Whitewash (64 page)

Tallahassee Regional Airport

Jason sat in front of another TV at the airport. Everything appeared in a haze. Sounds were jumbled together. His reflexes felt delayed. Maybe it was still the effects of the Bloody Marys. Several times he bumped into people, not even noticing them.

He had moved three times to different passenger waiting areas so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. He’d lost track of how many flights he’d watched board, how many he had seen arrive. He’d lost all track of time. He toted his carry-on and briefcase from one end of the terminal to the next.

He turned on his cell phone long enough to panic at the full queue of missed calls and voice messages. It started ringing, startling him so much he almost dropped it. He didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. He shut the phone off and slipped it into his pocket.

CNN’s crawl added new information in bits and pieces. Jason had seen most of it often enough that he had it memorized, so he immediately noticed anything new that came across the bottom of the screen. He thought he’d seen the worst of it. He was wrong.

The newest information read,

Jason sat up at the edge of the chair.
This was crazy.
Of course he’d left D.C., for the energy summit. It had nothing to do with Zach’s murder. How could they believe he had anything to do with Zach’s murder?

He glanced around. There were more lines waiting to board flights. Regular airport personnel picked up trash and drove trams with handicapped passengers. Once or twice a security guard passed through the area. No one seemed to notice him. No one looked like they were watching him.

That’s when it occurred to Jason that there might be someone waiting down in baggage claim or at the rental-car counter. Jesus! They had to know he had taken the morning flight here and that he had arrived. They’d be able to check that out. He couldn’t just take another flight somewhere else. They might be watching for that, too.

He hadn’t picked up his checked garment bag. In his mind he flipped through its contents trying to decide if he could do without it. Almost everything except his suits he had stuffed in his carry-on or his briefcase.

He slouched down in the vinyl seat, suddenly very aware of how alone he was. He pulled out his cell phone. He had it turned on and started to dial before he snapped it off. They could track a cell phone, couldn’t they?

He scoped out the crowds again, then grabbed his carry-on and briefcase. He found a bank of pay phones with no one standing around. It’d been so long since he’d used one he had to read the instructions before he dialed. If he got a voice-messaging service he’d just hang up and no one would recognize the recorded phone number.

“Hello,” she said after the third ring.

“Lindy, it’s Jason.”

“Where are you?” She changed to a whisper, a panicked whisper. No, not panicked—conspiratorial.

“Never mind that. What the hell’s going on?”

“Hold on a minute,” she said and his stomach clenched. Was she going to give him up? But then he heard her tell someone she’d catch up, that she had to take this call. If he remembered correctly she was already down here in Florida. Isn’t that what Senator Malone told him last night? She was probably at the estate. “Your boss is in a whole lot of trouble,” she finally said. “Word is his fingerprints were in Zach’s hotel room.”

“Jesus! I can’t believe this.”

“Jason, he says he was covering for you.”

“What?”

“He claims you called him and he came to help you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know Zach?”

“I didn’t know him.”

“He says you and Zach have been meeting there at the hotel for months. You reserved the same room. You made the reservations from your office. There are phone records.”

Jason gripped the phone, needing to hang on to something. Jesus! He had reserved the same room at the Washington Grand several times over the last few months—for Senator Allen.

“Jason?”

“You don’t believe any of this. I was with you.”

Now there was a pause.

“You left early, before I woke up,” she finally said.

“Lindy, it was four o’clock.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and glanced around him, wondering if anyone could smell his panic.

“I don’t have any idea what time you left.”

“Lindy, you know I didn’t do this.”

There was silence, again. He couldn’t believe this.

“Is that what you told the police?” he asked, bracing himself against the wall. His knees were threatening to wobble.

“I haven’t told them…look, they haven’t asked…yet.”

“Lindy, why would I…” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Why would I sleep with you if I was gay?”

“How do I know why you guys do anything?” He heard a bit of anger in her voice. “It certainly didn’t stop Zach from sleeping with me the first time we met.”

Silence. Again.

Jason closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall of the pay phone. So that was it. She didn’t believe him.

“Jason, maybe you should just go to them and tell them what happened.”

The panic caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. How could she believe he was capable of murder? She would be worthless as an alibi. If the woman he fucked and left too early thought he was capable of going to another room in the same hotel and passionately killing a male lover, then what would the cops believe? Evidently the story Senator Allen had provided was convincing.

“Jason?”

He placed the phone gently back in its cradle.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by while he stood there. The noises around him couldn’t puncture the throbbing in his head. His feet guarded the only belongings he now owned. The scent of cinnamon reminded his empty stomach to gather in knots.

He had no place to go and the one person he thought he could count on, the one person he had pledged his loyalty to, had just thrown him in front of a moving train.

EchoEnergy

“What’s going on?” Sabrina heard Russ whisper in her ear.

“What are you doing with a gun, Dr. O’Hearn?”

She didn’t move. Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly be worried that she had come back to knock off the rest of her colleagues.

“A gun? Who’s O’Hearn?” She ignored Russ, slightly turning the earpiece away so that O’Hearn couldn’t spot it as easily. O’Hearn’s black eyes were as wild and unsettled as his mop of hair.

“Why in the world would you come back?” he asked, then looked around the office. He noticed the computer screen though Sabrina had closed out her e-mail so nothing was left except the screen saver. “What could be so important that you’d risk coming back?”

“I didn’t kill Anna,” she said, trying to explain. She figured O’Hearn was defending himself from her. As soon as she explained he’d understand. Then it occurred to her. How did he know she had been the real target?

“What did you mean I should be the one dead?”

“He left you something, didn’t he?” O’Hearn seemed focused on the computer, his eyes darted back and forth. “That son of a bitch left you something on his computer.”

She’d never seen O’Hearn angry. Usually he had been the voice of reason, the calm within the storm. Now his silver goatee caught spittle, his bushy eyebrows met in an angry
V
. With his shirtsleeves rolled and pushed up, she could see the veins bulging in his arms, especially the one holding the gun.

“I have no idea what or who you’re talking about.”

“What is it? What did he leave for you?” He jabbed the gun at her.

“Honestly, you’re not making sense.” She caught herself backing away from him and didn’t notice until she was up against the old blue sofa.

“You almost ruined everything. You and Lansik. Too bad neither of you could be like good ole Ernie Walker, satisfied with retiring to Cancún with a nice little bank account.”

“You’re in on it,” Sabrina said in almost a whisper. She couldn’t believe it. But of course, Sidel would have needed someone to change the computer program, someone who would know how to set the correct temperature and coking times.

“What do you mean ‘in on it’?” O’Hearn looked insulted. “Lansik may have come up with the formula for thermal conversion of chicken guts. He certainly took all the credit.” O’Hearn emphasized his points with the gun. Sabrina couldn’t take her eyes off it. “I was the one who kept saying we needed to do Grade 2 garbage in order to be efficient and make a profit.”

“But the upgrades to the equipment were never made,” Sabrina reminded him. “As a scientist, how could you do it incorrectly?”

“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how much the government is paying to haul away that goddamn hurricane crap? Getting paid to haul away the garbage is the only way this process will ever be able to compete. We’d never be able to put out enough oil with chicken guts to be taken seriously. What’s the use of doing any of this if we’re not taken seriously?”

“But Dr. Lansik didn’t agree.” Sabrina wanted to keep him talking. It was almost as if he forgot about the gun when he talked except that he swung it around recklessly.

Out of the corner of her eyes she scanned the small office for weapons. Would Russ or Howard come to her rescue? No, of course not. They couldn’t get into the building. And Eric was off somewhere stocking soda machines. They couldn’t even contact him.

“Dwight was very narrow-minded,” O’Hearn continued. He didn’t sound angry so much as vindicated.

“Why didn’t Sidel just fire him?”

“Sidel?” O’Hearn laughed. “You think that dimwit clown could comprehend any of this? He might know how to charm investors, but he doesn’t have a clue about thermal conversion. You ever heard his explanation? It’s magic.” O’Hearn laughed again and Sabrina noticed the gun hand dropped to his side. O’Hearn had a killer ego, not a killer instinct. If she could talk him out of this small office and into the lab, she might have a chance at making a run for it.

“The oil’s not the same,” she said. O’Hearn quit laughing and stared at her. “Oil from Grade 2 garbage has too many impurities.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She knew it wasn’t true, but she continued, “I’ve seen samples with so many impurities they sink to the bottom.”

“Not this stuff.”

It worked. He waved her out of the office and gave her a shove toward the sample bottles lined up on the shelf across the lab.

This could work. She just needed to be patient. She’d humor him and get him to forget about the gun. It was small, practically looked like a toy. She could put a counter between them and make a run for the door. She had to believe O’Hearn wasn’t much of a shot.

Just when she felt hopeful, the lab door opened and filled with a stocky, square-shouldered man with slick-backed hair, a widow’s peak, deep-set eyes. She thought she recognized him.

“Well, look who’s here. It’s about time you showed up,” O’Hearn told the man. “You can finally take care of your mistake.” And he pointed at Sabrina.

That’s when Sabrina realized who the man was. He looked bigger close up, not like when he was on the catwalk over the tank. And unlike O’Hearn, Sabrina knew this man would kill.

EchoEnergy

“What’s going on?” Sabrina heard Russ whisper in her ear.

“What are you doing with a gun, Dr. O’Hearn?”

She didn’t move. Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly be worried that she had come back to knock off the rest of her colleagues.

“A gun? Who’s O’Hearn?” She ignored Russ, slightly turning the earpiece away so that O’Hearn couldn’t spot it as easily. O’Hearn’s black eyes were as wild and unsettled as his mop of hair.

“Why in the world would you come back?” he asked, then looked around the office. He noticed the computer screen though Sabrina had closed out her e-mail so nothing was left except the screen saver. “What could be so important that you’d risk coming back?”

“I didn’t kill Anna,” she said, trying to explain. She figured O’Hearn was defending himself from her. As soon as she explained he’d understand. Then it occurred to her. How did he know she had been the real target?

“What did you mean I should be the one dead?”

“He left you something, didn’t he?” O’Hearn seemed focused on the computer, his eyes darted back and forth. “That son of a bitch left you something on his computer.”

She’d never seen O’Hearn angry. Usually he had been the voice of reason, the calm within the storm. Now his silver goatee caught spittle, his bushy eyebrows met in an angry
V
. With his shirtsleeves rolled and pushed up, she could see the veins bulging in his arms, especially the one holding the gun.

“I have no idea what or who you’re talking about.”

“What is it? What did he leave for you?” He jabbed the gun at her.

“Honestly, you’re not making sense.” She caught herself backing away from him and didn’t notice until she was up against the old blue sofa.

“You almost ruined everything. You and Lansik. Too bad neither of you could be like good ole Ernie Walker, satisfied with retiring to Cancún with a nice little bank account.”

“You’re in on it,” Sabrina said in almost a whisper. She couldn’t believe it. But of course, Sidel would have needed someone to change the computer program, someone who would know how to set the correct temperature and coking times.

“What do you mean ‘in on it’?” O’Hearn looked insulted. “Lansik may have come up with the formula for thermal conversion of chicken guts. He certainly took all the credit.” O’Hearn emphasized his points with the gun. Sabrina couldn’t take her eyes off it. “I was the one who kept saying we needed to do Grade 2 garbage in order to be efficient and make a profit.”

“But the upgrades to the equipment were never made,” Sabrina reminded him. “As a scientist, how could you do it incorrectly?”

“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how much the government is paying to haul away that goddamn hurricane crap? Getting paid to haul away the garbage is the only way this process will ever be able to compete. We’d never be able to put out enough oil with chicken guts to be taken seriously. What’s the use of doing any of this if we’re not taken seriously?”

“But Dr. Lansik didn’t agree.” Sabrina wanted to keep him talking. It was almost as if he forgot about the gun when he talked except that he swung it around recklessly.

Out of the corner of her eyes she scanned the small office for weapons. Would Russ or Howard come to her rescue? No, of course not. They couldn’t get into the building. And Eric was off somewhere stocking soda machines. They couldn’t even contact him.

“Dwight was very narrow-minded,” O’Hearn continued. He didn’t sound angry so much as vindicated.

“Why didn’t Sidel just fire him?”

“Sidel?” O’Hearn laughed. “You think that dimwit clown could comprehend any of this? He might know how to charm investors, but he doesn’t have a clue about thermal conversion. You ever heard his explanation? It’s magic.” O’Hearn laughed again and Sabrina noticed the gun hand dropped to his side. O’Hearn had a killer ego, not a killer instinct. If she could talk him out of this small office and into the lab, she might have a chance at making a run for it.

“The oil’s not the same,” she said. O’Hearn quit laughing and stared at her. “Oil from Grade 2 garbage has too many impurities.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She knew it wasn’t true, but she continued, “I’ve seen samples with so many impurities they sink to the bottom.”

“Not this stuff.”

It worked. He waved her out of the office and gave her a shove toward the sample bottles lined up on the shelf across the lab.

This could work. She just needed to be patient. She’d humor him and get him to forget about the gun. It was small, practically looked like a toy. She could put a counter between them and make a run for the door. She had to believe O’Hearn wasn’t much of a shot.

Just when she felt hopeful, the lab door opened and filled with a stocky, square-shouldered man with slick-backed hair, a widow’s peak, deep-set eyes. She thought she recognized him.

“Well, look who’s here. It’s about time you showed up,” O’Hearn told the man. “You can finally take care of your mistake.” And he pointed at Sabrina.

That’s when Sabrina realized who the man was. He looked bigger close up, not like when he was on the catwalk over the tank. And unlike O’Hearn, Sabrina knew this man would kill.