Sweet Poison (38 page)

With the tape over her mouth, she couldn’t exactly respond.

“Everything would have been fine if you’d just stayed out of it.” Hesitating a moment, he stood. “I won’t tie your feet. And I won’t let him hurt you, but you’ve got to stay here until I can talk him down. He’s not thinking right. He’d never do this if he was. You stay here and keep quiet and I’ll do everything I can to see that you leave in one piece. But if you try to get away before I’ve handled this, I swear I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

At the door he turned and said, “Ever since Christopher woke up from that coma, he’s been … different. I kept hoping he’d pull out of it, but—” He put his hand on the doorknob. “That beating he took. It changed both of us.”

After he’d locked the door behind him, Jane scanned the room. Struggling to her feet with her hands still tied behind her, she moved over to the windows, thinking that she might be able to get someone’s attention three floors down. But without being able to use her arms or voice, that seemed like too much of a stretch. Instead, she focused all her attention on the rope around her wrists. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she assumed it wasn’t much. Her heart was beating hard inside her chest. Counting on the kindness of Luke Durrant seemed like a shaky proposition at best.

She wondered about the phone in her pocket as she struggled to free her hands. She quickly made a few straining sounds, hoping beyond hope that someone might still be listening. As she worked at the rope, her wrists began to burn. She jerked and pulled, but the nothing she did made any difference.

Stopping for a moment, she listened to the silence, wondering what Christopher and Luke were talking about. Were they determining her fate, or calling a lawyer? She jumped when she heard a
knock—not her door but theirs. Then another knock, this one even louder. A deep male voice said, “Minneapolis police. Open up.”

Jane rushed over and flattened her ear against her door, then crouched down, hit the floor, turned on her back, and pulled her legs up to her chest. She heaved them at the door, again and again, making as much noise as she could.

It felt like forever, but the door finally opened. A woman cop stood over her. “What the hell?” she said, bending down.

She pulled the tape off Jane’s mouth, pulled out the washcloth, then untied her hands. Jane caught her breath. She quickly explained what had happened. The cop listened, asked a few questions, then told her to stay put. After she walked out, leaving the door open, Jane got up, brushing off her dusty clothes. It wasn’t long before a handcuffed Luke and Christopher were led to the elevators by a cop she hadn’t seen before. The one she had—she introduced herself as Patrolwoman Patty Heinz—asked if she was okay, if she wanted to be checked over by a paramedic.

“No, I’m fine,” said Jane. “I just need a minute.”

“We arrested those two guys for assaulting you, but it sounds like there’s more to it.”

“Much more.”

“We’ll need a statement. I can take you in my cruiser, or you can drive yourself.”

“I’ll drive,” said Jane.

“You know where City Hall is?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Jane sank down onto a large plastic container of spackling paste to examine the scrapes on her wrists. Glancing toward the open door, she saw the elevator open and the cop get on. But someone also got off.

“Julia?” said Jane. “What are you doing here?”

Julia rushed in, crouched next to her. She looked terrified, her thin shoulders shaking under her coat. “Are you okay? When I phoned, you didn’t answer, but then I heard all this shouting.”

“You were the one who called?”

“I finally got the tests back on your dad and I wanted to talk to you. But when you didn’t answer and I thought I heard someone say Keen, and then the name Luke, and then someone screamed for Luke to get a rope—it was all so muffled, but I could tell something was wrong. And then your voice said something like ‘people would miss me.’ You sounded so frightened. I heard someone say ‘loft.’ I found another phone and called 911, told the police that I thought you were in danger, maybe even being held against your will. I was guessing, but I gave them the address of Luke’s loft, and then I drove over.”

“I think you just saved my life.”

“Your hair, it’s full of soot. It looks gray.” She touched it. And then she started to laugh. “You look like an old woman.”

Jane couldn’t help herself. She laughed, too. Laughed until her sides ached and tears streamed down her cheeks. But at some point, the happy, silly tears turned to real anguish. It wasn’t just being tied up, it was everything that had happened. Charity’s senseless death. Kenzie leaving her. Her concern for her father’s health. Her estrangement from her brother. She wrapped her arms around her body and began to rock. She felt Julia’s hand on her back, then on her hair.

“It’s okay, Jane. Let it out.”

It took a few moments, but Jane finally pulled herself together. She stood, wiped a hand across her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Julia. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I should go. I’m just glad everything turned out okay.”

“Julia?”

She turned.

“What did the tests show? My dad’s tests.”

“He’s very tired and in need of some serious rest. I’d like to do some follow-up.” She paused as if there was more she wanted to say.

“What is it?”

“You should talk to your dad. There’s something he needs to tell you.”

“Is it his heart?”

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I need to run more tests. But I’ve fitted him with an event monitor. I hope it will give us the information we’re looking for. Don’t worry, Jane. He reminds me so much of you—stubborn to a fault. But he’s got a good heart, in every way, just like you do.”

Jane cleared her throat. “Did you call Peter?”

She nodded.

“Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“Why don’t you—” A tangle of feelings collided inside her. She wasn’t sure if what she was about to say was smart or not, but she seemed to be doing it. “Why don’t you join us tomorrow night for the campaign vigil. My father’s booked several suites at the top of the Maxfield Plaza. Downstairs in one of the convention rooms, his supporters will all be gathered, watching the TV as the votes come in. It’s kind of a big party. He’ll give his acceptance speech there—or his concession speech.” She wiped her eyes again. “But just friends and family upstairs. There should be lots of food. Wine. We’re all going to wait it out together.”

Julia looked out the window, then back at Jane. “I’d be honored.”

“I’ll give them your name at the reception desk. Someone will show you where to go.”

“I promise I won’t stay long.”

“No,” said Jane. “Stay as long as you like.”

Julia’s eyes flickered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

E
lection night brought with it Minnesota’s first snowstorm of the year. Six inches had already fallen in the northern part of the state. Four inches were predicted in the cities by morning. The roads were slippery, and many of the citizens, according to the news reports, were staying home.

Jane sat next to Cordelia and Melanie on a couch in her father’s double penthouse suite at the top of the Maxfield. The TV had been on for hours. Various staffers controlled the remote over the course of the evening, flipping back and forth between national and local elections. As the returns began to filter in, it looked like Minnesota’s race for governor would be close. So far, with just a few precincts reporting, it was a dead heat. The opinion poll the campaign had done a few days ago put Pettyjohn up by five points, which at this point suggested a substantial lead. But no one had factored in the weather.

Jane was sipping from a glass of brandy when her father stepped out of one of the bedrooms and called her name. He was dressed casually, in a green polo shirt and jeans. He’d put on his new suit later when he had to go downstairs.

“Come in here for a sec, will you?”

She excused herself and walked to the end of the room, closing the door behind her.

Her father was already sitting on the edge of the bed. He nodded to a chair a few feet away.

“What’s going on?” she asked, still standing by the door.

“I need to talk to you, honey. I need to come clean.”

“About what?”

“I lied to you. I lied to a lot of people about what happened a couple of weeks ago, the day I landed the Cessna in that field. Look,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you saw what happened to me the other night. That dizzy spell. It’s happened before. Once. Only once. But that time, I lost consciousness.”

“Dad!”

“It was while I was piloting the plane on the way down from Bemidji. We were never in any danger. The plane was on autopilot. I was only out for a minute at most, but as you can expect, it was pretty hair-raising for the other two guys on board, neither of whom had ever flown a plane. When I came to and realized what had happened, I figured I’d better land while I still could, just in case it happened again. So that’s what I did. I had complete power, and although the landing was rough, we set down just fine. By the time we were on the ground, I felt okay. And then we had this big discussion about what to do—what to tell the tower in St. Cloud, what to tell reporters. Whether or not we should call a doctor. I figured it was stress, just an anomaly. That it would never happen again. But it did. The other night while you were in my office. That’s why, when Julia came to me, I didn’t turn her down.”

“Is … is it your heart?”

“We’re not sure. She’s fitted me with a monitor, and if there’s another episode, she’ll have a better idea of what’s going on. She’s already set up an appointment for me with a very discreet cardiologist she knows. Quite frankly, Jane, I think she’s pretty amazing.”

He got up, moved toward her. “Can you forgive me?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.

She’d been thinking about something. She figured she wasn’t going to get another chance like this. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to find the second best criminal defense lawyer in the Twin Cities and pay him or her to defend Christopher Cornish and Luke Durrant.”

He frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“But they tied you up, tried to—”

“I know what they did. And I know why. So do you.”

“Jane, what Elizabeth did for Gabriel Keen, it was simply good lawyering.”

“Fine. So let’s get some good lawyering for Christopher and Luke. Paying for a shark would break them financially. I don’t want that to happen. I want them to have the best shot possible at getting the minimum sentence.”

He bent toward her, cupped his hands around her arms. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“It will have to be completely off the radar. Nobody can know I’m doing it.”

“You can figure that out.”

“Yes, Janey, I can.”

“Will you?”

“If it will make you happy, absolutely.”

When Jane came out of the bedroom, she noticed that Elizabeth was over by the windows, looking radiant in a red suit, talking to some of the women campaign staffers. Jane’s brother, Peter, had spent the early part of the evening downstairs, filming the crowd of loyal supporters in the Lindbergh Room, but had returned to the suite a while ago and was now trying to catch a catnap in one of the bedrooms. His wife, Sigrid, and their daughter, Mia, were playing a game of chess at a table near the door to the balcony. It would be hours before anything would be definitive, and even then, there was
always the possibility that the election would be so close that there would need to be a recount.

All evening, the suite had been a madhouse, with people coming and going.

By nine, Jane was back on the couch, sipping her second brandy. She hadn’t realized she’d be quite this jumpy.

Elbowing Jane in the ribs, Cordelia said, “You’re not talking.” Her gaze remained fixed on the screen.

“Neither are you.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“I feel like I’ve got a nest of wasps in my stomach,” said Melanie.

Jane took a stiff gulp from the glass. “Ditto.”

“So, have you heard anything more from Mary?” asked Melanie. She’d brought along some knitting, so at least her fingers had something to do.

“Actually, I have. Looks like the kidnapping charges might be dropped against Corey.”

Cordelia turned to look at her. “Why? He did it.”

“Yes, but from what Mary told me, he called his girlfriend the same night he took Dean. They made a deal. She promised that if Corey brought Dean home by noon the next day, she wouldn’t call the cops. But when her boyfriend found out, he demanded that she tell the police right away. When she refused, he got physical, nearly broke her arm. So she called. From what I hear, the boyfriend is the one who’s going to jail. And if they determine Corey didn’t do anything illegal in taking Dean, he may not go back to prison to serve out the rest of his sentence.”

“You think he’s innocent of that other rape charge?”

“Mary believes he is. I don’t know. I guess I’m inclined to agree. If he did get a raw deal, maybe, if he can catch a break, he can turn his life around. I hope that’s the case.”