'Listen, son, I once had a suspect shove a kitchen knife through his own lung--twice--just to take the suspicion off himself. There're no boundaries when it comes to covering up.'
'I'm not covering anything up!' I shout. 'She had a heart attack! Why can't you just accept that?'
'Because she died with thirty thousand dollars in her safe. And more important, because it wasn't a heart attack.'
'Excuse me?'
'I saw the autopsy myself. She had a stroke.'
I tighten my jaw and put on my bravest face. 'That doesn't mean she was murdered.'
'But it does mean it wasn't a heart attack,' Adenauer points out, studying my reaction. 'Don't worry, Michael--when the tox reports come back, we'll know what caused it. Now it's just a matter of time.'
That's what Adenauer was hiding; waiting to see what I'd give up. He's not sure it's a murder, but he's not sure it's not. 'What about the press?' I ask.
'That depends on you. Of course, I'm not letting them trample this investigation--especially considering how close we are.' He throws me another of his concerned glances. 'Wouldn't you and your girlfriend agree?'
I look at him, but I'm lost in the white noise. My head's throbbing. If the reports come back with bad news, and this gets out . . . All this time, I was worried they were going to try and nail me for murder . . . but the way he was teasing me about Nora . . . and linking her to Vaughn . . . I can't help but think he's got his sights on something bigger.
Doing my best not to panic, I go with my best alternative--the one thing I know can't be traced back to me. 'Have you checked Simon's bank accounts?'
'Why would we want to do that?'
'Just check 'em,' I say, hoping it'll buy some time.
'Anything else you want to tell me?' Adenauer asks.
'No, that's it.' I have to get out of here. Leaving Adenauer where he is, I climb to my feet and stagger toward the door.
'I'll call you when we get the tox reports,' he says, finally starting to gloat. He brought me here to test my reaction. And now that he's got it, he wants to see what I'll do. 'It shouldn't be too long,' he adds.
I don't even pause to turn around. The less I see of him, the better. The only thing I want to do now is find out if there's a connection between Nora and Patrick Vaughn.
Chapter 13
So how do you think the FBI found out?' Trey asks from the chair opposite my desk.
'About me and Nora? I have no idea. I'm guessing through the Service. To be honest, though, I'm more concerned with what he implied about her and Vaughn.'
'I don't blame you--if they've got something tying him to Nora, the two of them could potentially be--'
'Don't even say it.'
'Why?' Trey asks. 'You've thought it yourself--she's never spent all her time on the side of the angels.'
'That doesn't mean she's out to get me.'
'You sure about that?'
'Yes. I am.' Shaking my head, I add, 'And even if I weren't, what am I supposed to do--assume she's the enemy just because the FBI mentions her in the same sentence as some killer named Vaughn?'
'But the drugs . . .'
'Trey, I'm not doing anything until we get some more facts. Besides, you should've heard Adenauer. The way he was talking, it's like he's got something tying me to this guy.'
'You think that's why Vaughn's contacting you?'
'I'm not sure what to think. For all we know, Simon left the note, signed it from Vaughn, and is trying to link me up with a killer.'
'Sounds a little much,' Trey says. Leaning back in his chair, he stretches his arms in the air and lets out an enormous yawn. As his jaw juts side to side, he drops his chair back to the upright position. 'Now what about Vaughn's murder trial?' he asks. 'Any idea what happened?'
'Not yet. Pam should--'
'I'll have it by tomorrow morning,' Pam says, walking into my office.
'Have what?' Trey asks.
'Vaughn's FBI file.'
'I don't understand. Since when do you--'
'Until Simon hires a replacement, Pam's taken over Caroline's responsibilities,' I explain. 'Which means she's the new mistress of the files.'
'And guess who I saw on my way to the FBI's office?'
'Simon?' I ask nervously.
'Think deranged girlfriend . . .'
'You saw Nora?'
'She was headed to some function in the Indian Treaty Room--I stepped in the elevator and she was there.'
'Did she recognize you?'
'I assume so--she asked me if we were going to the same place. I couldn't help but tell her the FBI wasn't exactly a meet-and-greet. And then--I couldn't believe it--she looks straight at me, and in the softest, sweetest voice says, 'Thanks for helping him.' I swear, I almost hit the Emergency Stop right there.'
It's not hard to read the surprise in Pam's voice. 'You actually liked her, didn't you?' I ask.
'No, no--now you're just fantasizing. Deep down, I still think she needs a swift kick in her privileged little ass--but face-to-face . . . I certainly didn't like her . . . it's just . . . she's not what I thought either.'
'You felt bad for her, huh?'
'I don't pity her, if that's what you're asking . . . but she's not as simple as she looks.'
'Of course she's not simple--she's a lunatic,' Trey shoots back. 'What the hell is wrong with you two? You'd think she's the friggin' Pied Piper. Big deal--she's complex. Welcome to reality. Thomas Jefferson cried freedom, then had an affair with one of his slaves.'
'So? People still separate the two.'
'Well they shouldn't!'
'Well I hate to break it to you, but I got a nation of 270 million patriots who disagree.'
Shaking his head, Trey knows he's not winning this one. 'Y'know what--why don't we just get back to Vaughn.'
Turning to Pam, I ask, 'Is there any way to get his file earlier?'
'I'm trying my best,' she says, already downplaying. 'They said it'll take till tomorrow.'
'Screw tomorrow,' Trey says. 'I got Vaughn's number from information--we can call him right now.' He picks up the phone and starts dialing.
'Don't!' I shout.
Trey stops cold.
'If this is the guy who killed Caroline, the last thing I need is a call to him originating from my phon--'
Before I can finish, the ringing of my phone cuts through the room. Pam and I look at Trey, who's still closest to the receiver.
'What's it say?' I ask as Trey checks the caller ID screen on the phone.
He shakes his head. 'Outside Call,' which means that the person is either calling from an untraceable pay phone, an untraceable cell phone, or the person is one of the few White House bigshots who has a screened identity. I rush to my desk as the advice comes simultaneously.
'Pick it up.' 'Don't pick it up.'
'Let it go,' Pam adds. 'He'll leave a message.'
'If he leaves a message, you're stuck where you are now,' Trey says. 'Afraid to call him back.'
Unsure, I go with instinct. Trey over Pam. 'This is Michael,' I say as I bring it to my ear.
'Michael, get over here,' Nora says on the other end of the line.
'Over where? Where are you?'
