She repeated herself twice before Gil pulled his attention from the television and stared at her with vacant eyes. Rochelle swore at him and then slapped him. His eyes widened and he grabbed the side of his face.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
She was tempted to leave him, but she instinctively knew she could not do this alone.
“Pack your stuff, idiot,” She swore and went to a closet and began throwing some of his clothing at him. They were packing a second suitcase when she heard gunfire, an indicator it was time to go. Grabbing Gil with one hand and a suitcase with the other, she dragged him to the truck. He never asked where the truck or the supplies came from, nor did he ask about the hunting cabin in Seneca Caverns.
Their remote location kept them from getting infected and safe from murdering marauders. Even so, they had few survival skills and were nothing but skin and bones when a scouting team found them. They readily agreed when asked if they wanted to relocate to Mount Weather. A short time later, they were transferred to Marcus Hook.
Rochelle began scheming almost immediately and soon manipulated her way into the presidential election with her husband running as her vice president. Through an intensive propaganda campaign of vicious smears and lies that would’ve equaled any mud-slinging politician from the past, she won by a narrow margin.
She began executing her agenda the day after the election. She sent word to Abe Stark that if he wanted to make her wait two months for her to be inaugurated, she was going to evict him from Mount Weather. Abe was a defeated man and had recently been informed he was exhibiting symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease. He no longer wished to play the political game. He made a back-door agreement to cede the office early if she guaranteed he would never be evicted.
When the alert went up that Rochelle and her entourage disappeared, Gil wasted no time. He travelled to Mount Weather the next day and immediately took charge.
“Please come in,” Gil greeted when the O’Malley brothers arrived. He was dressed casually in gray sweatpants, an old white tee shirt, and an oversized green sweater. He was flanked on both sides by a husband-and-wife team who looked like they both competed in Willie Nelson lookalike contests. Both were armed with pump action Mossberg shotguns.
Logan and Liam took seats at the opposite end of the table. They nodded toward the others who were present. Gil wasted no time.
“I’m happy to see you two made it back safely. Would you two like some hot cider to warm the bones before we get started?” he asked but did not wait for an answer. “Grace, be a dear and fix them up.”
Grace complied and filled two glasses from a stainless-steel jug. When she handed Logan his glass, her hand lingered, which caused a stirring deep in him. Logan had long been a committed bachelor, but Grace evoked emotions in him he did not realize he had.
William Rhinehart did not wait and leaned forward in his chair. “Do you men have anything?”
He was not normally a pleasant man, but Liam was currently living with his daughter, Priss, and even the old man had to admit that Liam was good for her. He was once the senator from Ohio, and after Abe Stark had taken over as president, he had worked himself into the position of vice president. He was an old man now, but that did not quell his ambitions. He strongly believed he should be president. Having a tough son-in-law would certainly be an asset, should he ever be able to realize his dreams.
Logan glanced at Grace before speaking. She saw Logan’s solemn expression and knew the news would not be good. Indeed, the brothers knew what they were about to say was going to drastically change the course of events in the community of Mount Weather, and perhaps the history of the United States of America. They had rehearsed what they were going to say on the drive back. Logan took a sip of cider before gently setting the glass on the table.
“We have found President-elect VanAllen and the three women in her entourage,” he said. “Out near Frederick. They were murdered and then placed in their van, whereupon it was set on fire in an apparent attempt to cover up the crime.”
Grace emitted a gasp, as did Ruby, the female bodyguard. Gil inhaled sharply and his features darkened, but amazingly he kept his emotions in check. “Are you certain?”
“With a reasonable degree of certainty, yes,” Liam answered. He glanced around at the other people present. Most were stoic. He could see Senator Connie Nelson’s jaw muscles working. Liam knew the man was already calculating how he could use this to his advantage. Logan saw it too.
“We have made a preliminary examination, but there is still much work to do,” he said.
“How were they murdered?” Bob Duckworth asked.
“Gunshots,” Logan answered with a poker face.
William Rhinehart cleared his throat. “Didn’t you say they were burned to death?”
“No, sir,” Logan answered. “They were murdered first and then they were loaded into their van. The van was then parked inside a garage of an abandoned house and set on fire.”
“How were you able to determine all of that?” Rhinehart pressed.
“We analyzed the scene and performed autopsies on the corpses,” Liam said. He finished his cider and helped himself to another glassful. He also topped off his brother’s glass while ignoring the incredulous looks.
“Excuse me, did you say you performed autopsies?” Connie asked.
“Yes, sir, we did,” Logan answered. “An autopsy is the preferred method for determining a probable cause of death. My brother and I are not doctors, obviously, but we’re cops. We’ve attended several autopsies in our time, and we know what to look for. For instance, the lungs of all victims bore no evidence of soot. If they were alive during the fire, they would have
