Death of an Intern (13 page)

T
he large office comfortably accommodated a ten-foot exquisitely designed mahogany desk. Against the wall behind it was a formal ceremonial setting with a large photograph of the President of the United States, flanked by an American and departmental flag, and trimmed with some historic-styled bunting. The side walls were adorned with large paintings of great vistas of this country.

Two conservatively well-dressed men sat facing each other across the expansive desk.

The visitor said, “What we have would, on their own, be ignored, but together they create an interesting scenario.”

“But none of it adds up to a serial killer.”

“Captain Walsh has great respect for the reporter. That murder case a few years ago down south? She went up against the local police force and prominent citizens, proving they'd railroaded a husband in his wife's murder. Two local cops and three others were arrested and later convicted. She was lucky to get out alive.”

“Let's make sure she's not living on her reputation. Your field man thought the parkway accident was an accident?”

“He was a couple of vehicles back. He didn't see how it started, but did see cars swerving and hitting their brakes. He thought the car that swiped her came over on her hard, sort of a road rage thing. There were four damaged vehicles, all minor except hers.”

“What about the car that hit her?”

“I haven't seen the detailed report, only a synopsis.”

“Any reason why someone would go after her?” the man behind the desk asked.

“From what we overheard in her lunch conversation, she thinks like everyone else—serial. However, somebody might think she knows more.”

“Interesting speculations from what I've read. She has MPD's attention.”

“She, her husband, and the captain go back a ways.”

“Are we going to assist Captain Walsh with some skinny? Maybe we can learn who fathered the Rausch baby.”

“Make the reporter happy. Walsh, though, has a broader agenda. His sights are on George Manchester out of Atlanta.”

“Let's find out about Manchester and the women working for the Vice President. Start with their personnel and financial files. Won't hurt to know more about these folks.”

“Including the one who left, is now at Labor?”

“She left the Veep's employ, one's dead, and McDowell resigned yesterday. As you said, look at them alone…” He let that hang.

The younger man frowned. “Did we know Ms. Grayson was a lesbian?”

“I remember something on that. Not much of a problem these days.”

“How about if we take a more private look?”

The older man's eyebrows rose. “How private?”

“Ms. Grayson has a townhouse in Alexandria. Let's see what goes on there and with whom. The weekend's coming up.”

“Is that a tree we want to shake?”

“As Ms. Wolfe said, somebody made the girl pregnant. Supposedly she didn't date. That could translate she didn't date outsiders, leaving some interesting possibilities. Maybe they've created their own little in-house society.”

“I don't like this Manchester,” the older man said. “Why squeaky-cleans like Grayson align with dirt, I'll never understand. This operation will have to be extremely low profile. Total deniability.”

“We've got the right people to put on it.”

“Make sure. I want no taste, no touch, no sound, no feel, and no eyes. It never happened.”

“Absolutely. These folks know the drill.”

“Anything happens, anything, I'm your first call.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you, Reed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Director.”

“D
elia,” Max called out to his aide, “when Jerry Fields calls, get his number and tell him I'll call him right back. Then you call me.” “Have you called Laura's boss?”

“No. But you're right. Her editor is Lassiter. Avery Lassiter.”

Max walked into his office and punched a number on his desk phone. “Property? This is Walsh. I'm calling about Rausch. Was there a cell phone in her belongings?” He knew Laura would ask about that first thing. His intercom buzzed.

“Ms. Lassiter on two,” Delia announced.

“Property, gotta go. Call me when you find out.” He clicked over to Lassiter. “Ms. Lassiter, Max Walsh.”

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

He told her about the accident and what little he knew of Laura's condition. “I'm going to Arlington, hopefully to bring her home.” He decided not to tell the metro editor that Laura was pregnant. She obviously did not know, because it would have been the first thing out of her mouth.

“I'll let the staff know. Who has jurisdiction?”

“I was called by Alexandria. I'll find out and let you know that too.”

“Thank you,” she said flatly, and the line went dead.

He could not read Lassiter's reaction. The unemotional, or guarded, type. Very controlled. He stopped at Delia's desk. “I'm on my way. Anyone calls, I'm at lunch.” His trip to the hospital was relatively short. He found a close-in parking space reserved for hospital staff. He pulled his visor down, identifying his car as MPD.

He passed two parked ambulances on his way into the emergency room's waiting area. People were reading or sleeping. ERs were local doctor's offices for the many uninsured and displaced folks. A baby cried in another room. He walked into the receiving area with its curtained-off beds.

No Laura. He saw a white-jacketed man, whose back was to him. “Excuse me; I'm looking for a new arrival, accident, white female, mid-thirties.”

The man spoke without turning, “I'm sorry you'll have to—”

“I have an official reason for asking,” Max said authoritatively.

The man turned. Seeing the uniform and bars of rank, he changed his demeanor.

“I'm with MPD and this is important,” Max said softening.

“Yes, eh, I didn't…they took her to radiology.”

“Who is attending?”

“Can't help you. I just happened to be here when she came through.”

“Thank you.” Max returned to the waiting room just as a female EMT was crossing the waiting room.

“Excuse me.” The EMT stopped. “I'm MPD. Were you at the GW Parkway accident near the airport?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you bring in Laura Wolfe?”

She nodded. “They took her to radiology. She's pregnant.”

“How long ago?” He couldn't keep concern out of his voice.

“Half hour, maybe a little more.”

“How was she?”

“A handful.”

Max smiled. “Actually, that's good news.”

The EMT gave him a strange look.

“She's very independent, strong-willed.”

“She doesn't know what's good for her. She kept insisting we drop her off at the first metro station we came to.”

The EMT wanted to leave.

“Any concerns about the baby?” His gaze held hers.

“Not from what we could see,” she said dryly.

“How do I get down there?”

The EMT gave him directions.

“Thanks.”

The door to the room opened. “Well, well, well.”

I had my eyes closed, but sat up hearing Max's familiar voice. “Max, thank God.” I started to get off the gurney, but he put a hand on my shoulder.

“Did they have to drug you to take the pictures?” he asked, acting serious.

“I'm all right really. They're viewing the pictures.”

“Were you a good little girl?” His tone parental.

“Yes, Mommy,” I said in my best little girl imitation.

He put his hand on my shoulder. It felt reassuring, not restraining.

Tears blurred my vision. I put a hand on his arm. “We want this baby so badly. When I was upside down, I was sure I'd miscarry.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I saw your EMT. She hadn't seen any problems. Did you really tell them to drop you off at a metro station?”

“I was fine. They said I was fine. Did you find Janet's cell phone?”

“I put in the call; we'll know soon. I also called Jerry's office and got a number from Mrs. Wells. I left him a message. They weren't allowing cell phones in the seminar.”

“Yeah, you know lawyers.”

“Unhuh. They remind me of reporters.”

An inner door swung open and an Asian radiology technician entered. “Hello. Is there something wrong?”

“It's okay. This is Captain Walsh from MPD.” I was not sure the guy knew what MPD was, but he relaxed.

“Your pictures are fine. An orderly will take you back upstairs. The radiologist will see you, after which the ER doctor will release you.”

I only felt free once I was in Max's car.

“Put your seat belt on.”

However, freedom is short-lived. I buckled up. “I always do. It's what saved me.”

They were soon on I-66 heading into Washington. Max had called in. What seemed like seconds later, his phone rang and he pushed the speaker button. “Walsh.”

“Captain.” It was Delia. “Mr. Fields returned your call. He's at lunch and has his cell phone with him.”

I took out my cell phone and fast-dialed Jerry.

“Mrs. Fields is in the process of calling her husband as we speak.”

“Hey, Laura, how you feel? And congratulations.”

“I'm fine, Delia, and thanks. I thought something was—”

“Excuse me, ladies. Did we hear back from Property?”

“They had a cell phone,” Delia said flatly.

“Lock it up in the evidence safe,” he directed.

“Yes sir.”

Jerry's phone was ringing, “Hi, what's going on? You all right?”

“Jerry?” I said excitedly.

“Sir?” Delia was still on the speaker. “That man from this morning called.”

“I'm fine, but my car isn't.”

“Delia, we'll talk later.” Max disconnected.

“Where are you?” Jerry asked concerned.

“With Max. He picked me up.”

“What? From where?” His voice pitched up.

I then realized he hadn't been filled in. I spent the next several minutes explaining everything.

“Call your doctor right away,” he said firmly.

“I don't really think that's necessary. I promise I'll—”

“Call him.”

Max signaled at me that he wanted my phone.

“Wait a sec. Max wants to talk to you.” I handed him my cell.

“Hey, Counselor…right…no, she's picking up steam.”

I picked up my bag and began rummaging.

“We don't have the details. MPD's not involved, but I'll get the report. Sounds like an accident. Some car went out—”

“It's gone!” I blurted.

“Hold on, Jer. What's gone?”

“My tape recorder. It's not in my bag.”

“Jer, we have a crisis…I will let her tell you.” Max gave me the phone.

“Hon, my recorder is missing.”

“Probably still in your car. Find out where they took it. They'll check it out. What about at the hospital?”

“No, my bag was always with me.”

“You want me to come home?”

“No.” That didn't sound right. “I always want you home. I'm going to the office, see Lassiter, and tell her I'm pregnant before she hears about it. Then home to a nice hot bath and a good night's sleep.”

“Just don't stay out too late.”

“Jerry!”

“Just kidding. I love you. I'll call tonight.”

“Love you too. Bye.” My eyes teared, I felt a chill.