I picked up her hand and looked at her, so frail and still in the bed, like some kind of place marker for the woman I’d known for so long and loved so dearly, possibly since before I could remember.
“You made sure we never ran off like that again, didn’t you, Regina?”
Two seconds ago, I’d been making jokes. Now I was feeling overwhelmed, and if I had to guess, I’d say I was feeling a lot of the same emotions Nana had that day on the Mall before she found Blake and me, safe and sound.
I was scared and I was desperate, most likely because I was exhausted from fighting back all the worst-case scenarios in my head. More than anything, I wanted our family to be back together, the way it was supposed to be, the way it had always been.
But I doubted it was going to happen, and I couldn’t really face that yet, or maybe ever.
Stay with us, Nana.
Chapter 73
THE NEXT MORNING started early, too early for most of the other detectives on the case. I had a list of names from the diaries in Nicholson’s safe-deposit box, and Sampson had confirmed current addresses for twenty-two escorts who’d worked the club in Virginia at one time or another.
Starting at eight, I sent out five teams of two uniformed officers each, to pull in as many from the list of escorts as we could find.
Presumably these were night birds we were going after. First thing in the morning seemed like a good bet. I wanted to talk to as many of them as possible, before any cross talk could start mucking things up and making this investigation even trickier than it was already.
Sampson also called in a favor from our friend Mary Ann Pontano in the Prostitution Enforcement Unit. She arranged for us to use the office they shared with Narcotics on Third Street, and Mary Ann would also be sitting in for at least some of the interviews. I wanted a white female face on our side of the table, to go against the mostly white female prostitutes.
By ten o’clock, we had an impressive fifteen of the twenty-two names accounted for.
I spread them out into every conference room, interview space, cubicle, and hallway available, and I don’t think I made any new friends in Narcotics that morning. Too bad. I didn’t much care that I might be inconveniencing somebody.
The place was a total zoo, including the four extra officers I kept around to make sure nobody walked out on us. The rest of the team I sent back out to look for the escorts who hadn’t turned up. The possibility that some of them might never be found was something I’d have to worry about later.
The interviews started slowly. None of these very pretty women trusted us, and I couldn’t blame them much for that. We didn’t hold back on details of Caroline’s murder, or the possibility of others. I wanted the young women to realize the kind of danger they’d been in, working for Nicholson, working for anyone in the escort business. Anything to get them to talk to us.
A few of the women quickly admitted to recognizing Caroline’s picture. She’d gone by the name Nicole when she was at the club, which wasn’t often from the sound of it. She was “nice.” She was “quiet.” In other words, they told me nothing I could use to find her murderer.
Instead of lunch, I took a walk around the block to clear my head, but it didn’t help much. Was I wasting my time here? Were we asking the wrong questions? Or should we just let the escorts go and try to salvage the afternoon for something else?
This was the classic problem for me: I never knew when to stop, because stopping always felt like quitting. And I wasn’t ready for that yet. For one thing, I still vividly remembered Caroline’s “remains.” I feared there were several others who’d died the same horrible way.
I was on my way back up Third Street, feeling no better than before, when my phone rang. Mary Ann Pontano’s name was on the ID.
“I’m outside,” I answered. “Trying to clear my head—if that’s possible. Taking a walk.”
“Only place I didn’t look,” she said. “You should get back in here and talk to this girl Lauren again.”
I started walking faster. “Red hair, shearling coat?”
“That’s the one, Alex. Seems like her memory’s warming up. She’s got a few interesting things to say about one of the missing girls, Katherine Tennancour.”
Chapter 74
JUST LIKE EVERY other escort we’d pulled in today, Lauren Inslee was slender, well endowed, and absolutely gorgeous. She was a former model in New York and Miami, a graduate of Florida State University, an escort for men with a taste for perky cheerleader types. Nicholson obviously had a variety of tastes to satisfy, but his general aesthetic was “expensive.”
“Katherine’s dead, isn’t she?” That was the first thing Lauren asked when I sat down with her. “Nobody will tell me anything. You want us to talk, but you people won’t say a word about what happened.”
“That’s because we don’t know, Lauren. That’s why we’re talking to you.”
“Okay, but what do you think? I don’t mean to be morbid. I just want to know. She was a friend of mine, another Florida girl. She was going to be a lawyer. She’d been accepted at Stetson, which is a really good school.”
Lauren played with a paper napkin the whole time she spoke, tearing it into tiny pieces. A slice of the pizza we’d brought in sat untouched on a plate next to the torn shreds of napkin. I believed that all she wanted to hear was the truth. So I decided to give it to her.
“The police report says there’s no indication that she packed a bag at her apartment. Given the amount of time it’s been—yes, there’s a good chance she’s not coming back.”
“Oh, God.” The girl turned away, fighting tears, hugging herself tightly.
It was getting more depressing in here by the second. We were in one of the larger interview rooms, with graffiti burning right through the latest paint job on the walls and scorch marks on the floor from years of cigarette butts.
“Detective Pontano says that you mentioned something about a specific client at Blacksmith? And maybe Katherine. Lauren, tell me about the client.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. I mean—I know what Katherine told me. But that place was all rumors all the time.”
I kept my voice even and as calming as possible. “What did she tell you, Lauren? We’re not going to arrest you for anything you say in here. You can believe me on that. This is a big homicide case. I don’t give a damn about vice.”
“She said she had a private scheduled with someone, a big hitter she called Zeus. That was the last time I ever talked to Katherine.”
I wrote it down. Zeus?
“Is that some kind of alias? Or was it Katherine’s code for the client?”
She dabbed at her eyes. “An alias. Almost everyone uses booking names. You know—Mr. Shakespeare, Pigskin, Dirty Harry, whatever strikes their fancy. It’s not like you don’t end up face-to-face. But it does mean nobody’s real name gets written down anywhere. Believe me, it’s safer for everybody that way.”
“Sure it is.” I nodded. “So, Lauren, do you know who Zeus is? Any idea?”
“I don’t know. Honestly. This is what I’m saying, trying to say. Supposedly, he had something to do with the government, but Katherine could be gullible that way. I didn’t even think twice about it when she told me.”
My mind was racing ahead a little now. “Gullible how? Can you expand on that for me? What do you mean?”
Lauren sat back and pushed both hands through her hair, away from her face. I think finally talking about Katherine was a relief for her—if not for me.
“This is the thing you need to understand,” she said, and leaned in closer. “Clients lie about what they do all the time. Like, if you think they’re more important than they really are, you’ll work harder, or let them go bareback or whatever crazy shit it is they’re fantasizing about. So I never believe half of what I hear. In fact, I just assume that the ones who talk about their lives are lying. The men with the real power? Those are the ones who keep it all to themselves.”
&nbs
p; “And Zeus?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know if he exists. It’s just a name. The name of a Greek god, right? Greek? Maybe that’s a clue? His sexual preference?”
Chapter 75
I NEVER GOT to make up my own mind about what I thought of Lauren’s story—because the next morning, it was made up for me.
I was gassing up my rental at a 7-Eleven on L Street near home, mostly thinking about how I missed my own car. It was in the shop for new glass after the shootout in Alexandria, and I wanted it back—yesterday. There’s just no substitute for familiarity, the old faithful comfort zone, even the cup holder in just that spot where you automatically reach.
When the cell phone rang, it was a blocked number, but I’d been answering everything since Nana went into the hospital. I didn’t even think about it.
“Dr. Cross?” It was a woman’s voice, a little formal, no one I knew. “Please hold for the White House chief of staff.”
Before I could respond, I was put on hold. I was stunned—not just by the call itself but by the timing. What the hell was going on here? What now? The White House was calling? Could this be for real?
It didn’t take long for Gabriel Reese to come on the line. I recognized his distinctive voice right away, probably from seeing him on the news and the occasional Sunday morning show like Meet the Press.
“Hello, Detective Cross, how are you today?” he began in a chipper enough tone.
“I guess that depends, Mr. Reese. May I ask, how did you get my number?”
He didn’t answer, of course. “I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible. Here in my office would be best. It’s all been cleared up the line. How soon could you be available?”
I thought about Ned Mahoney and how agitated he had been the other day. How paranoid he had seemed about the records from the investigation getting out. Well—I guess they were out.
“Excuse me, Mr. Reese, but what is this about? Can I at least ask that?”
There was a pause on the line, carefully chosen, maybe; I wasn’t sure. Then Reese said, “I think you already know.”
Well, I did now.
“I can be there in about fifteen minutes,” I said.
Then Reese surprised me again.
“No. Tell me where you are. We’ll pick you up.”
Chapter 76
A LIVERY CAR with a military driver got to my location within a few minutes. The driver followed me to a nearby parking garage, waited, and then took me to the White House.
We came in at the Northwest Appointment Gate, off Pennsylvania. I had to show my ID twice, to the sentry at the gate and then to the armed guard who greeted me at the West Wing turnaround. From there, a Secret Service agent walked me straight in through the entrance closest to the Rose Garden.
I’d been to the White House enough times to know that I was on a fast track, leading straight to the chief of staff’s office.
I also understood that they didn’t want my visit to attract attention, the reason for the escort.
Gabriel Reese had a reputation as a wonk more than a bulldog, but also for the kind of covert power he wielded here. He and President Vance went back years. More than a few pundits had labeled him the de facto vice president of the administration. What that meant to me was Reese had either initiated this meeting on his own or at the president’s request. I didn’t think I liked either possibility.
My Secret Service escort delivered me to a woman whose voice matched the one from before, on the phone. She offered coffee, which I declined, and then walked me right in to meet Gabriel Reese.
“Detective Cross, thank you for coming.” He shook my hand across his desk and motioned for me to sit in one of the tall wing chairs. “I’m so sorry about your niece. It must have been a horrible shock. I can’t even imagine.”
“It was, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you, I’m a little uneasy with the amount of information you have about this case.”
He looked surprised. “It would be much stranger if I didn’t. Anything to do with the White House is the Secret Service’s job to know.”
I tried to cover my surprise. What did my murder investigation have to do with the White House? What was going on?
“In that case, I would have thought I’d be meeting with them,” I said. “The Secret Service.”
“One thing at a time,” he said. Fine—that was about all my nervous system could handle anyway.
There was nothing aggressive about Reese’s manner; he just seemed very sure of himself. Actually, he seemed younger in person, even a little preppy looking, with a button-down collar and conservative tie. You’d never know to see him that his thumbprint was on American policy all over the world.
“For now,” he went on, “I’d like to hear about how the investigation is coming along. Bring me up to speed about the way you see things, what you’ve found out so far.”
This interview was getting stranger by the minute.
“It’s coming along fine, thanks.”
“I meant—”
“I think I know what you meant. With all due respect, though, Mr. Reese, I don’t report to the White House.” Not yet anyway.
“I see. Of course you’re right. You’re absolutely right. My apologies for overreacting.”
I’d already gone further than I meant to, but so had Reese. I decided to stay on the offensive with him.
“Have you ever heard the name Zeus in connection with any of this?” I asked.
He considered the question for a second. “Not that I can recall. And I think I would, a name like Zeus.”
I was pretty sure he was lying, and it reminded me of something Lauren Inslee had said about her clients: Why would someone like Reese even answer my question, except to lie?
When the phone on his desk buzzed, he picked it up right away. He watched me while he listened, then stood as soon as he hung up. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I’m sorry about this. I know how busy you are.”
As he walked out of the room, a Secret Service agent stepped into the open doorway with his back to me. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if I tried to leave. Instead, I just sat there and attempted to get my bearings. Why was the White House chief of staff involved with my case? How?
Soon enough, there were voices outside, just a low murmur that I couldn’t understand from where I was sitting.
The agent in the door stepped out and another one took his place. He came in and glanced quickly around the office. His eyes played right over me, the way they did the rest of the furniture.
Then he moved aside to make way for the president, who walked into the room smiling.
“Alex Cross. I’ve heard so much about you. All of it good,” she said.
Chapter 77
THE PRESIDENT’S VIBE was completely different from Reese’s. She was almost collegial the way she shook my hand and settled onto the tufted leather couch instead of behind the desk. Not that it did anything to put me at ease.
“I’ve read your book,” she told me. “Years ago, but I remember it well. Very interesting stuff. And so very scary because it’s all true.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
I admired Margaret Vance. She’d done a lot to get both sides of the aisle talking to each other. She and her husband, Theodore Vance, were both powerful figures not only in Washington but around the world. All things being equal, I would have liked to work with the president. But things were definitely not equal right now.
“I’d like to ask you a favor, Dr. Cross.” She nodded at her agent to leave us alone, and I waited for him to close the door.
“Regarding my investigation?”
“That’s right. I think you’ll agree it’s important this case not proceed in a way that could threaten innocent people, or especially national security, or even the everyday workings of our government. Allegations can be just as harmful as indictments if they’re brought to light in the wrong way. You know that, of course.”
?
??Yes,” I agreed. “I have a bit of experience with that.”
“So you can appreciate the delicacy here.” She was talking more at me than to me, and seemed to think this was all already settled. “I’d like you to meet with one of our lead agents, Dan Cormorant, get him up to speed, and transition the case into his care.”
“I’m not sure that I’m in a position to do that,” I told her. “For several reasons.”
“It won’t be a problem. The Service’s uniformed division has all the statutory authority of the Metropolitan Police.”
I nodded. “Within the city limits, that’s true.”
It was like I wasn’t even speaking anymore, the way she went on. “And of course, all the field resources any investigation could possibly need. We’ve got the best in the world working for us here.” She stopped and looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Present company excluded, of course.”
My, my, my. It’s a truly original feeling to have your ass kissed by the leader of the free world. Too bad I couldn’t enjoy it for more than a few seconds. I’ve got a pretty good internal compass, but for all I knew, it was sending me right over an edge I’d never come back from.
“President Vance,” I said. My heart might have been thudding, but my mind was still clear. “I’d like to take all of this under advisement and respond sometime in the next twenty-four hours, either in writing or in person, whichever you prefer.”
She didn’t try to hide how she felt about that. Two lines showed up around her mouth like parentheses.
“I’m not here to negotiate, Dr. Cross. This meeting is a courtesy, and an extraordinary one at that. I assumed someone like you preferred not to be walked over. That was obviously my mistake.” She stood up and I followed suit. “Frankly, I’m surprised. I’ve been told you were a bright man and a patriot.”