Michael Prescott: Mortal Faults

Abby shot her a cool glance. “’Cause we’re such good buds.”

“That was probably the idea. Anyway, I haven’t been privy to any new developments in the investigation. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Tess led her out of the room and down a series of hallways. Abby tried to ignore her hunger and fatigue, and the fear that had been growing inside her since her arrest.

“You know,” she said as they rounded a corner, “at some point I really am entitled to see a lawyer.”

Tess nodded. “I’m aware of that. Most of the sworn agents in the Bureau have law degrees. We’re all very much aware of your rights.”

“Then how come I spent the night in solitary? I mean, I assume it was the whole night. What time is it?”

“Seven a.m. To be honest, I think they were trying to figure out what to do.”

“With me?”

“With us. This is a delicate situation. You have to appreciate that.”

“Oh, I’m very appreciative. My sore ass is especially grateful. Not to mention my empty tummy. What makes the situation so delicate, anyhow? You’re guilty of misconduct, and I’m a menace to public safety. It’s open and shut.”

“I’m sure that’s how Michaelson sees it.”

“But…?”

“I don’t know if Washington has the same perspective. Especially given the way the story is playing in the media.”

“How is it playing?”

“To our advantage-I hope.”

They reached a corner office and entered the anteroom, where Tess started to announce herself. Michaelson’s secretary cut her off. “Yes, he’s expecting you. Go right in.” Abby noted that the woman regarded them both with an unmistakable look of disapproval. She expected to be seeing a lot more of that look in the months ahead.

She followed Tess into the assistant director’s inner office. Michaelson was lodged behind his desk, apparently talking to himself, a worrisome sign in a man in his position. Then-mystery solved-Abby saw a woman seated on the sofa opposite the desk.

She rose to greet the new arrivals. Abby was mildly shocked to recognize Nora Reynolds.

Nora seemed to recognize her, as well. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“You may have seen me at the barbecue yesterday. I’d, uh, arranged to talk with your husband there.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Nora showed the practiced smile of a political spouse. “Working undercover, I imagine?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I hope you tried the food.”

“It was excellent, thanks.” Abby didn’t think this was the right time to mention that the chicken had been overcooked.

Tess evidently had never met Mrs. Reynolds. “You’re Congressman Reynolds’ wife?” she asked.

Nora smiled again-a genuine smile this time. “Not for long. I wanted to meet you, Special Agent McCallum. I wanted to shake your hand.”

“Shake my hand?”

Nora already had Tess’s fingers in an unbreakable clasp. “You got the son of a bitch. It was more than I was able to do.”

Tess’s expression changed. She had understood something. “You’re the insider we were working with.”

“I am.”

“But… how?”

“A few weeks ago I overheard my husband making a phone call. He was trying to track down someone named Bethany Willett. The name sounded familiar to me. I ran an Internet search and discovered that she was a key figure in an old murder case. The MEDEA case. I remembered it from the news coverage.”

“Must have been quite a surprise,” Abby said, drawing a cool glance from Mrs. Reynolds.

“Indeed. I spoke to a personal friend in the FBI. He got me involved in the investigation. I was to observe from inside.”

“You must have known,” Tess said, “that whatever you found out might incriminate your husband.”

“I wanted him incriminated. I wanted out of our marriage.”

“Because your husband had broken the law?”

“Because my husband is a sadist. And an increasingly violent sadist. He had become quite demanding in his, mmm, intimate conduct. I wouldn’t cooperate with him, so he stopped approaching me. I was reasonably sure he was going elsewhere. He had found someone who would go along with his… tastes.”

“I see,” Tess said quietly.

“When I learned he was somehow involved in the MEDEA case-well, I just couldn’t stand to be with him any longer. I wanted to see him brought to justice. That’s why I was keeping tabs on my husband. Unfortunately, I don’t think I learned anything useful.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Nora,” Michaelson said patronizingly. To her credit, she ignored him.

“As it turns out, my testimony isn’t needed, anyway. We have enough evidence to put my husband away for years.” She turned her smile on Tess. “And I have you to thank for it.”

“Me?”

“You’re the hero. Everyone knows it. It’s in all the papers and all over TV. They say you saved the day single-handedly.”

Tess fidgeted. “Not exactly.”

“She’s just being modest,” Abby said.

Tess shot her a glare.

Nora didn’t notice. “Well, I’ll leave you to your meeting. I stayed around only to express my gratitude. Thank you again.”

She clasped Tess’s hand a second time, then left the room, forgetting to say goodbye to Abby.

Tess looked after her. Abby said quietly, “I guess the media coverage is advantageous-for one of us.”

“If you think-” Tess began, but Michaelson interrupted.

“Be seated, both of you.”

Tess took the space on the sofa vacated by Mrs. Reynolds. Abby sat next to her, feeling like a little girl in the principal’s office. Only, in this case she was facing the prospect of twenty or thirty years of detention.

Michaelson focused on her, ignoring Tess for the moment. “First of all, Ms. Sinclair, you’ll be pleased to know that your purse was recovered at the crime scene.”

“I’ll be even more pleased if my tape recorder was inside.”

“It was. The tape has been played. It does substantiate your version of events with regard to Congressman Reynolds’ appearance at the hotel, and his subsequent abduction.”

“Would it be wrong for me to say I told you so?”

Michaelson regarded her without friendliness. “It would be ill-advised.”

“Just asking.”

“The tape has been brought to the attention of the congressman, who is recuperating from his gunshot wound at California Hospital. He is, by the way, expected to make a full recovery.”

Abby blew out an exaggerated whew. “That’s a relief. I don’t know how our democratic republic would manage without him.”

“It will have to try. Reynolds will not be returning to Congress. He will, in fact, be spending the next decade in a federal prison.”

“For ordering the murders of Andrea and her children?”

“And for ordering the hit on Andrea last Friday.”

“He didn’t confess to that on the tape.”

“He didn’t have to. We have two very good sources. One is the driver of the van, Mr. Ronald Shanker, who is also recovering at the same hospital. Recovering from wounds you inflicted, Ms. Sinclair.”

“In self-defense.”

“I understand that. He’s permanently lost the use of his right hand, by the way.”

“I hope he’s a lefty.”

“He isn’t.”

“He is now. So who is this Shanker guy? One of Reynolds’ Scorpion pals?”

“As a matter of fact, he’s the president of the Santa Ana chapter of the club.”

“I wouldn’t have expected a guy like that to turn state’s evidence.”

“Fortunately we were able to apply pressure to Mr. Shanker. The congressman’s campaign manager has proven most helpful in that regard. I believe you’ve met Mr. Stenzel.”

Good old Kip. Abby almost smiled at the predictability of it. “Yeah. He’s a weasel. I’m not surprised you turned him.”