“Yeah.” Cassie wasn’t sure how to console her. Or even if she wanted to be consoled. Some people just needed a shoulder to cry on. “Laura told me.”
“Horrible.” Judy was shaking her head. Her voice broke. “Just horrible.”
Cassie sat down next to her mother and leaned her head against her arm. Laura sat on her other side. The room was silent as the final commercial played out before returning to the news cycle.
“If you’re just tuning in, we have some terrible news today.” It was the same man from yesterday, but this time he wore a maroon suit. “Connor Grayson, son of North Carolina State Senator Lawrence Grayson, was found dead yesterday at age nineteen. After his car was abandoned in a parking garage, police began an investigation into his disappearance. A few hours later, his body was found in an alleyway a few blocks away from his vehicle. He had suffered a gunshot wound to the head in what police are calling an execution-style killing.”
Cassie had to blink away the images flashing through her mind. The son begging for his life. The killer raising his hand. The gun going off like an explosion. She hadn’t seen Connor’s body crumple as he died, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks.
“This morning, we’ve learned that police have arrested their prime suspect.” The screen split, and the image of the news anchor shifted to the left. On the right, a podium stood outside the police station. A small group of people exited the building and made their way over to the reporters. “Nicole Rickman is once again on the scene, bringing us the latest information. Nicole?”
“Thank you, Colt. The lead investigator in the Connor Grayson case is about to provide us with more details about the investigation. Let’s listen in.”
The news anchor in the studio disappeared, and the camera zoomed in on the cluster of people around the podium. One of the older men stepped forward. It looked like he held a few notecards in his hands. Two other men, one older and one younger, stood off to the right. They wore jackets with the letters FBI emblazoned on the front in yellow. A petite woman in black with stick-straight hair stood behind them, clutching a tablet to her chest.
“Good morning. Thank you all for joining us on such short notice and so early, at that.” The man cleared his throat. It looked like it took all his willpower not to puff out his chest as he spoke. “My name is Detective Calvin Davenport. I am joined today by Special Agents Robert Mannis and Christopher Viotto from the FBI, as well as Senator Grayson’s publicist Anastasia Bolton. She’ll be answering a few of your questions, but please keep them cordial and remember that the Senator and his wife are grieving this terrible tragedy.”
Davenport took a moment to look over the reporters. Whatever he saw there must’ve confirmed his message had gotten across. He nodded his head and continued.
“As previously stated, Connor Grayson’s abandoned vehicle was discovered in a parking garage. The window on the driver’s side door was broken. There was no sign of a struggle, but due to the circumstances and his political ties, we treated young Mr. Grayson’s disappearance as a missing person’s case. Yesterday evening, after searching the area, we found Mr. Grayson in an alleyway a few blocks from his car. He had a single gunshot wound to the forehead, which had killed him instantly. Due to the location of the injury and the position of the body, we concluded Mr. Grayson’s death was not an accident. Later that night, the murder weapon was found in a nearby dumpster. It was registered to a Mr. Anthony Jamal Lewis, who has a previous record of aggravated assault and possession of cocaine with an intent to distribute. Mr. Lewis was unable to provide an alibi. I, my colleagues, and Agents Mannis and Viotto worked through the night to corroborate our suspicions and have arrested Mr. Lewis on charges for first degree murder.”
Cassie’s gaze zeroed in on the young FBI agent, with his bronze-colored hair and dark eyes. She couldn’t place the look on his face. He didn’t have the professional cool of his partner or the carefully controlled pride of the local detective. Even Grayson’s assistant looked as though she were working to maintain a neutral expression.
No, Agent Viotto looked pissed. He had his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and she even caught him shaking his head ever so slightly. After a curt word or two from his partner, Viotto loosened his jaw and reset his face, but Cassie could still see the anger in his eyes.
“Ms. Bolton will now take your questions.”
Davenport stepped back from the podium while Grayson’s publicist thanked him and adjusted the microphone to her height. She scanned the crowd of reporters, all of whom were shouting and raising their hands in unison. She pointed to one with a long, crimson nail.
“Does the Senator have a statement?”
“Not at this time.” Her voice was firm and not unkind, but there was something unsettling in it. “As you can imagine, Senator Grayson and his wife are devastated. They ask that you give them some privacy at this time.”
More shouting. More raising of hands. She pointed at another reporter.
“Does Senator Grayson plan to continue his run for president?”
Ms. Bolton smiled tightly. “His presidential run is not on his mind at the moment, but I have not heard of any talk that would lead me to believe he has changed his mind. I would imagine Senator Grayson would be even more interested in making sure no one else experiences the pain he is going through right now.”
Another crimson nail picked out the next question.
“Senator Grayson has a history of being tough on crime, especially with drug-related charges. Will his son’s death inspire him to propose new laws to prevent something like this from happening again?”
This seemed to
