The Election (25 page)

As he often did, Charlie Armacost ate lunch in the cafeteria located in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. The food was terrible, but the location was convenient. He refused to be away from his office for any sustained period of time. Particularly today. Anything could happen, and he had to be ready. He even cut his lunch break fifteen minutes short.

Charlie rode the elevator from the basement to the fifth floor and made his way through the meandering hallway of white walls and gray industrial carpet to his office suite. He constantly ran the information from the investigation through the computer in his head, trying to make all the pieces fit, but something was still missing.

What is it?

He passed his secretary's work station and empty chair and opened the door to his office.

A startled shriek rose from behind his desk. His secretary, Marcia Naylor, was holding a set of documents and photographs.

“What are you doing?” Charlie demanded.

“I-I'm l-looking for those documents you wanted me to send to LA,” she replied.

But it was obvious to Charlie from her demeanor that she was lying.

“Give me those.” Charlie pointed at the items in Marcia's hands.

She hesitated, and then reluctantly surrendered her possessions.

Charlie quickly realized what they were: copies of the F-PAC documents and photographs of Raoul at the Thompson murder scene. He shuffled through the items to make sure nothing was missing, and then looked up at her again. “What were you doing with these?”

“She was getting them for me,” a voice responded from behind Charlie.

Charlie pivoted and saw Saul Sanders standing in the doorway.

“For you?” Charlie growled. He was dumbfounded. Sanders's mole had been right under his nose the whole time. “Both of you get out of my office,” he demanded.

Sanders smirked. “You're over your head, Armacost. You can't stop what's happening. This thing is bigger than you. It's bigger than the FBI. And, as soon as it is over, you're finished. Come on, Marcia.”

Marcia hurried past Charlie and through the door to the safety beyond Sanders.

Charlie's anger burned hotter as he watched the two walk toward Sanders's office. As soon as he could no longer see them, he called for George McCullough.

George responded immediately. He was always at Charlie's beck and call. “What is it, Charlie?” George inquired as he dashed into Charlie's office.

“Sanders. I now know that he's into this up to his neck with Winston. And I want to take him down. Whatever it takes, I want Sanders to go down with this. Pull out all the stops. Ed Burke can't win this election. If he does, the world as we know it will no longer exist.”

“It's that bad?” George asked.

“It's that bad.”

Jackson-Madison County General Hospital, Jackson, Tennessee

Jake's weekly Thursday morning appearance in bankruptcy court ended at eleven forty-five, and that allowed him to keep his commitment to visit Jed in the hospital every day during lunch. The daily visits didn't completely eliminate his feelings of guilt, but they helped—at least for one brief hour in the middle of the day.

Jake pulled into the west parking lot and began circling through, looking for an empty space. It took five minutes to find one, and then Jake entered the hospital through the automatic sliding doors.

The deputy-sheriff sentinel no longer stood at attention outside Jed's room since it had become apparent to all concerned that Jed couldn't escape. Jake could hear Naomi's and Ruth's voices as he neared room 741.

“Jed,” he heard Naomi say through the crack in the door, “this is your momma. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

“This is Ruth, Jed. Open your eyes for me. Let me see your eyes.”

Jake knocked lightly on the door, and the pleading stopped.

“Come in,” Ruth called.

Jake pushed the door open, wide enough to walk in, then closed it behind him. Naomi was standing on the right side of Jed's bed and Ruth on the left.

“Jake,” Naomi said, “it's so good to see you.”

“Hello, Ms. McClellan. Ruth.” Jake nodded in the direction of each woman. “How is he doing today?”

“Not good.” Ruth seemed despondent. “The doctor said they ain't seen no brain activity since they brought Jed in.” She was talking to Jake but looking at Jed. She gently ran her hand up and down Jed's arm.

“The doctor told us to talk to him as much as we could to see if we could get some kinda response,” Naomi explained. “But so far we ain't seen nothin'.”

Although Jake knew the report was realistic, it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Somehow he'd hoped for the impossible…pleaded with the heavens for the impossible…that Jed would be awake when he arrived, and everything would be OK.

“Did the doctor say how much longer before Jed will wake up?” Jake asked.

“He's not sure he ever will,” Naomi replied. “He may be like this the rest of his life, but we ain't givin' up on him.”

Jake saw the resilience in both women's faces. Their determination. Their courage. He believed them when they said they weren't going to give up.

“The two of you are a lot stronger than I am,” Jake commented. “I don't know what I would do if something happened to my wife or one of my kids. I don't think I could handle it as well as the two of you have handled this.”

“You have to remember that God is in control, and that everything happens for a purpose,” Naomi responded without hesitation.

Jake heard what Naomi said, but he didn't understand it. He refused to believe that anything good could come from Jed's attempted suicide. How could it? Jed was near death. Medically he might even be considered dead. And that meant his young children were without a father, Ruth was without a husband, and Naomi was without her only child.

Jake couldn't see anything good about it. “Ms. McClellan, are you saying you think
God
caused Jed to attempt suicide?”

“God didn't cause it,” she said swiftly. “But there's some purpose for it. We may never know what it is, but God will use this for the good of his kingdom.”

Jake still couldn't understand what Naomi was telling him. God didn't cause Jed to attempt suicide, but he would use it for some common good? That didn't even make sense. Couldn't God see the pain that Jed's family had endured? If he truly was a merciful God, then he would wake Jed up right now and answer the prayers of these two women.

Jake wanted to shake his head in disbelief and raise his fist to the heavens in frustration—that God could just sit by and let all this happen.

Instead he eyed Naomi. It was clear in her expression that she believed every word she'd said. There was no need to prod her any further.

“I've got to get back to the office,” Jake finally said, breaking the silence. “I have some phone calls to return.”

“Thanks for comin' by,” Ruth said. “I'll tell Jed you were here.”

After Jake left the room, he hesitated outside the door before walking to the elevator. He heard Ruth and Naomi resume their pleas for Jed to awake.

 

Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

By midafternoon Thursday the cold drizzle and gray clouds moved offshore, and rays of sunshine began to brighten the dismal weather conditions on the island. The sunshine was also an antidote to what ailed Claudia, starting the slow healing process within her. Just as life returned to the beach behind Eden, it also began to return to Claudia. The self-imposed feeling of loneliness, although not gone completely, began to disappear. She could see a way out of this valley of despair.

She walked onto the veranda and was invigorated by the cool breeze that had moved in after the rain. She inhaled the fresh sea air, and her mind began to clear. The depressive thoughts that had haunted her since last night were replaced with thoughts of survival. She wasn't going to be beaten again.

Each time she had faced a difficult situation in the past—her failed marriage to Jimmy, her relationship with her mother—her only defense had been to run. Even when Uncle Samuel called about her mother's cancer, Claudia refused to even consider going to see her.

Somehow she thought that if she hid, her problems would go away. She was beginning to realize that problems never go away. They would affect every minute of her life. Every decision she'd made in the last twenty years had been made because she was running from one problem or the other. But not this time. She wasn't going to run this time. Even if she was scared.

Claudia went back inside and picked up the letter that Milton had sent with the key. She read it again. If she truly was going to win this time, she knew there was only one thing to do.

 

Reed residence, Jackson, Tennessee

In the early hours on Friday morning, Nick Herod sat in his car two blocks from Jake Reed's house on Magnolia Lane. He looked around for any signs of life. He was a hired thug, a mercenary, and had no convictions about any assignment he received. He'd spent two years on Rikers Island in the late 1980s for some petty larceny crimes. The prosecutor, Saul Sanders, had offered a light sentence in exchange for Nick's handling of some “delicate matters.” Nick had agreed. During the last fifteen years he had completed several “assignments” for Sanders. The pay was always good, and Nick enjoyed the work. So he was eager when Sanders called with the latest assignment.

All the lights in the Reed house had been out for over an hour, so Nick was certain everyone was asleep. He closely watched all the neighbors' houses, to make sure they could not see him either. He unscrewed the bulb in the dome light before he opened the door. After easing the door shut, he disappeared into a grove of trees in front of a house two doors up from the Reed house. He was clothed from head to toe in black, so it was virtually impossible for anyone to see him.

Stealthily he made his way from tree to tree through the adjoining yards until he reached the southeast corner of the Reed house. Staying in the shadows, he slid along the brick exterior to the back of the house until he reached the control box that operated the alarm system.

Slowly he opened the door to the box, exposing several wires of different colors. He smiled to himself when he recognized the wiring configuration from one of the many he had studied. He ran the small wires through his fingers until he found the yellow one. One swift snip with a pair of pliers, and the alarm system was disabled. There would be no call to the police to report his intrusion.

Nick then moved to the double French doors that led to a back patio and retrieved a pack of locksmith tools from his pocket. He removed a slender, flat blade from the pack and, just as quickly as he'd disarmed the alarm system, he unlocked the French doors. Stepping inside, he quietly closed the doors behind him.

Nick found himself standing in a small study on the main floor. He knew the interior of the house from a set of blueprints he'd obtained from the local building department the previous day. It was a good thing. The books and pictures in the room were barely discernible in the faint moonlight that shone through the window panes of the French doors.

Nick moved swiftly to the door leading to the rest of the house. He knew the master bedroom was on the main level, and that the children's bedrooms were upstairs.

The stairs to the second level were just outside the study door. Nick began to ascend the steep staircase slowly and methodically. One step at a time. His right foot followed by his left. The interior of the house was almost completely dark. He had memorized the number of steps—eighteen in all—from the blueprints and now counted them in his head as his right foot landed on the next step.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.
As he put his full weight on the step, a loud
creak-k-k
vibrated from under his foot.

 

Rachel elbowed Jake in the middle of the night. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he mumbled, mostly asleep.

“That noise.”

“What noise?”

“That creaking sound on the stairs,” Rachel said, now shaking Jake violently. “I think someone is in the house.”

He woke slowly. “There's no one in the house. This is exactly why I had that expensive alarm system installed. So you wouldn't think someone was in the house.”

“Just go look this one time,” Rachel begged. “Please.”

“If there was someone in the house, the dog would be barking,” Jake said, thinking he had found a way to satisfy Rachel that would keep him warm and cozy in their bed.

“I didn't bring the dog in before we came to bed,” Rachel reminded him. “Please, Jake,” she pleaded. “Go and look.”

Jake lay there with his eyes closed, hoping she would either give up, or go look herself. He knew there was no one in the house, and he did not want to get up.

She nudged him again.

“Oh, all right,” he said in a resigned tone.

Jake slung the bed covers back, got out of his warm bed, and put on his bathrobe. He barely opened his eyes as he began walking down the hall to the family room. He checked every room on the lower level of the house. Nothing. He was convinced that Rachel was crazy and that he would never get back to sleep. He thought about not going upstairs, but he knew Rachel would ask if he'd checked the children's rooms when he returned to bed. Then he would have to get up again. He might as well save himself the trouble. The kids probably needed the covers pulled up again anyway.

 

Nick heard steps and hid in the linen closet at the end of the upstairs hallway. He pulled the door closed but left a crack between the door and the doorjamb so he could peek out. Nick saw a man in a bathrobe as he reached the top of the stairs.

He's walking this way
, Nick thought.
If he opens this door, I'm going to have to kill him to get out of here.

 

Jake looked in every room, and all the kids were sound asleep.

I knew there was nobody in the house. One of these days Rachel is going to start listening to me.

He had checked on Courtney last. Her room was the last one on the right at the end of the hall. He closed the door to her room and turned back toward the hallway. As he did, he noticed that the linen closet door was slightly ajar. He pushed it from the outside until he heard the click of the pin sliding into the metal plate in the door-frame casing.

Rachel was sitting up in the bed when he returned to the bedroom.

“Everybody is fine,” Jake reported as he removed his robe.

“Did you check everywhere?”

“Everywhere,” he confirmed.

“Did you go upstairs?”

“Of course I went upstairs.”

“I swear I heard something,” Rachel said.

“One of these days…,” Jake muttered and climbed back into bed.

Her tone was icy. “Oh, shut up.”

 

Nick was sweating profusely in the cramped linen closet but resolved to stay for fifteen minutes after Jake left before he opened the door. He pressed a button on the side of his watch that caused the backlight to illuminate.
3:30.

When the self-imposed fifteen minutes of confinement had elapsed, Nick edged the door open and peered down the hall. He could see no one. He walked carefully to the balcony that overlooked the family room. He listened for any sounds that might indicate someone was awake downstairs. Nothing.

Turning back toward the bedrooms that lined the opposite side of the hall, he opened the last door on the right. His instructions were specific.