The elevator doors opened again to reveal a large man with thinning sandy hair who matched the description of Keith Evans that Dana Cutler had given him. A very attractive woman sporting wicked-looking stitches on her right cheek accompanied him.
“Agent Evans?” Brad asked.
The man stopped. “Brad Miller?”
“Yes.”
“Pleased to meet you. This is my partner, Margaret Sparks. We flew out as fast as we could. How is Dana Cutler doing?”
“She’s in surgery. She was shot in the shoulder. The doctor told me that she lost a lot of blood but she’ll recover. He just doesn’t know how badly her shoulder was injured.”
“Can you fill me in on what’s been going on out here?”
“That can wait until we head off Susan Tuchman. She’s a very powerful attorney who works for Reed, Briggs, the state’s biggest law firm. I’m certain she’s going to Marsha Erickson’s room to try to get her to stonewall you.”
Evans smiled. “She may have a problem.”
When they arrived at Marsha Erickson’s room, an irate Susan Tuchman was berating a solid young man who stood in front of the patient’s door.
“I do understand that you’re an attorney, ma’am, but my orders are to admit no one except medical personnel,” Erickson’s guard said.
“Give me the name of your superior,” Tuchman demanded.
“Hi. I’m Keith Evans, and I ordered the guard for Mrs. Erickson. What’s the problem?”
Tuchman’s anger turned to confusion when she saw Brad standing beside Evans, but she recovered quickly.
“I am Susan Tuchman, Mrs. Erickson’s attorney, and I have a right to speak to her.”
“You might, if she was under arrest, but she’s a victim, so she doesn’t need a lawyer.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Tuchman said.
Evans smiled patiently. “Not in this case, Ms. Tuchman. A real judge will have to decide whether you can see Mrs. Erickson. But I’m curious. Have you represented Mrs. Erickson in the past?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think you’re Mrs. Erickson’s lawyer?”
“I’m afraid that’s privileged.”
Evans nodded. “I respect that. But I’m still confused. I’ve been in contact with the police, the agents I sent to Mrs. Erickson’s house, and the hospital. According to my information, Mrs. Erickson hasn’t phoned anyone tonight. If you’ve never represented her and she didn’t ask you to come here, why should we let you see her?”
Tuchman looked unsure of herself for the first time since Brad had met her. She didn’t appear to know what to say. Evans smiled again.
“I’m sorry you had to lose sleep, Ms. Tuchman, but there’s not much you can do here.”
“I was contacted by Morton Rickstein of Kendall, Barrett, a Washington, D.C., law firm. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”
“I certainly have,” Evans said.
“Kendall, Barrett represents Mrs. Erickson, and Mr. Rickstein asked me to stand in for him until he arrives. I hope that satisfies you, Agent Evans. Now, please let me speak to my client.”
“We still have a problem. If Mrs. Erickson didn’t phone for help, she didn’t ask Mr. Rickstein to represent her either. So, we’re back to square one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
Tuchman looked furious, but she was smart enough to know when to back down.
“I will be in touch with your superiors, Agent Evans. Good night.”
“It looks like you’re not going to get your way, for once,” Brad said.
Tuchman glared at him then stomped off without saying another word. Evans turned to Brad.
“Before I talk to Mrs. Erickson, I think it would be a good idea if you told me why you think President Farrington was involved with the murder of her daughter.”
Marsha Erickson was a mess. Her broken nose was bandaged, her right cheek had been stitched, and her bruised and bloodshot eyes followed the agents warily when Evans and Sparks walked into her room.
“Good evening, Mrs. Erickson. How are you feeling?” Evans said.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Evans heard the tremor in her voice and smiled to calm her. He was certain that she’d been crying.
“We’re not anyone you have to fear. I’m Keith Evans, an FBI agent assigned to the independent counsel’s office. This is my partner, Margaret Sparks. We’re here to guard you from the people who are trying to kill you. I’ve made sure that agents will be posted outside your door as long as you’re in the hospital, and I’m here to offer you protection when you’re discharged.”
“What do I have to do to get protected?” Erickson asked, her suspicions edging aside her fear.
“Mrs. Erickson, the United States Congress has charged our office with the task of determining President Farrington’s involvement-if any-in the murder of a young woman named Charlotte Walsh. I assume you’re aware of the matter, since it’s been front-page news.”
Erickson nodded warily.
“You know about the D.C. Ripper, the serial killer?”
Erickson nodded again.
“At first, we thought that Miss Walsh was a victim of the Ripper. Now we think that the person who killed her copied the MO of the Ripper to throw us off the track. We also have evidence that suggests that President Farrington may have been having an affair with Miss Walsh.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“A serial killer named Clarence Little was convicted of kidnapping and murdering your daughter while she was babysitting for Christopher Farrington when he was the governor of Oregon. We have evidence that suggests that someone else killed Laurie and copied Mr. Little’s MO in the same way that someone may have copied the MO of the D.C. Ripper in the Walsh case.
“I know you’ve been through hell. You’ve had to deal with the death of a child and this vicious attack. I don’t want to cause you any more pain, but I have to ask. Do you have any reason to believe that President Farrington was intimate with your daughter?”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, for several reasons, the most important being that telling us the truth will keep you alive. I know what happened at your house. You’d be dead if Dana Cutler and Brad Miller hadn’t saved you. If you continue to protect Christopher Farrington, and he’s behind this attack, it won’t help you stay alive. He’ll always be better off with you dead. Then you can never tell what you know.
“And you won’t be able to keep your secret anyway. The independent counsel has subpoena powers. I can always take you in front of a grand jury. If you don’t answer questions there, you could be sent to jail for contempt. I really don’t want to resort to that option because I feel very sorry about all you’ve gone through. It would be cruel to punish you that way. But I am prepared to do what I must to learn what you know.
“If you think about it, your interests and our interests are the same. We both want you alive. And here’s something to think about. Once we know what you know, the president won’t have any reason to kill you because the cat will be out of the bag. So, what do you say?”
Erickson looked down at her blanket, and Evans let her think. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears.
“I don’t know what to do. He was so good to me and he said he didn’t do those things. He said he was paying me the money because I was always a good secretary and because he felt bad that Laurie was kidnapped from his house.”
“But you had reason to disbelieve him, didn’t you?” Evans asked gently.
Erickson bit her lip. Then she nodded.
“Why didn’t you believe Farrington was telling the truth?”
Erickson tried to speak, but she was too choked up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand. Sparks handed it to her. She took a sip. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and wept.
“She was all I had, and she was so good. When she told me…” Erickson shook her head. “I feel so guilty. I wouldn’t believe her. I told her she was a liar and I promised to punish her if she ever said anything like that again. But she’d never lied to me before. Not about anything important. I should have believed her.”