“He was your best friend.”
“I’d like to think he still is.”
“Do you blame me for why he went to Colorado, left Quantico? ” “I know why he left,” he said. “I’m sorry he left. He was very good for the Academy.”
The FBI’s strategy of drawing out the killer by way disinformation did not materialize the following Monday. Either the Bureau had changed its mind, or it was preempted by Pat Harvey, who held a press conference the same day.
At noon, she faced cameras in her Washington office adding to the pathos by having Bruce Cheney, Fred’s father, by her side. She looked awful. Weight added 1 the camera and makeup could not hide how thin she had gotten or the dark circles under her eyes.
“When did these threats begin, Mrs. Harvey, and what was the nature of them?” a reporter asked.
“The first one came shortly after I began investigating the charities. And I suppose this was a little over a year ago,” she said without emotion. “This was a letter mailed to my home in Richmond. I won’t divulge the specific nature of what it said, but the threat was directed at family.”
“And you believe this was connected to your probe into fraudulent charities like ACTMAD?”
“There’s no question about that. There were other threats, the last one as recent as two months before my daughter and Fred Cheney disappeared.”
Bruce Cheney’s face flashed on the screen. He was pale, blinking in the blinding haze of TV lights.
“Ms. Harvey…”
“Mrs. Harvey . . .”
Reporters were interrupting each other, and Pat Harvey interrupted them, the camera swinging back her way.
“The FBI was aware of the situation, and it was their opinion that the threats, the letters, were originating from one source,” she said.
“Mrs. Harvey. . .
“Ms. Harvey” – a reporter raised her voice above the commotion – “it’s no secret that you and the Justice Department have different agendas, a conflict of interests arising from the investigation of the charities. Are you suggesting the FBI knew that the safety of your family was in jeopardy and didn’t do anything?”
“It’s more than a suggestion,” she stated.
“Are you accusing the Justice Department of incompetence?”
“What I’m accusing the justice Department of is conspiracy,” Pat Harvey said.
Groaning, I reached for a cigarette as the din, the interruptions reached a crescendo. You’ve lost it, I thought, staring in disbelief at the TV inside the small medical library in my downtown office.
It got only worse. And my heart was filled with dread as Mrs. Harvey turned her cool stare to the camera and one by one ran her sword through everyone involved is the investigation, including me. She spared no one, and there was nothing sacred, including the detail of the jack of hearts.
It had been a gross understatement when Wesley had said she was uncooperative and a problem. Beneath her armor of reason was a woman crazed by rage and grief. Numbly I listened as she plainly and without reservation indicted the police, the FBI, and the Medical Examiner’, Office for complicity in a “cover-up.”
“They are deliberately burying the truth about these cases,” she concluded, “when the act of doing so serve only their self-interest at the unconscionable expense of human lives.”
“What a lot of shit,” muttered Fielding, my deputy chief, sitting nearby.
“Which cases?”
a reporter demanded loudly. “The, deaths of your daughter and her boyfriend or are you referring to the four other couples?”
“All of them,” Mrs. Harvey replied. “I’m referring to all of the young men and women hunted down like animals and murdered.”
“What is being covered up?”
“The identity or identities of those responsible,” as if she knew. “There has been no intervention on the part of the Justice Department to stop these killings, The reasons are political. A certain federal agency is protecting its own.”
“Could you please be more specific?” a voice shot back.
“When my investigation is concluded, I will make a full disclosure.”
“At the hearing?” she was asked. “Are you suggesting that the murder of Deborah and her boyfriend. . .”
“His name is Fred. ” It was Bruce Cheney who had spoken, and suddenly his livid face filled the television screen.