“Gannett didn’t tell even his family the truth. If Ann wasn’t involved, why did he risk asking her to help with this chapter and keep this secret? I don’t think he would have. If Ann is one of the original five, it explains why the VP has her helping him. We need to know where Ann was during the time this happened. Is it possible to find that out without tipping our hand that we’re asking the question?”
“If she wrote the diary, rather than just helping after the fact, she was gone for several days,” Sam said. “That much time missing, someone was looking for her. You need a conversation with someone who knew her well nine years ago. You need to see the archives of the local newspaper. You might need her work files, or her health insurance records. Some of it you don’t get without a court order. She’s got a security clearance. Her file would have records on something major like an unexplained disappearance. Someone with access to that file could give us a yes or no for the dates in question.”
“You could ask her,” Rita said quietly.
Paul shook his head. “You don’t ask a question like this without already knowing the answer. I ask her, she says no, there are only two options. She just lied to me, or she really wasn’t involved. Which is the truth? The VP is protecting the writer of the diary. The VP will agree with whatever Ann says.”
“They are not releasing the diary in order to protect the handwriting of the author,” Sam offered. “See it, and you would know if it’s Ann’s handwriting. If they haven’t destroyed it, the diary still exists somewhere. It leaves open whether they asked her to help the diary writer recover, that Ann was part of the cover-up after the fact, but it narrows the question.”
Paul nodded. “At some point along this investigation I’m going to ask one of you to get away from this place and do some looking into that question.”
“Boss, do we really want to know who wrote the diary, and who helped her when it was over?” Rita asked. “Does the knowledge help us that much? The diary writer was the only other person there for much of what occurred, and it would be very useful to have testimony other than the VP for the events of that day, but a victim deserves privacy. I can understand the reason she wants to stay unknown. We have the killer’s words for what he did and why. Do we need to know who wrote those words? We can’t put that interview in a report, as every report is going to be public eventually. And you can’t reveal who helped her without likely revealing who she is. We can’t leave an investigation trail that would lead to her, as someone else will follow our steps and figure it out. If we look, we likely cause her name to eventually become public knowledge. Do we want to run that risk?”
“If it’s Ann, we need to know it,” Paul said. “She had access to the material we are looking at, the ability to bias what we now see. If who it is has had no access to what is here, it’s not as relevant.”
“Ann could bias what is here, but do you think she would?”
“No.”
“Then consider not asking the question, boss. We can be skeptical of what is here without needing to know for certain if she was involved. We already know the VP and the Secret Service agent were involved, and they have had as much access to this material as Ann. If someone wants to bias this and try to do a cover-up, they’ve all had the access and opportunity. The VP is the one we have to be concerned about. The others are following his lead.”
“Even if she was one of the original five, I think you let her keep her secret if that’s what she has decided she wants to do,” Sam agreed.
“Ann has nightmares. Bad ones. And has for years. She wakes to a gunshot.”
“Did you really want to tell us that?”
“If I’m dragging you into this, you know what I know. If she wrote the diary, it would explain the nightmares.”
“I can find out, boss,” Rita offered. “I can do it quietly.”
“We need to know. The last thing I want to do is use her as a resource going through this material, talking about this case, only to find out I’m walking a victim back through a major crime, putting her in the position of having to relive it. She’s written about this case, she’s spent years working with this material, but it is not the same as going back to the cabin remains, or seeing the photos of the scene. Before we get to that point, I want to know if it is necessary to shield her from it.”
19
Ann was involved. Everything Paul knew about her, knew about the VP, told him the reason for her help with this chapter was rooted in something big. Ann would have been thirty when this happened. He didn’t like the implications of what it meant if Ann had been the one to write the diary.
He walked from the main house to the guesthouse, where Ann had arranged for them to stay. They had been reading materials on the case for the last three days, and he was beginning to feel burned out. Paul entered his suite. He had a bedroom, a bath, and adjoining sitting room to himself. Sam and Rita had similar accommodations upstairs.
Ann had left on an MHI case the day before. He wanted to end the evening talking with her, and a glance at the time showed it just after nine p.m. He made a video call to see if she would answer. The call was picked up and the video flickered to stable.
“Hi, Paul.”
She was in a hotel room somewhere. She smiled briefly when she saw him, but it quickly faded. She was writing on a pad of paper, and she set it aside and closed the case folder.
“How’s the case going?”
She shook her head. “Three dead. Someone shot a mom and her six-year-old twins.”
She didn’t offer more. She didn’t have to. He could feel the weight of the sadness himself just hearing the news. “I’m sorry, Ann.”
“So am I.”
“I’ll try to distract you for a few minutes if that’s okay.”
“I’d give you a hug if I could from a distance. Distract away.”
“I’ll take that hug one day. Business first. It’s going well here. You put together a well-documented paper trail for us to work from. We’ll need some fieldwork. Would it be possible to do a flyover in a single day of where the eighteen victims’ remains were recovered?”
“A long day, but it could be done if weather cooperates.”
“I would also like to visit the cabin remains where this happened, and the VP’s vacation home.”
“Just let me know when you want to travel, and I’ll set it up.”
“A couple more days. We’ll fit it in to when you have some time free. Second question. How does the VP plan to keep the publisher from leaking this chapter of the book early? A leaked copy of this would be worth a fortune.”
“There’s a tight enough embargo planned, I think it will hold. The book is printed only at Grifton’s Pittsburg plant. The site is highly automated with only a hundred people at the location. They produce fifty thousand copies, and the books remain at the site. The night before the book release, the pallets will load on planes and go nationwide.
“The plant employees are each paid a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus if this does not leak, and it is an all-or-nothing bonus—everyone earns it or no one does. So they are taking steps themselves to make it work. Only one person will actually see the chapter to check the typesetting. They are surrendering all cellphones, turning off phones to the building, and locking themselves in. They are assigning multiple security guards to the warehouse to make sure no book is opened and read. Food and phone messages will be passed in from the outside. They will keep the information tight for five days while the fifty thousand books are printed. Those copies will hit first with reporters, reviewers, and major bookstores. The day after the book is released, the layout files are sent out, and print runs of several million begin to run at major printers worldwide. Within two weeks, the book will be widely available everywhere.”
“I see why you think the embargo will hold.”
“I think it will.”
“That’s it for business. Anything I can do for you, Ann?”
“It’s nice to have a break. I don’t thin
k as well when the emotions run high on a case, and this one is just about all emotions. Kids getting murdered get to me.”
“Another topic then.” Paul let the silence linger for a bit while he studied her. He decided to turn the conversation toward the questions he’d been mulling over. “Can I ask a semiserious personal question?”
“Sure.”
“I know you’ve said you aren’t looking to settle down. Are you too busy to consider it? Being the MHI, writing like you do? Is it inertia? You’ve stepped aside from the question for so long, you’ve simply gotten comfortable being single?”
She blinked. “You came out of left field with that question. Let me think about it.”
“Not so out of the blue—I’ve been thinking about it for a few days.”
She found a candy bar and tore open the wrapper. “Okay, I’ll give you that it’s an interesting question. You want the long answer or the short answer, given I haven’t really sorted out what my answer is yet?”
“Go with long. We both need a break from work for a few minutes.”
She thought about it. “There are probably a lot of reasons why. I don’t mind the idea of being married—I write about it in all my books, and I’ve got a boatload of happily married friends. I’d want a good marriage, not one that is somewhat right or tolerated or snippy from the day of the I do’s. That takes the right choice, a lot of energy to build, and decisions about the job and my time that would help rather than hurt a marriage. How many guys really want a cop as a wife? When it comes down to that question, it’s a surprisingly small world.” She settled back in her chair.
“I can do this job now because there doesn’t have to be much of me left when I get home,” she added. “I can hibernate and recuperate and take whatever time I need to absorb what the case brought with it. If I were coming home to a husband and needing to have something left for him, I’d try my best, I’d juggle the roles, but I don’t know where the energy would come from over the course of a few years. There is margin in my life right now, but add a marriage and that margin is gone. In my twenties I could burn the candle at both ends and not pay much of a price. I’m not twenty anymore.
“And personally, I don’t have a desire to have children, which is another caution about getting married. Most marriages, at least one of the two wants to be a parent. I’d hate to end up in that Gordian knot—marrying knowing my husband wants children, I say yes because I love him, and my child finds out she’s got a mother who does the job the best she can but doesn’t have the confidence for it. When you dream of something from the time you’re a kid, all the work that it takes to come true is just part of the dream. When it’s a choice for someone else, you can do it, but it’s always a struggle to get it right. You’re trying your best, but it’s just harder to be a good parent, or at least feel successful at being one, when you haven’t been acquiring the skills for that role during your whole life.
“I don’t want to get married for the sake of not being single, only to make a mess of it. It’s a permanent one-time decision. I won’t get divorced. I might get charged with murder because I kill the guy out of frustration, but I wouldn’t walk away from a marriage. So my choice is to stay single or get married, and so far stay single has been the wise decision the few times I’ve gotten close to considering it.”
Paul had been listening carefully. “Thanks. It’s a useful answer. If it was a successful marriage, do you think you’d enjoy it more than being single?”
She smiled. “I know I would. I love watching marriages that work. You only have to hang out with Lisa and Quinn for a few days, or Vicky and Boone, Dave and Kate, to realize what a good marriage can be like. They are a unit. They are incredibly good together. I’d like to know I made someone that happy. I’d love being married. I’m just cautious enough to know wanting something and having it are different things. From single to a good marriage—there are a lot of decisions to get right, with a lot of risks if I get it wrong. I’m not young anymore, ready to assume it will work out.”
“How much risk does it feel like you’re taking right now, talking about this?”
“I’m giving you the reasons you should leave this a friendship, Paul. There’s not a lot of risk when I’m basically throwing cold water. You want to get married. You’ve as much as stated that as your goal. So I already know my job is to put as much reality into what you know about me, and what I know about you, as I can.
“I like you. Enough I’m sharing my evenings, and while you may not realize how big a deal that is, I do. You’ve got a chunk of my time and attention. I just don’t know where this goes, and I’m hoping you figure that answer out before I have to. If you want to leave this a friendship, I won’t have to make a decision. Not having to make a decision is fine with me. I can give you time and honest answers and hope you have your eyes open. I like the fact you’re interested. I like you and what I know about you. But I’m the least pushy lady you’ve probably ever met. It’s not how I’m wired. I’m not looking to change the present into something else.”
“You like the comfort of now, the knowing what you’ve got.”
She nodded. “Nothing is in crisis. If tomorrow looks like today, I can live with that.” She studied him. “Would it be easier on you if I was looking for a guy? If I was pursuing you?”
“My ego would enjoy it.” He smiled. “I’ve never met someone like you, Ann. On so many levels, this being just one of them, you are unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. Your calm willingness to stay with what is now makes this an interesting relationship.”
“You don’t have to move forward or back in a relationship; you can be content with what is. But I know you’re looking for a change. You have made a decision that you don’t want to be single. You’re just trying to figure out the who.”
“I told Dave I don’t want to be the single guy coming to dinner when I’m fifty.”
“You and I both know it’s more than that. You want to be a good example when you’re head of the Falcon family.” She smiled. “You might not have put it into those words, but that’s one of the reasons you want to be married. You want to be like your dad, good at the role of leading the family that is the Falcons. I like the fact that role matters to you. You’ve been preparing for it for years. You’ll be a good leader. And you should be married, if you find the right lady. You’ve got lots of family looking up to you and wanting your time and attention and approval. You can love and lead a family better with a wife to share that role.”
It was after eleven when they ended the call, and Paul did so because he knew she still had hours of work ahead of her on the case. He turned in for the night, thinking about their conversation. She didn’t want children and a family of her own.
He would enjoy being a dad, he was certain of that. He appreciated his extended family, and he liked watching kids grow up. Did he want his own family? There had always been the assumption it would be part of being married, that he’d end up with a family, with children. Could he go into marriage knowing he wouldn’t have a family? Could he live with that? He decided he could live with anything if he went into it with his eyes open to the choice. But would he be happy with that reality as the years went by?
She wasn’t saying, I would rather adopt than have my own children at my age, with the stress a pregnancy would be. She was saying she didn’t have a desire to be a mom. If she fell in love, she could be talked into changing her mind, and she didn’t want to be put in that position.
He’d wondered if he would hit a wall with her and where it would be, and he realized he just had. Should he simply not pursue Ann? She fascinated him at every level. If it came to the balance of Ann as his wife or having a family, he could almost feel the decision already leaning toward Ann. But children aside, was marriage itself a good option for her? Maybe she was right—she was single because that was what worked for her life. Would the things that fascinated him about her, that gave her the balance she had now, survive in a marriage? Or would marri
age harm the very things that attracted him to her?
She’d be easy to love. She would be a delight to have as a wife.
She never spoke about attraction, about passion, but he knew it would be there and flare hot with ease. It was hard to take his eyes off her now, and he’d never even kissed her yet. It was an awareness that was growing stronger. He’d enjoy having her as a wife, with God’s blessing on taking her to bed with him. A good marriage would be so much better than being single.
Ann would thrive being in a good marriage. Marriage was ideal for someone who formed such deep relationships. She just didn’t want to make a mistake, to the point she was simply standing still, waiting. She wouldn’t pursue him. She wouldn’t look at his family wealth, at who he was, and think, good catch, and try to win him over. She wasn’t wired that way, but she also wouldn’t even think of it. She wouldn’t get married for money or position.
Why would she get married?
He knew what he wanted in a marriage. A partner. A lover. A friend. He wanted someone sharing his world and sharing his life. He wanted the joy of being involved with the same someone for the next fifty years. He wanted husband as his role; he wanted to no longer be single. He didn’t know what Ann wanted in a marriage. He knew a lot about her, but not that. He needed that answer.
Three days later, Paul entered the secure room. He pulled out a chair beside Sam. “Did Rita call?”
“She’s leaving Chicago now. She said to tell you the office is quiet and that Zane has added a fish tank to her office. She stopped at your place and packed another few days of clothes for you. And she said she has what you asked her to research.”