“Right.” Rose felt breathless at the depravity of the scheme. “It’s sick, but brilliant. If they make the contaminated snacks for export only, there’s much less risk. Then the kids who die would be from places that don’t have the money to sue Homestead, or the FDA to watch out for them. Modjeska didn’t care they were killing kids, as long as it wasn’t American kids.”
“But Bill Gigot did.”
“Bill didn’t want them to run the peanut machines anymore, and they killed him for it.”
They both fell silent a minute. Rose felt Bill was owed that. A moment of silence for a loving father.
“One thing I don’t understand.” Kristen cocked her head. “What were Paul and Modjeska fighting about, then? The Gigot murder happened way too long ago.”
Rose thought of Modjeska’s magnificent house. “I bet Modjeska was blackmailing him, about the Gigot murder.”
“But if Modjeska told, they’d both lose.”
“The senator had more to lose than Modjeska, and more money to spend. I bet Modjeska’s been blackmailing him since the murder. He has too much money to explain, otherwise.” Rose thought about Julie. “He tells people it’s his wife’s money, but I bet that’s a lie. The only thing I don’t get is why Senator Martin got involved.”
“He was at Homestead then.”
“Right, he was at Homestead, I forgot!” Rose remembered Senator Martin’s speech at the assembly. “He mentioned being at Homestead. When was he there, exactly? What did he do?”
“He was CEO until about seven years ago, when he got elected.”
“Bill Gigot was killed seven years ago.”
Kristen gasped. “You think that Paul—”
“If he was the CEO, I bet he made the plan.”
“No!” Kristen’s hand flew to her mouth. “God, this makes me sick. I’m sick.”
“My God,” Rose said, hushed. She felt the realization land like a blow. “He killed people to take care of company profits, and his career. Our U.S. Senator is a murderer.”
“You really think?”
“Yes.” Rose thought aloud. “When Bill Gigot stopped playing ball, Modjeska killed him, and Senator Martin covered it up. It went down as an accident, and the senator pulled the strings to protect himself and Homestead. I learned on the factory tour that the company owns most of the land in the county. That means it’s a powerful contributor to the tax base. Plus I wonder how much it contributed to Martin’s campaign. I bet that went up after the Gigot murder, too.” Rose thought of something else. “Modjeska went from Homestead to a job in state government in Maryland. I bet the soon-to-be Senator got him the job.”
“This is a nightmare.” Kristen wiped away a tear. “So what do we do now?”
“We go to the state police, and lay it out. Now, we have proof. You, and your story.”
“No, you can’t go to them. He knows people there.”
“Then we go to the FBI.”
Kristen bit her lip. “But they’re trying to kill me. Maybe I should get out of the country—”
“Think this through, honey.” Rose put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t keep running away. It doesn’t work, not for long. Modjeska is dangerous. I think he killed Kurt Rehgard and Hank Powell, carpenters who started asking questions about the fire.”
Kristen quieted, her eyes widening with fear.
“That’s six people they’ve killed so far, to protect their secret. They’re ruthless, and you’re not alone, anymore. You have a child to think of now.”
“I know.” Kristen’s eyes welled up. “What kind of man is he? He’d kill his own child.”
“The FBI can protect you, and you can’t do it on your own.” Rose took her phone from the console and pressed 411 for information. “I’m calling them.”
“Think it’s open?”
“It has to be. It’s the FBI, right? Not a frozen yogurt shop.” Rose waited for the mechanical operator to come on and ask for the listing. “In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, may I have the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation? I need to report a crime.”
Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing in Kristen’s pocket, and she leaned over and retrieved it while Rose waited for her call to connect.
Kristen got the phone, checked the display, and said, “It’s Eileen. Should I answer?”
“Eileen Gigot is calling you?” Rose asked, surprised. “Why?” There was a click on her phone line, but no ringing yet.
“I don’t know, but she did earlier, when I was driving here. I checked my voicemail, and her message said to call as soon as possible.” Kristen’s phone kept ringing in her hand, insistent.
Oh no. “It could be about Amanda. Quick, hurry, take it!”
“Yes, hello?” Kristen said into her phone.
“What, hello?” Rose said into her phone. She opened the door and got out of the car, sending up a silent prayer.
Please let her live.
Chapter Seventy
Rose stood talking on her phone at the edge of the cornfield, trying to understand the federal bureaucracy and watching moths fly into her car headlights. There was an analogy there, but she couldn’t put her finger on it and she had solved enough mysteries for one night.
“Let me get this straight, sir,” she said. “You’re with the FBI, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m a Complaint Agent.”
“But you can’t take complaints?”
“Not after 4:45 P.M. or on weekends.”
“So you’re a Complaint Agent who can’t take complaints?”
“Not at 8:36 at night, I can’t.”
Rose had told him that she had information regarding a murder, because six murders would have sounded crazy. For the same reason, she’d left out the Senator Martin part. “But the FBI switchboard operator transferred me to you.”
“I know, but we don’t take complaints over the phone after business hours.”
“Then why did she transfer me?”
“So I could tell you that.”
Rose was dumbfounded. “You took the call to tell me you can’t take the call?”
The Complaint Agent hesitated. “It’s important to the Bureau that the public be able to reach a human being rather than an answering machine, to speak to them as we are, now.”
“I don’t know if I feel better that I’m talking to a human being, when I tell him that I have information regarding a murder, and he tells me he can’t hear it right now. That sounds like a machine, to me.” Rose looked over at the car, where Kristen was still on the phone with Eileen, her head down. “Sir, I’m sorry. My friend’s life is at stake, and I don’t know what to do.”
“If your friend is in danger, then he or she should call 911 or the local police.”
“But she can’t. She’s worried they may be in on it, like a conspiracy.” Rose heard herself, and even she thought she sounded crazy.
“Then I encourage you and your friend to come down to our offices and make a complaint, or call back tomorrow and we’ll take it over the phone.”
“Okay, thank you.” Rose hung up just as Kristen was getting out of the car and walking toward her, her smooth cheeks stained with new tears. In her outstretched hand was an open cell phone. Rose went weak in the knees, and she flashed on the explosion in the cafeteria. The fireball. Amanda screaming. Blood in her blond hair. The missing sandal.
Kristen held out the phone. “Eileen wants to talk to you.”
Rose stared at the phone, but she couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to know. She couldn’t hear it, not now. And not from a grief-stricken mother.
“Take it,” Kristen said, softly. “Please.”
Rose shook her head, no. The only sound was the crickets chirping and the moths hitting the car headlamps.
“No, it’s not that,” Kristen said, reading Rose’s expression. “Amanda’s alive, still in Intensive Care, but I messed up, I’m so sorry. I told Eileen about Bill’s being murdered, and she’s freaking out. Please, take the phone. Calm her down.”
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“What?” Rose felt stunned. “You told her? Why would you do that?”
“It just came out.” Kristen covered the phone with her palm, stricken. “She called to tell me that a man came by the hospital looking for me, saying he was my father. It had to be someone sent by Modjeska or even Modjeska himself. I said, ‘Watch out, he’s a murderer,’ and she said, ‘What are you talking about,’ so I told her.”
Rose kicked herself. She should have warned Kristen not to blab.
“Rose, talk to her. Explain it to her. She has a right to know, doesn’t she?”
“Of course she does, but not now. Not this way. She’s at her daughter’s bedside, for God’s sake.”
“Please talk to her. I told her we’re calling the FBI, but she’s going to the plant to confront them.”
“To Homestead? When?”
“Now. Tonight. She says it’s the Harvest Conference, and all the bosses will be there. She’s going to confront them about what really happened to Bill and the peanut machines and—”
“No, she can’t.” Rose grabbed the phone. “Eileen, don’t go to Homestead! It’s dangerous for you—”
The phone line went dead.
“No!” Rose thumbed to the log, then pressed CALL to call Eileen back. The phone rang and rang, then went to voicemail, and she left a message. “Eileen, please stop! Don’t go to the plant. They’ll kill—”
“End of message,” interrupted a mechanical voice.
Chapter Seventy-one
Rose took Kristen by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. You have to go to the FBI. Right now, by yourself. There’s no time to lose.”
“I have to go without you?” Kristen’s eyes rounded, panicky.
“Yes, I have to stop Eileen. If they think she knows what happened to Bill, they’ll kill her before she can breathe a word.”
“But what about you? They’ll try to kill you—”
“No, they don’t know me, and even if they did, I look different than I used to. You hardly knew me, remember? Let’s go, hurry.” Rose hustled to her car with Kristen behind her, tugging at her elbow.
“But I’m afraid.”
“I know, honey.” Rose opened the car door. “But there’s no other way. You can’t go to Reesburgh with me, that’s walking into the lion’s den.”
“Can’t I stay here?”
“In a cornfield?” Rose touched her arm. “The sooner you get to the FBI, the safer you are. Isn’t there anybody you trust, who could go with you?”
“My boyfriend, I guess. Erik. He’s the greatest guy ever, and I dumped him for the senator. He wanted to get married. He’d do anything in the world for me.”
“Then call him, right now. Have him come get you. Go to the FBI in Philly, in his car. Do not stop.” Rose got into her car, twisted the key in the ignition, and looked out the open window. “Call Eileen back, too. If she doesn’t pick up, keep trying. Tell her not to go to Homestead.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll be fine. You can do it. Alohomora.”
Kristen smiled, shakily. “That unlocks things.”
“Whatever. Be safe.”
Kristen straightened up. “Okay. You, too.”
Rose hit the gas, steered the car onto the road, and took off. She flew down the country lane, heading for the turnpike toward Reesburgh, keeping an eye out for cops. She passed one car, then another, barreling ahead in the cool, dark night, the gold stripe at the median glowing in her high beams.
Her heart was pounding, her teeth grinding. She hoped she could get to the plant in time. She’d left from farther away, and Eileen would have a forty-minute head start, unless one of her family members at the hospital had talked her out of going or delayed her.
Rose knew she wasn’t as safe as she’d let Kristen believe. She’d left a major loose end at the plant today. The supervisor would wonder why the new hire had left and he’d probably call Trish, to check up on her alleged cousin. And when Trish told him she hadn’t sent her cousin to the plant, they’d notify security, who’d be on the lookout, especially tonight, with the corporate prom.
Her left hand kept a death grip on the wheel while her right hand fumbled on the seat for her phone. She pressed L, and the phone rang and rang, then went to Leo’s voicemail. She didn’t want to scare him but she couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice. “Babe, call me! I’m on my way to Homestead. Please, hurry—”
BEEP. Suddenly the phone went black. The battery had lost power.
“Damn it!” Rose tossed the phone aside and hit the gas.
Chapter Seventy-two
Rose tore down the turnpike and reached the Reesburgh exit in record time, but she still had the sinking sensation that it wouldn’t be good enough. She squinted at the dashboard clock, its red digits aglow. 9:17.
She had failed. She’d be a full fifteen minutes behind Eileen. The realization brought tears to her eyes. There couldn’t be one more death, not one. Not while she drew breath.
She blinked the wetness away and kept her foot on the gas, zipping down the fast lane. She flashed her high beams at a white VW to move out of her way, but all the cars were braking, their red taillights on at a curve in the road. She fed more gas, hoping the bottleneck would break up or she could pass on the right.
She zoomed around the curve, but the white VW was slowing even more, below the speed limit. The state cops had pulled somebody over on the right shoulder, and a police cruiser sat idling behind a blue van, its bar lights flashing red, white, and blue. Traffic slowed as it passed the scene, on temporary good behavior or gawking. The VW slowed to a crawl.
“Come on!” Rose slammed her palm on the wheel. She glanced over at the shoulder, then looked again. The driver of the stopped van looked like Eileen.
Rose switched into the slow lane, double-checking. A woman driver. Short blond hair. It was Eileen, and she was driving the same car she’d showed up in at the hospital, that awful night.
Well, are you happy now?
Rose passed Eileen and the state police car, her thoughts racing. What if the cop hadn’t stopped Eileen for speeding? What if they’d found out that Eileen was on her way to the Harvest Conference? Would they alert someone at the plant? Homestead security? Mojo, too?
Rose’s gut churned as the traffic picked up speed. She wasn’t following Eileen anymore, she was leading her, and it put her in a better position. She steered off the exit and down the ramp, then took a left onto Allen Road, keeping an eye on the rearview for Eileen’s blue van.
She sped up. She had to get to Homestead before Eileen, and now she had a fighting chance. There was no traffic, and Reesburgh was dark and empty, the town gone to sleep. She sped past the CVS, the line of box stores, and finally the elementary school, where it had all begun.
And now, finally, it would end.
Tonight.
Chapter Seventy-three
WELCOME TO HOMESTEAD SNACK FOODS, read the sign, and Rose saw it with new eyes. The campus was quiet without the hubbub of school groups and visitors, but the streetlamps and the windows in the corporate offices blazed with light, like a plastic town in a model train set-up. Bright, false, and lifeless.
She cruised down the access road, passing the exits signed for VISITORS, BUSES, and MAIN PLANT. The main plant had no windows to show the lights inside, but she could hear the faint noise of the production machinery. Clouds of steam spewed from the smokestacks, hissing when they hit the cool night air. The employee parking lot was only partly full, and Rose remembered from the tour that a third of the employees worked the night shift.
She kept an eye out for Eileen’s van but it wasn’t anywhere in sight. She hadn’t seen it in the rearview mirror on the way over, but she hadn’t gone slow enough to let Eileen catch up with her. She had a different plan in mind.
She took a left at the Conference Center sign, peeling off onto a long road that wound through the trees and fed into its large parking lot, almost full to capacity. Lamps illuminat
ed the lot at regular intervals, casting cool light on the still cars. She parked at the back near the entrance, as far away from a lamp as possible, then cut the ignition, scanning the scene.
The lot was quiet, because everybody was already at the huge party at the Conference Center. The building had floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and inside, hundreds of dressed-up couples danced on the wooden floor or ate at round banquet tables, lit with candles. A large band played, and the thumpa-thumpa of bad seventies rock carried on the night air, then the horn section segued into some sort of fanfare. Men in tuxes ascended a decorated dais, presumably the Homestead CEO and other corporate officers. The last tuxedoed man in line was Senator Martin, who climbed the steps waving his hands, and the crowd broke into applause loud enough to be heard in the parking lot.
Rose checked the building entrance, on the side of the building facing the corporate offices. Smokers stood outside the main doors, the red tips of their cigarettes glowing, and two security guards were talking, visible only because of their bright white shirts and caps. Parked off to the side was a white sedan that read PLANT SECURITY, and she guessed that Senator Martin would have his own security detail inside.
Rose cracked her driver’s side door, slipped outside, and stole across the access road to the other side, then ducked behind the shrubs. The ground was cool and the shrubs scratchy, but she stayed low, and waited. It didn’t take long.
Eileen’s blue van cruised slowly down the access road to the conference center, approaching the parking lot.
Rose got up into a crouching position, but stayed behind the bush.
Eileen glided into the lot and parked in a space far from the entrance to the conference center, near Rose’s car. The window on the driver’s side was closed, but Rose could see Eileen because of her light hair.
Eileen had faced the van so that she’d be away from the conference center, just as Rose had thought she would.
It was time to go.
Rose counted.
One, two, three.
Chapter Seventy-four
“Eileen, let me in, quick!” Rose whispered, trying the van door, which was locked. She showed her face, plastering her hands to the window. “It’s me, Rose!”