The Heart Has Reasons (37 page)

She
had the most delightful southern accent.  Kavanaugh fed coins into the
machine and made a selection.  “Do the agents know that after seducing your
kidnapper, you temporarily eluded him by fleeing into the woods, then bashed
him in the temple with a rock when he recaptured you?”

Color
blazed into her face and her eyes dropped to the floor.  “I only seduced
him because I was desperate to escape.”

“Which
is completely understandable.  And if you’d been
up against any
other man, I’ve no doubt you’d have been successful.”

She
glanced up and down the corridor.  “Would you please tell him I haven’t
identified him?”

As
coffee dispensed into a paper cup, he said, “The agents claim you have.”

“
What?
 
I swear I didn’t!”

So,
she was keeping her word not to identify him.  At least, so far.  He
removed the steaming cup from the machine.  “May I ask why you’re willing
to protect the very man accused of abducting you?”

She
lowered her voice to the faintest of whispers.  “Sparrow conned him. 
I’m not defending his actions but, at great risk to himself, he returned to
save me from an unspeakable death.  I gave my word not to identify him
and, no matter what happens, I will not do so.  He hasn’t confessed to
anything, has he?”

“No.”

“Please
make sure he doesn’t.”

Kavanaugh
fed more coins into the machine.  “You may rest assured he’ll do no such
thing.”

She
glanced once more up and down the corridor.  “The agents don’t believe
me.  They’re planning to check his vehicle for my DNA, and they want me to
give them a reference sample.  Do I have to allow it?”

“If
you refuse, they’ll simply get a warrant.  They’re going to do everything
in their power to wear down your defenses.  I don’t wish to alarm you, but
kidnapping is a grave offense carrying a penalty of up to twenty-five
years.”  He returned his attention to the vending machine, pressed a few
buttons, and a second cup dropped down.

“Mr.
Kavanaugh, what’s his name?”

“You
don’t know?”  When she shook her head, he said, “Chase O’Malley.”

She
repeated the name thoughtfully, started to smile, then winced and raised a hand
to her swollen and sutured lower lip.  “The name suits him.”

Behind
them, rapidly approaching pumps made sharp staccato sounds on the grey
linoleum, and a woman’s voice called out, “Ms. Santos!”  Kavanaugh removed
the second cup of coffee from the machine and turned.  A petite East
Indian woman in a dark pantsuit shot him a suspicious glance.  He nodded
to her and, as he strode away with the two cups of coffee, heard her demand,
“What were you and that man talking about?”

Santos’
quick answer was a relief.  “He suggested I should be seen by a doctor,
and I explained that I’d already been to the emergency room.”

“And
that’s all?”

“Yes,
why?  Who is he?”

“No
one you should be talking to.”

In
the interrogation room, O’Malley looked up wearily, wearing the expression of a
man on his way to his own execution.  Kavanaugh set one of the cups before
him.  “Cheer up, Mr. O’Malley.  I bring good news.”

“Sir,
please call me Chase.”

“Very
well, Chase.  I spoke to Ms. Santos.”

O’Malley’s
entire face lit up.  “How did she look?  Is she holding up okay?”

“Emotionally,
she seems to be coping well enough.”

“Jesus,
what a fucking mess I’ve dragged her into.”

Kavanaugh
waited a bit.  “Don’t you want to know the good news?”

“I
thought that was the good news.”

“The
agents apparently lied to you.  She claims she has not, and will not,
identify you.”

Kavanaugh
watched as a series of emotions cascaded over his client’s face.  The
extent of his relief was evident as his shoulders suddenly relaxed, and he
slouched back in his chair with a long exhale.  “Chase, do you have
feelings for this woman?”

“I
… I deeply regret what I’ve put her through.”

“There
is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible, as the conscience that
dwells in the heart of every man.  I believe it was Polybius who said
that.  However, if it’s any consolation, Ms. Santos has apparently
forgiven you.  Unfortunately, I have bad news as well.  They’re going
to check your vehicle for her DNA.”

“I
thoroughly cleaned and vacuumed, so they may not find anything.  What else
did she say?”

“She
asked your name.  I saw no reason not to tell her.”

“That’s
fine.  Anything else?”

“That
was it.  A female agent sporting a very manly haircut cut our conversation
short.”

“Sengupta. 
She strikes me as competent, but inexperienced.  Jarvis, on the other
hand, is both intelligent and observant, always a bad combination in an adversary. 
He can smell weakness the way a dog smells fear.  Larissa will have a hard
time holding her own against him.”

“I
got the impression Ms. Santos possesses not only intelligence but considerable
strength of character.”

A
genuine smile wreathed O’Malley’s face.  “You have no idea.”

CHAPTER
25

When Special Agent Edison Jarvis finished
speaking with William Kavanaugh, he returned to his office, lowered himself
into the chair behind his desk, crossed one leg over the other, and arranged
the crease in his trousers.  “It certainly didn’t take O’Malley long to
lawyer-up.  I thought he hadn’t made any phone calls.”

“He
hasn’t,” Emily Sengupta assured him.

“And
yet he already has an attorney.  Interesting.”

“I
hear Kavanaugh’s good.  What‘d he have to say?”

“In
addition to the usual blather about his client being innocent, he warned that
he’ll file a civil-action lawsuit if we release O’Malley’s name to the
media.  With the criminal records of our three witnesses, a jury’s not
going to find them very credible and, if Ms. Santos continues to refuse to
identify O’Malley, there’s a good chance he’ll walk.  So, until we have
some concrete evidence,
we will withhold his name from the media
.”

“The
man’s a suspect!”

“So
was Richard Jewell.  I know it was before your time, but do you remember
when he was mistakenly arrested as the Atlanta bomber?”

“Only
vaguely,” she admitted.

“Once
cleared of the charges, not only did he realize a tidy sum from numerous
lawsuits, U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno had to go on television and make a
public apology because the Bureau released his name to the media.”

“That
was unfortunate,” she agreed.  “I hate to say
I told you so
, but it
should’ve been you playing the hard-ass with Santos.”

“I’m
not comfortable intimidating women, especially one who’s so recently been
victimized.”

“And
you think I am?”

“Since
a woman’s toughest adversaries are usually other women, I knew you’d be more
believable in the role.”

“So
you don’t find me too
girly
?”

“Not
at all.  You could intimidate me out of my lunch money any day.”

“If
you weren’t my superior, I’d call you an asshole.”

“Despite
the fact that she saw through our ploy, you did well.  When you lunged
across the table, I almost believed it myself.”

“It
wasn’t that much of a stretch of my meager acting abilities — I was sorely
tempted to bitch-slap her into next week.  Shall I ease up, or come across
harder?”

“Ease
up.  If we push her unduly, she might invoke the dreaded lawyer request.”

“Why
didn’t you come down hard on O’Malley?”

“I
immediately sensed it would be pointless.  He’s clearly not a man easily
intimidated.”

“Yeah,
I got the same impression.  His lack of emotion indicates he’s a
psychopath.”  Sengupta handed a folder across the desk.  “His
military record arrived while we were interrogating him.”

Jarvis
opened it and glanced at the first page.  Even though he never used
profanity at work, he was unable to suppress a frustrated “Mother
fucker!
”

He
felt, rather than saw, Sengupta’s startled reaction to his outburst.  “What
is it?”

“O’Malley
was Special Forces, which explains his extraordinary composure.”  Sengupta
was quiet as he quickly read though the report.  When he finished, he
closed his eyes and wearily pinched the broad bridge of his nose.  “God
damn
it.”

“So,
do you still like him for this?”

He
opened his eyes to find Sengupta regarding him curiously.  “Oh, he’s
definitely our man.  Any word on the men he assaulted?”

“Two
agents are in San Bernardino looking for them.”  She leaned back in her
chair, scanned the file, and blew out a long, low whistle.  “This asshole
was the recipient of two Purple Hearts
and
the Medal of fucking
Valor.  Why would a guy with such an impressive record stoop to
kidnapping?”

“For
a man like O’Malley, returning to the tedium and monotony of civilian life
would have been a tough adjustment.  Not only would he have missed the
adrenaline rush of constantly living life on the edge, he’d gotten used to
living by his own rules.”

“You
sound as if you’re speaking from firsthand experience.”

Jarvis
shrugged noncommittally.  “I think he was just trying to add a little
excitement to his life.”

“Then
he should have hired a couple of hookers.”  She closed the file and passed
it back to him.  “It looks like it’s gonna take some time to wear him down.”

“You
don’t understand, Emily.  The man has been trained to withstand
torture. 
Nothing
we say or do is going
to ‘wear him down’.”

She
drummed deceptively fragile-looking fingers on the desk.  “So we’ll have
to wring the truth from Santos.”

Jarvis
nodded.  “But
gently
.  Let’s not forget that she’s the
victim.”

“I
don’t get it.  If O’Malley’s our man, why is she protecting him?  Did
he terrorize her so severely that she’s afraid to identify him?” 
Sengupta’s face scrunched up in disgust.  “Ah, fuck.  They spent four
nights together.  He seduced her, didn’t he?”

“There’s
yet another possibility. 
She
may have
seduced
him
,
in an attempt to dissuade him from delivering her to Sparrow.”

“If
so, she clearly wasn’t successful, so why protect him?”

“Perhaps
out of gratitude that he saved her from the men in the alley.”

“So
you think they attempted to rape her?”

“With
Waddell’s history of sexual assault, my guess is that he’d have been unable to
resist taking advantage of the situation.”

Sengupta
nodded her agreement.  “And O’Malley was pissed when he caught him at
it.  Why didn’t the detectives have a rape kit performed while she was at
the hospital?”

“Fahey
said she refused.”  When his cell phone chimed, he fished it from an inner
jacket pocket.  “Special Agent Jarvis.”  He listened for a moment,
said, “Assemble another line-up,” and disconnected.  “Agents just
delivered our three witnesses from the alley.”

“Since
O’Malley’s already admitted to the incident, putting him in another line-up
seems kind of pointless.  But since the men claim to have seen Santos in
the back of his vehicle, maybe we should put
her
in a line-up.”

Jarvis
shook his head.  “As much as I’d like to do that, it wouldn’t be
appropriate.  However, we’ll see if they can pick her out of a photo
array.”

* * * * *

Jarvis was not surprised that each one of
the rough-looking trio, separately and without hesitation, picked O’Malley out
of the line-up, despite the fact that he’d been wearing a ski mask at the time
of the assault.

All
three bore numerous bruises and abrasions, and a sling immobilized one of Andre
Gant’s shoulders, but O’Malley had definitely done a number on Malik Waddell.
 His right arm was casted, and two broken legs confined him to a
wheelchair.  Although Waddell had never been charged with murder, it would
have been no surprise to learn that he’d legitimately earned each tattooed
teardrop.

Under
his manufactured façade of confidence, Waddell was clearly nervous as he gave
his version of the morning’s events.  When he finished, Jarvis said, “So,
you got a good look at the woman.”

“Yeah.”

He
fanned a dozen photos out on the desk.  “Do you recognize her?”

Waddell
studied them for nearly a minute before picking Santos’ out.  “This be
her, but this morning she weren’t all beat-the-fuck-up.”  With his one
unbroken limb, he absently reached up to touch the puffy abrasion on his
forehead.