Full Disclosure (34 page)

He'd become accustomed to the cool distance in her voice when she spoke about the case. This was the first sign of impatience—maybe under it a touch of dread. She wanted desperately to get this over with and be done. Because he understood that, he merely nodded. “Beach first. Then you can fly us home.”

She promptly sat down and tugged off her tennis shoes, rolled the socks up to stuff inside, and turned up the cuffs of her jeans. He had to smile as he watched her. So much determined energy on getting him to move in the direction she wanted. He reached for her hand to help her up. “You really want to be back in the air.”

“I dislike wasting time when there's a case to finish.”

“I'll remember that.” He nodded toward the break wall. “To the break wall and back. While we walk, tell me about as many times as you can remember when you have been on a beach.”

“It's not a long enough walk for that,” she protested, and began with a trip she had taken with Kate and Shari.

Paul listened to her, studied her, and made a decision that they would exhume the coffin as soon as they were back in Illinois and could make the short flight to the cemetery. In forty-eight hours this could be over. They had enough figured out now that if the press somehow caught wind of the truth, they'd all be ready to deal with it. He would simply have to make sure no one saw inside the casket and realized the chief of staff had not been buried in the grave marked with his tombstone. Ann was right. It was time to get this case finished.

A military honor guard stood present as they exhumed the chief of staff's grave. Paul stood at respectful attention, Ann beside him. Sam, Rita, Reece, and Vicky were watching from the opposite side of the burial plot. The cover story—the transfer of the deceased at the VP's request to lie at rest beside friends
and fellow soldiers—was holding. They exhumed the entire grave, lifting the coffin inside the casing vault intact and securing it, after appropriate ceremony and draping of the flag, onto a flatbed truck for transport. They followed the casket to the army base, where a temporary resting place in the armory had been arranged before transfer in the morning to its assumed final resting place. They would, in fact, rebury it in an unmarked grave.

When they were alone, Paul nodded to Sam. Under the flag, the vault containing the coffin was caked in dirt and scraped by the hoist, but seemed otherwise undamaged. Rita took photos while Sam opened the vault lid. Paul caught the faint smell of stale air and polishing oil. The coffin rested securely inside, its burnished wood still gleaming.

“Open it in place,” Paul said. “There's no need to remove the coffin from the vault.”

Sam leaned inside and turned the clasp, lifted the coffin's lid.

Knowing it was empty of a body and seeing it empty were two different emotions. A long box made of hard plastic rested inside, sealed tight against any air. Sam lifted it out and carried it to the table. He used his knife to slit the tape and caulked seam. And then he removed the box lid.

They looked in at the collected evidence of the crime. The paper sack with the chief of staff's collected belongings still looked as if it had been rolled up yesterday. The duct tape had pulled away and opened with age. A camera rested securely on a bed of foam. Negatives in protective sleeves, and photos curling at the corners but still sharp with color, rested beside the camera. The VP's handwritten account was in a box, each page protected by an evidence sleeve and carefully marked into evidence by Reece Lion.

“Reece, anything you want to add or remember now that you see this evidence?”

“No.”

Paul picked up the photos and spread them across the table.

They saw for the first time the cabin as it had been.

The fight was there in the broken and overturned furniture, smashed television, mauled rugs.

They saw the chief of staff with a fatal gunshot wound to the head.

The VP had bruises on his face, a split and bleeding lip, swollen wrists from tight restraints, a badly bruised rib cage, and shock still present in his eyes.

It was the blood on the cabin floor, unrelated to where the chief of staff lay dead, that held Paul's attention.

He looked from the photos to find Ann. She had come no farther into the armory than where the vehicles had been parked. From there she was looking at what was on the table. She was sheet white and fighting nausea so bad he could see it in her face, but she hadn't left. She hadn't asked Vicky to step outside with her. “Anything you would like to see?” he asked quietly, making no effort to encourage or discourage her decision.

“No.”

He swept the photos together and gave them to Rita.

“Sam, seal up the coffin and vault. Let's get this finished.”

On the plane back to the VP's estate, Paul read the handwritten account of events Gannett had written the day of abduction and found it remarkably organized for the stress the man had been under. The account matched what was in the chapter, the cover-up plan less detailed and a bit different for what had actually been done, a fact that only added to the authenticity. These pages had been written before the cabin burned, for there were photographs of the VP holding this handwritten document with the cabin behind him.

Sam and Rita finished work on the trip report. “Tell me what you think of this.” Paul handed over the VP's report on the abduction. “Let me see those photos again, Rita.” He held out his hand, and she put them in it. Vicky had moved forward to
the cockpit to sit with Ann an hour ago. Paul caught Reece's attention and held up the photos. Reece shook his head.

Paul slowly flipped through the photos. He stopped on the one he suspected marked Ann's private nightmare, the floor of the cabin overlaid with crisscrossing splatters of blood.

He would eventually need to have a conversation with her. He knew, and she suspected he knew. She still couldn't put it in words. He understood a victim surviving by silence, dealing with what had happened by not giving it room to breathe and live. It was carefully packed and locked closed to keep it in the past. She hadn't found the courage to risk telling him.

Ann's reaction to what was happening with all this worried him. When the coffin had been opened, when she had seen the recovered evidence, she had felt it as a living thing. He was concerned about those nightmares, about what they would be like tonight and for the next many nights. What might all this trigger? But he couldn't help her unless she would let him.

He slid the photos into a manila envelope and sealed it in an evidence bag.

An hour later, Paul watched the small airport appear and the runway lights grow brighter. Ann landed the plane smoothly, taxied as directed, and brought the aircraft inside the hangar before shutting down the engines.

Reece opened the cabin door and lowered the steps. Sam took the first evidence case with him while Rita carried the second one. Vicky followed them. Paul waited at the cabin door for Ann to step from the cockpit. “Ride back to the VP estate with us.”

She shook her head. “Vicky's taking me home.”

“Ann—”

“Don't push. Please.”

He settled for wrapping her in a hug. “Sleep in, then come find me. Okay?”

She simply hugged him and stepped back. “Go get this finished.”

Paul joined Sam and Rita the next morning in the secure conference room. He hadn't slept much, and the coffee was barely cutting the fatigue. The photos were spread across the table. “Where are we at?”

“His written account matches the chapter. The photos back it up,” Rita replied. “The evidence in this room, these photos, the written accounts, it all lines up to be what it is—proof the VP's chapter is correct. They have proven the chief of staff killed eighteen people and abducted the VP. It may not be a complete account, but what is here fits with this evidence.”

“Have we found anything indicating there's something else out there?”

“There were only five people there. What we have is what they were willing to share, and what we can see in these photos. There is a solid line of evidence that what they did say is in fact true. But it leaves an open question. There were probably things said that day that the VP chose to not include in his account. We can't answer that question,” Rita concluded.

Sam added, “The chief of staff wanted to be famous for what he did, and he gave a detailed account in the diary. There may be more murders he did that were not part of his confession. I don't know how we answer that question after this amount of time either.”

“Okay.” Paul had reached the same conclusions. “I want the two of you to finish writing up the FBI report that will be released to the public when the VP's book comes out. While you're doing that, I'm going to put together what I need and take this to the director. Let's get this tied into a bow and go home.”

Sam nodded. “We can get it finished today, tomorrow at the latest.”

Paul had hoped Ann would join them, but as the morning wore on, she didn't appear. Paul tried calling her occasionally throughout the morning but only got her voice mail. Reece came to find
him when they broke for lunch. “Paul, for you.” He held out a folded piece of paper.

“Thanks, Reece.” He opened the note.

Paul, I'm taking Vicky home and staying a few days with her. I'll be in touch when I get back. Ann

That explained the unanswered calls—she was in the air. He thoughtfully tucked the note in his pocket. She'd been smart enough to go stay with a friend. He'd hold on to that bit of comfort until he could find out for himself how she was doing. Ann was the one paying the highest price for this. It wouldn't be over for her when the book came out. It would only be the beginning. He wanted to stand in front of that storm and stop it from hitting her, but he knew he couldn't prevent it. The best he could do was to try and minimize the damage. He had time, a limited amount of time, to figure it out before the book came out.

The next step in front of him was to tell the director what was coming.