Allison Brennan - Silenced

She led them across the lobby, through glass double doors, and past her secretary. “Jeanie, please hold all calls for now.” She closed the door behind them.

Devon Sullivan’s office was as large as Wendy’s living room and just as contemporary, with a wide expanse of windows and lots of sparkling glass. The view looked down on one of the large roundabouts, and if Lucy stood just right, she could see half of the Capitol. One wall was a bookcase with numerous political biographies and larger legal tomes. A few pictures decorated the shelves, mostly of Devon Sullivan golfing or with clients, and one of her at a shooting range, framed with a small engraving, “Virginia State Trooper Widows amp; Orphans Charity Shoot-Out, 2008.”

Ms. Sullivan motioned for them to sit, and she took a position in front of her desk, not behind it. Lucy glanced at the desk, which was devoid of all papers except for closed file folders. A picture of two young boys sat in the corner. Children or grandchildren, Lucy couldn’t tell.

“I’m still trying to understand what happened. The press, as you know, never gets things completely right. But Wendy was murdered?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stein said. “I appreciate you making the time for us.” His tone was reserved and respectful, opposite of his earlier demeanor.

“Anything you need.”

“When news of the affair between Ms. James and Congressman Crowley first broke, I spoke to your office manager about her employment. He indicated that she’d worked here as a secretary for about two years.”

“Correct.”

“Were you concerned when she didn’t come in for work yesterday morning?”

Ms. Sullivan blinked rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fired Wendy last week.”

The information surprised all of them, but Josh Stein most of all. “When?” he asked brusquely.

“Tuesday morning. I would have fired her on Monday, but she called in sick. I think she knew. I didn’t have a choice-I don’t think she did anything wrong, but her judgment was flawed. My business is built solely on my reputation. Her situation had gotten out of control, and I had concerned clients. I gave her a very nice severance package, and a letter of recommendation.”

“What exactly did she do for you?”

“Mostly answered phones, greeted clients, made copies, and assisted with events. Wendy was very good at it.”

“Why did you feel the need to fire her?”

“Reputation,” she repeated.

“Did you know she was having an affair with Alan Crowley?”

“No. I would have told her to knock it off or leave. My staff knows how important image is in this business, when lobbying already has as bad a reputation as used-car salesmen and politicians. Truly, a few bad apples and we’re all condemned.”

“Could she have accessed sensitive information that she may have leveraged with Congressman Crowley or others?”

“Others?”

“We’re keeping a broad mind.”

“I suppose she could have accessed any of the files here, but most of our records are public, as required by law.”

“Did you, or anyone on your staff, ask Wendy James to unduly influence Alan Crowley or any other sitting member of the House of Representatives?”

Ms. Sullivan was taken aback by the question, and Lucy was surprised as well. Stein slipped it in smoothly, in the same tone and manner as his initial softball questions.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.

“Would you mind if I spoke to your staff?”

She hesitated, the first sign that she was nervous about something. It could be natural, stemming from the tragic situation, or it could be more calculating. Lucy wasn’t certain.

“Of course you may, but if it’s about my clients, I need to be present.”

“Just about Wendy, who she dated, if anyone knew about the affair.”

Devon Sullivan didn’t relax. “I suppose. When?”

“Now would be perfect,” Stein said.

“I’ll make the conference room available.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.

Stein grinned and said in a low voice, “I’m going to give Ms. Sullivan a rectal exam.”

“Excuse me?” Lucy said.

“You think a lobbyist like her didn’t know her secretary was doing the horizontal bop with a player like Crowley? Hell no.”

“Murder is a long way from political corruption,” Noah said.

Stein shrugged. “Maybe. Probably no connection. But you shouldn’t be surprised how fast people tell the truth when they think they’re facing more serious charges. Anything going on in this company, I’ll find it.” He glanced at his watch. “We still have time to catch Crowley at his office. Damn, I love my job.”

Lucy barely refrained from grimacing. Stein was too giddy about his work; she wondered if he cared anything about the victim-or if winning was the only thing that mattered.

They could easily have walked from DSA to the Capitol, but Stein insisted on driving even though it was close to five in the afternoon and the roads were crowded. It took him fifteen minutes to find a parking place-a white-zone reserved for Capitol Police.

He slid his official federal business placard on the dash and got out of the car, whistling.

Lucy decided that she didn’t care how smart Josh Stein was, or his case clearance rate, she did not like a man who whistled while investigating murder.

They walked toward Crowley’s office in the Rayburn building. “Josh,” Noah said, “I let you lead with the lobbyist, let me take the lead with Crowley.”

“I’m on a roll, Armstrong. Think I can’t handle a homicide investigation?”

“I think you’d be great, but you’ve been an agent how long? Fifteen years? How many homicides?”

Stein didn’t say anything.

“If you have a question, jump in, but if you don’t mind…” he let his comment hang.

Stein jerked his thumb toward Lucy. “Why’s she here again?”

“Slater wanted a forensic analyst.”

“Is she going to be asking questions? Slater told you we are under the gun. Every step watched by everyone, including press.”

“I understand exactly what we face.”

“Noah,” she began.

He shot her a look that told her to remain quiet. She was going to suggest she wait outside, knowing that Stein didn’t want her involved, and not wanting her presence to jeopardize the case-even though she didn’t know how that would happen.

She wished Noah had given her a better understanding of their role working with the White Collar division, as well as how he intended to question Congressman Crowley. She disliked the power plays between the two divisions, with the uncertainty of who was really in charge. And she didn’t like this side of Noah.

Lucy followed Noah and Stein through security, then upstairs where they were ushered immediately into Congressman Crowley’s private office.

Crowley had been in Congress for more than twenty-two years, withstanding several partisan shifts of power. His office was decorated with furniture that was a little too big for the space, including a tall glass cabinet packed with awards and trinkets. His desk was cluttered with three pen sets, paperweights, and a variety of odd items, many with gold plates identifying a place or event. Most of the photographs had Crowley in golf gear with people more famous than he.

Noah introduced the three of them.

Crowley said, “I spoke with your superior earlier today.”

“We have some follow-up questions. I’m sure you understand.”

“Why isn’t Agent Slater handling this? He told me he was in charge.” Crowley’s tone was offensive, but his posture was defensive-his body was turned a few degrees away from them, his hands bounced a pen off the desk blotter, his eyes went from agent to agent, then glanced at the door.