67
Two Weeks Later
Laurie watched as Ryan Nichols looked into the camera with a somber expression. “Daniel and Leigh Ann Longfellow had been called the rulers of a New American Camelot—a beloved and beautiful political couple with the potential to heal a divided nation with their popular policy views, sterling credentials, and personal charms. But, tonight, we’ll take a closer look at the shocking events that have left Leigh Ann in custody, facing a life sentence for murder, and Daniel fighting for the survival of his political career.”
True to form, Brett Young had started publicizing the airdate of their next episode within twenty-four hours of Leigh Ann’s arrest. When Laurie pointed out to him that they hadn’t even begun to collect footage, he had winked and said, “Nothing like a deadline to motivate your team.”
After working around the clock for two weeks straight, they were nearly finished with production. They had saved Ryan’s introduction and closing comments for last to make sure they included the new facts that continued to trickle in daily.
For Brenner there would be no get-out-of-jail-free card. He was facing a multitude of charges for extorting and threatening both Leigh Ann Longfellow and Kendra Bell over a period of many years. Kendra was ready and willing to testify that her many withdrawals of large sums of cash and payments to him had been made in a desperate attempt to protect herself and her children. And, ironically, his recording of Leigh Ann on Randall’s Island, which he had made to continue to blackmail her, would now be powerful evidence against him. The police had seized his recorder when they arrested him, and it was now stored in their evidence safe. There seemed to be little doubt that he would spend many years in prison.
Likewise, the case against Leigh Ann looked rock solid. They had Brenner’s recording, plus ballistics tests showing that the 9 mm handgun she brought to Randall’s Island was the same weapon used to kill Martin Bell. She had been so confident that she had gotten away with it, she hadn’t even bothered to get rid of the gun. Leigh Ann, too, would probably spend most or all of the rest of her life in prison. The police were also looking into the role her law firm had played in funneling payments to Brenner.
In between all of the work on the production, Laurie had found the time to testify in front of the grand jury last week to support charges against Willie Hayes for robbery and attempted murder. Hayes told the police he was only trying to get Laurie to hear his side of the story in the hope that she would end her relationship with Alex. But the bullet hole in the apartment’s ceiling told another story. They might never be able to prove that he was the one who attacked her outside of the piano bar, but he’d be going to prison for years.
Ryan looked at the studio door with annoyance when they heard a knock. The recording light was on in the hallway, indicating that no one should disturb them. A second later, the door opened. It was Jerry. “Sorry, but we’re going to have to rewrite the copy anyway. Daniel Longfellow’s giving a press statement in five minutes.”
• • •
Grace, Jerry, Ryan, and Laurie gathered at the conference table in Laurie’s office to watch Senator Longfellow step in front of the cameras. For fourteen days, he had managed to say nothing about his wife’s arrest except for platitudes such as “continuing to focus on my work for the American people,” “cooperating with law enforcement,” and “trusting the greatest justice system in the world.” Political pundits expressed dismay that, under the circumstances, he had not yet been arrested, let alone that he was still going to work.
Laurie hadn’t seen Longfellow since Leigh Ann’s arrest. He appeared to have lost ten pounds and aged a decade.
“Five years ago, I told the police that my wife, Leigh Ann, had traveled with me to Washington, D.C., while I was meeting with leaders there in anticipation of my appointment to a temporary vacancy in the U.S. Senate. That was a lie. I could tell you why I believed it was harmless at the time, but ultimately, none of that matters. It was a lie, plain and simple, and it was wrong. I never suspected my wife’s involvement in the murder of Dr. Martin Bell. In fact, when the police contacted us, I assumed that I was the suspect they were investigating. The police spoke to Leigh Ann first, and she told them that she’d been with me in D.C. At that point, I had a choice to make: I could either repeat her version of events, or tell the police that the woman I loved had just given them a false statement in my defense. Because I was certain that I was innocent, and I had an ironclad alibi, I didn’t see the harm in protecting my wife. I swear to you, the American public, that it never dawned on me that she was lying in order to create an alibi for herself. But none of that ultimately matters. We are a nation of laws, and I did not live up to one of the basic responsibilities we all share as citizens. I will work now to listen to friends, trusted advisors, and most importantly, you, my constituents, to decide my next steps. But, no matter what happens, I promise I will cooperate with the prosecution of my wife, Leigh Ann”—his voice caught—“and will never betray the public’s trust again. Finally, I want to extend my deepest apologies to Martin Bell’s parents, Cynthia and Robert; to his children, Bobby and Mindy; and to his widow, Kendra Bell, who lived for years under a shadow of suspicion that was wholly undeserved. I realize that my dishonesty and cowardice prevented you from knowing the truth about what happened to Martin, and the shame of that will live with me forever.”
After he walked away from the microphones without taking questions, Jerry clicked off the television.
“It sounds like he’s days, maybe hours, from resigning,” Jerry said.
“Or not,” Laurie noted. “I heard a panel of pundits this morning saying that he could ride it out. A lot of his supporters want him to stay in office.”
Once Laurie was alone, she called Kendra Bell on her cell phone. She started by apologizing for interrupting her at work. “I wanted to make sure you knew about Longfellow’s press conference.”
“Are you kidding? Steven played it on the television in the waiting room. It’s been a rough couple of weeks trying to explain to my kids why the wife of their senator wanted to hurt their father, but you don’t know how good it feels to have my name finally cleared.” She lowered her voice. “One of the old biddies who usually gives me the evil eye actually hugged me and apologized for having doubts about me. I feel like I finally have my life back. Steven’s coming over tonight to celebrate. I’ve always been so grateful for his friendship, but I’m starting to realize that he was the one person who never doubted my innocence.”
“Any chance you’ve heard from Robert and Cynthia?” Laurie had spoken to Martin’s parents last week. She sensed their shame at having vilified Kendra for years, but admitting mistakes did not come naturally to the pair.
“We visited them last weekend at their country house, in fact. I was reluctant to accept the invitation, but Caroline persuaded me to give them a chance at being regular grandparents again instead of my adversaries. They were actually kind to me, if you can believe it. And more importantly, I can finally see how much they love Bobby and Mindy—in their own uptight way,” she added with a small laugh. “Even Caroline seems . . . lighter. I wasn’t the only one carrying the load of Martin’s murder all these years. Anyway, a lot’s changed for the whole family, and I have you to thank for that.”
Something in Kendra’s voice sounded warmer. Happier. It had taken Laurie six years after Greg’s death before she could picture herself sharing her life with someone else. Kendra Bell was approaching that same landmark.
Laurie congratulated Kendra again and told her she’d call her once the production was finalized. She had just hung up when her cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex: We’re downstairs.
Outside, a black car was waiting. Timmy bounded from the backseat, gave her a big hug, and then hopped into the front next to Ramon while Laurie climbed in back next to Alex.
“There had to be an easier way to do this,” Laurie said. Ramon had picked up Timmy from school, driven down to the federal courthouse to pick up Alex, and was now in Midtown to gather up Laurie.
Timmy grinned at her from the front seat. “That’s okay, Mom. Ramon likes having me in the car with him. We listen to jazz and I tell him about the different musicians.”
“And then sometimes I make him listen to the hip-hop channels I like,” Ramon said with a smile. “We could be in one of those movies where a young person and an old person switch bodies. Now where is our next destination?”
All Ramon and Timmy had been told was that they were all going somewhere together. Alex gave Ramon the address of a building on 85th Street between Second and Third.
When they got out, Timmy and Ramon followed them and Rhoda up the elevator to the sixteenth floor. Laurie was relieved to see that the crime scene tape had been removed from the apartment entrance, as promised.
“The owner will accept our offer,” Alex said happily, “but before we make it official, we wanted to make sure you’ll be comfortable here. If not, we keep looking.”
Five minutes later, it was official. This would be their home.
“We’ll definitely have the best ‘how did you find your apartment?’ story,” Alex said as they signed the final paperwork for the offer at the kitchen island.
When Ramon and Timmy headed for the car, Laurie and Alex paused to take one final look, gazing up at the ornate crown molding on the thirteen-foot ceilings of the foyer. She took his hand in hers. “Think of all the memories we’re going to make here together.”
She was already thinking about the little person who might grow up in the sweet corner bedroom next to Timmy’s.