The Silenced (18 page)

“What kind of car?” Matt asked.

“I’m not sure of the make, but it was black,” the woman said.

“A black sedan?”

“Yeah, you know. They’re all over the city,” the woman said. “Everybody uses them.” She sniffed. “And you’d be surprised just how many we see trolling the streets around here.”

“Did you see who was in the car?” Meg asked hopefully. “Can you describe the driver?”

The woman shook her head. “Sorry, no, I can’t. But...”

“But what?”

“I saw it drive away and I noticed that the license plate was all...covered in mud.”

* * *

Before they’d driven away with their witness reports, Matt was on the phone with Jackson, who was going to plan a press conference to make sure women were on the alert for a black sedan, even though they knew that if he saw the news, the killer might change his vehicle. At the very least, they’d force his hand. It was a small victory—with the dead piling up and Lara still missing.

But before Matt ended the call, he received further instructions from Jackson. They were to stop by the office for Adam. Killer would stay with Jackson; the rest of them were on their way to speak with Martha Hubbard, widow of the recently deceased congressman.

He looked over at Meg. “We have to be at our most persuasive. This could be our most important move, a way we can finally get to the truth.”

“I’ll beg and plead as soulfully as I can,” she promised.

Her tone was sarcastic but he knew she actually meant what she’d said. Matt looked straight ahead again as he drove and wondered if she realized just how far her sincerity went. She was definitely the right one to be on this mission.

Angela was waiting with Adam Harrison in front of the office. She scooped up Killer while Adam slid into the car.

“Press conference is in thirty minutes. Jackson will do the speaking,” she told them.

Matt waved and moved back into the traffic.

Meg turned around to speak to Adam. “Do you know Mrs. Hubbard?” she asked.

“Yes. We’re old friends. I was a huge supporter of Congressman Hubbard. He had a platform that was socially inclusive and fiscally smart. He was...political magic, and he never reneged on a promise he made to his constituents,” Adam said.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to see Mrs. Hubbard alone,” Meg murmured.

“Oh, no, my dear. You’re going to be an asset, I’m certain.” Glancing in the rearview mirror, Matt saw that Adam was impeccable as always in a soft gray suit, blue shirt and darker tie.

As he neared Congressman Hubbard’s home, Matt saw something that made him slow and then pull over.

“What are you doing?” Meg asked. He pointed down the street. The congressman’s house was in a neighborhood of sweeping lawns and they had a decent view of the horseshoe drive in front of the house.

“Someone’s just leaving,” Matt said.

A large party was about to drive off in two black sedans. Matt saw that it was Congressman Walker, his wife and his retinue. Ian and Kendra were getting into a black limo driven by Joe Brighton, his ex-marine campaign manager. The other two men—handsome and charismatic Ellery Manheim and Nathan Oliver—were entering a second car. Peering closely, Matt saw that the two little granddaughters were already in the car that Ian and Kendra Walker were stepping into, which explained the need for two cars.

“Company who got here before us,” Adam said thoughtfully. “How interesting—or maybe not.” He went on to say, “The families have been close for years. Walker and Hubbard were on a number of committees together.”

“Still, what timing,” Matt said. “We’ll wait a minute.”

“And hope they drive in the other direction,” Meg added.

They did. Matt wondered if he let out an audible sigh of relief. A few minutes later, he drove down the street and into the horseshoe drive.

The Hubbard house wasn’t as big or as opulent as the Walker house, Matt observed. Not that he knew much about interior design. It was homey, simple. Martha Hubbard was as warm and welcoming as her home.

She greeted them herself when she opened the door, stepping into Adam’s arms and hugging him warmly, tears filling her eyes. “So good of you to come, Adam. I’ve been trying to catch up—to reach everyone—since the funeral. But the children were here, and I’m in the middle of making various decisions. I have to decide whether to keep this home or not... So many details that must be handled.”

“Maddie, Maddie,” Adam said soothingly. “I wouldn’t be bothering you now if I didn’t think it was important. May we?”

They were still standing in the foyer.

“Of course, forgive me!” Maddie Hubbard looked past Adam and tried to smile brightly at Matt and Meg. “Come in!”

The parlor was in the front of the house. There was an inviting hearth, the mantel covered with family pictures. A throw over the sofa might have been knitted by the widow herself.

Adam introduced them. “Agents Matthew Bosworth and Margaret Murray.”

“And I’m Martha Hubbard, although I’m better known as Maddie,” she said. “Sit down. The Walkers were just here with their little ones, so I’m in a bit of disarray.”

Meg laughed softly. “What a lovely home, Mrs. Hubbard. I only wish I had one as warm and charming as this.”

“Well, thank you, dear, and please, I’m just Maddie.”

They sat down; Adam looked at Matt and he knew that meant he was to begin.

He folded his hands as he faced her. “We’re sorry to bother you today,” he said. “I’ve been a fan of your husband and your family for years. I can only imagine how painful your husband’s loss is to you. But we’re here to ask for a favor that will be very hard to give. And while we can’t tell you the particulars, we have good reason to believe that your husband’s death might not have been...natural.”

She was a plump woman with a beautiful smile and naturally graying hair. She stared back at him in such shock that he was afraid that he might have caused her to have a stroke or a heart attack herself.

“Maddie, we don’t mean to upset you,” Meg said, reaching over to pat Maddie’s hand. “It’s just that...if something like that happened, it was a crime not just against your husband, you and your family, but against the American people.”

“But—but...how?” Maddie gasped out the words. “He was here. He was at home. I was making apple pie. He was in the bedroom. And when I went to get him...” She broke off, covering her face.

“He took digitalis, right?” Adam asked. “He didn’t have a severe condition, but he took digitalis.”

Maddie nodded. “There’s no reason to believe... Like I said, we were both at home. It had been a long day. He kept his pills in his pocket. But why would you think...?”

“Maddie, what I’m about to say must remain in this room,” Adam told her. “A young congressional employee is missing. She left a note for a friend that referred to your husband’s death. She was suspicious. We don’t know what she might have heard, but under the circumstances...”

“The woman Adam mentioned is my oldest friend, and she’s still missing, Maddie,” Meg said. “She adored your husband. She’s an idealist and a wonderful person and...she may still be alive.”

“I know we’re asking a lot,” Matt put in.

“Garth is dead and gone,” Maddie said softly. “He wouldn’t care what was done with his body. It’s nothing but a shell now.” She paused. “I still wish I could understand.”

“Can you tell me a little more about the day he died?” Matt asked.

Maddie lifted her hands. “It was a busy day. He’d worked on Capitol Hill in the morning, and there was a special picnic with disabled children in the afternoon. He was tired when he came home—which added to the stress on his heart, or so we all assumed. We had dinner. We used no salt, and he ate only fish and chicken, no red meat. He was careful. Such a good, sweet man, the best husband and father and... Why? Why would someone have killed him?”

“What if someone disagreed with him?” Adam asked.

“Good Lord, Adam Harrison. We’re in
politics
. Everyone disagrees with everyone else!” Maddie said. “But he knew how to compromise. He also knew how to say, ‘This is what I believe. It’s up to the voters.’”

Meg touched her hand again. “He’d been out all day, he came home and died. Did he take his pills?”

“I believe he did, but it was too late. The bottle was in his hand, and the pills were strewn across the floor.”

“Do you still have those pills?” Matt asked.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Maddie said. “I’ve heard it stressed far too many times, the importance of getting rid of someone else’s pills. So many people reminded me of that. They went down the toilet immediately.”

Meg and Adam both turned to Matt. “Who stressed this to you?” he asked carefully.

“My daughter, for one. And a number of the congressional wives who were here after the funeral. Ada Cutler, Kendra Walker, Leona Thomas—many of the women.”

“Any of the men?” Meg asked.

“Men?” Maddie repeated, sitting back. “I suppose so, but... I don’t really remember. I was upset. We were talking in the living room. My daughter is a physician. She asked if I’d made sure to get rid of all her father’s pills.”

Meg glanced at him and Matt knew they were thinking the same thing. They’d get nothing else along these lines, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. The pills were gone. They couldn’t be tested. The only truth regarding what might have been in his stomach or bloodstream lay in Congressman Hubbard being exhumed—and autopsied.

“I just don’t see how my husband could have been murdered,” Maddie said, not for the first time. She was going to refuse them, Matt thought. Despite her earlier remark about his remains being “nothing but a shell.”

But she didn’t.

“Garth is dead. I truly believe that his soul is in heaven. If anyone deserved paradise, it’s my husband. If you think the removal of his corpse might help someone else, I’m happy to sign whatever papers you need,” she said with finality.

She and Meg were looking at each other. They seemed to be sharing something.

“Thank you,” Meg said simply.

Adam rose. “Maddie, Garth loved you deeply. I believe he’d be very proud of you now.”

“Won’t you stay for coffee, tea, a drink...a bite to eat?” Maddie asked.

“You seem tired,” Adam said.

“I am a bit weary. No matter how darling children are, I’m only good with them for so long, but still...”

“Another time, Maddie, I shall be delighted to take you up on your offer,” Adam said.

Matt rose and Meg did the same. Maddie Hubbard smiled at him and slipped an arm around Meg. “And you must bring your agents back when they’re not working on a case like this. I may no longer be a power on the Hill, but I still enjoy good company.”

“I’d love to come back,” Meg said, and Matt quickly agreed.

Maddie escorted them to the door. She and Adam embraced again and he stepped out. Matt paused to shake her hand; she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He smiled, liking her very much.

As he and Adam started for the car, he noticed that Maddie had pulled Meg back. She whispered something to her. Meg nodded, and in the light from the old-fashioned porch lamp, he could see her blush. A moment later, she hurried after him.

Maddie waved to them from the door, and they waved in return. They talked about the obvious on the way back—the fact that Hubbard’s pills might have been switched. They’d find out when the autopsy was done. Adam wanted to head straight to his office to get Jackson started on the paperwork. He told the two of them to go home and get some rest.

“We have to pick up Killer,” Meg reminded him.

“Just go home. I’ll enjoy a night with the pup, if you don’t mind,” Adam said.

“I...” Meg wanted to protest. She was already attached to the dog. But there was no reason not to let Adam have him for the night. “Okay,” she said.

As he pulled into traffic, Matt asked, “Do you have a bed at your place yet?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she told him.

“And nothing in the kitchen yet, right?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Let’s get some dinner, since we missed lunch.”

“That sounds good,” she said.

Matt took them to a place he knew along the way, a restaurant that had an excellent assortment of Mediterranean food, from lasagna to lamb kabobs. He waited until they were seated and had ordered their drinks and their food before he asked, “What did she say? When she called you back?”

“You mean Mrs. Hubbard?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Um, well...it was personal.”

“Personal? I didn’t think you knew her that well.”

“Apparently, she knows us,” Meg said wryly.

“Oh?”

She shook her head, blushing again. Her eyes were a brilliant deep blue, sparkling with a rare beauty, when she replied. “She said you were as gorgeous as a TV gladiator. She has no idea if the real ones were gorgeous or not. And that I shouldn’t let you go.”

Stunned, Matt stared at her, and then he began to laugh. He couldn’t help asking her, “And?”

“And what?”

“What did you say to her?”

* * *

Watching them sent his blood boiling. Slash was so agitated he could barely keep his position in the driver’s seat of his car.

His car. He’d had to resort to the use of his own because of
them
. He’d rushed last night; he’d rushed by grabbing a prostitute. He should’ve taken someone he’d observed and studied. And he should’ve taken that woman, his chosen victim, when he knew she’d be alone on an empty street.

But what he did last night—it had seemed so important at the time. He’d felt a desperate fever; he’d had to make a move. He blamed it on them, on those two agents; if it weren’t for that foolish woman, Meg Murray, the police would’ve dropped it. They’d have pursued a killer and nothing more. And now...

Still, they knew nothing. They hadn’t charged anyone. They hadn’t even brought anyone in for questioning.

They were like idiot dogs, dogs with bones...chewing, slavering, not about to let go. And now, while he sat in the car, they were in there, laughing, smiling, talking to each other as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

It made him angry. But he had to lie low. He needed to remember the timetable—what was important and what wasn’t.