Whitewash (55 page)

Pensacola Beach, Florida

Sabrina saw Eric nudge Russ and the laptop’s screen went from the live satellite to a chess game in progress. That was all the warning she got. Suddenly there was a cop in a green uniform standing beside their table.

“Good afternoon,” the deputy said, his eyes on Eric and thankfully not her. Otherwise he would have certainly seen a flash of panic.

“Good afternoon, Deputy…Kluger,” Eric said, slipping his eyes down to the deputy’s badge.

That was Eric, taking time to notice name tags. Usually it was charming. This time Sabrina could feel her teeth clench. Below the table her hands shredded her paper napkin. Eric’s hands, however, were on the table, steady and calm, and Sabrina wondered if he was keeping them there for the deputy to see. No funny moves. Isn’t that what they always did in the movies?

“You tend bar over at Bobbye’s?” the deputy asked Eric.

“Sometimes. Yeah, I do.” Eric still looked cool and calm while Sabrina could feel and hear her heart throbbing so hard against her rib cage she thought surely the deputy would also hear the vibration.

“Some of us want to throw a birthday bash for one of the guys. Any chance we could get the place to ourselves?”

Eric stared at the guy. Sabrina glanced at Russ and Max. They were staring at the deputy, too, as if he spoke a foreign language none of them understood. The deputy noticed.

“We wouldn’t expect any special discounts,” the deputy said. “We just want someplace nice, a little private—you know, off the main beach.”

“Oh, sure,” Eric told him now, sounding like it was no big deal. “Stop by Howard’s shop and we can figure out a day. We’ll get it all set up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll do that.”

The deputy left and they all went silent. Russ tapped at the computer keyboard and Max tapped almost in rhythm with a folded newspaper against the table. Sabrina looked from one to the other, uneasy with their calm. Maybe they were used to this sort of stuff. She was not.

Finally Eric smiled at her. “That wasn’t exactly what I expected him to want to talk about.”

“No kidding,” she said and wished she could shrug it off as easily as he seemed to be able to.

“This might actually be a good time to talk to you about this.”

He slid a manila envelope onto the table. Sabrina watched his eyes surveying their surroundings again, still cool and calm. He was good. He didn’t know what the deputy wanted, but he did know how to act, what to say or more important, what not to say. How did he get so good at this?

He opened the envelope and handed her two plastic cards. One was a driver’s license, the other a credit card. She glanced at them and didn’t recognize the name. She started to hand them back when suddenly she took a better look at the photo on the driver’s license. It was her.

“Where did you get this?”

“Russ put them together,” Eric said.

“I found the photo on the university’s Web site,” Russ explained with a proud grin, mistaking Sabrina’s surprise for a compliment. “I copied it, used PhotoShop to change the hair to look like you’re wearing it now. I was even able to give you a tan.”

When she didn’t answer and only stared at the two cards, Russ continued, “The credit card’s legit. So is the name. It’s okay. Kathryn Fulton’s living in London. She’s been subletting her place on the beach for over a year.” Russ was looking from Sabrina to Eric and then at Max as if trying to get some help in reading Sabrina’s reaction.

“She still gets mail here sometimes. You know, like credit card offers. I’m not saying it’ll work forever, but it’s the best I could do in less than twenty-four hours.”

Sabrina didn’t know what to say, what to think. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? All of this was happening too fast.

“So I just become someone else?”

No one said anything.

“I just change my name and disappear?” Sabrina asked Eric, waiting for him to look at her instead of everywhere else around the damn restaurant. “That’s your answer, because it worked so well for you?”

It was a low blow in front of his friends and Sabrina knew it.

“I’m not leaving Dad behind,” she told him and she didn’t care if his friends had no idea she was his sister. Then the next part surprised her because it wasn’t about hurting him or standing up to him, it was about standing up for herself. “And I’m not going to run away and let Sidel continue doing what he’s doing.”

They sat in silence. Eric’s eyes had shifted already, but now she suspected they were avoiding her rather than simply looking out for her. Sabrina wanted to get up and leave, but she wasn’t sure where she’d go. If this was Eric’s attempt at helping her and she refused it, where did that leave her?

“Actually, I’m glad you said that,” Max finally said. She laid the folded newspaper she had brought with her on the table, opening it and pointing to a small article at the bottom of the page. “This was in the
Tallahassee Democrat.
I’ve been keeping up with the case for a few weeks now.” She stopped and glanced at Eric. Sabrina wondered if Max was giving him the chance to shut her up. The look Sabrina saw them exchange told her there was something more between them.

Max slid the newspaper in front of Sabrina. Her first impression of Max was that nothing could surprise or bother her. She envied her street smarts and her “I don’t give a damn” attitude. But now Max sounded tentative, her voice a notch lower, her small hands fidgeting without the newspaper. “I have some health challenges that sort of came about from…well, let’s just say it’s something I didn’t expect. This,” she said, tapping the article, “is something I don’t think any of us can know about and just walk away.”

“Toxins found in water.” Sabrina read the headline out loud. She remembered reading about this last week before she had any idea that EchoEnergy could have something to do with it. She continued to read the rest of the article in silence, her stomach twisting in knots. The article read:

Sabrina stopped and looked up at the rest of them. “If it’s already contaminated the river, they had to have been dumping the runoff for months.”

“And getting away with it,” Max added.

Washington, D.C.

Jason wanted to go home early to pack. Early, hell, it was almost six. He had an early flight out of Reagan. His boss wasn’t scheduled to arrive until just before the evening reception, but Jason needed to make certain all the details were taken care of: caterer, tables and chairs, podiums, microphone. Sidel was supposed to be co-hosting the event, but Senator Allen had asked Jason to take care of setting it up. He’d prepared and ordered and arranged things weeks ago. Hopefully now it would just be a matter of checking and double-checking.

He took the stairs rather than risk running into anyone on the elevators. He didn’t need another delay or he’d never leave. His list was still full, despite the load he had tucked under his arm, half of it headed for Senator Allen’s secretary and the other half for the senator’s desk. He’d made copies of everything that had to go with him. Those copies and everything he hadn’t been able to finish waited to be stuffed into his briefcase.

Jason turned the corner and almost ran into Senator Shirley Malone. She had a pile of her own tucked under her arm.

“Looks like we’re trying to do the same thing.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he was wondering why Lindy wasn’t toting the pile around and delivering her can’t-wait-’ til-Monday stuff instead of Senator Malone.

“I thought you’d probably left for Florida,” she added. “Lindy took off a couple of hours ago.”

Had she read his mind? Jason stopped himself from saying something stupid like,
We’re not in a relationship.
He had no idea what, if anything, Lindy had told her boss about their one-night fling. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions that Senator Malone meant for those two statements to be connected.

“I leave first thing in the morning,” he told her. “How about you?”

“I leave after the Appropriations Committee vote. Hopefully I’ll still be invited to the opening reception.”

“Of course you are,” he blurted out. He wanted to ask why she thought she might not be. Was she telling him they couldn’t count on her vote? No, she was joking. She had to be. “Besides,” he continued, trying to tap in to what little charm he had in him, “I’m in charge of invites.”

She smiled, and if he wasn’t totally mistaken he thought there was even a bit of a blush. Then suddenly her face was serious.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I was about Zach.”

“I didn’t really know him all that well,” Jason said, wondering why she thought he did. What did Lindy tell her? He shifted the pile of envelopes and folders to the other arm.

“Oh,” was all she said, but from the look on her face Jason could tell she believed otherwise.

“We played basketball once. Some fund-raiser.” He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to explain or deny.

“I knew Zach and Lindy were friends. I guess I thought the three of you…” She shook her head and continued, “I’m sorry. That sounds totally presumptuous.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t met Lindy before the night of her birthday party.” Now he was explaining too much, but he wanted her to know. No matter what Lindy might have told her, suddenly Jason realized he needed Senator Malone to know the truth.

She was distracted, looking over his shoulder at something or someone. Jason turned to find a man he didn’t recognize coming up the hallway toward them. His sport jacket was too cheap for him to be a lobbyist and he was too old—at least fifty—to be a staff member.

“Jason Brill?”

If Jason had been alone he probably would have claimed not to know any Jason Brill.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

The man flapped a badge at him. “Detective Bob Christopher. I just have a few questions if you have a minute.”

“Actually, Detective, I don’t. I should have had all this delivered an hour ago.” Jason indicated the load tucked under his arm.

“It’ll only take a minute.” The detective was squinting at Senator Malone like he recognized her, but couldn’t quite come up with a name.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Senator Malone said, and Jason felt her hand brush his shoulder, a sort of good-luck gesture or perhaps in this case a “sorry, you’re fucked” gesture.

Detective Christopher watched her all the way until she turned the corner. Not a bad sight, Jason found himself thinking.

“I do need to get this stuff delivered,” Jason prompted him. He wondered if Lindy was telling everyone, including the cops, that the three of them were friends.

“There was a picture of you on Zach Kensor’s cell phone.”

“What?” Jason almost dropped the stack.

“It’s time-stamped from the night before he was murdered.”

Of course, the party, but Jason didn’t think he’d gotten close enough.

Detective Christopher kept his eyes moving back and forth, up and down the hallway, but there was no one else. “And we know you were at the same hotel as Mr. Kensor later that night. I believe until the next morning.”

Jason felt his jaw clench. Lindy, he thought, but tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work. He wanted to tell the detective about William Sidel and Zach, that he’d discovered the two of them may have stayed at the South Beach Resort at the same time. But how could he say anything when he’d obtained the information illegally? Without meaning to, he suddenly forgot all about the cool, calm attitude Senator Allen had taught him. Jason found himself, instead, reacting like Uncle Louie.

“Am I a suspect, Detective?” He even felt the snarl of his upper lip, just like his Uncle Louie.

“Of course not, Mr. Brill. If you were I wouldn’t be talking to you out here in the middle of the hallway.”

“Then this conversation is over,” Jason said, and he walked away, forcing his hands to stop shaking, but at the same time keeping his free hand from balling up into a fist. At least until he turned the corner and left the detective’s line of vision.

Washington, D.C.

Jason wanted to go home early to pack. Early, hell, it was almost six. He had an early flight out of Reagan. His boss wasn’t scheduled to arrive until just before the evening reception, but Jason needed to make certain all the details were taken care of: caterer, tables and chairs, podiums, microphone. Sidel was supposed to be co-hosting the event, but Senator Allen had asked Jason to take care of setting it up. He’d prepared and ordered and arranged things weeks ago. Hopefully now it would just be a matter of checking and double-checking.

He took the stairs rather than risk running into anyone on the elevators. He didn’t need another delay or he’d never leave. His list was still full, despite the load he had tucked under his arm, half of it headed for Senator Allen’s secretary and the other half for the senator’s desk. He’d made copies of everything that had to go with him. Those copies and everything he hadn’t been able to finish waited to be stuffed into his briefcase.

Jason turned the corner and almost ran into Senator Shirley Malone. She had a pile of her own tucked under her arm.

“Looks like we’re trying to do the same thing.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he was wondering why Lindy wasn’t toting the pile around and delivering her can’t-wait-’ til-Monday stuff instead of Senator Malone.

“I thought you’d probably left for Florida,” she added. “Lindy took off a couple of hours ago.”

Had she read his mind? Jason stopped himself from saying something stupid like,
We’re not in a relationship.
He had no idea what, if anything, Lindy had told her boss about their one-night fling. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions that Senator Malone meant for those two statements to be connected.

“I leave first thing in the morning,” he told her. “How about you?”

“I leave after the Appropriations Committee vote. Hopefully I’ll still be invited to the opening reception.”

“Of course you are,” he blurted out. He wanted to ask why she thought she might not be. Was she telling him they couldn’t count on her vote? No, she was joking. She had to be. “Besides,” he continued, trying to tap in to what little charm he had in him, “I’m in charge of invites.”

She smiled, and if he wasn’t totally mistaken he thought there was even a bit of a blush. Then suddenly her face was serious.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I was about Zach.”

“I didn’t really know him all that well,” Jason said, wondering why she thought he did. What did Lindy tell her? He shifted the pile of envelopes and folders to the other arm.

“Oh,” was all she said, but from the look on her face Jason could tell she believed otherwise.

“We played basketball once. Some fund-raiser.” He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to explain or deny.

“I knew Zach and Lindy were friends. I guess I thought the three of you…” She shook her head and continued, “I’m sorry. That sounds totally presumptuous.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t met Lindy before the night of her birthday party.” Now he was explaining too much, but he wanted her to know. No matter what Lindy might have told her, suddenly Jason realized he needed Senator Malone to know the truth.

She was distracted, looking over his shoulder at something or someone. Jason turned to find a man he didn’t recognize coming up the hallway toward them. His sport jacket was too cheap for him to be a lobbyist and he was too old—at least fifty—to be a staff member.

“Jason Brill?”

If Jason had been alone he probably would have claimed not to know any Jason Brill.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

The man flapped a badge at him. “Detective Bob Christopher. I just have a few questions if you have a minute.”

“Actually, Detective, I don’t. I should have had all this delivered an hour ago.” Jason indicated the load tucked under his arm.

“It’ll only take a minute.” The detective was squinting at Senator Malone like he recognized her, but couldn’t quite come up with a name.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Senator Malone said, and Jason felt her hand brush his shoulder, a sort of good-luck gesture or perhaps in this case a “sorry, you’re fucked” gesture.

Detective Christopher watched her all the way until she turned the corner. Not a bad sight, Jason found himself thinking.

“I do need to get this stuff delivered,” Jason prompted him. He wondered if Lindy was telling everyone, including the cops, that the three of them were friends.

“There was a picture of you on Zach Kensor’s cell phone.”

“What?” Jason almost dropped the stack.

“It’s time-stamped from the night before he was murdered.”

Of course, the party, but Jason didn’t think he’d gotten close enough.

Detective Christopher kept his eyes moving back and forth, up and down the hallway, but there was no one else. “And we know you were at the same hotel as Mr. Kensor later that night. I believe until the next morning.”

Jason felt his jaw clench. Lindy, he thought, but tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work. He wanted to tell the detective about William Sidel and Zach, that he’d discovered the two of them may have stayed at the South Beach Resort at the same time. But how could he say anything when he’d obtained the information illegally? Without meaning to, he suddenly forgot all about the cool, calm attitude Senator Allen had taught him. Jason found himself, instead, reacting like Uncle Louie.

“Am I a suspect, Detective?” He even felt the snarl of his upper lip, just like his Uncle Louie.

“Of course not, Mr. Brill. If you were I wouldn’t be talking to you out here in the middle of the hallway.”

“Then this conversation is over,” Jason said, and he walked away, forcing his hands to stop shaking, but at the same time keeping his free hand from balling up into a fist. At least until he turned the corner and left the detective’s line of vision.