Tracie Peterson (29 page)

“What are you saying, Harry?” Klark Anderson asked.

Harry looked around the room at the men in his office. They were trusted friends and people he knew would work with him to resolve this problem. “About a year ago, Teri Davis turned up dead in the Kansas River. The coroner listed her death as an accidental overdose of heroin. That girl was a former friend of the Kerns family, and she was raped on numerous occasions by Kerns and gave birth to his child.”

The eyes of his friends widened in surprise. No one said a word as Harry continued. “Melissa and Cara Kessler knew about the baby. They were trying to help the young woman, but Kerns had Cara’s telephone wired and he found out about it before Cara could intercede.”

“Do you have proof?” one of the KBI officers questioned.

“We have a dead body, a missing baby and reporter, and a coroner’s report that shows that Teri Davis was nursing a baby—one that everyone swears doesn’t exist. I believe Melissa confronted Kerns with this information.”

“Where do we start?” Klark asked.

“Serena Perez,” Harry replied. “It’s my guess that Serena has her own agenda when it comes to Kerns. The lieutenant governor overheard her having a telephone conversation with someone in which she spoke of him removing Melissa. She also spoke of making someone pay for their actions. Cara wonders now if Serena isn’t plotting something against Kerns.”

“One of us can make a visit to her,” a KBI officer suggested.

“But not at the Capitol,” Harry replied. “We’ll need to get her alone, away from Kerns. If she is planning something, it might be wise not to expose her to question. And, too, she might even cooperate with us and make our job a little easier.”

A knock at Harry’s closed door brought all eyes to the turning knob. A young secretary peeked through the opening.

“Harry, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s someone here who says they must talk with you.”

“Can’t it wait?” he snapped irritably.

“I don’t think so. She says it has to do with the lieutenant governor’s safety.”

Harry caught on to two things. The refence to Cara was one, and the “she says” was the other. Perhaps it was Melissa. With a surge of hope, Harry nodded and motioned to the woman. “Send her in.”

Silence fell across the room as the shapely form of Serena Perez entered. With the trained expression of a professional, she reached into her purse and produced her FBI identification. Flashing it to every member of the room, she nodded to Harry. “We need to talk.”

****

Cara paced Harry’s living room and wondered if she’d done the right thing by agreeing to wait things out here.
She tried to watch television, but most of the networks were showing movies dealing with murder, and the other channels seemed to have one form of violence or another on their programs. She clicked the remote to turn the set off. Silence descended upon the room, leaving Cara very aware that she was alone.

Harry had been gone for over six hours, and Cara could barely stand not knowing what was happening. She’d locked the door behind him, using both the dead bolt and the sliding chain lock, but somehow just knowing that he was out there and she was in here left Cara feeling an unexplained emptiness.
I should have told him how I feel,
she thought, stretching out on the couch. She stared up at the white spackled ceiling.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered to the air. “I should have told you that before you left, but I’m scared and I don’t want to love you because you might die.” She thought of Jack, and for the first time in a long time, his face flooded back in a clearly defined image. She could almost hear his voice. The scene was from a youth rally at their church, and Jack was telling a group of children how risky it was to care about people and things.

“Things get wrecked, worn out, or broken,”
he had said.
“If you put your affection into things, then you will have to constantly redirect your loyalties, because things don’t last. If you put your affection on people, you might also have to redirect. Sometimes feelings aren’t returned, and sometimes relationships get broken, especially when they aren’t centered around God’s purpose and will. And,”
Jack had added with a special tenderness,
“sometimes people die, and then what do you do?”

The conversation had been meant to make the kids think long and hard about relationships and setting their affections on God before focusing on people.

“God is a constant,”
Jack had told the kids.
“His love never changes, never redirects, never ends. No matter how many things you own or how many own you. No matter who you love or who loves you. God’s love will never change. His love is perfect, and in it there is no fear. No fear of death or life or the changes that come along with either one.”

Cara felt warm tears on her cheeks. “No fear in God,” she whispered. “No fear in His love.” Why was this such a hard lesson to learn? How many times had she walked down the same path? Like a frightened child, Cara could remember hours of pleading with God for answers and direction, when all along the answer was already within reach. God’s love was perfect, and in it she had all she would ever need. . . .

She hadn’t realized that she’d fallen asleep, but the ringing telephone brought her instantly up off the couch. No doubt Harry was calling to let her know how things were going.

“Hello?” Nothing but silence greeted her.

“Hello?” Cara repeated.

“Mrs. Jordon will be moved at midnight. She’ll be transported in a dumpster from the Capitol to a janitorial truck. Stay where you are. You’ll be contacted later.”
Click.

The dial tone sounded in Cara’s ear, leaving her stunned at its finality. The caller had sounded surprisingly enough like Serena Perez, but how would she know to call here?

Cara felt her heart race and her breath quicken. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was a little after eleven-thirty. Where was Harry? She dialed his beeper number and waited several precious minutes for him to return her call. When he didn’t answer, she searched the apartment for a pen and paper. There was no way she was going to obey the voice on the phone. Melissa needed help and Cara reasoned that she might be her only hope.

Pulling out a drawer in the kitchen, Cara startled at the sight of a revolver. She knew a little about guns from her days on the farm. Rattlesnakes were often a problem during the summer, and Cara had learned how to handle her father’s rifle and pistol in order to combat any threat. Carefully picking up the revolver, she checked to see if it was loaded. It was.

A feeling of power coursed through Cara, and in her mind’s
eye she thought of what it would be like to confront Kerns with gun in hand. He delighted in controlling and bullying people weaker than himself. How would he feel if he had to come face-to-face with something more powerful than his ego?

A part of her wanted to replace the gun and close the drawer, but a stronger part made up her mind to take the weapon and rescue Melissa on her own. Harry was nowhere to be found and he wasn’t answering his beeper call. With new self-determination, Cara put the gun in her purse, her search for a pen and paper forgotten.

Her next concern, transportation, was answered when she realized that Harry had left a set of keys on top of the breakfast bar. What was it he had said about the patrol car? Had he left his own car in the parking lot? Chiding herself for not having paid better attention, Cara knew that all she could do was go downstairs and search things out on her own.

Sliding the chain from the lock, she turned the dead bolt and drew a deep breath. She opened the door, feeling every nerve in her body come alive. Looking first left and then right, Cara entered the balcony hall and peered over the edge of the railing into the parking lot below. Easily spotting Harry’s car, she let out her breath and hurried for the stairs.

The short drive to the Capitol left Cara nerve-wracked and questioning the validity of her actions. Perhaps she should have called the police.

Trembling from anxiety, Cara checked the darkened parking area surrounding the Capitol. There was no sign of a janitorial truck or a truck of any type for that matter. The grounds seemed completely silent, void of life. Pulling into a space marked “Reserved for Legislators,” Cara shut off the engine and wondered what to do next.

The voice on the telephone had said Melissa would be moved at midnight. But moved from where? It was ten minutes until the hour and still no sign of anyone. Guardedly, Cara opened the car door and got out. The bushes where Russell’s killer had hidden were directly in front of her, and thinking about the murder made Cara’s skin crawl.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered. A warm summer breeze seemed to confirm her words as it picked up and rattled the brush ominously. Instantly, Cara’s hand went inside her purse and took hold of the gun. Just as her fingers closed around the revolver’s grip, Cara caught sight of something she’d missed earlier. There was a light shining from the governor’s office on the second floor.

She hurried across the parking lot and entered the building. Security should have been posted at the entryway, but no one was in sight. She glanced down the long hall to where the rotunda’s information desk usually housed one or more security people. This, too, was deserted.

Closed doors lined the dimly lit hallway on either side of her. The ornate ceiling hovered overhead like an apparition, with shadows that swallowed up the light, leaving veils of black and gray. It seemed to Cara that the once warm classic appearance of this seat of government had now taken on the face of evil.

Slipping to the right, Cara eyed the brass capping of the staircase rail and wondered again if she was doing the right thing. Directly overhead were the governor’s offices, and if her hunch was right, Kerns would be firmly ensconced on his throne.

Melissa.
The name brought with it new courage to go forward. Pausing only long enough to pull the gun from her purse, Cara crept up the stairs in silence.

Forty

Bob Kerns looked again at the clock on the wall. Midnight, straight up. Within minutes his troubles would be over.

Going to the window, he glanced across the grounds and then below to the street. With any luck, Patrick Conrad would already be in position, ready to receive the dumpster holding Melissa Jordon’s unconscious body. The plan was too simple to fail.

He sat down and smiled.
Simple,
he thought again. All he had to do was drug Melissa’s food and send security to load her in an empty trash dumpster. From there, who would question the governor’s men emptying a trash container? If someone did stop them, all they’d have to do was announce the bin held secured materials and pass without question to the awaiting truck. Conrad would have crews cleaning in other parts of the Capitol, so his trucks on the premises would be quite understandable. It was really quite ingenius.

He looked at the clock again. 12:03.

The silence surrounding him was nothing to cause fear or trepidation. It was the brief scuffing sound from the outer office that caught Kerns’ attention. Feeling an awkward sensation of confusion, Kerns called out, “Who’s there?”

The only light he’d turned on in the suite of offices was his own desk lamp. The outer office remained shrouded in blackness, which made it impossible to perceive motion. It wasn’t until the scuffing sounded again that Kerns was sure someone was there.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better make yourself known.”

In the doorway a movement caught his eye, then Bob gasped to hide his surprise as he made out the barrel of a leveled gun.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Silence.

“I’m not armed, so why not come inside and discuss this like reasonable people?” His mind was racing through a list of potential assailants. Of course, so many people were angry with him. People he didn’t even know in many cases.

The gun remained fixed, almost as though the owner had yet to make a final decision about his fate.

“Look, if you’re a state employee—or used to be,” Bob offered, “and you’re upset about the layoffs, we can talk about it. There’s no need to resort to violence.”

Kerns felt an unwelcomed desperation. His stomach churned and he actually thought he might be sick. With a wavering voice, he tried again. “There’s always an alternative to violence.”

****

Cara tripped up the final step and caught herself just before falling. Her hands felt clammy and the gun slipped, nearly dropping onto the floor. Steadying herself against the wall, Cara took slow deep breaths, wondering if it was too late for God to show her what to do next.

Peering into the darkness, Cara was tempted to return to the lighted hall below. The soft glow of the first-floor lighting penetrated the blackness through the open rotunda, but for some reason the normal second-floor illumination had been removed. Perhaps Kerns had thought it would work to his advantage in moving Melissa. Cara couldn’t help but worry that the whole security team had sold out to Kerns.

Looking down at the gun in her hand and realizing her own feeble attempt at sleuthing, Cara wanted to laugh out loud. How could she hope to overcome Kerns and rescue Melissa? Suddenly she felt very foolish. This was the stuff television shows and movies of the week were made of. She started to put the gun away, when much to her surprise a hand reached out to pull her through an open door.

Breaking away, Cara whirled around, gun in hand.

“I’ll shoot!” she said in what she’d planned to be quite a yell, but what was in fact hardly more than a whisper.

“Cara?”

“Harry?” She felt sick inside. She’d almost put a bullet into the man she loved. Lowering the gun, she began to tremble from head to foot. “Oh, Harry,” she moaned as a haze seemed to settle over her mind.

“Where in the world did you get a gun?” he asked angrily, taking the revolver from her hands. He pulled her farther into a dimly lit room. “Are you all right? What are you doing here?” Then, without giving her a chance to answer, he exclaimed, “This is my revolver!”