by Claire Adams
Alex looked towards the men and asked, “What do you want?”
Adam had stepped protectively in front of me and we all held our breath and waited for the men to speak. Neither of them did. Mr. Fritz was beginning to rouse, and one of the men kicked at him with his foot until the poor old man had crawled all the way to the dining room to join the rest of us.
The man in front motioned at the other with his head. The man in the back nodded and began to approach them. He pointed his large, black gun at us as he did, but didn’t speak a word. He reached first for Alex’s mother. As he grabbed her by the arm she screamed out Alex’s name. Alex tried to hold on to her, but the man struck him with the butt of the gun, knocking him backwards.
The man forced the older woman to sit in one of the dining room chairs and then with the hand not holding the gun he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of silver duct tape. He held it in my direction and grunted, motioning me towards Mrs. Fritz using a jerk of his head.
I knew what he wanted. He was telling me to tape the woman to the chair. I didn’t want to do it, but I was smart enough to know that refusing to do something when a man had a gun pointed at you could get people killed. I sat my purse down on the table and took the tape. I whispered, “I’m sorry,” to Alex’s mother as I began to wrap it around her wrists and ankles and the arms and legs of the chair.
“It’s okay, dear,” the older woman said, making me want to smile at her. I loved the older generation. Even in times like this they seemed to remember their manners. One man had his gun on me, and the other on both Alex and Adam. Mr. Fritz sat slumped in a chair, still looking dazed.
“Can I make sure my Dad is okay?” Alex asked.
The man simply shook his head no. Alex looked distressed, but this time didn’t try to move. The dark bruise forming on his cheek had convinced him that not doing what these men told them to was a bad idea. After I finished with Mrs. Fritz’s arms and legs, the man made a motion across his mouth with his hand and pointed back at her. I tore a piece of the duct tape about six inches long and placed it across the older woman’s mouth. I could see tears forming in her eyes, and it made me feel like crying, too.
Afterwards, the man made me do the same to Adam, Alex, and lastly Mr. Fritz just as he seemed to be coming around. The man then taped me to a chair, while the other kept the gun trained on them. After we were all secured, the men left the room.
I could hear shuffling and commotion in the rest of the house as the men apparently tore things apart, looking for whatever it was they had come for. I tried to take comfort from the look of love that Adam gave me with his eyes. He was trying to convey to her that all would be okay. I tried once to smile at him, but the men had taped my mouth so tightly that the smile actually hurt. I glanced at Alex’s parents. His father’s eyes looked both sad and angry, and his mother had hers closed, a stray tear found its way down her cheeks every now and then. I looked at Alex then. He wasn’t making eye contact with any of us. His eyes looked cold and angry to me.
After what seemed like hours, we heard the men leave through what was left of the front door. Adam waited several minutes to make sure they hadn’t returned, and then began to use his leg and arm muscles to wiggle his chair towards the dining room table. I watched, in awe of this strong, brave man that I loved as he used the corner of the table to peel the tape from his face. He got it off one side, leaving an angry red mark on his cheek and upper lip where it had clung. He then scooted towards where I left my clutch, and using his mouth again he opened it and after a great deal of effort he got my cell phone out. The small gun he had bought me to carry in my purse also fell out on the table. I could see Alex watching and the look of surprise on his face when he saw the gun.
Adam wasn’t able to use his face to dial 911, but he was able to press the last number dialed with his nose. He laid his ear on the phone on the table and said,
“Come on, Kyla pick up.”
“Hi, girl! Thought you had dinner plans tonight,” Kyla said as she answered the phone.
“Kyla it’s Adam.”
“Adam? Is everything okay?”
“Not really, I need a really big favor, okay?”
“Absolutely boss, what’s up?” she said.
“We’re out at Alex Fritz’s place on the Island. The address is 1112 North Sycamore Drive. I need you to call the police and have them come out here right away.”
“The police? Adam, what’s going on?”
“Tell them there were two intruders here and they tied us up. We need help,” he looked over at Alex’s father and then said, “Maybe they should send an ambulance, too, just to make sure everyone is alright.”
I knew Kyla wanted to ask more questions, but the urgency in his voice made her simply say, “Okay, I’m on it,” instead.
Adam pushed the “End” button with his chin and then looked at them all and said, “Help is on the way, guys, hang tight.”
The police and an ambulance showed up within twenty minutes after Adam had spoken with Kyla. I heard a man’s voice outside say, “This guy needs medical,” and suddenly remembered the limo driver. He must have been who we had heard scream. I hoped he was alright.
Two uniformed officers came inside first. They had their guns drawn and did a search of the house before removing the tape from me and the others. As soon as they had gotten Alex freed, he grabbed his cell phone out of the drawer under the kitchen counter.
“Sir, no phone calls yet. We need to talk about what happened here first.”
Adam gave Alex a questioning look. Who would he be calling at a time like this?
Alex looked reluctant but he sat back down and as if suddenly remembering what had happened, he said, “Mom Dad, are you guys okay?”
His mother simply nodded, and his father looked angry again and said, “Fine, glad you held off on your call long enough to ask.” By that time, detectives were on the scene. The lead detective, a man named Jeffrey Stout asked whose house it was and Alex told him it was his. He then asked what had happened tonight, and Alex described the past forty-five minutes or so to him.
The detective took the names and relationships of everyone in the room, and then asked,
“Did any of you recognize anything about either of these men?”
We all said that wet did not.
“Mr. Fritz, do you have any idea what they were looking for?”
Alex ran his hands across his face and through his hair before saying, “I am the East Coast campaign manager for the President. I don’t know if they thought there would be money, or campaign information here…there’s not. I don’t keep anything like that here. It’s all strictly confidential and it is kept at campaign headquarters.”
“Hmm,” the detective said, as he made a note on his pad. “You don’t seem to have very good security here for a man who is so important.”
Alex looked like he was getting frustrated with the detective. He stood up and said, “I just told you, I don’t keep anything confidential here. I don’t have money here. I don’t even own a safe. I didn’t think I needed more security than I have.”
“Sir, please sit down,” the detective asked him. Alex wasn’t used to having people tell him what to do anymore, but in this case, he did as he was told.
“Mr. Hanson, I recall that recently your ex-wife was murdered in an apparent robbery. Do you think there may be any relation here?”
Adam shook his head slowly and said, “None that I can think of. They arrested Miles Brigham IV for Marjorie’s murder. I obviously don’t believe he’s guilty, since my firm is handling his case. The problem there is that I don’t know who killed Marjorie, or why, so I couldn’t really say if this was related or not.”
The detective made another note and then said, “Ms. Winston, you’re from the UK?”
Alicia told him she was and he said, “You can’t think of anything at all that was familiar about these men?”
“No, they had on masks, their builds were both very l
arge, and I don’t even know anyone that big. Their hair was covered and they never spoke.”
“Yes, that’s what makes me think maybe one of you knew them. They didn’t want their voices, or their accents to be recognized.”
“Their accents?” Alicia asked,
“Yes, the man outside, Frank, the limo driver, heard them speak when they thought he was unconscious. He said they spoke with British accents.”
“I really didn’t recognize them...” Alicia began.
“I believe you,” the detective told her, “just heard your accent and thought, maybe… Anyways, I’d like to get each of your statements individually. The EMTs are going to take Mr. Fritz to Mercy and have him checked out. Mrs. Fritz, you are welcome to go with him if you like, I’ll check in with the two of you later.”
Mrs. Fritz already had her coat on and her purse in her hand. The EMTs had put Mr. Fritz on a gurney, despite his protests. She thanked the detective and followed them as they took him out the door. The detective looked at Alex and said,
“Mr. Fritz, before we begin the interviews let’s take a walk through the house. You can tell me if it looks like anything is missing.”
Alex reluctantly followed the detective out of the room. Adam put his arm around me and pulled me in close, kissing my temple. "You okay?”
I turned towards him where his arms could envelop me “I’m fine, just wish things like this would stop happening to us.”
He kissed me on top of the head and said, “Me, too, baby.”
Alex and the detective were gone about half an hour. Adam made coffee, and he and I were at the table sipping a cup when they came back in the room. Alex looked more agitated than he had before. The detective asked which of them wanted to go first, and I volunteered, hoping it would give Adam a chance to talk to him.
CHAPTER TEN
ADAM
When Alicia and the detective had stepped out, I asked, “Was anything taken?”
Alex looked beat. His eyes were rimmed in red and he had run his fingers through his hair so many times it was sticking up on top and out on the sides. He looked at me and said,
“Some files from the cabinet in my study. It was nothing important. I don’t think they even looked at them. Just grabbed ‘em.”
“Why don’t you sit, Alex? You look like you’re about to fall down.”
Alex nodded, and I thought he was about to sit down,
“Let me get you a cup of coffee,” I said, before realizing that instead of sitting Alex was headed back to the counter between the dining room and kitchen to grab his cell phone. “Who the hell do you need to call so badly?” I asked him.
“I need to make sure my people know what happened before the press gets a hold of this. We need to prepare a statement. Reassure everyone that nothing pertaining to the campaign, or donators was taken.”
“I think your parents are right, you do need a vacation. You should see yourself right now,” I told him.
Alex seemed to not hear me. He dialed the phone and stepped into the other room as I was still talking. I stood up and walked nearer to the partition that separated the two rooms. I could hear Alex talking, but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I stepped closer, and suddenly Alex pulled open the swinging door and said,
“What are you doing?”
I decided not to even try lying. I was tired of this entire mess and just wanted some answers. “I want to know what’s going on, Alex. I want to know what you’ve gotten yourself involved in.”
Alex didn’t say anything for a few moments, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, he said, “Okay, but not here. After the police leave, I’ll meet you somewhere and we’ll talk. I’ve needed someone to talk to for a while now. Please, though, don’t say anything else until they’re gone.”
The detective that brought Alicia back was just leaving the room so I only nodded at him. He turned to me and said, “You still okay?” She smiled at him and nodded.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALICIA
Adam left to go with the detective for his interview. Alex went back into the kitchen with his phone and left me alone in the dining room. I picked up my phone and saw there was a text message. It was from David. He said he was nearby, but as long as we were okay, he didn’t want to come in and blow his cover. I texted him back and said we were okay. I asked if he knew what was going on. His next text said,
“Yes. Have the two men in custody, we will talk tomorrow.”
The detectives at last told Adam and me that we could go home. Alex was planning to go to Mercy hospital to check on his parents. Adam offered to go with him. Alex hesitated, and then accepted Adam’s offer. Undoubtedly, it would give them a chance to talk. I was okay with driving myself home, but Adam didn’t like the idea. We were all still shaken up by what had happened tonight, and he didn’t want me to be alone. He called Kyla, and while we were waiting for the contractor that Alex must have paid a fortune to come out so late at night to hang a new door, she arrived to take me home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADAM
When the new door was finished, Alex and I headed to the hospital. I drove, as I was becoming more concerned about Alex’s state of mind by the minute. I wasn’t sure if it was Alex’s anxiety about how his parents were doing, his anger about his home being violated, or what he had said earlier about needing to talk, but it was blatantly obvious that he had something heavy weighing on his mind.
We drove silently for the first few miles, and then Alex broke the silence at last by saying,
“I hope we can still be friends, after I tell you what I have to say.”
I glanced sideways at my friend. I felt only pity for him right now, but I knew it was due to the situation, and soon the anger at what Alex had been involved in would return. I only gave a slight nod of my head and waited for him to go on.
“I’ve got myself in over my head, Adam. I don’t know what to do. This all started out to be my dream. The job I always wanted, and I knew I would be good at it…I am good at it, when I’m left alone and allowed to do it,” he sighed heavily and raked his hand through his hair and down across his face again. “But, there’s too much money involved, too much power at stake, people just can’t leave it alone.”
“What people?” I asked as we merged into the swarm of traffic waiting to pay their toll to cross the bridge that led back into the city.
“People like Brigham who wanted to control me because he felt like I owed him something for installing me in this position and others, bad people. These aren’t people you mess with, Adam. I mean, my career is not all that is at stake here. They are coming after my family now.”
“Alex, You’re not making a lot of sense.”
He sighed again, “I know, I just don’t know where to start. The jest of it is this…I was placed in my position by Brigham, to control the funds that were coming in to the campaign and make sure that the people who were elected would be ‘sympathetic’ to his cause. That is, look the other way when it came to his shoddy practices in the Gulf, and stand up to the EPA when they started breathing down his neck.
“It sounds a little shady, I know, but I looked at it as an opportunity to do enough good that it would overshadow the other things I was doing. The President is a good man. He hasn’t been in office long enough to do all of the good that I know he can do. I thought that I was doing some of what it would take to allow him to fulfill the promises he had made to the American people in the future. I did my job well, and I was doing such a good job, that money literally started pouring in. That kind of money began to attract the attention of other people.”
He got quiet again as we made the turn into the hospital parking lot. I found a space and turned off the ignition. I looked at Alex and said,
“Who were these other people?”
“First, I met a man named Johnston at one of the fundraisers. He said his boss owned a large textile company in the UK and was planning on moving it into the States. H
e said they wanted to support American politics in an effort to ease their transition. Again, not exactly the most honorable motives or intentions, but I told myself that as long as the money was coming in, the President could get re-elected and that was the end goal, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, I knew the question had been rhetorical.
Alex continued, “Their money started pouring in, and at first it was all good. Then, I met the man at the top, Mr. Grant. He’s a refined, smooth-talking, mean son-of-a-bitch. He told me, in the politest way possible, that he had arranged for Vick to be killed. He said he was going to make sure that Miles Brigham IV was found to be responsible for it, and he said I was going to make sure that the money he had put into the campaign stayed liquid enough to be moved around. He introduced me to his son, Jack. Jack became my main contact after that and let me tell you Adam, Alicia is lucky to be rid of that snake.”
“So,” I said, still trying to grasp all of what Alex was telling me. “The point of killing Vick was to frame Miles?”
“I guess,” Alex said, sounding wearier than ever. “You see, Grant had approached Vick before he and Miles had their falling out. Miles told Vick to blow him off. Brigham runs his own shady deals, but he knew these guys were going to be trouble of the very worst kind, and he told Vick so. Vick said thanks but no thanks and went on with his life. Problem was, when Miles found out that Vick was sleeping with his daughter’s boyfriend, he wasn’t willing to stand behind him any longer. This gave Grant the opportunity he needed to get rid of both Vick and Miles. Kill Vick and his boyfriend, and frame Brigham. Unfortunately, the boyfriend got away, and no one has been able to get to him. He’s surrounded by Feds and Grant’s people want no part of that. They didn’t see him as a big enough player to worry about, anyways.”