Murder Inside the Beltway

by Margaret Truman

  “I will.”

  “Good. And I also hope you realize that this was just business. We have nothing personal against you or your family. The business had to be finished before we could take you home.”

  “Okay.”

  Greta stood. “All right, my little friend, I’m going to take the tape off your ankles, but you’ll have to wear something over your eyes. I won’t use tape, provided you promise not to try to remove what I put there. Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. You’re not only a very pretty young lady, you’re very smart.”

  A half hour later, Greta sat in the back of the tan four-door sedan with the blindfolded Samantha. Paul drove. They meandered toward the District, obeying all traffic signals and speed limits. Eventually, they turned onto Fourth Street, SE, and pulled to the curb, four blocks from the U.S. Capitol. It had started to rain hard during their trip, which pleased them. Fewer people on the streets.

  “We’re almost there, honey,” Greta said. “Now, this is when you really have to listen to me and do everything I say. Understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, no, sweetheart, you have to do exactly what I say.”

  “All right.”

  “When I take off your blindfold and let you out, you have to promise not to look back at us. Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say ‘I promise.’ ”

  “I promise.”

  “We’ll be right in front of a very nice church. You are to walk into the church—no looking back—and sit down in a pew. You know what a pew is?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “I want you to sit there for five minutes. You can count to five minutes, can’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “After five minutes, you can use this.” She placed a stolen cell phone in the girl’s hands. “This is a simple cell phone. It’s all charged up. You know how to use a cell phone, I’m sure. All kids your age know how. After five minutes, you can use it to call your parents and tell them to come pick you up. The church is called the Capitol Hill Presbyterian Church. It’s on Fourth Street and Independence Avenue. That’s in the Southeast section of the city. Can you remember that?”

  Samantha affirmed that she could, but Greta had her recite what she’d been told, which she did perfectly.

  “All right. Ready?”

  “Yes.” Samantha started to cry again.

  “No tears,” Greta said, “or we won’t be able to let you go.”

  The girl drew in a deep breath and brought herself under control.

  “You’re a very good girl, Samantha,” Greta said. She kissed the girl’s cheek as Paul pulled directly in front of the church. There was no one on the street. Greta opened the door, turned Samantha so that she faced away from her, pulled off her blindfold, and gave her a nudge out the door.

  “Go!” Greta said.

  Paul waited a few seconds to be sure that the girl did as she’d been told, walked directly to the church’s front doors without even a glance back.

  • • •

  Jackson, Hall, another detective, and two FBI special agents were stationed in various parts of the Rollins house. Kloss had returned to headquarters for yet another briefing on what steps might be taken next. Jerry sat near the phone, his attention ostensibly on a magazine. His wife had been upstairs napping, but had just returned to the living room when the phone rang. Jerry had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving the phone for Sue to pick up. “Hello?”

  All eyes were on her as she gasped, “Oh, my God!”

  “What is it?” Jerry said, racing from the kitchen.

  “It’s Samantha,” Sue said.

  The hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably and Jerry grabbed it from her. “Samantha?” he said. He turned to others. “It’s her! It’s Samantha. Where are you, honey? Are you all right?”

  Jackson picked up an extension and listened as the girl, sounding remarkably calm, recited where she was.

  “Let’s go,” Jackson said.

  A marked patrol car parked in front of the house led the procession of vehicles, its siren wailing and lights flashing. Jackson, Hall, and Jerry and Sue Rollins piled into Jackson’s unmarked sedan and followed. A call was put out for other units to rendezvous at the church. The media camped on the street was taken by surprise but managed to dispatch a few vehicles in an attempt to catch up with the police. By the time Jackson pulled to a screeching stop at the church’s entrance, three other police cars had arrived, their uniformed occupants fanning out along the sidewalk. Despite the heavy rain, the scene had attracted a sizable number of onlookers, who were kept at bay by the first officers to arrive.

  The Rollinses, Jackson, and Hall raced up the steps and into the church’s interior. It took a second to acclimate to the dim lighting, but when they did, they saw Samantha seated in a pew off to the left. She seemed oblivious at first to their arrival, as though in shock, afraid to look anywhere but straight ahead. But the sound of her name from her mother broke the spell. She turned as Jerry reached her and scooped her up in his arms. Sue wrapped her arms around them and they held the embrace for what seemed an eternity to Jackson and Hall, who watched the reunion with wide smiles, and tears.

  “Let’s get her back to the house,” Jackson suggested.

  It took some navigating to move vehicles and people who clogged the street to allow the car driven by Jackson, and containing Mary Hall and the Rollins family, to make its way back to Foggy Bottom and into the dry sanctuary of the Rollins home. Rollins had started trying to elicit from his daughter details of her captivity, but Jackson suggested they wait until reaching the house.

  “You’re right,” Rollins said. “This isn’t the time.”

  Kloss had heard the news and was there when they arrived. He took Jackson aside and asked what had brought about the release.

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said. “It was the girl who called from the church. She said where she was, right down to the address and quadrant. She was calm. Whoever dropped her there had obviously briefed her pretty good.”

  “What did she call on?”

  Jackson handed him the plastic bag in which he’d dropped the cell phone Samantha had given him.

  “Hers?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to question her until you arrived.”

  “I want to put her to bed,” Sue announced. “She looks exhausted.”

  “Just hold up a second,” Kloss suggested. He took Jerry Rollins aside. “I’d like to ask her some questions,” he said.

  “Now?” Rollins replied, incredulous. “She’s been through a hellish ordeal. Can’t it wait?”

  “I understand your concern, Mr. Rollins, but I’d like to get from her anything she remembers while it’s fresh in her mind. It’s important, sir. You and Mrs. Rollins can be with her, and I promise I won’t prolong it longer than necessary.”

  “All right, but keep it short.”

  Kloss, Jackson, Hall, and one of the FBI men sat with Samantha in the living room. She was huddled on the couch, between her mother and father, Sue’s arm firmly surrounding her as though the questions might come as physical blows.

  “You’re quite a brave young lady,” Kloss began. “We’re all very proud of you.”

  Samantha looked up at her mother and smiled shyly.

  “What can you tell us about the people who took you?” Kloss asked.

  A puzzled frown crossed the girl’s face. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “There was a man and woman.”

  “Did you see them?”

  She shook her head. “They wore things over their faces.”

  “Uh-huh. Masks. Just over their eyes?”

  “No. Their whole faces, like ski masks.”

  “Did they call each other by name?”

  “Once I heard him call her ‘Greta.’ ”

  “Okay. What about Greta?”

  “She was nice to me. She had a nice voice, and s
he bought me food I liked.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Kloss said. “Do you remember how far you drove the day they took you from the Mall?”

  “I don’t remember. It was a long time.”

  “A long drive,” Kloss said. “You have no idea where they kept you, whether it was in a big building or a house?”

  “A house. I had a small room with a bed.” Then, as though remembering something she was supposed to say, she said, “They never hurt me, never hit me. They were nice to me.”

  Sue broke down. “I’m sorry, but this is all so difficult.”

  “I understand, ma’am,” Kloss said. “Only a few more minutes, Samantha. Did they say anything that might help us know who they were or what they wanted? Did they say anything about why they took you?”

  “They said it was for business,” she replied. “They said that they were going to let me go because the business was over.”

  “Business? Did they say what sort of business?”

  “No.” She turned to her mother. “Mommy, I’m so tired.”

  “Please,” Jerry Rollins said.

  “Of course,” Kloss said. “Get her to bed. We’ll talk more when she’s rested.”

  As Mr. and Mrs. Rollins started up the stairs with their daughter, Kloss called after them, “Mr. Rollins, I’d like time with you once she’s tucked in.”

  Kloss took Jackson and Hall aside. “What do you figure happened?” he asked. “They hold the kid for days, then drop her at a church with a cell phone to call home. No ransom demands, no nothing, just some vague comment about business being done.”

  Matt and Mary looked at each other before Jackson said, “I don’t know for sure what’s going down, Detective, but I have a few ideas.”

  “Lay ’em on me,” said Kloss. “I’m all ears.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  With Hall at his side, Jackson related to Kloss everything he’d learned about the tapes and his suspicions about Walt Hatcher’s involvement with them and with Rosalie Curzon. Kloss listened without interrupting. When Jackson finished, Kloss summed up for himself what he’d heard.

  “You say that Hatcher was shaking down the murder victim and others,” he said. “Hatcher knew of the existence of the tapes, and that Governor Colgate was caught on one of them. And Hatcher threatened this other call girl, the Simmons woman, that if she talked she’d end up like her friend, Ms. Curzon?”

  Jackson affirmed.

  “You know, Matt, accusing a fellow officer of committing a crime carries with it an extra weight. Hatcher has had a long career with MPD, and plenty of decorations. You’d better be sure of your facts.”

  “We are.”

  “And you think Mr. Rollins might have used the tapes as ransom to get his daughter back.”

  “I don’t know that,” Jackson quickly said, “but considering the unusual circumstances of her return, it’s a possibility.”

  “If you’re right, Rollins put himself in one hell of a dilemma. What do you think, that Hatcher ended up with the tapes and passed them along to Rollins?”

  “I doubt if he passed them along,” Jackson said. “Sold them, is more like it.”

  “Which put Rollins between that classic rock and a hard place. Turn over those tapes to save your daughter and in the process sink your best friend’s chances of winning the White House.”

  “Really no choice when it comes down to it,” Mary offered.

  “No, I suppose not,” Kloss agreed. “I think we need a serious talk with Mr. Rollins when he comes down.”

  Other officers had packed up the monitoring gear and their personal belongings, and departed, leaving Kloss, Jackson, and Hall to question Rollins. Kloss took the lead, while Jackson and Hall sat quietly across the dining room table. They were impressed with Kloss’s approach. There wasn’t a hint from the wily detective that he knew anything of the tapes that might have led to Samantha’s release. He was gentle, yet firm, a skilled interviewer.

  “Obviously, Mr. Rollins,” Kloss said, “there’s been a happy ending to this unfortunate event.”

  “Thank God,” Rollins said.

  “Your daughter seems fine. I’m sure you and Mrs. Rollins were pleased to hear her say that she hadn’t been mistreated.”

  “Something else to be thankful for.”

  “Detectives Jackson, Hall, and I have been trying to come up with a rationale for them releasing Samantha at this particular time. Your daughter mentioned that her captors talked about some sort of business having to be concluded before they could return her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any idea what they meant by that, what sort of business they were referring to?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Rollins replied.

  “I’m sure you can understand, sir, the reason for our confusion. We’ve felt all along that the abduction was a professional job. The way they arranged for her release—no further phone calls from them, dropping her off at a safe haven like a church, and providing her with a cell phone to call you—only reinforces that belief. The question is, why?”

  “Isn’t it enough that Samantha is now safe at home?” Rollins said.

  “That’s certainly important,” said Kloss, “and we share your relief. But that doesn’t end it. A kidnapping has occurred, and we have an obligation to find and prosecute those behind it. It isn’t over for us.”

  Rollins was having trouble disguising his annoyance at this line of questioning. To an extent, Jackson understood. The family nightmare was over. Time to get on with their lives, regardless of the police’s need to press forward with the investigation. But he was also very much in tune with Kloss’s responsibilities.

  Rollins thought for a moment before responding. “Look,” he said, “I fully understand that you have a job to do, and I assure you that I’ll cooperate in any way I can. But I’m as baffled as you are why Samantha was taken, and why she was allowed to return home. As for this vague mention of some sort of ‘business,’ only the kidnappers know what they meant.”

  “Hopefully,” Kloss said, “we’ll come up with an answer to that question. In the meantime—”

  Kloss’s radio sounded. He listened, made a few notes, and ended the call. “I have to go,” he said. “We’ve got a hostage situation, an estranged father holding one of his kids.” He said to Jackson and Hall, “Why don’t you continue this debriefing of Mr. Rollins. I’ll be back in touch.”

  Jackson walked outside with Kloss. “What about Hatcher?” Jackson asked.

  “Yes, what about Hatcher?” the senior detective replied. “You and Hall finish up with Rollins and head on home. I have your numbers. I’ll call when this hostage situation is resolved and we’ll discuss it.”

  Jackson rejoined Hall and Rollins. “I was just telling Detective Hall how much I resent this line of questioning,” Rollins said after Jackson had retaken his seat. “It sounds as though I’m being accused of being involved in some sort of nefarious deal with the kidnappers.”

  “No one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Rollins,” Jackson said. “But you will admit that the circumstances surrounding the abduction and return of your daughter raise the sort of questions Detective Kloss was asking.”

  “Sorry,” Rollins said, “but your professional obligations don’t give you the right to cast aspersions on me or my family. As far as Sue and I are concerned, the matter is over, closed, a nasty nightmare put behind us.”

  Jackson and Hall said nothing. Rollins stood and stretched. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said.

  “One other thing, sir,” Jackson said.

  “Yes?”

  “There have been these rumors about videotapes on which Governor Colgate might have been captured with the murdered call girl.”

  His words stopped Rollins as he was on his way out of the room. He turned and glared at Jackson. “Are you suggesting that—?”

  “I’m just asking, sir, that’s all. I realize it’s a rumor but—”

  “A salaciou
s, baseless one.”

  “Even so, sir,” Hall said, realizing her partner, and lover, had stepped into a minefield, “it’s an avenue that we can’t ignore.”

  Rollins’s small smile wasn’t convincing. “Somehow,” he said, “I didn’t think that rumors like that would be given credence by bright, young officers like you.”

  Jackson wanted to further explain, using what he knew about Hatcher and the tapes to make his case. He thought Mary Hall might be about to go in that direction and headed her off with a look. He was also aware that Rollins’s demeanor had changed. A nerve had been struck. Rollins seemed to be caught in a vortex of conflicting messages, unsure of what to say, or do, next.

  When Rollins said nothing, Jackson said, “The tapes might represent just a rumor, Mr. Rollins, but we have to follow up on them as a possible motive in your daughter’s kidnapping. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

  Rollins left the room and went upstairs, leaving Jackson and Hall to pack up. As they gathered their things, Mr. and Mrs. Rollins appeared. “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Sue said. She hugged Mary and kissed Jackson’s cheek. “It’s good to know that the city and its law-abiding citizens have fine young people like you working on our behalf.”

  “I thought I’d take a ride,” Jerry Rollins said, “rev up the monster out in the garage. Take a spin with me?” he asked Jackson.

  “I don’t know, I—”

  “Oh, come on, I know you’re dying to. I need to get out now that this ordeal is over. I’ll drop you wherever you want.”

  “Go ahead,” Mary said to Matt. “Do you good. We’ll catch up later.”

  “Sure?”

  “Jerry and his toy,” Sue said without malice. “Just as long as he doesn’t wrap himself around a pole.”

  Jackson laughed. “Any danger of that, Mr. Rollins?”

  “No, and it’s Jerry. Remember?”

  “Sure, Jerry, I’d love to.”

  As Rollins fetched his driving gloves and Sue disappeared into the kitchen, Mary said to Matt, “I’ll grab some things at home and go to your apartment.”

  Once it became evident that there would be no statement that night from the Rollinses, much of the media had abandoned their stakeout in front of the house. The few who remained were taken by surprise as Rollins, with Jackson in the passenger seat, backed the Porsche from the garage, turned, and roared onto the street, tires screeching.