Chapter Fourteen
Four floors below, Stephen watched as the press flooded the streets, effectively trapping him. Unlike yesterday, the police department couldn’t keep up with the sheer volume of news vans. Reporters lined the sidewalks, covering every exit. County citizens were out in force, demanding his resignation, their faith in him destroyed. On top of another rejection. One more job prospect he could cross of the list.
His entire life, he’d conducted himself with integrity and honesty, his reputation above reproach, living his life in accordance with his future goals. A future that was systematically being demolished.
Until now, he had believed in the system. Believed truth and justice would always prevail. But no matter the outcome in the coming days, his name would forever be tainted by scandal. He wanted to rage at the world for the injustice of it all, for a future that was no longer within his reach.
Stephen glanced at the clock, dread roiling through him. He was due in court in an hour, due to walk up those revered steps into the courthouse lobby, something he’d done thousands of time before. But today microphones would be shoved into his face, reporters screaming questions, the public shouting accusations. Stephen would be reduced to defending himself, words that would fall on deaf ears.
He could use the back entrance, he thought sarcastically. The one reserved for criminals. Christ, he thought. What the fuck had he ever done to deserve this?
“Your attendance at the senator’s party was leaked to the press.”
Of course it was. “Did they post pictures of me murdering her?” Bitterness infused every word as Stephen tore his gaze away from the chaos below him. Tracy Connelly walked into his office, her expression filled with sympathy. Tamping down his irritation, he barely resisted the urge to lash out at her. Tracy had stood by his side through all the bullshit with his father, with his grandfather. She hadn’t once looked at him as if he was to blame. Had never looked at him with suspicion. It wasn’t her fault that his life was collapsing around him with no fucking way to fix it.
Tracy ignored his comment. “Your court date was postponed.”
Thank God, Stephen thought. One battle he didn’t have to fight today.
“I also wanted to give you a heads up,” Tracy said after she closed the door.
The silence stretched until Stephen couldn’t bear it anymore. But he already knew what Tracy was going to say. “Just spill it.”
“The state attorneys are here.”
Stephen closed his eyes briefly while he let that sink in. His heart thumped, pain and fear roaring through him, excruciating in its intensity. Tracy took a small step forward, freezing instantly as stopped her with a sharp glare. He needed to be alone, needed to get the fuck out of the office before he lost the battle with his control.
“Is Allen with them?” Images of being dragged out of the building in handcuffs… No. No fucking way.
“He isn’t.” Tracy paused before hesitantly saying, “I’ll do anything I can to help you, Stephen. You’re the most honorable man I’ve ever met. Don’t forget that.”
Before Stephen could reply, she was gone. He took a few deep breaths, let them out slowly, taking Tracy’s words for what they were. A warning.
Twenty minutes later, Stephen was staring at the diplomas on his wall when State Attorney James Ashford knocked on the door, the same attorney Stephen had been working with these past six weeks.
Drawing himself up to his full six-foot-three inches, Stephen opened the door, towering over the much smaller man. He refused to cower before anybody, refused to appear broken. Pride might be the only thing he had right now, and there was no fucking way he’d give that up. James fiddled with his glasses, refusing to make eye contact and the dread pulsed again. Legally, they couldn’t fire him. He hadn’t been convicted of any wrongdoing. Hell, he hadn’t even been arrested. No warrants have even been issued to search his house or office.
James cleared his throat before he finally looked up. Any respect he’d had for the man was quickly diminishing. “Perhaps you’d like to take a vacation? With pay, of course.”
Fuck the pay. He didn’t need the fucking pay, he needed his reputation. And if they forced him out, once the press got wind of it, he’d look even more guilty, losing any respectability he managed to hang on to. “Perhaps,” Stephen said, fighting to remain calm, “You’d like to go out there and give a press conference confirming your belief in my innocence.” He flung his hand toward the window. “Perhaps, you could recount my years of service, my exceptional conviction record—”
“That’s exactly what we intend to do,” James interrupted, holding up his hand. “Please accept my apologies for my poor attempt at humor. And apparently, the terrible timing.” James tried to smile, but failed to deliver. He cleared his throat again. “Media relations is working on the speech, which I will deliver tomorrow. Personally.” He paused for a moment, giving Stephen time to absorb that. “If you want to weather the storm, that’s on you. I’m not here to force you out, nor am I here to make your life miserable. However, I am here to ask if you’re willing to turn over any court cases you have scheduled.”
Stephen clenched his jaw, giving himself a minute to respond. A glimmer of hope, he thought, along with a huge amount of relief. Ironically, he’d judged the man a little too fast. He turned toward the windows again, looking down at the media frenzy, wondering whether the press conference would help. Even if it didn’t, he was still overwhelmed with gratefulness that somebody had his back. Especially because he hadn’t expected it. “I’ll turn them over,” he said before turning around again. Avoiding the courthouse wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now. “Thank you.”
James nodded. “We’ll clear your name, Stephen.”
He felt weak with relief. He hadn’t realized how important it was to him that somebody believed in him, somebody outside his family and circle of friends. Maybe, just maybe, his reputation had saved him after all.
Glancing at the clock, Stephen grabbed his keys and locked his door. Since court had been postponed, the rest of his afternoon was free, and he was going to take full advantage.
Now he just had to find a way out the building. Stephen grabbed the elevator doors just before they closed and stepped inside, an action he regretted a moment later. He glanced at Ethan before punching the button for the ground floor even though it was already lit.
“Don’t even think about dragging her down with you,” Ethan said after the doors slid closed.
Are you in love with him, Kat?
That she hadn’t answered gave him all the answers he needed, but hell if he’d give up. He knew Ethan had spent the last two nights at her house. In her bed? He didn’t know, and it was driving him out of his mind. Maintaining an air of confidence he didn’t quite feel, Stephen waited until Ethan’s eyes met his in the stainless-steel doors. “I’m not going down.”
Not without a fight. On any level. Ethan could take that as the warning it was.
“You selfish bastard,” Ethan growled.
Is that what he was? “You had six weeks.”
“Stay the fuck away from her—”
“I’ll fight you for her until my dying breath.”
Ethan glared at him before his lips turned up in a sardonic smile. “Then so be it.”
The elevator doors opened. Ethan stepped out without another word as another passenger stepped in and pressed the button for the basement. They had just both openly declared war and he wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. It wasn’t a fucking competition, yet that’s exactly what he’d just turned it into.
“Bet that was an awkward ride. Surprised you both made it out alive.”
Everything in Stephen froze. Slowly, he turned his head, even as he swore his mind was playing tricks on him. The man beside him was the same height, the same build. His full beard and mustache and dead brown eyes threw him, even though he’d just seen his picture yesterday. “Alex?”
“Don’t forget the cameras.”
“Thank God,” Stephen said as a rush of breath escaped him, his knees going weak for the second time in as many minutes. Alex had the decency to look a little guilty. If they weren’t in the damn elevator car, he would have crushed him into a full-on bear hug. Or killed him with his bare hands. “Where the hell have you been?”
Alex pulled him through the elevator doors and out the basement doors. Xavier’s car waited by the curb. Stephen slid into the passenger seat while Alex got in the back. Before Xavier pulled away, Stephen whipped around, pinning Alex with a glare. “Anybody care to explain what the hell’s going on? Where the hell have you been? And what the fuck were you thinking, disappearing for six weeks? I thought you were dead!”
Anger, frustration, and relief rolled through him at the same time as Xavier drove through the congested traffic. “What the hell were you thinking showing up at that apartment? Do you even realize what you’ve done? The shit you’ve caused?” Anger laced Alex’s every word.
“Me?” Stephen asked in disbelief. “I was scared out of my fucking mind that you’d gotten yourself killed! Since when do you ignore my calls, refuse to call me back? I got a heads up that Emma Anderson was getting ready to plaster the entire story all over the news. I thought your cover was about to be blown.”
“It already was,” Alex said with a sigh. “There’s some serious shit going down with my case right now.” He held up his hand as Stephen opened his mouth. “Things I can’t explain and you’re just gonna have to trust that I can take care of myself.”
That’s it? No explanation? Stephen drew a frustrated hand through his hair. “Who was the guy?”
Apparently, he didn’t need to explain. Alex knew exactly who he was talking about. “A message,” he evaded. “But we’ve got bigger shit to deal with right now. Namely, your girlfriend.”
“Kat? What does she have to do with this?”
***
“Karen Young was a wonderful girl,” former Congresswoman Eleanor Mason said as she smiled over her coffee, looking just as regal in real life as she had in pictures. Kat took a sip of her own, feeling at ease in the woman’s kitchen even though they were alone. According to her research this morning, Eleanor had been highly respected, had done a great job for the people until she’d been forced to retire when her husband became ill. Not a hint of scandal had tarnished her reputation in the years she’d held office.
“I do hope you’re able to find out who killed her.”
“You don’t believe it was Greg?”
“God no,” Eleanor said. “I told the police back then Greg couldn’t have possibly killed Karen. But other than Greg’s mother, I can’t think of anybody who would want to cause either of them any harm.”
Which seemed to be the consensus, Kat thought, feeling a little frustrated. “One of Karen’s roommates said Karen was going through a difficult time in the month preceding Christmas break. Do you know anything about that?”
“Karen spent Thanksgiving break here. Greg was away for the holiday. I remember teasing her because she was moping around the house, didn’t come out of her room much. It was later, during Christmas break when they broke up, I thought maybe whatever issues they were having began then.”
“Do you know why they break up?”
“No. She tried to say they weren’t compatible, which was so far from the truth it was laughable. You only had to see them together. There was this chemistry between them, so thick you could feel it. It energized the room.”
“But eventually they got back together?”
“Rather abruptly. They showed up for Sunday dinner a few months later and said they’d gotten married and she was pregnant. It was a shock, to say the least. And something was off. They made a big show of pretending to be happy, but that’s all it was. A show.”
“Maybe Greg was feeling trapped into a marriage he didn’t want? Or Karen felt she had no other options other than to get back together with him?”
“That, Investigator Collins, is an excellent question. And exactly the problem. I didn’t get either of those feelings. More like an overall sadness between the two of them. Eventually, I chalked it up to nerves when I found out they hadn’t yet told his mother.”
“Had you met Greg’s mother before?”
“No. I just knew from Karen that she was a source of their problems. I think they broke up because of her. Fast forward a few months. By the time Greg Jr came along, whatever they’d been dealing with seemed to have run its course. They were both thrilled even though neither of them were having an easy time of it. They were both done with school by that point. I helped them as much as I could, even offered to let them move in here until they were on their feet, but they declined.”
“In the weeks leading up to Karen’s death, was there any tension between them?”
“None. Greg had just landed an excellent job and Karen was settling into being a new mother.” Eleanor gave Kat a sad smile. “They were here for a celebratory dinner just the night before.”
Kat sipped her coffee, giving Eleanor time. Karen had been one of the lucky ones when it came to foster parents. That alone said a lot for Eleanor Mason.
“The night of Karen’s murder, they were going to go to dinner with his mother. I was supposed to babysit, but I had to rush my husband to the hospital earlier in the day and had to cancel. I felt so horrible, but Karen said she really didn’t mind missing dinner. But I guess she got a babysitter after all, because the baby wasn’t with her.” Eleanor wiped her face with a napkin. “The police called late that night, told me what happened. It was devastating. I rushed from the hospital to the police station. Anne Radcliffe was there, beside herself. More worried about Greg being arrested than Karen’s death. Jessica Adams was there with the baby. I asked if I could bring him home with me. The next morning, Greg picked him up. He was devastated, couldn’t believe what happened. I offered to let him and the baby stay here, so he wouldn’t be alone. He said he was going to stay with his mother. Three weeks later, Greg was gone.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“I went over to Greg’s mothers house the day after Greg died. To offer condolences and see if she needed anything. She handed me the baby and shut the door. I took him in, had every intention of keeping him, but Social Services thought he’d be better off with a younger couple. My husband had just been diagnosed with cancer and was deathly ill. I begged and pleaded, but they found him a home a few months later. It broke my heart.”
Eleanor stood up, motioning Kat to follow. “I have pictures.”
Kat stared at the wall when they entered the living room, covered with photographs of Eleanor’s foster children. All girls, apart from Greg Jr. Karen’s picture was there, smiling for the camera, the same photograph Kat already had. She studied the baby’s picture, couldn’t find any distinguishing characteristics. He looked like…a baby. “Do you know who adopted him?”
“No,” Eleanor said sadly. “The new parents wanted a closed adoption.”
“Do you have another picture of him?”
***
Donna Henderson, Karen Young’s best friend. Her last hope of the day, Kat thought as she pulled into Donna’s driveway. The woman owned a restaurant in Rhinebeck, but wasn’t in today. At least, according to the person who’d answered the phone.
The neighborhood was nice. Modest, filled with similar ranch style homes, and huge yards, perfect for raising a family. Kids played basketball in the cul-de-sac, their laughter putting Kat at ease. Stopping here hadn’t been part of today’s plan, especially since she was already fighting against the clock. Ethan would be furious if he knew what she was up to, but Kat pushed the thoughts away. Her skin wasn’t crawling, none of her senses were on alert, so she exited the car.
The kids took notice, stopping their game as she strode up the walk. She felt their eyes following her the entire way. Ringing the doorbell, she looked over her shoulder, seeing a couple of the older kids coming toward her. Neither looked threatening, just curious. The one with his ball cap on backward and carrying the basketball under his arm was the first to reach the end of the walkway. He was probably about thirteen, with shaggy blond hair and a skinny frame. His friend, about the same age, hung back just a little.
“You lookin’ for Donna?”
“I am.”
“She’s dead.”
Kat froze, the last words she’d ever expected to hear. She lifted a hand to heart, as if that would quell the rapid beating. She turned, looking at the door that had remained unanswered and made her way down the sidewalk, closer to the boys. “What happened?”
“I heard drug overdose.” He shrugged. “Don’t know if that’s just a rumor though. Never seemed high to me and we all saw her every day. She had a restaurant down in Rhinebeck, always brought leftovers home and we’d come over for lunch every day during the summer. I…uh…found her Friday when we went to eat.”
Kat was still shaking ten minutes later when she got in Ethan’s car. Four roommates. Two dead. One hospitalized, nearly beaten to death. She sucked in a breath, having a hard time convincing herself it was just a coincidence anymore.
Without consciously driving there, she found herself in Catskill, driving down Main Street. She needed to talk to Ethan, come clean despite the argument it would start. And she needed to talk to Stephen. The more she investigated, the more positive she was that Emma Anderson was dead because of it. But as she headed toward the county building with every intention of speaking with both of them, she stared in shock.
Protesters covered nearly every square inch of the sidewalk surrounding the county courthouse, all of them demanding Stephen Chandler’s job. Her jaw fell open with disbelief and with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she wondered if Stephen had been arrested.
Shit.
It seemed the whole town was out in force, much, much worse than she’d ever imagined. And no longer was the story local. Fox News, CNN and every news station on record seemed to be clogging the streets from the county building all the way to the courthouse.
They were crucifying him, apparently guilty until proven innocent.
Making a quick U-turn, Kat changed direction, heading back over the bridge she’d just come across, driving toward the hospital.
Screw Alex, she thought. She needed to talk to Jessica Adams.