would remain.
Thanks for the charitable contribution. It will be greatly appreciated.
Also appreciate the extra rope you just gam me to hang you. About that
item ue had discussed, it’s no longer for sale. Now that I think about
it, the cops will probably need it for the trial. Oh, by the way, FUCK
YOU!
It was all she could do to stagger up. Extra rope? She couldn’t think,
she couldn’t function. She first thought to call Burton, but then
realized he would not be at the White House. Then it hit her. She raced
to the TV. The six o’clock news was just recounting a late-breaking
story. A daring police operation conducted jointly by the Middleton
County Police Department and Alexandria City Police had netted a suspect
in the Christine Sullivan murder case. A shot had been fired by an
unknown gunman. The target was assumed to be the suspect.
Russell watched as footage from the Middleton police station was run.
She saw Luther Whitney, staring straight ahead, not in any way
attempting to hide his face, walk up the steps. He was far older than
she had imagined he would be. He looked like a school principal. That
was the man who had watched her … It never even occurred to her that
Luther had been arrested for a crime she knew he had not committed. Not
that that revelation would have prompted her to do anything. As the
cameraman swung around, she glimpsed Bill Burton with Collin behind him
as they stood listening to Detective Seth Frank make a statement to the
press.
The goddamn incompetent bastards! He was in custody.
He was in fucking custody and she had a message right there in her hand
that guaranteed the guy was going to make sure they were all brought
down. She had trusted Burton and Collin, the President had trusted them,
and they had failed, failed miserably. She could hardly believe how
Burton could be standing there so calmly while their entire world was
about to flame out, like a suddenly used-up star.
Her next thought surprised even her. She raced to the bathroom, tore
open the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first bottle she saw. How many
pills would be enough? Ten? A hundred?
She twisted at the cap but her shaking hands couldn’t get it off. She
continued to struggle; finally the pills spilled into the sink. She
scooped up a handful and then stopped. In the mirror, her reflection
stared back. For the first time she realized how much she had aged. The
eyes were gaunt, her cheeks had caved in and her hair lookedas if it
were graying before her eyes.
She looked at the mass of green in her hand. She couldn’t do it. Despite
her world shattering in front of her, she could not do it. She flushed
the pills, turned out the light. She telephoned the senator’s office.
Sickness would prevent her from attending. She had just lain down on the
bed when the knock came.
At first it seemed like the distant beating of drums. Would they have a
warrant? What did she have that could incriminate her? The note! She
tore it out of her pocket and tossed it in the fireplace. As it ignited
and a burst of flame sailed up the chimney, she smoothed down her dress,
put on her pumps and walked out of the room.
For the second time a stab of pain seared her chest as her eyes fell
upon Bill Burton at the front door. Without a word he walked in, threw
off his coat and went straight to the liquor.
She slammed the door.
“Great job, Burton. Brilliant. You took care of everything beautifully.
Where’s your sidekick? Getting his damned eyes examined?”
Burton sat down with his drink. “Shut up and listen.”
Ordinarily such a remark would have sent her off. But his tone stopped
her dead. She noted the bolstered weapon. She suddenly realized she was
surrounded by people carrying guns. They seemed to be everywhere. Shots
were now being fired. She had thrown in her lot with some very dangerous
people. She sat down and stared at him.
“Collin never fired his weapon.”