Face of Betrayal (17 page)

“Where was Dylan the day Katie went missing?”

“Home. Three thousand miles away. And they weren’t really on speaking terms before break.”

“Did he think she was suicidal?”

“He wouldn’t go as far as that. All he would say was that she was moody.”

Every lead petered out. With a shallow pretense of cordiality, the interview with Fairview had ended in a draw. Even once his lie about Katie’s phone calls was unmasked, Fairview continued to maintain that he had told the truth. What did it matter which phone she called him on? He hadn’t known she had gotten a second phone, and he certainly hadn’t suggested it to her. Katie was a troubled girl. He had tried to help her. And that was all. The only relationship between them had been platonic.

To prove it, Fairview’s wife, Nancy, had agreed to being interviewed by Nicole and Allison. The law protected communication in certain relationships—between a doctor and patient, priest and penitent, attorney and client. And between husband and wife. But Fairview had waived that right and agreed for Nancy to come in and talk to Allison and Nicole.

Since Michael Stone couldn’t represent both the senator and his wife—it was a conflict of interest—Nancy came in with her own lawyer, a quiet, corporate type named Joel Rickert. Nancy was a tall, thin woman, probably eye to eye with her husband, with a long face, big teeth, and a wide swathe of gums. She reminded Allison unfortunately of a horse.

They met in the same conference room in which Allison and Nicole had met with her husband.

“Have you ever met Katie Converse?” Allison asked after the preliminaries were out of the way.

“Actually, James introduced me when we ran into her while we were Christmas shopping at Nordstrom. We had a very brief conversation.”

“This was the same day Katie disappeared, correct?”

Nancy shrugged. “I guess so. I didn’t really think about the date until later.”

“And did she seem upset about anything?” Allison asked. “Did she share any of her plans for the rest of the day?”

“Our conversation only lasted a minute or two, if that. It was about the weather, if they were both enjoying the break, things like that.”

“And what did you think of her?”

Nancy pursed her lips, looked down at her hands, looked back up at Allison again. “I think she was head over heels about James.”

Allison was surprised by her honesty. She cut her eyes to Rickert, but his expression betrayed nothing. “What makes you think that?”

“She would barely look at me, but she was all over him. Giving him a hug. Complimenting his tie, of all things. His tie! I pick out all of James’s clothes.”

“Do you think your husband was having an affair with her?” Allison asked.

“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t want to know. But after twenty-some years of marriage, you know when something might be going on. James is a gregarious man. He gets lonely sometimes, living three thousand miles away. But his little flirtations don’t mean anything. They don’t mean anything to our marriage. And I understand that. It’s always some young thing who will look up to him. He likes that. Some simpering little nothing who—” Nancy stopped abruptly.

Allison wondered if her lawyer had touched her knee under the table. Warned her to shut up.
Simpering little nothing
—either Nancy or her lawyer must have remembered she was speaking ill of a girl who was more than likely dead.

“And what happened after that? Did you talk to him about it?”

“Talk?” Nancy snorted. “There was no point in talking. As soon as we left Nordstrom, I told him he was not going back to the office, he was coming home with me. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon reminding James exactly how I’m not like any of those silly girls he likes to flirt with. I’m not some naïve, virginal little nothing who doesn’t know which end is up.” Nancy’s head was up, her eyes were narrowed, and her breathing audible. “Because I love my husband, and I will do what needs to be done to help him. Even if it means, like now, being forced to share my private life with strangers.”

“W
hat do you think?” Allison asked after Nancy and her lawyer had left.

Nancy had walked out of the interview room with her head held high, as if daring them to try to picture her teaching her husband a lesson.

“I think she’s lying,” said Nicole. “Only I’m not sure about what. You?”

“I think you’re right. Nancy’s not telling us the truth, at least not the whole truth, no matter how embarrassed she claimed to be.” Allison looked back at the empty chair where Nancy had been sitting and ran the woman’s words through her mind again. “But the thing is, maybe she’s not lying to save her husband’s skin.”

Nicole looked up from the report on which she was putting the finishing touches. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe Nancy’s lying to save her own skin. That alibi gets both her husband and her off the hook. She clearly hates Katie. Maybe she hated her enough to kill her.”

Nicole didn’t answer, just tapped her pen against her teeth and looked thoughtful.

By the time Allison left the office, it was well after eight o’clock, and she hadn’t eaten since lunch—which couldn’t be good for the baby. In the car, she turned on the radio. It was still set on the station she listened to in the morning for its frequent traffic updates. Outside of drive time, it was a series of conservative talk shows. Allison heard enough one-sided arguments in court that she didn’t like to hear them in her car as well. She was reaching out her finger to push the off button when she recognized the topic: Senator Fairview.

A sonorous voice she recognized as belonging to this particular show’s host, Jim Fate, was saying with disgust, “Isn’t lying in a criminal investigation enough? Isn’t that enough, Senator Schneider?” Fate’s radio show,
The Hand of Fate
, had started out small, but Allison had heard enough promotion for it in between traffic and weather reports to know that it was now syndicated nationally.

“If you’re under oath, of course it is. It’s perjury.”

Fate said, “It wasn’t under oath. But you know, sources say that Fairview has just refused to tell authorities about his affair with a minor. He just wouldn’t tell them. First he denied it, and then he clammed up. Isn’t that enough to get him impeached?”

Schneider said mildly, “I would think not.”

Fate’s voice dripped with disgust. “Really? If you, Luke Schneider, were on the Senate Ethics Committee, which you’re not, and evidence came in that a senator lied to the authorities in what could well be a murder investigation—are you saying that wouldn’t be enough to get him out of there?”

“But Senator Fairview’s been charged with nothing.”

“All right, so if someone from the FBI would stand up and say, ‘This guy impeded the investigation . . .’”

“Of course that would be enough,” Schneider said.

Fate echoed, “That’s enough to get him out?”

“Well, it’s enough to take to the Ethics Committee. They can move to expel, censure, or admonish him.”

“So what would it take for you guys to get rid of this creep?” Fate demanded. “I mean, it has reached critical mass. Wouldn’t you say that most decent human beings would have resigned by now, with all the stuff that we know about him? We’re talking corruption of a minor, statutory rape, and crossing state lines to have sex with the girl.”

Schneider said, “Right now those things are only rumors. They have not been substantiated. If someone came forward with proof, then we could deal with it. We don’t make decisions based on what people are saying on TV. There’s a process. There’s the Constitution. You can’t just get annoyed with someone and kick him out.”

“What about Katie Converse?” Fate demanded. “Did she have any rights in the matter? Who sticks up for her rights, Senator?”

There was a half-second pause. Schneider had just begun to answer when Fate overrode him. “I’m afraid we are out of time, Senator. Senator Schneider, thank you for joining
The Hand of Fate
.”

Dryly, Schneider said, “The pleasure has been all mine, Jim.”

MYSPACE.COM/THEDCPAGE

A Very Personal Level

October 10

A
t my regular high school, I was always the smart one. It would be a lot harder to be the smart one in this group. But sometimes I think that maybe I don’t have to be the smart one here. I could be the funny one. Or maybe the pretty one.

Since there are only thirty Senate pages, you get to know everybody on a very personal level. You work together all day long & live in the same dorm. You do pretty much everything together. So certain people that you would rather not see any more, you see every single day—at meals, in class, at work & on weekend trips. Some people just don’t understand that there’s real love & then there’s things that aren’t real love, but more just fooling around.

The funny thing is, I think I might have found real love. Maybe some people would say I’m too young to know what real love is. But how do they know what I’m feeling? How can they see the thoughts swirling around in my head? Just b/c I’ve never been in love before doesn’t mean I can’t find real love now. It doesn’t mean I have to wait until I’m older, like in college.

What if I’ve already met my true love?

CHANNEL FOUR

December 30

C
assidy, I’ve got some news.” It was Jerry, the station manager.

“Huh?” Cassidy barely heard him. On her computer, she was rearranging the order of the questions she would ask tonight. Senator Fairview and his wife had agreed to be interviewed by her. By Cassidy Shaw. Live. On prime-time TV. The interview would be carried nationally. This was it at last—her big break.

Everyone in the station was rushing around madly. They had been running a promo nonstop for the last three days, one that showed the by-now infamous clip of Katie Converse handing Senator Fairview a poster board at a Senate hearing. Over it, the graphic designer had laid a specially designed logo—
WHERE IS KATIE?
in jagged-edge type.

Jerry hesitated so long that Cassidy finally looked up.

He gave her an anxious twist of a smile. “Madeline is flying in. The Katie Converse story just keeps growing. It’s national news now, not just local. It’s going to be on the cover of
People
. So Madeline wants in on the action.”

Cassidy’s head jerked up. “Oh no. I will not be bigfooted.”

Madeline McCormick anchored the nightly news for the network that owned Channel Four.

Despite Cassidy’s words, she and Jerry knew that bigfooting happened all the time. A junior reporter would get a lead, do all the work, and then before it could go to air, the more senior reporter would take the story and claim it as his—or in this case, her—own.

“You don’t have a choice,” Jerry said, twisting his hands. “We can’t afford to make Madeline angry.”

“You can’t do this to me. This is my story. I broke it, and I’m the one making it happen.”

“And Maddy appreciates that,” Jerry said, as if he and “Mad Maddy” were now best buddies.

Cassidy was sure he had probably spoken only to the woman’s assistant.

“No, you don’t understand. You know all the good leads I’ve been getting? Well, the sources I have inside this investigation are
my
sources, and my sources only. How do you think I broke the story about Katie’s blog? How do you think I knew before anyone else that the blood on Jalapeño was the dog’s and not Katie’s? You give this story to Madeline and that will be the last we hear from any of my sources, I can promise you that.”

Jerry stared at her. They both knew Cassidy was telling the truth.

She allowed herself a small smile. “Tell you what. Madeline can do the intro and bring viewers up to date. But this is my interview. And mine alone.”

T
hat evening, a calm descended over Cassidy as she waited for a signal that they were on air. Until then, it seemed that the senator and his wife were in no mood for small talk. They sat together on a blue love seat, facing her, but not looking at her or each other. They both wore pained expressions. It was clear that the only reason Senator Fairview was here was to make a last-ditch effort to save his reputation.

What they didn’t know was that Cassidy had instructed one of the cameras always to be on them, even now, before the program officially began. You never knew when an outtake might be the most valuable piece of film you shot. Senator Fairview looking bored, or shifting his eyes from side to side, or ignoring his wife—all of it could be used to make a point in later coverage.

The story had gotten so big that it was now drawing crackpots. Twice now Cassidy had gotten voice mails ordering her to stop asking so many questions about Katie, warning her that it was none of her business. She was hoping that the next call would be even juicier so she could play it on the air.

The cameraman counted down with his fingers, and they were on.

Cassidy took a deep breath. TV viewers sometimes complained that women couldn’t do serious news, not with their tendency to half smile even when announcing horrendous death tolls. Not with their singsong, high-pitched voices. She was careful to keep any hint of a smile from her lips as she spoke in a low-pitched, even voice.

“Senator Fairview, Mrs. Fairview, thank you so much for joining us tonight. Senator, I would like to ask you what everyone in Oregon—and in the nation—is wondering. Do you know what happened to Katie Converse?”

Even as the words left Cassidy’s mouth, Fairview was already answering. “No, I do not.”

Now he looked at her steadily. Next to him on the navy blue love seat, Nancy held her husband’s hand. Her expression had changed to one of concern.

“What was your relationship with Katie, Senator?”

He looked up and to the right, as if he were searching his memory instead of trotting out another carefully rehearsed answer. Cassidy was sure Fairview had practiced every word, every expression, every turn of phrase. Just as she had.

“Well, I met Katie Converse last spring when she applied to be sponsored by me as a Senate page. Which I agreed to do. And then in September she became one of dozens of young people who work as pages in the House and the Senate.”