catch in her throat and rushed to forestall it with pressure from her
fingers.
She got up and moved through the house, peering cautiously into each
room and then backing away, growing more and more nervous as she
penetrated further and further into her father’s domain. The bedroom
door was ajar, and she finally decided to push it open all the way. As
she moved into the room, she risked turning on a light, and as her eyes
adjusted to the exit from darkness they fell upon the nightstand and she
drew nearer, finally sitting down on the bed.
The collection of photographs was, in essence, a small shrine to her.
From the earliest age upward, her life was retold here. Each night as
her father went to sleep, the last thing he saw was her. But what
shocked her the most were the photos from later in life. Her graduation
from college and law school. Her father had certainly not been invited
to these events, but they were recorded here. None of the photos were
posed. She was either walking or waving to someone or just standing
there obviously unaware of the camera’s presence.
She moved on to the last photo. She was walking down the steps of the
Alexandria Courthouse. Her first day in coum nervous as hell. A
petty-misdemeanor case, General District Court Mickey Mouse stuff, but
the big smile on her face proclaimed nothing less than absolute victory.
And she wondered how’in the world she had never seen him. And then she
wondered if she had but just would not admit it.
Her immediate reaction was anger. Her father had been spying on her all
these years. All those special moments of her life. He had violated
them. Violated her with his uninvited presence.
Her second reaction was more subtle. And as she felt it rising through
her she abruptly jumped up from the bed and turned to flee the room.
That’s when she thudded right into the big man standing there.
“AGAIN, I’M SORRY, MA’AM, I DIDN’T MEAN TO STARTLE YOU.”
“Startle me? You scared the living hell out of me.” Kate sat on the
side of the bed, trying to regain her nerves, to stop shaking, but the
chill in the house didn’t help.
“Excuse me, but why is the Secret Service interested in my father?”
She looked at Bill Burton with something akin to fear in her eyes. At
least he read it as fear. He had watched her in the bedroom, swiftly
gauging her motives, her intent from her subtle body movements. A skill
he had spent years developing, scanning endless crowds for the one or
two true dangers that might be lurking there. His conclusions: estranged
daughter and father. She had finally come looking for him.
Things started to add up, and maybe in a very positive way for his
purposes.
“We’re not really, Ms. Whitney. But the police in Middleton County sure
as hell are.”
“Middleton?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure you’ve read about the Christine Sullivan
homicide.” He let that statement hang out there to test her reaction. He
got the expected one. Complete disbelief.
“You think my father had something to do with that?” It was a
legitimately asked question. And not one framed particularly
defensively. Burton deemed that significant and another positive for his
plan, which had been forming the minute he’d laid eyes on her.
“The detective in charge of the case does. Apparently your father, as
part of a carpet cleaning crew, and using a false name, was in the
Sullivans’ house a short time before the murder.”
Kate caught her breath. Her father cleaning carpets? Of course, he had
been casing the place. Figuring its weaknesses, just like before.
Nothing had changed. But murder?
“I can’t believe he killed that woman.”
“Right, but you can believe he was trying to burgle that house can’t
you, Ms. Whitney? I mean this isn’t the first time, is it, or. the
second?”
Kate looked down at her hands. Finally she shook her head.
“People change, ma’am. I don’t know how close you’ve been to your father
lately’@-Burton noted the small but discernible jerk in her
expression—–@’but the evidence is pretty strong that he was involved