The Mormon Candidate - a Novel (50 page)

Keera sighed. “I didn’t know that.”

“
Ignorance of the law is not an excuse
.” He
walked back to his car.

She waited, shaking from the cold
.

A few minutes later, he returned.
“Miss Torrens
,” he said,
“
s
eems like
you are fond of speeding—this is
your third offense in the past five years
, which requires
mandatory suspen
sion
of
your license.
This
vehicle will be towed to
the
police pound.
”

“Oh, no! I need my car!”

“Why don’t you call your reporter-boyfriend. He
can meet you at the station and give you a ride home
?
”

“He’s
not available.”

“
Can you
leave him a message
? Surely he
’
ll put aside everything
else
in order to help you.”

“He’s
away
. His phone is off.”

“Where is he?” The trooper pulled out a small writing pad. “I can have our dispatcher contact—”

“I was being followed,” Keera said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why I was speeding and passing illegally. Someone was following me.”

He looked at her doubtfully. “And you waited until now to tell me this?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Why would
anyone
follow you?”

She knew why, but couldn’t tell him.
“Maybe he needs a fashion designer.”

The trooper laughed. “Fair enough. I apologize. But really, do you have any idea why?”

“
A
m I supposed to read every creep’s min
d? I’m telling you the truth. So
me guy followed me from the hospital.”

“How do you know he was following you and not
just
driving
in the same direction
?”

“He was behind me from the
hospital
parking lot, down ninety-five south, then thirty-two west, and on twenty-nine south. When I slowed down, he slowed down, when I went fast, he went fast, and when I changed lanes, he changed lanes. Okay?”

“A persistent guy.” The trooper gestured at the road behind. “Why did he give up?”

“I tricked him. He pass
ed
me, and I took the exit to the two-sixteen west. But I was afraid he
would
catch up. It’s much easier to go fast on a motorcycle.”

“A
motorcycle
?” The trooper’s eyes lit up. “What was he riding? Can you give me a description?”

“A white Ducati.”

“Here.” The trooper handed her the license and registration. “
Observe the speed limit
, okay?”

Keera put away her purse. “That’s it?”

“I heard on the radio that a white Ducati was observed speeding on two-sixteen, heading west. Unfortunately, the officer gave up the pursuit due to dense traffic conditions.”

“Shit!” Keera covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

“
You’re safe now,
Miss Torrens.
Drive straight home.
I’ll be right behind you.” He handed her a business card. “
Keep this handy. Any time
you see anything suspicious
, call me
.”

“Thank you,
O
fficer.”
She looked at the card, which carried the Maryland State
Police
emblem. The lettering was small, and in the poor lighting she had to look closely
to see his name
:
O. Porter
–
Inspector
.

In the bathroom mirror,
Ben’s
cropped
hair was bleached,
as were his eyebrows and eyelashes. H
is face was clean shaven. He
used the towel to brush
off
his shoulder
s
and chest.

“Wait a minute!” Streep made him turn. “What’s this?”

They congregated around him and peered at the tattoo on
the back of
his shoulder. It depicted a football helmet with
a
Bud
Light
logo on
it.

“The real
helmet
cracked
,” Ben said. “
It s
aved my head, but
m
y mom threw
it
away with the rest of my
football
gear,
which
made me real angry
when I came home from the hospital
.”

“A tattoo,” Streep said, “is a great way to get back at your mom.”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed. “She lost her voice from all the yelling.
It was great
.”

Dreyfuss touched it with a finger. “It has to come off.”

“
What?
”

“Mormons don’t have
tattoos.”

“Why not?”

“What do you think? No coffee,
no booze
,
no cigarettes,
but
self-mutilation would be ok
ay? Advertising beer, no less? It’ll blow your cover!
”

“They won’t see it.
”

“In the temple,” Dreyfuss said, “
you’ll be taking off your clothes. T
hey’ll see everything.”

“
Then let’s
paint it over with a
black
Sharpie,” Ben said. “It’ll look like a birthmark.”

“
A black birthmark
of this size
,” Powell said, “
will freak them out.
The
y’ll think it’s the
mark
of Lucifer
. It’ll draw more attention than if you had a third nipple. Security will be called, they’ll contact Salt Lake City to check your personal file—or rather,” he glanced at the stolen Temple Recommend Card, “the file of
Sampson
Allard
—
and find out there’s no mention of
either
birthmark
or
a third nipple.”

Ben rubbed his shoulder, feeling the skin over his tattoo. “Removing it will take too long. It’s a complicated process. We don’t have time for this.”

“
I
have just the thing for it
,” Rex said. “It’s
going to hurt a bit, but you’ll
be
fine
.
”

Porter watched the blue Mustang drive away. On his iPad, he activated the tracer he had dropped into Keera’s handbag. The blinking locator beacon moved
down Guilford R
oad
and turned right at Great Star toward Rt. 32
. He switched screens and typed a text message to the
G
host:

Girlfriend doesn’t know where
he is
.

Tracer is in her purse.
She’ll be home soon.

Watch her
until he shows up
.

Satisfied,
Porter turned o
ff
the rolling lights and started after her
,
providing the escort he had promised.

Fifteen minutes later,
the Mustang
pulled into
the
garage. He waited outside until
the lights came on inside
the townhome
. She
waved at him from a window on the second floor. He waved back and drove away.

Rex and Powell held his arms, and Dreyfuss
gripped
his head, keeping it
forward, facing him
. “Take deep breaths,” he said. “One. Two,
t
hree.”

“It’s just liquid nitrogen,” Rex said. “We used it to freeze moles from cows’ udders. It leaves a blister, that’s all.”

Ben heard
a hissing noise behind him and twitched involuntarily.

“Breathe,” Dreyfuss said. “Deep!”

The hissing noise changed as Streep adjusted the
sprayer
.

“Careful,” Powell said. “Layer by layer, or you’ll
freeze
his muscles.”

“
Hold him
,” she said.

Ben tried to look over his shoulder. He felt
the three men tighten their grip
.

“Okay,” Streep said. “Don’t move!”

It felt as if fire touched
his shoulder. He struggl
ed
to get away
.
She continued to spray in short bursts, and t
he pain flar
ed
up, radiating throughout his body. He
shouted, “Enough!”

“Almost done,” Streep said. “Don’t be a baby.”

Keera watched the Ford sedan drive
away. She felt as if a belt were
tightening around her chest
, making it hard
to breath
e
.
Until he gave her his card, i
t had not occurred to her for a moment that he
was
anything other than a state trooper on a routine stop of a reckless motorist.

But his name was on the card
.
O. Porter – Inspector
.
It was the same guy
Ben
had seen remove a floppy dis
k
from the body of Zachariah Hinckley
, which he later claimed was
a porn DVD.
Porter’s appearance tonight
could
not
be a coincidence. He must
have coordinated
with
the
Ghost
, trying to
flu
sh out Ben by having her call him for help.

And
w
hat about Fran? She’
s also a state t
rooper. Are they working together, some kind of an operation to protect the presidential candidate?
The discussion last night, when Fran made a case for Keera to leave Ben, suddenly took an ominous light. Was Fran trying to cause a crisis so that Ben would be forced to show up? Keera felt helpless. Fran had gone to high school with Ben, and they
had
reconnected when Ben was investigating a case involving
a rigged s
tate
p
olice bidding process. At the time, Fran had tried to dissuade Ben from investigating
it
, but when he found the dirt, she had apologized. Was
this another case of conflicting loyalties? Wa
s she friend or
foe?

Keera closed the
curtains and sat on the bed. “Goddamn you, Ben!” She hugged his pillow. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

The phone rang—not her iPhone, but the
land line
. She checked the caller ID.
Johns Hopkins Medical Center.
She answ
ered.

It was a classmate, Jerry, who was taking
overnight
call
with the chief resident
in the Critical Care Unit
. He
had a question about a patient they had seen together during morning rounds.

She answered his question, but then
an idea
occurred to her. “
A
re you tired?”

“
Very funny. It’s not just tonight. I’m looking at three nights in a row—payback time for all the calls I switched with others when the baby was coming.
And the chief resident is overloaded, so I’m getting—
”

“
Then you’re in luck. M
y boyfriend is away. I hate being alone at home. Do you want me to take over?”

There was silence on the other side. “
Really
?”

“
Say yes before I change my mind.
”