kid barely registered on their radar.
No skin off her butt, she was going to get a fantastic story no matter what, but it made her wonder what Guardino would stop at to find this kid.
Never get emotionally involved—you'd think an FBI agent would know that.
"No matter what, don't stop filming," she told Felix. He nodded, shifting his handheld as he followed her into Golden Years. No one roamed the halls, the nursing home residents all been tucked in for the night, sleeping the sleep of the well-medicated and restrained. A nursing type escorted them to Alicia Fletcher's room.
"Alicia dear? Here are the people I told you about. The ones who want to talk about Jimmy, hear his side of things."
The woman seated in a vinyl chair beside the bed stirred with a dry, scratchy noise like rustling autumn leaves. Her hair was long spider silk white strands. Her skin appeared transparent, stretched too thin over her bony face and plumped up and doughy over her hands and lower legs. But it was the eyes that made Cindy take notice. Despite their sightlessness, they homed in on Cindy like an eagle spotting its prey.
Milky blue-grey, white all around the colored parts, the pupils all but invisible, they were the eyes of a ghost.
Then Alicia Fletcher smiled, lips stretching wide, dentures clicking into place, head craned forward eagerly, and Cindy revised her opinion. Not the eyes of a ghost. The eyes of a demon.
"You getting all this?" she nudged Felix who was scanning the room, his own eyes wide and mouth pursed in distaste. She strode forward, her heels clacking on linoleum floor, Alicia following her progress around the bed, her gaze never releasing Cindy from its talon grip. "Mrs. Fletcher? I'm Cindy Ames with WDDE TV. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."
"You working with the bitch trying to hunt down my boy?" Alicia asked, her voice surprisingly soft, melodic even. "That FBI agent, Guardino is her name. Eye-talian, probably doesn't even belong in this country, slept with someone to get her job. She's trying to make my Jimmy out to be some kind of criminal."
"I've met Agent Guardino," Cindy admitted, seating herself on a vinyl chair opposite Alicia. "She seems very determined. And confident of your son's guilt in the abduction of Ashley Yeager as well as the murders of several other women."
"Pfui," the word was accompanied by a stream of spittle that just missed Cindy. "Only thing Jimmy is guilty of is following his heart. He's got a soft spot for women who need help, like his father that way."
"You realize that if you're withholding information on Jimmy's whereabouts, Agent Guardino can have you arrested?"
Alicia held both palms up, arms trembling, as if waiting to be cuffed. "Let her. She wants an old woman's death on her conscience, fine with me. I have nothing to fear. My boy's done nothing wrong. It's that Guardino woman, she should be out looking for that poor lost girl instead of persecuting me and my family."
She lowered her hands and leaned forward. "If I die today, it will be her fault. She was here earlier and I swear," she slumped back in her chair, one hand fanning her face, "she almost did me in then. Nurses said my blood pressure shot up so high they thought I'd have a stroke."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cindy said. She couldn't believe her luck. It was like Alicia was reading the script she and Burroughs had prepped. All she had to do was lead her. The old woman seemed smarter than that, this had to be a scam, but as long as Cindy got her story, she wasn't about to argue. "Is there anything you'd like to say to your son if he's watching?"
Alicia smiled again. Cindy hoped it wouldn't scare off too many in the audience; she'd seen friendlier grins from corpses. "Just that I love him no matter what. I know he's trying to live up to his father's memory and there's nothing that would make me prouder."
That was perfect. And basically the end of her script. No reason she couldn't keep rolling though, might come in handy. "Anything you'd like to tell Agent Guardino?"
Alicia's eyes narrowed to two reptilian slits, her head jutting forward. "People like her get theirs sooner or later. She ought to remember that. She ought to remember family always comes first—"
She froze, one hand clawing at her throat as if she was choking. Suddenly her face flushed first red, then purple as she struggled to breathe. The nurse rushed forward, pushing Cindy out of the way. Alicia collapsed in her arms.
"Keep shooting," Cindy whispered to the cameraman as the nurse hit a button. Several more medical types ran into the room followed by Burroughs and Guardino. The nurses slid Alicia onto her bed, took her pulse and blood pressure, put oxygen on her face and sprayed medicine under her tongue.
"What's wrong with her?" Guardino asked, assuming a position near the head of the bed.
"Probably a massive stroke," a nurse taking Alicia's blood pressure muttered. "She's bottoming out. Do you want me to start a line?"
"No need. She's DNR," Alicia's nurse said. "No CPR, no extra-ordinary measures."
"Then that's all we can do," another replied, stepping back from the bed.
"Lost her pulse."
"Do something," Guardino told them. "You can't let her die."
"There's nothing we can do. The patient's directives—"
"This woman is a material witness. A girl's life may depend on what she knows. That over-rides any advanced directives."
Two of the nurses looked to the third. "I'm sorry, Agent Guardino. There's nothing we can do. She's gone."
Cindy made sure Felix got a good shot of Alicia's crumpled body, her house-dress bunched up, eyes staring without blinking, hands clenched into useless claws. They backed out of the room before they could be kicked out.
"Man, oh man, that sucked," Felix said.
Cindy smirked, shot him a glare, wondering if he had the stomach for this job. "Are you kidding? That footage just bought me network time!"
"You can't use that. It's totally unethical, immoral, it's, it's—"
"It's ratings, baby. Pure, diamond studded ratings."
A scream of frustration clawed its way up Lucy's throat, howling to escape, but she clamped it down tight.
"Everyone step away from the body," she ordered. "This is a crime scene."
"You can't do that," the nurse who refused to resuscitate Alicia told her.
"Already done," Lucy replied, pulling out her cell phone. "Detective Burroughs, escort these women to a room where they can be interviewed and secure Ms. Ames and her cameraman along with their footage."
Burroughs didn't give her any flak. Revealing his good instincts for self-preservation, because if he had she was all too ready to unload. "Please come with me, ladies."
He ushered the bemused nurses from the room. Lydia called the Medical Examiner's office. The tech was the same one who had worked Noreen's death at the Tastee Treet earlier.
"Sure, I'll be right out," he assured her. "You going for a hat trick today, Agent Guardino?"
He obviously hadn't heard about the other three bodies Lucy had discovered. She hung up and headed across the hall to where Ames waited, wondering if she might end up adding to the death count. After all, the ME guy was on his way, maybe he could do two for the price of one?
She sent Burroughs to guard the body and turned to face the reporter.
"You can't keep us here," Ames protested. "It's a violation of our civil rights. We have a deadline."
"Show me the footage," Lucy asked the cameraman, ignoring Ames until she could quench the impulse to throttle her. "I want to see everything."
"You don't think we had anything to do with that! You were listening the entire time—"
"Just show me everything."
The camera guy pushed a few buttons and motioned for Lucy to sit beside him so that she could watch the replay on his small LCD screen. The entire interview took less than ten minutes.
"Go back to when you first entered the room," Lucy directed. The cameraman was flustered, took him two tries of hitting the buttons. "Can you slow that?"
She watched the camera bob around the room as Ames first entered. Alicia was sitting in her chair, turned away, her hands o
ut of sight, fumbling with something. "There. Freeze it." Alicia was reaching as if she'd dropped something in her chair. "Wait here."
Lucy returned to Alicia's room. They couldn't touch the body until the ME released it and she should probably get a warrant just to cover her ass before searching the premises but she didn't have time.
"What are you looking for?" Burroughs asked when she brushed past him and turned on all the lights in the room. Lucy ignored him, searching between the chair cushions.
"Bingo." She grabbed a pair of gloves and picked up the cell phone from where it sat, tucked into the cushions of Alicia's chair. "She set us up. Had Fletcher listening in the entire time."
Lucy carefully hit Redial. She held it between them so that Burroughs could hear. Fletcher answered. "Is that you, Lucy?"
"Who else would it be?"
"You'll pay for what you did to my mother."
"I didn't do anything to her, Fletcher. She orchestrated this all on her own. Was she always such a drama queen?" Lucy hoped she could focus his anger on her, away from Ashley. "No wonder you locked her away in this dump."
"How dare you! I did the best I could—" There was a pause, followed by the sound of laughter. "It's not going to work, Lucy. I'm not stupid, you know. The next sound you hear will be the sound of this untraceable, pre-paid cell phone being flushed down a toilet."
"Figured you for a coward. Running away, not even trying to make things right for his own mother. She knew you would run, Fletcher. Knew you couldn't be half the man your father was."
Burroughs grabbed Lucy's arm, shook his head at her. "Tone it down," he mouthed.
"Just—just you shut your mouth, bitch!"
"Make me. Come and get me, Fletcher. Or can't you handle a real woman? Have to make do with scared, half-starved illegals and little girls like Ashley."
"So you found the others. Maybe you're smarter than I thought." Another long pause. "Maybe I'm smarter than you think as well. Your career means everything to you, doesn't it Lucy? Your daughter is sick, in the hospital, and you abandoned her for the sake of your job. You know nothing about being a mother."