Fatal Deception (22 page)

Detective Arnold joined him.

“Are you ready?” he asked the young detective.

“Whenever you are.”

“Follow my lead.”

“Yes, sir.”

They stepped into the room, and Bertha Ray greeted them with a piercing glare. “I want a lawyer.”

Ugh
, Hill thought.
That’s that
. “I’d be happy to call your attorney for you, Mrs. Ray, but if you cooperate with our investigation, you shouldn’t need one.” Every fiber of Hill’s being told him this woman had nothing to do with Victoria Kavanaugh’s murder or the kidnapping of her daughter.

“I want one anyway.” Despite the defiant tone, Hill noted that her hands were shaking and her face was streaked with drying tears.

“Who would you like for us to call?”

“How should I know? I’ve never needed a lawyer before! Don’t you have to provide one for me if I can’t afford one of my own?” She gestured to Arnold. “That’s what he said when he dragged me away from my home in handcuffs.”

“We’ll be happy to call the public defender for you,” Hill said. “However, you should know that we might not be able to get anyone here at this hour. You’ll most likely have to spend the night in jail before we can sort this out.”

At that news, she appeared to crumble a bit. “I want to go home.”

“We’ll call the public defender’s office and see what we can do to get an attorney here.” He nodded for Arnold to precede him out the door.

“Wait.”

Hill turned. “Yes?”

“What do you want to know?” she asked warily.

“I’m afraid I can’t ask you anything unless you’re willing to waive your previous request for counsel.”

Her mouth shifted, first to the left and then the right, as she considered that. “I’ll waive the request.”

“Detective Arnold, could you please record this interview?”

“Yes, sir.” Arnold produced a tape recorder and brought it to the table. “Interview with Mrs. Bertha Ray.” He cited the time and date. “Parties present are FBI Special Agent Avery Hill and MPD Detective Arnold Arnold.”

Hill shot the detective a quizzical look.

Arnold shrugged. “My dad had a sense of humor.” He resumed his position at the door.

“Mrs. Ray, have you waived your earlier request for counsel?” Hill asked.

“I have.”

“And did you do that under duress?”

She gave him a blank look.

“Is it your choice to waive your earlier request for counsel?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Thank you. Now, could you please tell us how you came to be in possession of Maeve Kavanaugh, the juvenile who was kidnapped from her home after her mother was murdered?”

She blanched, her eyes bugged and her mouth fell open, confirming Hill’s suspicion that Mrs. Ray had no idea who the child in her custody really was. “She was what?”

Hill planted the palms of his hand on the table and leaned in. “Kidnapped from the scene of her mother’s murder.”

“He didn’t say nothing about no kidnapping or murder!”

“Who didn’t, Mrs. Ray?”

She hesitated before she shook her head. “I can’t say.”

“Do you watch the news, Mrs. Ray?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had a television in my house, and I never will.”

“Newspaper?”

Once again she shook her head. “Nothing but bad news in there. What do I want to be bothered with that for?”

Realizing he was dealing with the one person in the District who hadn’t heard about the murder of the White House deputy chief of staff’s wife and the kidnapping of his daughter, Avery pulled out the chair on his side of the table and sat. He propped his left foot on his right knee in a pose intended to show how relaxed he was. As if he had all the time in the world to wait her out.

He let a full minute of silence pass. “Did the person who asked you to watch her tell you she is the daughter of the White House deputy chief of staff?”

Again her eyes bugged and her mouth fell open. She pondered her predicament for another long moment. “If I tell you who asked me to watch her, will that person get in trouble?”

“Depends on whether the person was responsible for murder and kidnapping.”

“Oh.” Her hands were shaking much more noticeably now.

“Mrs. Ray?”

“I’m sure he had nothing to do with a murder or kidnapping.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a good boy with some friends who aren’t so good.”

“Uh-huh.” He let her twist in the wind awhile longer. “What did this good boy with the lousy friends tell you when he asked you to watch the child?”

“He said her parents got called out of town in an emergency and could I watch her for a few days.”

“And you never thought to wonder why her parents didn’t arrange for her care themselves?”

She shrugged. “People bring their kids to me all the time. I don’t ask questions. I take care of the babies. That’s how I make my living—how I’ve always made my living. Everyone knows they can come to me when they’re in a pinch.”

“Did he tell you the baby’s name?”

“He said her name was Susie.”

“Who said that, Mrs. Ray? Who brought her to you?”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her lined cheeks. “I can’t.” Weeping openly now, she looked him in the eye. “If I tell you, will you arrest him?”

“We’ll detain him for questioning. If he was an innocent party in these crimes, he’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Judging from Mrs. Ray’s expression, she had reason to doubt that the man in question was an innocent party.

“My son,” she said softly. “Bobby.”

“Is his last name Ray too?”

She nodded.

He passed his notebook across the table to her. “Write down his address and phone number.”

Her hands were shaking so badly Hill wondered if they’d be able to read her handwriting.

She pushed the notebook back to him.

Hill tore off the page and handed it to Arnold, who left the room.

“Does Bobby have a record?”

Nodding, she said, “Mostly petty stuff and one felony.”

“For?”

“Breaking and entering.” Seeming ashamed, she lowered her eyes. “I did what I could with him, but I was a single mother, and he fell into a bad crowd. I tried to tell him... He wouldn’t listen to me.”

Hill could see he surprised her when he put his hand on top of hers. “Let me give you a ride home.”

“Oh, I can go? I can go home?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

While Arnold saw to the all-points bulletin for Bobby Ray, Hill drove Bertha home. He walked her up the crumbling sidewalk, past the MPD officer who’d been positioned outside the house, and held her arm as she climbed the stairs. She stopped short at the sight of her front door hanging open.

“Oh Lord,” she whispered. “What’ll I do about that?”

“Do you have a hammer and some nails?”

“I think so. In the basement.”

“Let me see what I can find.”

“The basement door is in the kitchen.”

Avery found the door, flipped on the light and took the stairs to a dank space, letting his eyes adjust to the murky glow of a single bulb. On a table positioned against the far wall, he found a variety of tools and a tin can with some nails. He noticed a pile of discarded wood and picked through it for a piece big enough to cover the hole the battering ram had put in the door.

He took his findings upstairs, removed his suit coat and got to work on repairing the door.

“This is mighty kind of you, Agent Hill,” Bertha said.

“It’s no problem. I wouldn’t want my mother’s door hanging open all night.”

“Your mother must be proud of you. Imagine having an FBI agent for a son.”

As opposed to a career criminal
, Avery thought. “She’s a little too proud sometimes. She likes to embarrass me in front of her friends.”

“That’s a mother’s job.”

Chuckling, he said, “I suppose it is.” He pounded in a few more nails to ensure the patch was firmly in place and turned his attention to the latch, which had been bent in the raid. Using muscles he didn’t know he had, he was able to bend it back into position so the door would lock. “That’ll hold for now, but you’ll need a new door.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She wrung her hands nervously. “Do I need to be afraid that whoever gave that baby to my Bobby might come after me?”

Avery considered the question and decided honesty was the best policy. “If you have any friends or family out of town, this might be a good time for a visit.”

“My sister lives in Philadelphia. I could go there.”

“Do you want to pack a bag while I wait? I could drop you at Union Station.”

“Now? I can’t wait until the morning?”

“I’ll give it to you straight, okay?”

Trembling again, she said, “Okay.”

“I wish I could tell you we know who killed Mrs. Kavanaugh and took her baby, but we have no idea. We’ve uncovered some things in the course of our investigation that are extremely disturbing. I don’t know what role your son played in all this, but somehow that baby ended up in his possession. I can promise you we’re going to find out how he came to have her, and when we do, there’s apt to be trouble. So my best advice to you—the advice I’d give my own mother—would be to get as far away from this house and this city as you can. Now.”

“Give me a minute to pack.” She scurried off to a back room.

Avery lowered himself into a chair and tipped his head back, exhausted and frustrated. His ringing cell phone had him getting up to retrieve it from his suit coat pocket. “Hill.”

“Arnold. Patrol went to Bobby Ray’s address, but he was nowhere to be found. None of the neighbors have seen him in a few days. Phone is off, and calls are going to voice mail. I’ve asked the IT division to get us a GPS location if the phone has that capability.”

“Good thinking.” Hill rubbed his tired eyes. “Naturally, he’s in the wind. It would’ve been too easy to find him at home watching the game and drinking a beer.”

“We never get that lucky.”

“Tell patrol to keep looking.”

“Already done, and I put some of our second-and third-shift people on it too.”

“Good work, thank you. I’ll brief the lieutenant and see you in the morning.”

He ended the call with Arnold, and without giving himself too much time to think about it, he called Sam.

“Holland.”

His heart positively raced at the sound of her voice. “Sorry to disturb you, Lieutenant. I wanted to give you an update.” He went through the finer points of the conversation with Bertha Ray and what they’d learned about her son. “Arnold’s got second and third shift working on locating him and IT tracing the phone. I’ve convinced Mrs. Ray this might be a good time for a visit to her sister in Philly. I’m waiting for her to pack now.”

“Good call to get her out of town.”

“Does the son’s name ring any bells?”

“Nope.”

“By the way, Arnold did good work tonight. Thought you should know.”

“He’s coming along.”

“How’s the fundraiser?” he asked and then winced. What business was it of his?

“Fine. Lots of schmoozing.” She paused, as if thinking about something. “Do me a favor, Hill. Pick me up at my house at zero six thirty. Wait for me outside. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Um, sure,” he said, wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. “No problem. See you then.”

The phone line went dead. She really needed to learn the fine art of saying good-bye at the end of a conversation.

“No, dickhead,” he said out loud, as if that might make it actually sink in. “You do. You need to say good-bye to the insane notion that she thinks of you as anything other than an annoying colleague.”

Bertha Ray appeared a minute later, suitcase in hand. “Can I tell my neighbor next door where I’m going? She’ll worry if I disappear.”

“If you tell her, you’d be potentially endangering her—as well as yourself and your sister if she tells someone where you are.”

She deflated a little more as that thought registered. “You’re right.”

“Do you have everything?”

Taking a glance around her small, neat home, she nodded.

“Let’s go, then.”

Chapter Fourteen

As she listened to Graham introduce Nick to the crowded ballroom, Sam’s heart was full of love for her handsome husband. To see how important and influential he’d become was a powerful reminder of how much both their lives had changed in the last year. She’d offered to go up to the stage with him, but he’d wanted her to stay off her feet. He said he could tell by looking at her that the pain was getting worse, and she couldn’t argue.

The injury made it hard to chew without excruciating agony, so she’d been unable to eat much of anything, which had left her feeling woozy and a little nauseated.

As Graham was winding up his glowing introduction, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Mrs. Cappuano?” he whispered.

Startled to hear her married name, she turned to find one of the white-jacketed waiters. On a tray, he held a frosty-looking pink concoction in a tall glass. It was topped with a dollop of whipped cream. “A fruit smoothie compliments of the senator, ma’am.”

Her hungry stomach rumbled in anticipation as her heart melted at his thoughtfulness. “Oh, thank you.”

He placed the drink and a straw on the table and left with a quick bow.

“Nick is so sweet,” Laine said.

“He’s the best,” Sam agreed, touched beyond belief that in the midst of his big night, he’d thought of her.

Scotty smiled his approval of Nick’s gesture and went back to listening intently to Graham, who was turning the podium over to Nick.

The senator was greeted with uproarious applause that went on for several minutes.

“Thank you so much,” Nick said when the applause finally died down. “Thank you, Senator O’Connor, for that wonderful introduction. I can’t imagine walking this path without you by my side. It’s been an honor and a privilege to call you friend for more than half my life, and now to hold the seat that was yours for nearly four decades and your son’s for five wonderful years.”

The crowd responded with a warm round of applause for Graham and John.

Standing behind Nick, Graham smiled broadly and nodded in appreciation of the compliment.