The Divine Appointment (23 page)

Georgia, just turned forty-five, arrived at her usual time of 9:00 a.m. eastern. She smoothed her bleached blond hair, pink blouse, and the white polyester uniform she hated. She rang the doorbell beside the front door and waited.

No response.

She rang again.

Still no response.

That was odd, since Dot and Myron were usually so prompt.

Georgia knocked and listened but didn’t hear anything inside. She stepped back from the door and squinted toward the end of the house, where Dorothy’s car was usually parked. It was there.

Maybe they’re on the back porch
, Georgia thought and walked around the house. She climbed the steps to the screened-in porch but didn’t find Myron or Dorothy.

She knocked on the back door.

Still no response.

She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the window in the door…and gasped. The den was in complete disarray. Some of the furniture was toppled over, and books were strewn everywhere. Seeing Myron’s wheelchair empty and on its side, she tried frantically to open the door. It was locked. She anxiously looked through the kitchen window. The scene was the same. The cabinet doors were standing wide open. Plates were smashed on the floor.

Georgia ran back to her car and called 911 on her wireless phone. She stumbled and almost fell twice along the way. She could barely catch her breath as the call was answered.

“This is Georgia Mathis, and I’m at the Carlson home on North Fletcher Avenue near Fort Clinch State Park. Something is terribly wrong.”

The Oval Office, the White House, Washington DC

President Wallace and the others were still celebrating the committee vote and preparing for a press conference when President Wallace noticed that Porter was discussing something on his wireless phone.

Porter faced President Wallace with an expression that said the conversation wasn’t good news. Porter’s countenance fell, and he shook his head in disbelief. He turned his back to the group.

President Wallace’s smile disappeared. The room fell silent. All present watched Porter as he talked with his hand on his hip. He looked despondent.

“When did this happen?” the president heard Porter say.

Porter pivoted back toward the others. He pointed his face toward the ceiling and closed his eyes, listening. President Wallace watched Porter keenly.

“Are there any leads or suspects?” Porter listened again. “I see. Please keep me posted.”

Porter ended the call and faced the group. But he mainly looked at Judge Shelton. “Director Hughes’s office patched a call through from the FBI office in Jacksonville. They thought we would like to know immediately. They found Professor Carlson and his wife dead this morning. They’d been murdered.” Porter’s words were straightforward, but his tone was sympathetic.

Judge Shelton was visibly upset. “What happened?”

“It looks like a robbery. There are a lot of valuables missing, but the investigation is still under way.”

Victoria put her arm around Judge Shelton, and they sat on one of the two sofas in the Oval Office. Judge Shelton buried his face in his hands. Lauren sat beside the grieving couple.

“He was my mentor and friend,” Judge Shelton said miserably. “I knew his time was close but never dreamed his life would end like this. And Dot, his wife—”

President Wallace frowned. Things didn’t add up. On the very day the committee voted to recommend confirmation of Judge Shelton to the Supreme Court, a dear friend and mentor of Judge Shelton’s was murdered. That couldn’t be coincidental.

President Wallace walked to Porter and whispered, “Does this have anything to do with Judge Shelton’s nomination?”

“I don’t know, sir. I immediately thought the same thing, but the local officials are calling it a robbery.”

“Make sure the FBI checks that possibility.”

“I will.”

“And tell the media that the press conference is at least postponed. This is no longer a time for celebration.”

Porter left the Oval Office to carry out his instructions and President Wallace turned back to Judge Shelton, Victoria, and Lauren. Judge Shelton appeared shocked and despondent. They all—and particularly Dunbar Shelton—had gone from a mountaintop experience to the deepest valley in the span of less than five minutes.

President Wallace set his jaw. He walked over and put a hand on Judge Shelton’s shoulder. “I promise we’re going to find out who did this.”

The Hart Building, Washington DC

“But I don’t want to see Stella,” Senator Proctor argued. “It’s too early on a Monday to have to see that biddy. You shouldn’t have told her that she could come up.”

Senator Proctor stood from his executive chair as Cooper finished his conversation with Stella. Cooper put his wireless phone in his pocket and buttoned his coat. Senator Proctor, irritated that Stella had gained entrance to his office so easily, glared at Cooper.

Cooper shrugged as if there were nothing else he could have done. That irritated Senator Proctor more.

“She’s already on her way up,” Cooper explained. “She said she had something really important to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“She didn’t say. Just that it’s important.”

Senator Proctor walked to the other side of the room. “Let her in. But I’m only giving her five minutes. I mean it. Five minutes, Cooper, and she’s out of here.”

Senator Proctor poured a cup of coffee and walked around in his opulent office. He didn’t sit down. If he did, then so would Stella when she arrived. And if that happened, he feared he’d never get her to leave.

All too soon Cooper opened the door and admitted Stella. She was beaming. She carried two folders and her purse.

Senator Proctor wasn’t sure he had ever seen Stella Hanover smile. It was a devilish smile—the kind that didn’t come from joy but rather from knowing something no one else knew. Senator Proctor wondered what it was.

He met her in the middle of the room. “What’s this about, Stella?”

“Can we sit down?”

“No. I’m in a hurry. I’ve only got a few minutes. What’s this about?”

Senator Proctor stood near Stella, but not too close. He stared and tried to convey the message that he wasn’t interested in what she had to say.

Stella only smiled more broadly. “You remember when I was in your office a month ago?”

“How could I forget?”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

“Not exactly, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You said that if I could find anything where Shelton said he would overturn
Roe
, then you would reconsider your position on him.”

Senator Proctor rolled his eyes. “Stella, the Judiciary Committee has already voted to send his nomination to the full Senate. There’s nothing I can do at this point.”

“Sure there is. Look at this.” Stella handed Senator Proctor one of the folders she carried.

Reluctantly he opened it. He was still uninterested and simply fanned the pages in the folder without looking at them. “What is this?”

“It’s a research paper where Shelton said
Roe
was unconstitutional and should be overturned.”

Senator Proctor cut his eyes at Cooper, who raised his eyebrows. Senator Proctor slowly read the document as he sauntered to his desk and sat down in his executive chair.

Stella followed him and stopped in front of his desk. She peered down at him.

The document was twenty-five pages long. He read the first page and a half and looked up at her. “It’s too late, Stella.”

“It’s not too late!” Her smile disappeared.

“He’s going to be confirmed by the end of the week. There’s nothing I can do.”

Stella exhaled angrily. She kept her eyes directed toward Senator Proctor but said, “Cooper, will you please leave us alone?”

Senator Proctor looked past Stella to Cooper. Cooper shifted his weight and shook his head. Stella couldn’t see him.

“And don’t listen,” Stella said.

Senator Proctor smiled at Stella. She was smarter than he gave her credit for being. He waved Cooper out of the room and Cooper left quietly. After Cooper left, Stella handed Senator Proctor the second of her two folders. It was thicker than the first file. Much thicker.

“What’s this?” Senator Proctor took the folder from Stella’s hand. “Another research paper?’

“Nope. That’s my file on you.”

Senator Proctor could feel the color leave his face as he thumbed through the contents of the folder. He swallowed hard. There were pictures and memos containing dates, times, and places. Different women appeared in the photographs with him. Some women appeared in more than one photograph. There were pictures of him entering and leaving various hotels around DC with various women. This was bad. Real bad. Stella had done her homework.

“I didn’t bring the videos,” Stella said.

Senator Proctor closed the folder and slid it across the desk. “All right, Stella. You got me. What do you want?”

Stella left, satisfied, and Cooper returned. He found Senator Proctor sitting dejectedly behind his desk. His head rested against the back of his chair, his eyes were closed, and his face was creased, as if he had a headache.

Cooper sat across the desk from him. “I listened anyway.”

“I knew you would.”

“She’s got one on me, too.”

Senator Proctor groaned. “She probably has one on everybody in town.”

“You know she tried to have Shelton killed, don’t you?”

Senator Proctor opened his eyes but didn’t move. “I guessed that was her. She’s the only person I know who’s that ruthless. But we don’t have any way of proving that now, and she’s got the drop on me.”

“What do you want to do?”

Senator Proctor closed his eyes again. The anguish was apparent on his face. “I don’t have any choice. Stella will ruin me if I don’t do what she wants. I’ve got to turn on Wallace.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Schedule a press conference at one p.m. and start working the phones. Call all the senators in our caucus and tell them that we’re pulling our support for Shelton.”

The Oval Office, the White House, Washington DC

President Wallace was livid. Porter had never seen him this mad. He was mad, but not this mad, when the Russian president cursed him in Russian because the United States had sided with Israel at the UN Security Council. He was mad, but not this mad, when Congress failed to enact all his tax cuts. This was the angriest President Wallace had ever been. Porter was sure of it.

“He can’t back out now! Shelton’s already made it through the committee!”

“That’s what Cooper said. Senator Proctor’s pulling his support for Judge Shelton and will vote against him on the Senate floor.”

“Over this!” President Wallace violently waved a copy of Judge Shelton’s research paper that had been faxed to his office from Senator Proctor’s office.

Porter sat rigidly on one of the sofas and watched President Wallace pace around the Oval Office. He didn’t like what had happened any more than the president.

“This is nothing! It’s a thirty-year-old research paper, for goodness sake.”

“I agree, sir, but—”

“But nothing, Porter.” The president’s hand slammed down on his desk. “We had a deal, and Proctor’s reneging on it. Pure and simple. He was probably planning this from the beginning. He set us up. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a knock on the door, and the president’s secretary admitted Judge Shelton into the Oval Office.

“What’s going on?” Judge Shelton asked.

President Wallace could barely look at him. He dropped his head and shook it in disbelief. Porter knew that President Wallace didn’t want to tell Judge Shelton the bad news. But he had to. He had to know that his confirmation was likely doomed because of something he’d written thirty years earlier. It didn’t seem right to Porter, and he knew it didn’t seem right to President Wallace, that a few words written decades ago could have an impact on the current Supreme Court. But they did.

“We’ve got a problem,” President Wallace said. He handed the fax to Judge Shelton. Porter remained on the sofa. “Senator Proctor’s office called and said that he’s withdrawing his support of your nomination because of this.”

Judge Shelton flipped through the pages, only scanning it as he went. After a few seconds of reading, he looked at President Wallace. “I haven’t seen this in years. Where did you get it?”

“Proctor’s office faxed it a few minutes ago.”

“I only know of one copy of this even existing. The rest were shredded years ago.”

“What are you talking about?” President Wallace asked.

“I wrote this when I was in law school. I showed it to Professor Carlson when I finished it. He agreed with my reasoning and kept a copy. It wasn’t part of a class. It was just something that I researched and wrote on my own time. After the Robert Bork hearings, Professor Carlson called me and suggested that I destroy any copies of this that I still had.”

“If all copies were destroyed, then where did this one come from?”

“I only know of one remaining copy.”

“Who had it?”

“Professor Carlson.”

It felt as though the air was sucked out of the room.

Porter instinctively leaped to his feet. He could see President Wallace thinking.

The president swiveled toward Porter. “Did Cooper Harrington say where they got this?”

“No. Just that Senator Proctor couldn’t support Judge Shelton because of his position on
Roe
.”

President Wallace’s previous stomping became a slow, methodical stroll. Porter followed him with his eyes. Judge Shelton lowered the memo to his side and stood quietly beside Porter.

The president stopped and looked through the window behind his desk. “Porter, don’t say anything to anybody that links Professor Carlson with this memo. We can’t trust Director Hughes, but we must find out who murdered the Carlsons and fast.”

Porter knew what President Wallace meant. He didn’t care how it was done and didn’t want to know what was done. But he wanted it done. President Wallace wanted to know who murdered Myron and Dorothy Carlson, and he wanted to know immediately. Porter was tasked with finding the truth no matter what it took, and he relished the assignment. And just as President Wallace believed he was in the White House for such a time as this in the history of the country, Porter also believed his station in life wasn’t accidental. It was handling situations like this one—searching for truth—that gave Porter purpose.

“And if Senator Proctor is hung with it,” President Wallace said, “then so be it.”

“He’s up for reelection this fall,” Porter reminded him.

The president frowned. “If he’s involved, I hope the penalty is greater than not getting reelected.”

“I’m sure it will be. What about the races in Wyoming, Kansas, and Kentucky?” Porter asked.

Without hesitation, President Wallace responded, “Let’s get back in those races. Apologize for pulling out and see what we can do to help. If Proctor is reneging on the deal, there is no reason for us to uphold our part of the bargain. Having our folks control the Senate would be huge.”