Sherlock said, “Dillon, do you think it’s possible Dr. MacLean’s having us on, maybe making a lot of this stuff up?”
Savich shook his head. “He might have exaggerated part of it. I don’t know.” And to Agent Tomlin, he said, “Take good care of Dr. MacLean. This guy’s a huge target.”
“No one gets past me,” Tomlin said. “You can count on that, Agent Savich.”
Savich was aware of Tomlin staring at his wife until they entered one of the elevators at the end of the long corridor.
Sherlock said as she pressed the lobby button, “Are you inclined to believe that Congresswoman McManus murdered her husband?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“I wonder if that was why she went to see a shrink—you know, bad dreams, guilt, remorse.”
“There’s that,” Savich said, and pulled her against him, kissing her until the elevator stopped at the third floor and a bleary-eyed intern staggered in.
NINETEEN
Slipper Hollow
Tuesday
I
t’s a beautiful day,” Rachael said, shading her eyes and staring up at the clear blue summer sky, the thready white clouds. She pushed her hair behind her ears, tugged at the skinny braid. “Hard to believe there’s so much actual bad out there in the world.”
“I fear bad is rampant in the land,” Jack said. “But it’s not right here, in Uncle Gillette’s world.”
“Unlike Uncle Gillette, I never thought of Slipper Hollow as confining, never considered it a place to escape from. It was always a sanctuary, a haven where I’d be safe. Of course, I was a kid. Looking back now, I recognize that Mom was restless, wanted to go out on her own.”
He looked at the braid in her hair, plaited closer to her face this morning. When she leaned her head to the side, it cupped her cheek. He said, “I really like the braid.”
“What? Oh, thank you. Jimmy liked it, too.” Her voice shook a bit on his name.
“For the most part,” Jack said, “I agreed with your father’s politics.”
“I did, too. Can you believe Uncle Gillette washed and ironed our clothes?”
“I nearly kissed him for it, but drew back at the last minute.”
“I kissed him enough for both of us. I believe he’s gathering all the reports he can find about Jimmy’s death. There are even film clips from the funeral. He said he’d have it all together for us by this afternoon.”
Jack nodded. He felt suddenly itchy, felt his left elbow ache, both tending to happen when something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out what it could be. Slipper Hollow was a sanctuary, Rachael was right about that. It was cut off from the world; it was safe. Here they could enjoy the peace before they hunkered down to examine all the details of this psychotic situation. Psychotic? Jack thought about that for a moment. Odd, but
psychotic
was what came to mind. His elbow shouldn’t be itching, but it was, big-time. He chose to ignore it. “You’re not married,” he said.
“I was close, once, but I found out he liked to gamble, and that was a deal breaker. My grandfather had that problem. I remember hearing my mom and my grandmother talk about it.
“I told my mom about the guy I’d thought I loved and wanted to marry, told her I’d found out he gambled, and you know what she said? Not a single thing. She only listened.”
“Wise woman.”
“Yeah, the last thing a twenty-seven-year-old woman who thinks she knows everything needs to hear is that she’s an idiot and this is what she should do.”
Jack wanted to know everything about this man, but now wasn’t the time. “How old is your half brother?”
“Ben turned ten last week. He’s a pistol, that kid, a pro quarterback in the making, fast, agile, strong throwing arm. His dad is thinking he’s the next Joe Montana.”
“What have you been doing, Rachael? I mean, did you go to college? What?”
Her chin went up. “I’m an interior designer.”
She waited for him to laugh, to poke fun, to make a snide remark. He said, “I really like how Gillette did the house, particularly the kitchen. The tile job is incredible. Did you help with that?”
She nodded. “I remember drawing him a sketch of what I saw in my head, and he liked it.”
“You’ve got to be the most popular girl in your group.”
Rachael laughed. “It’s been so long since I’ve been around friends—you know, people you trust and like and don’t have to watch what you say when you’re around them? The kind who won’t hold it against you when you drink too much and act like a fool.” She tucked her hair back again. “Since I went to Washington to see Jimmy, I’ve simply let them go by the wayside.”
“Did you work in Richmond?”
“After I graduated from the Everard School of Design, I joined Broderick Home Concepts. I was one of six designers on staff. I learned a lot, made a lot of contacts, and received a lot of glowing reports from clients. I had seed money lined up and was ready to go out on my own when my mom told me about Jimmy. I took a leave of absence, then Jimmy talked me into quitting Broderick, said he’d like nothing better than to set me up in Georgetown.” She swallowed. “He was so excited, maybe more than I was. He . . .” She turned and walked away.
Jack grabbed her hand, pulled her against him, and wrapped his arms around her back. He realized they both smelled like the same soap, sort of sweet and tangy, like lavender, maybe. “It’ll be okay, Rachael.”
She leaned back. He saw she wasn’t crying, she was shaking with rage. “Six weeks, Jack. I only had a father for six weeks! It’s not fair, not fair.” She slammed her fist into his shoulder. “I want to bring them down. Dear Jesus, I even have their last name now, legally I’m a bloody Abbott.”
“Your father adopted you really fast.”
“I was just getting used to introducing myself as Rachael Abbott.”
“Keep his name. Do it to honor him. It doesn’t tie you to the others. We’ll get them, Rachael, we will. I’ll call Savich, see how much longer he wants you kept under wraps. Besides, you and I have a whole lot to discuss. I want every detail, Rachael, beginning with when you met your father for the first time. Come over here, let’s sit under that oak tree. Tell me again about the first time you met your father.”
She sat, wrapped her arms around her knees, and began talking. “Did I tell you what he said when he first saw me? He shouted, ‘Wait a minute—my God, a man can’t be this lucky.’ And he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his office, past his staff, people waiting. Like I told you, he never doubted for an instant I was his daughter. He was amazing. He had the most beautiful smile. It lit up his face, made these little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to let me out of his sight. We talked for hours. He told me about what had happened all those years ago, how his father took him and his friend to Spain to get him to forget my mother, only he didn’t, not really. I told him what his father did to my mother, and he was tight-lipped. Of course I told him my mom didn’t tell me about it until after his father died because she was afraid.”
Rachael sucked in the fresh sweet summer air, and continued when Jack nodded. “He told me the first time in his life he really stood up for himself was when he made the decision to run for the Senate. He said he’d never felt so free as when he told his father to suck it up, it was his life and this was what he wanted. He said toward the end of the campaign, his father poured money into the coffers, probably put him over the top, got him elected.
“Then he laughed, shook his head. Right after Jimmy took his Senate seat, his father announced that he would now call the shots. Jimmy said he received detailed memos from the old man, telling him exactly what he wanted done. Naturally, he paid no attention. Jimmy told me his father had to manipulate and control everything and everyone until he died, supposedly issuing orders with his last breath. Jimmy said his mother probably died young just to escape him.”
Jack asked, “How did Laurel and Quincy react to their father?”
“They both worshipped and feared him, like he was a god, one who was omniscient, one who could smile upon you or crush you.”
“And how did they react to you?”
“The first time I met Laurel, her husband Stefanos Kostas, and Quincy was at dinner at Jimmy’s house. He’d told them only that he had a big surprise for them.” She looked up to see a rabbit sitting at the edge of the woods, seemingly content to stare at them. “I remember Laurel looking at me like I was a termite that just crawled out of the woodwork. Her niece? She couldn’t believe it. All she could do was gape at me, and then at Jimmy.” Rachael could hear Laurel saying,
“Pardon me? What did you say, John?”
“This is my daughter, Rachael Janes, soon to be Rachael Janes Abbott. I’m adopting her so she’ll be mine legally, as she should have been from the beginning.
“Rachael, your uncle Quincy and your aunt Laurel and my brother-in-law Stefanos.” And he rubbed his hands together, he was that happy, that excited. He hugged her against his side, kissed her forehead. “Rachael Abbott—now that has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Quincy cleared his throat, looked beyond Rachael’s left shoulder. “She does perhaps resemble you a bit, but you must be responsible here, take your time to do things right. You must have DNA tests, make certain she is who she says she is.”
Jimmy said simply, “She’s my very image. Come on now, Quin, admit it. And there are simply some things you know to your soul. Listen to me, this is an evening to celebrate. I have another daughter I never knew about. I remember her mother, Angela, have thought of her often over the years. There is no doubt, and just looking at her, you know there’s no question as to her paternity. Now, let’s have some champagne.”
Rachael sipped the French champagne as she eyed the braised French snails and the French sauced beef tips. The only thing French she liked was baguettes, but there wasn’t any baguette. Laurel and Quincy were civil, but she knew they weren’t happy, knew they distrusted her, believed she’d suckered their brother. As for Stefanos Kostas, he looked at her like he’d just as soon have her sitting naked astride his lap, her tongue down his throat.
“What does Jacqueline have to say about this?” Quincy asked.
Jimmy shrugged. “Who cares what she thinks? I would like Rachael to meet her half sisters. I think they’d all get along well.” To Rachael, he said, “Elaine and Carla both live in Chicago, as I told you. They’re both married. I’m a grandfather twice over now.”
A long, long evening, Rachael thought, and felt her face had frozen into a rictus of a smile by the time Jimmy closed the door on his two siblings.
“They’ll come around,” Jimmy said, hugging her. “Don’t worry,” and he gave her a big sloppy kiss. “Fact is, they’ve got no choice.”
It seemed so long ago, a different life, but it wasn’t. She felt the sun warm on her face now as she looked over at Jack. “I remember thinking we could simply ignore them if they didn’t like me. As long as I live, I’ll remember how Jimmy never doubted me. Sure, I looked like him, but still he was powerful, rich, and famous, and I was nobody.
“Even if he’d been a serial killer, I’d have readily forgiven him.”
“What’d your mom say?”
Rachael smiled. “She was surprised because it never occurred to her he would even remember her. She’d warned me that a DNA test would be the proper thing to do, didn’t matter that I looked like him, and that when it was brought up, I shouldn’t be insulted.”
And Rachael told Jack again about the night Jimmy broke down and told her about the little girl on the bicycle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such desolation in a person’s eyes, such misery, such despair—”
There was a yell.
“Rachael, Jack, come here!” It was Gillette and he was shouting from the front porch. “Hurry! Now!”
Without a pause, Jack drew his gun, grabbed Rachael’s hand, and they ran in a crouch, back to the house.
A spray of gunfire erupted as the three of them dove through the open front door.
TWENTY
G
illette slammed the door, crawled to the side, and reached over to shoot the dead bolt through.
Bullets tore through the door, sending splinters flying. The beautiful high arched windows shattered, spewing glass shards everywhere. They heard bullets gouging the walls.
“Cover your heads,” Jack yelled, pulling Rachael beneath him. “Gillette, stay down.”
Round after round struck the house. No front window was left unshattered. Rachael struggled to breathe, and finally, Jack leaned up. She yelled over the shots, “Uncle Gillette, how did you know they were here?”
Gillette was panting as he pulled a wooden splinter out of the back of his hand. “There was a break in the perimeter alarm. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I knew it had to be trouble. Well, malfunctions sometimes happen, but I wasn’t about to take any chances, not with your situation, Rachael.”
Glory be, Jack thought, an alarm. The gunfire stopped for a moment. Jack said, “Both of you stay down, don’t go anywhere near that door or the windows.”
Gillette was already on his hands and knees. “I’ve got weapons upstairs. I’ll get them.”
“All right, but keep down. No marine hotdogging.”
Gillette laughed as he elbow crawled toward the stairs. Another spray of bullets tore through the line of front windows, striking a side wall, shattering a beautiful gilded mirror.
“Don’t you move a muscle, Rachael,” Jack said, elbowing his own way over to the window. At a break in the gunfire, he peered out, saw a shadow of movement and returned fire with his Kimber. He had only one extra clip so he had to pace himself.
“They’re destroying this beautiful house,” Rachael said.
Gillette returned to the foyer, bent nearly double, clutching two rifles. He fell to his knees and crawled between two front windows to get to them.