His voice echoed in her mind. “I’m on to something that’s going to blow everybody away—and I mean people in high places. It’s the most exciting story I’ve ever been involved in.”
“Mrs. Lonergan?”
“I—I don’t know anything.”
“You don’t know what assignment he was working on?”
“No. Frank never discussed his work with me.”
She was obviously lying.
“You have no idea who might have killed him?”
She looked around at the open drawers and cabinets. “It—it must have been a burglar.”
Detective Reese and Detective Brown looked at each other.
“If you don’t mind, I’d—I’d like to be alone. This has been a terrible shock.”
“Of course. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“No. Just…just leave.”
“We’ll be back,” Nick Reese promised.
When Detective Reese returned to police headquarters, he telephoned Matt Baker. “I’m investigating the Frank Lonergan murder,” Reese said. “Can you tell me what he was working on?”
“Yes. Frank was investigating the Chloe Houston killing.”
“I see. Did he file a story?”
“No. We were waiting for it, when—” He stopped.
“Right. Thank you, Mr. Baker.”
“If you get any information, will you let me know?”
“You’ll be the first,” Reese assured him.
The following morning, Dana Evans went into Tom Hawkins’s office. “I want to do a story on Frank’s death. I’d like to go see his widow.”
“Good idea. I’ll arrange for a camera crew.”
Late that afternoon, Dana and her camera crew pulled up in front of Frank Lonergan’s apartment building. With the crew following her, Dana approached Lonergan’s apartment door and rang the bell. This was the kind of interview Dana dreaded. It was bad enough to show on television the victims of horrible crimes, but to intrude on the grief of the stricken families seemed even worse to her.
The door opened and Rita Lonergan stood there. “What do you—?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lonergan. I’m Dana Evans, with WTE. We’d like to get your reaction to—“
Rita Lonergan froze for a moment, and then screamed, “You murderers!” She turned and ran inside the apartment.
Dana looked at the cameraman, shocked. “Wait here.” She went inside and found Rita Lonergan in the bedroom. “Mrs. Lonergan—”
“Get out! You killed my husband!”
Dana was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“Your people gave him an assignment so dangerous that he made me leave town because he…he was afraid for my life.”
Dana looked at her, appalled. “What—what story was he working on?”
“Frank wouldn’t tell me.” She was fighting hysteria. “He said it was too—too dangerous. It was something big. He talked about the Pulitzer Prize and the—” She started to cry.
Dana went over to her and put her arms around her. “I’m so sorry. Did he say anything else?”
“No. He said I should get out, and he drove me to the train station. He was on his way to see some—some hotel clerk.”
“Where?”
“At the Monroe Arms.”
“I don’t know why you’re here, Miss Evans,” Jeremy Robinson protested. “Lonergan promised me that if I cooperated, there would be no bad publicity about the hotel.”
“Mr. Robinson, Mr. Lonergan is dead. All I want is some information.”
Jeremy Robinson shook his head. “I don’t know anything.”
“What did you tell Mr. Lonergan?”
Robinson sighed. “He asked for the address of Carl Gorman, my hotel clerk. I gave it to him.”
“Did Mr. Lonergan go to see him?”
“I have no idea.”
“I’d like to have that address.”
Jeremy looked at her a moment and sighed again. “Very well. He lives with his sister.”
A few minutes later, Dana had the address in her hands. Robinson watched her leave the hotel, and then he picked up the phone and dialed the White House.
He wondered why they were so interested in the case.
Chris Colby, the department’s computer expert, walked into Detective Reese’s office holding a floppy disk. He was almost trembling with excitement.
“What did you get?” Detective Reese asked.
Chris Colby took a deep breath. “This is going to blow your mind. Here’s a printout of what’s on this disk.”
Detective Reese started to read it and an incredulous expression came over his face. “Mother of God,” he said. “I’ve got to show this to Captain Miller.”