The Last Victim (36 page)

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Authors: Kevin O'Brien

BOOK: The Last Victim
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“Did Olivia spend a lot of time with Lon?” Zach asked.
Monique leaned toward him. “Olivia spent a lot of time in the employee lounge. She claimed Lon liked her, which just goes to show how crazy he is. Anyway, Zach, I’ll tell you this much about your old high school girlfriend. Olivia made me laugh sometimes. She had a wicked sense of humor. I didn’t like her, but the girl could make me laugh.”
“Did she tell you anything about Lon?” Zach asked. “Anything he might have said to her?”
Monique squinted at him. “Why do you ask that?”
“What’s going on out here?”
A short, slight, balding man with glasses had come out the front door. He wore a navy blue business suit. Though he looked very meek, he had a prissy, authoritative tone. He scowled at Monique. “Ms. Wilson, why aren’t you in B Ward?”
She grabbed the bouquet of roses from the bench. “This gentleman was a friend of Olivia’s,” she explained. “He thought she was still working here. I was just explaining to him that she’s no longer with us.”
“In more ways than one,” Zach added glumly.
“You can go back to your duties now, Ms. Wilson,” the officious little man said.
A uniformed security guard held the door open for her. Monique turned to Zach. “Thanks for the flowers,” she muttered. Then she hurried inside.
The tall, stocky, pug-faced security guard stepped outside. He hovered behind the little man like a bodyguard. “I take it Ms. Wilson has already explained to you that Ms. Rankin doesn’t work here anymore,” the man said to Zach. “If you have no other business here, I think you should leave. We close the front gates here at Glenhaven Hills at seven o’clock.”
“I was going to ask if you gave tours of the facility,” Zach said. “It’s such a beautiful spot—”
“Tours are only available by appointment, Mr.?”
“Matthias, Zach Matthias. Could I make an appointment? Do you have a business card, Mr.?”
“I’m Mr. Jonas,” he said, pulling a business card from inside his suit coat pocket. “All tours are private and arranged through me. If you call me during business hours, Mr. Matthias, I’ll see what I can do to help you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Robert, will you escort Mr. Matthias back to his car? See that he’s able to leave before locking the gate.”
“And then this goon of a security guard followed me to the gate,” Zach explained over the phone. “I don’t think I can show my face there tomorrow, not without raising this creepy little guy’s suspicions.”
“Then I’ll just have to go there alone,” Bridget whispered. She sat on her bed with the phone to her ear.
The boys, Emma, and their grandfather were downstairs parked in front of
Hoosiers
on cable-TV. Before dinner, they’d all watched Brad’s press conference on the local news. She and her father had done their best to answer David’s and Eric’s questions. She’d cooked spaghetti, and everyone had been rather subdued around the dinner table. Bridget had been washing the dishes when Zach had called. She’d run upstairs to talk with him in private.
“I’ll drive up to Olympia tomorrow,” she said into the phone. “I have all day. One of David’s friends is having a birthday tomorrow. His little brother is in Eric’s class. So they’ve both been invited to go bowling after school, and then dinner and cake. I’m free until eight-thirty tomorrow night.”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of you driving all the way up there alone.”
Bridget glanced out the bedroom window. She gazed down at the white Taurus parked in front of her house. She could ask for an escort, but the private detectives had been hired by Brad. Zack didn’t want Brad to know about their interest in Glenhaven Hills. And now
she
didn’t want Brad to know about it either. “I’ll be all right,” she told Zach. “I’ll call this Mr. Jonas and schedule a tour tomorrow.”
“Schedule it for late morning or early in the afternoon,” he said. “You shouldn’t be driving up and down that winding, hilly road at night. It’s pretty dicey. Right now, I’m calling from the parking lot of this little dump at the base of the hill, the Tip Top Mart. I was glad to have made it here alive. I almost kissed the pavement when I got out of the car.”
“I’ll see if I can get in there before two,” she said. “From what you tell me, this place would love housing the father of a senatorial candidate. I’ll tell Mr. Jonas we’re looking for a place for my dad. The name Corrigan still has some clout in that part of Washington State. I think Glenhaven Hills will open their doors to me.”
“Well, see if you can’t get them to open the door to Ward C,” Zach said. “You might use your Corrigan clout to ask for a list of other residents. Then when you see Lon Fessler is there, maybe use the fact that you knew Lon way back when to get in to see him. It’s a long shot, but worth a try.”
“Brigg?” It was her father, coming up the second-floor hallway.
“I’ve got to go,” she whispered into the phone. “Call you later.”
Bridget was hanging up the receiver when her father poked his head in the bedroom. In his navy blue cardigan and madras shirt, he actually looked rather spry tonight. Bridget was surprised he hadn’t nodded off in front of the movie yet.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
“Barbara Church,” Bridget lied. “She’s giving this birthday party tomorrow. The boys are going to it. How’s the movie?”
“Terrific. There’s a commercial right now.” He let out a sigh as he sat down beside her on the bed. “How are you holding up, sweetie?”
“I’m okay, Dad,” she replied, patting his bony thigh.
“You know, I couldn’t help overhearing you and Janice going at it earlier tonight.”
“Sorry,” Bridget muttered, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t know we had the volume up so high.”
“Well, while you were rounding up the kids, I stopped in on Janice and asked what all of the ruckus was about. She told me. What makes you say she was—faking this miscarriage today?”
Bridget didn’t want to get into this with her father. She sighed. “It’s a lot of things, Dad. I mean, even at the press conference tonight, that holistic doctor said Janice was nine weeks pregnant. You and I both know it’s been at least twelve. Why lie about something like that?”
Her father cleared his throat and glanced down at the bedroom carpet.
“She should have gone to a hospital today,” Bridget went on. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “Maybe that’s why they said Janice was less far along than she’s been telling us. A woman losing a baby after twelve weeks, there can be complications. That’s not home-healing holistic stuff. I don’t mean to be gruesome, but there should have been a lot more blood. I didn’t even see a box of sanitary napkins in the bedroom or bathroom. And Janice was wearing a lightweight nightgown this afternoon. I could see through it when she was standing against the window. Janice looks more like she has spent the last twelve weeks in an aerobics class—not Lamaze. No one loses baby weight that fast. I don’t know how she’s been fooling Brad. But I think something happened about six weeks ago, when she suddenly stopped seeing Dr. Reece.”
“That’s when she lost the baby,” her father whispered.
“What?”
Her father’s shoulders slumped a little. He was still staring down at the carpet. He looked so forlorn and defeated. “It happened while Brad was out of town—in D.C. Janice was actually eight weeks along. The campaign was going so well. You were on board, and making a difference. And it certainly helped that everyone knew Brad’s wife was pregnant. Janice didn’t want to muck that up. She didn’t want Brad to know. She was thinking about the campaign.”
“That’s crazy,” Bridget murmured.
“That’s Janice, doing what she felt was necessary to help Brad become senator,” her father said. “She called up that gal who was at the house today, the home doctor on the news. She’s a friend of Janice’s. She took care of her, looked after Emma too. You talk about blood. We thought for a while we’d have to take her in for a transfusion.”
“You were in on it?” Bridget asked. “You knew?”
He nodded. “We decided it would be best for the campaign if Janice went on being pregnant for a while. And then she’d have the miscarriage when it could do some good.”
“ ‘When it could do some good?’ ”
Bridget echoed, incredulous.
“Brad’s numbers at the polls dropped drastically after that cocaine party lie, and they weren’t bouncing back. But they should be back up very soon—now that the people know about Janice losing the baby.”
Bridget stared at her father. “I don’t believe this. Dad, how—how could you be so calculating? Who else was in on this? Does Brad know?”
“No, and don’t say anything to him.”
“Did Jay mastermind this?” she pressed.
“He doesn’t know a thing about it,” her father replied. “This is something your sister-in-law and I decided on. And I’d appreciate it if you lay off her for a while, Brigg. She’s got your brother’s best interests in mind. Hell, Janice even let you take the spotlight, because she realized how good you were for the campaign. If that isn’t selfless, I don’t know what.”
Bridget shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this. How could Brad not know? I could tell Janice hadn’t been pregnant recently just by seeing her in her nightgown today. Is Brad blind? Don’t they sleep together?”
Her father frowned. “They haven’t for a long while.”
She let out a stunned laugh. “Well, how did this baby happen?”
“It was an accident,” he replied soberly. “It was someone else’s. Once Janice found out she was pregnant, she briefly rekindled things with Brad. She wanted to have this baby. And she wanted him to think it was his.”
Dumbfounded, Bridget numbly stared at her father.
“She was thinking about the campaign,” he said.
“It’s insane,” she murmured. “How—do
you
know all this, Dad?”
“Janice confides in me. We think alike. We both want to see Brad succeed.”
“She wants to see him succeed while she’s sleeping around with someone else?” Bridget got to her feet and started pacing around the bedroom. “Who’s the father?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, just as long as Brad keeps thinking it was his child.”
Bridget couldn’t look at her dad. She always knew her father was the one pulling the strings for Brad’s political career. But she had no idea it went to this extreme. And her dad had found a kindred spirit in Janice. Poor Brad didn’t know how much he was being manipulated by them. He truly wanted to do good in the world, help people, and make a difference. Yet the people closest to him were so ruthless and scheming.
“Is Emma his?” Bridget asked, finally.
“Of course she is,” her father replied, sounding a bit annoyed.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she retorted. “That Christmas cocaine party, did it really happen the way Brad said? Or is that a lie too? Was he involved with Leslie?”
“Brad was telling the truth,” her father said. “He didn’t say anything to you about Gerry and Leslie, because he was looking out for your best interests. And in regard to what’s been discussed here tonight, I don’t want you saying anything to him—for the same reason. It’s in Brad’s best interest that he doesn’t know any of this.”
Rubbing her forehead, Bridget let out a sad laugh. “My God . . .”
“Brigg, I want you to promise you won’t say anything to him.”
“What about your
episode
, Dad, the one that landed you in the hospital? Was that faked too? Something you and Janice cooked up for voter sympathy?”
“No, it was real,” he growled. He pushed himself off the bed and got to his feet. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around. That’s one reason why Brad has got to win this election. I don’t think I’ll be here to see him try again. That’s why you have to promise you won’t say anything to Brad about this.”
“Yes, we have to protect Brad, and make sure he succeeds,” she muttered. “It’s always been my purpose in life—as far as you’re concerned. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Promise you won’t say anything to him,” he pressed.
“I won’t say anything. I don’t want to hurt Brad.” She stared at her father and shook her head. “But if you really think you and Janice are doing right by him, then I’d say your priorities are awfully screwed up, Dad. And I guess I should thank God that I’m the child you didn’t give a shit about.”
Gaping back at her, Bridget’s father had that startled, feeble look on his face which made him look so old. With a shaky hand, he touched his right temple. “I’m tired, Brigg,” he said, finally. “I’d appreciate a ride back to Brad’s house, if you don’t mind.”
“Go on down and get ready,” she said listlessly. “I have another call to make. I’ll be down in a minute to take you and Emma home.”
Bridget watched her father shuffle out of the room; then she sat down on the bed. She wondered just how far her father—and Janice—had gone to determine Brad would win the election. Did either one of them know about Gorman’s Creek? Zach had said that someone in Brad’s confidence might have been behind the recent murders. Was it her father?

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