Hearts in the Crosshairs (11 page)

“My, you are keeping up with the statehouse scuttlebutt, aren’t you?”

He laughed, slightly embarrassed. She grinned at him.

“I suppose we could have waited and had our talk at the Blaine House, as usual.” She sat back in her chair. “I’m about
done here for tonight, but if I went over now, there would barely be time between when we got there and dinner. I wouldn’t want to be rude to the chef, but I’d hate to make you wait. I don’t suppose you’d sit down to dinner with Naomi and me?”

Dave gritted his teeth. “Thank you, but I’m sure there’s some rule or other against that.”

“Thought so.” Jillian crossed her legs and smiled. “So. Where are we in the investigation?”

“I have a list of eight people I’m looking hard at. I intend to interview all of them again within the next week.”

“People I know?”

“Some.” He took a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and passed it to her. “Half of them are people who worked with Tanger before he was incarcerated.”

“Who else?” She looked down at the list, frowning. Dave took the opportunity to stare without reproach. She was beautiful, even if she didn’t look happy. He realized that she’d started talking, and he wasn’t listening.

“I can understand why you think Raymond Grant might have it in for me. He’s a dedicated lobbyist, and I’ve butted heads with him many times—including this afternoon—over the petroleum issue.”

“Grant has a lot riding on what happens during your administration. If the study you’re pushing for leads you and your advisors to believe that drilling in the Gulf of Maine would be inadvisable—”

“For environmental reasons,” she put in.

“For whatever reasons. That would cost Raymond Grant a bundle. He’s banking on getting a green flag to drill.”

“He knows we have to consider all the possibilities. I’m not against drilling for oil here, if we can do it safely. But I don’t think the federal government will let us move in that direction,
even if we find that it would benefit the people of Maine in every conceivable way. And if it’s found to be risky…”

“Grant knows all that. But if he’d seen someone elected who was gung ho on the project, his stock would have climbed. He and his colleagues are pressuring you to hurry up that study, aren’t they?”

She put one hand to her forehead and sighed. “Somewhat.” She looked back down at the list. “I thought you’d ruled out Parker Tilton.”

“He’s still first in line to be governor if anything happens to you. We haven’t found a solid motive other than that, but we can’t totally exclude him from the equation. Ditto for your opponent in the election, Peter Harrison.”

She stood and paced to the tall window, where she looked down at the grounds and street below. Dave resisted the instinct to tell her not to stand in the window like that.

At last she turned and came back to her chair. “Why are we still looking at these people?”

“You know why.”

She exhaled heavily. “We can’t prove Stevenson acted alone. We can’t prove he fired at me from the parking garage—yet. But if someone hired him—and even if there was more than one gunman in the three shooting attempts—isn’t the connection to Roderick Tanger strong enough?”

“No. I’m sorry. We haven’t found any communication between the two of them since Tanger went to jail.”

“Who’s running his business now?”

“His old network seems to have splintered. Those first four names are people who worked for him. They all have other connections now, some legal and some not. We’re investigating very thoroughly, and some of them may face unrelated criminal charges. But Tanger seems to be a drone now that he’s behind
bars. The corrections system may have successfully isolated him from his former contacts.”

“How can we know that for sure?” she asked. “Aren’t there always leaks?”

Dave didn’t like her thinking, but she was right. “We can’t know everything. I’m praying hard that if there’s something there, we’ll find it, so the case will break and we can assure you that you’re safe.”

“Can I stop wearing a bulletproof vest every time I go out now? I wore one to the opening of a new elementary school yesterday, for crying out loud!”

“I’m sorry that was necessary.”

“I know you’re frustrated, too. Can’t we just trust God that this is over and act normal?” she asked.

“That would be great. But if we were wrong…”

Jillian raised her chin. “I pray for the same thing over and over. ‘Let the EPU guys find something, Lord! Give us proof that this Stevenson was a crazy who resented me for putting his boss in the slammer.’”

“God doesn’t always answer our prayers in the way or in the time frame that we think is best.”

“I know. Yes, I know that’s true.” She lowered her forehead into her hands and closed her eyes. “If he wasn’t in touch with Tanger, why would he care about me?”

“Another option I’ve considered is that Stevenson had a new boss after Tanger was put away. Someone else who resented you. He might be doing the same line of work he did for Tanger, but for someone else.”

“But we don’t know who.”

Dave glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching them on the closed-circuit cameras. “Is it…truly private in here?”

“Yes. If you mean is our conversation being recorded, it’s not.”

He eyed her cautiously for a long moment. When she met
his gaze again, he asked softly, “Would it be all right if we prayed about this together?”

“I…” She sat still, looking into his eyes. Gradually her lips slipped into a weary smile. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

He reached across her desk and took her hands in his, and bowed his head.

“H
ey, Hutchins, wait up.”

Dave paused and let the other officers pass him, emptying the duty room after the Wednesday-morning briefing. Carl Millbridge hung back, glaring stonily at him.

Dave waited just inside the doorway, wishing at least one other officer had lingered behind.

“What’s up, Carl?”

“You’ve been going over all the interviews I did in the governor’s case since inauguration day.”

“That’s right.” Dave leaned back against the door frame. “I figured I’d read through all the data we’ve collected again. Is there a problem?”

“Not really. But I can tell you, there’s nothing there.”

Dave shrugged, not sure where Millbridge was going with this. “It can’t hurt to go over what we have and see if we missed anything.”

Carl gave him a long, dark look. “I didn’t miss anything.”

“Probably not. But it will help me get a fuller picture if I read other people’s reports again. Not just yours. I aim to read through everybody’s until I either find something to pursue or we get some new leads. We need to be aggressive on this case.”

“What, you think I haven’t been aggressive enough?”

“I didn’t say that. But I’d have thought we could have had the ballistics report back on Stevenson’s rifle in less than ten days.”

“The lab was backlogged. Someone had vacation last week.”

“So? I could have run a few rounds through that gun myself and checked the slugs. So could you. An hour tops, and we’d have known. This is our most important case ever, and we’re waiting for some tech to get back from vacation?”

“Well, we know now, don’t we?” Carl leaned toward Dave, his face a deep red.

At that moment, Lieutenant Wilson breezed through the doorway, almost smacking into Dave, who stepped quickly to one side.

Wilson stopped and looked back and forth between them.

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Carl said.

Wilson eyed him dubiously.

“Just discussing the fact that the rifle from Stevenson’s apartment was the same one used on top of the parking garage at the end of January,” Dave said.

“Yes. That’s the good news and the bad, isn’t it?” Wilson said.

Dave nodded. “It ties it up almost too neatly.”

“You’re just mad because there’s no one left for you to chase,” Carl muttered.

“No. I’m skeptical because, so far as we can tell, Stevenson had no motive. With the bits and pieces we’ve put together, I’m saying it was money, and that means someone was paying him. But who?”

“A lot of people are working on that,” Wilson said. “The only people who’ve visited Tanger in prison for the last six months are his lawyer and his sister. I wish we could say it’s over and close the file.” He sighed. “You’ll have to call Payson and brief him for a press conference today, Millbridge.”

Dave still wondered if they’d pushed hard enough. He had
to tread carefully, though. If he seemed too eager, someone might suspect he was developing personal feelings for the governor, and he would lose his job. He strived to keep his relationship with her strictly by-the-book, but he knew he was losing his heart. And if he were really honest with himself, he’d say he’d already lost it.

As for Carl, Dave had seen a tendency in him to hog the glory for the unit’s successes, but accept none of the blame for their lack of results. Only a few days ago, Wilson had called Dave into his office and asked him some hard questions about the investigation. The lieutenant’s probing had prompted Dave to hope Wilson would remove Carl from the lead position in the investigation. So far he hadn’t hinted at such a course.

But Dave was still the one briefing the governor twice a week. He’d gotten the assignment by default that first day—the two more senior investigating officers had gone off duty before the governor was free for a meeting. Somehow, he’d hung on to the duty. He hadn’t asked why, for fear the responsibility would be passed to Carl and he would no longer see Jillian regularly.

Those briefings were Dave’s only contact with her. He didn’t want to lose that. He couldn’t.

Jillian both loved and hated public hearings. They were a good way to get information to and from the people. Anyone could attend and ask questions of the lawmakers before they passed new legislation. However, when a controversial topic drew a large crowd and the question-and-answer time got out of hand, a hearing could turn into a free-for-all.

The bill under consideration today, which would fund large-scale alternative energy studies, threatened to be one of the noisy ones, where extra security was needed.

“I’m not sure you should go in there,” Andrew Browne said
Friday morning in her office. “There’s a big crowd downstairs, and we’ve moved them to a larger room. The chairman is having a hard time quieting them down.”

“It’s a subject everyone has an opinion about,” Jillian noted. “But it’s also one I campaigned on vigorously. I promised my constituents that we’d take a fair look at all the options. I owe it to them to show up and confirm that we’ll go forward with these studies. Maine needs to become more energy independent, and I’m not giving up on this because some people disagree with me.”

“All right, if you insist.”

“Andrew, I’m not trying to make your job more difficult. However, I need to live up to my promises.”

“I understand.”

They stepped into the outer office. Lettie stood and walked over to her.

“Chin up, my dear. Stick to what you’ve planned to say, and you’ll be fine.”

A uniformed officer joined them as they left the office. He took up a position outside the hearing room. Detective Stephanie Drake was waiting to accompany Jillian and Andrew inside.

A hush fell over the room as the Utilities and Energy Committee’s chairman, Louis Moore, introduced her. Jillian was glad he would moderate the meeting. He always kept things moving and knew procedure inside out. She tried to project confidence as she strode to the lectern. Moore stood back, holding his ceremonial gavel with both hands.

“Welcome, Governor.”

“Thank you, Senator Moore.” Jillian turned to face the audience and was glad to see Dave slip in the side door halfway back. His presence always calmed her. “Thank you all for turning out on such a brutally cold day.”

A slight ripple of laughter spread through the first few rows.
She didn’t see many faces she recognized, other than the small contingent from the press, a couple of lobbyists and the committee members.

She launched into her prepared statement about the need for low-cost and environmentally friendly energy.

“In addition, I want to see the exploration for oil go ahead in Maine waters,” she concluded. “The required safety measures would make this doable, without the threat of disaster. We want to contain our energy costs and bring more jobs to Maine.”

Sporadic clapping began, but a murmuring overrode it. Jillian moved aside and let Moore speak into the microphone.

“The governor has graciously agreed to take a few questions. Her tight schedule won’t allow more, so keep your queries brief.” He called on a reporter from the local newspaper, the
Kennebec Journal.

“Governor, would you advocate the return of nuclear power plants to Maine if the federal government approved it?” the woman asked.

“I don’t see this as an option any time in the near future, so it’s not high on my list of energy alternatives,” Jillian explained. “As you know, the Maine Yankee plant closed in 1996, and we haven’t had a nuclear energy presence in Maine since. Other sources of energy are much less expensive and less controversial, although nuclear plants are safer now than they were in the past. If the economic situation changed and the option arose, I would ask the people of Maine whether or not they wanted to go that route again.”

She glanced at Dave, but he wasn’t watching her. Instead, he was watching the crowd. Jillian cast aside her mild disappointment. He was doing his job, and looking at her wouldn’t keep her safe.

The moderator called on a man Jillian didn’t recognize, but
he carried a notebook and wore a sport jacket and tie, which led her to assume he was a journalist.

“Governor, what makes you think drilling for oil in the Gulf of Maine won’t ruin our ecosystem?”

The murmuring swelled. Jillian couldn’t tell if the crowd disliked his question or her stance on the issue.

Moore leaned toward the microphone. “Folks, let’s settle down and let the governor speak, please.”

She looked out over the packed room. At least two hundred people had squeezed in, and the air felt close. Everyone waited for her answer. “As I’ve said before, I’m in favor of exploring any economically viable sources of energy. I’ve done a great deal of research on this topic, and I’ve talked to people who are experts in petroleum production. I’ve also consulted the governors of Texas, Alaska and other oil-producing states in order to educate myself on this issue.”

The people again began to talk among themselves. Jillian waited for the buzz to subside, but it didn’t. Once again, Moore asked the audience to give her the floor.

Jillian pulled in a deep breath. “We need to be sure that anything we do to help our economy won’t endanger the fragile ecosystem in the gulf. Not only—”

A man at the back of the room shouted, “So, Governor, you want to ruin our fishing and kill our tourism?”

Jillian scanned the faces, but couldn’t pick out the heckler. She saw Dave take several steps in the direction of the voice.

“On the contrary,” she said firmly into the microphone. “I want to make sure we don’t do that. I have solid plans for developing renewable energy sources while we investigate this further. We want to be sure a project this big is truly good for Maine before we put a lot of money into it.”

“You sound like a bureaucrat, lady! You’ve sold out to Washington.”

Jillian’s heart raced and she felt her face flush. She clenched her teeth and zeroed in on the man who had shouted. Dave and two other security officers moved toward him through the crowd.

As the officers took hold of the man’s arms and turned him toward the door, she forced herself to smile. “Thank you for your input.”

The people in the nearer rows chuckled.

“Maybe now would be a good time to make your exit,” Louis Moore said quietly.

She smiled at the audience. “Again, thank you for coming.”

Stephanie was at Jillian’s elbow. A few steps away, Andrew was clearing a path for them toward the nearest door. The moderator tapped on the lectern with his gavel. “Folks, calm down or we’ll have to dismiss the hearing.”

In her peripheral vision, Jillian caught a glimpse of Dave and the officers hustling the heckler down the hallway toward the exit. Andrew walked quickly ahead of her toward the elevator. Stephanie stayed a step behind her all the way.

As they left the elevator and crossed the open area toward Jillian’s office, the guard swung the door open. She and the two detectives went inside, and he closed it behind them.

Jillian looked at Andrew and Stephanie. “Whew.”

Lettie rose and hurried toward her. “What happened? Bad crowd?”

“It got a little dicey,” Andrew admitted. “Governor, maybe you should sit down.”

“Yes,” Lettie said. “Can I get you some tea?”

“Thank you, that sounds good.” Jillian walked to her inner office and sank into the chair behind her desk. A public meeting had never shaken her so much. Was it just that one man, or did the whole roomful of people oppose her? Or were these jitters because of the shootings?

Lettie entered a few minutes later with a cup of tea on a tray, followed by Stephanie.

“Are you all right?” Lettie asked.

Jillian nodded and reached for the china cup. “Yes. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I got a little taste of this during the campaign. But today…”

Stephanie nodded. “That guy was a little scary.”

“They’d all been through a metal detector, though,” Lettie added.

“Yes.” Stephanie’s voice held some reservation, and Jillian looked up at her quickly.

“Do you think the environmentalists planted that heckler?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Our investigators will look into it, you can be sure.” Stephanie grinned. “Dave Hutchins and Carl Millbridge are probably duking it out right now over who gets to question that guy.”