Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“What about Eileen? You don’t think she knew, do you?”

“I doubt it. She would have known that he’d gotten transferred to the peanut plant, but not that they were running chocolate on the machines. He wouldn’t risk telling her that.” Rose thought of something else Juanita had said. “Homestead got a lot of orders for the chocolate products from Latin America and the Caribbean, so I’m thinking they filled the orders for export, only. Maybe that’s what you heard when you interrupted that meeting.”

“I see.” Kristen nodded, grimly. “They were talking about countries where they sent the contaminated snacks.”

“Right.” Rose felt breathless at the depravity of the scheme. “It’s sick, but brilliant. If they make the contaminated snacks for export only, there’s much less risk. Then the kids who die would be from places that don’t have the money to sue Homestead, or the FDA to watch out for them. Modjeska didn’t care they were killing kids, as long as it wasn’t American kids.”

“But Bill Gigot did.”

“Bill didn’t want them to run the peanut machines anymore, and they killed him for it.”

They both fell silent a minute. Rose felt Bill was owed that. A moment of silence for a loving father.

“One thing I don’t understand.” Kristen cocked her head. “What were Paul and Modjeska fighting about, then? The Gigot murder happened way too long ago.”

Rose thought of Modjeska’s magnificent house. “I bet Modjeska was blackmailing him, about the Gigot murder.”

“But if Modjeska told, they’d both lose.”

“The senator had more to lose than Modjeska, and more money to spend. I bet Modjeska’s been blackmailing him since the murder. He has too much money to explain, otherwise.” Rose thought about Julie. “He tells people it’s his wife’s money, but I bet that’s a lie. The only thing I don’t get is why Senator Martin got involved.”

“He was at Homestead then.”

“Right, he was at Homestead, I forgot!” Rose remembered Senator Martin’s speech at the assembly. “He mentioned being at Homestead. When was he there, exactly? What did he do?”

“He was CEO until about seven years ago, when he got elected.”

“Bill Gigot was killed seven years ago.”

Kristen gasped. “You think that Paul-”

“If he was the CEO, I bet he made the plan.”

“No!” Kristen’s hand flew to her mouth. “God, this makes me sick. I’m sick .”

“My God,” Rose said, hushed. She felt the realization land like a blow. “He killed people to take care of company profits, and his career. Our U.S. Senator is a murderer.”

“You really think?”

“Yes.” Rose thought aloud. “When Bill Gigot stopped playing ball, Modjeska killed him, and Senator Martin covered it up. It went down as an accident, and the senator pulled the strings to protect himself and Homestead. I learned on the factory tour that the company owns most of the land in the county. That means it’s a powerful contributor to the tax base. Plus I wonder how much it contributed to Martin’s campaign. I bet that went up after the Gigot murder, too.” Rose thought of something else. “Modjeska went from Homestead to a job in state government in Maryland. I bet the soon-to-be Senator got him the job.”

“This is a nightmare.” Kristen wiped away a tear. “So what do we do now?”

“We go to the state police, and lay it out. Now, we have proof. You, and your story.”

“No, you can’t go to them. He knows people there.”

“Then we go to the FBI.”

Kristen bit her lip. “But they’re trying to kill me. Maybe I should get out of the country-”

“Think this through, honey.” Rose put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t keep running away. It doesn’t work, not for long. Modjeska is dangerous. I think he killed Kurt Rehgard and Hank Powell, carpenters who started asking questions about the fire.”

Kristen quieted, her eyes widening with fear.

“That’s six people they’ve killed so far, to protect their secret. They’re ruthless, and you’re not alone, anymore. You have a child to think of now.”

“I know.” Kristen’s eyes welled up. “What kind of man is he? He’d kill his own child.”

“The FBI can protect you, and you can’t do it on your own.” Rose took her phone from the console and pressed 411 for information. “I’m calling them.”

“Think it’s open?”

“It has to be. It’s the FBI, right? Not a frozen yogurt shop.” Rose waited for the mechanical operator to come on and ask for the listing. “In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, may I have the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation? I need to report a crime.”

Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing in Kristen’s pocket, and she leaned over and retrieved it while Rose waited for her call to connect.

Kristen got the phone, checked the display, and said, “It’s Eileen. Should I answer?”

“Eileen Gigot is calling you?” Rose asked, surprised. “Why?” There was a click on her phone line, but no ringing yet.

“I don’t know, but she did earlier, when I was driving here. I checked my voicemail, and her message said to call as soon as possible.” Kristen’s phone kept ringing in her hand, insistent.

Oh no. “It could be about Amanda. Quick, hurry, take it!”

“Yes, hello?” Kristen said into her phone.

“What, hello?” Rose said into her phone. She opened the door and got out of the car, sending up a silent prayer.

Please let her live.

Rose stood talking on her phone at the edge of the cornfield, trying to understand the federal bureaucracy and watching moths fly into her car headlights. There was an analogy there, but she couldn’t put her finger on it and she had solved enough mysteries for one night.

“Let me get this straight, sir,” she said. “You’re with the FBI, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a Complaint Agent.”

“But you can’t take complaints?”

“Not after 4:45 P.M. or on weekends.”

“So you’re a Complaint Agent who can’t take complaints?”

“Not at 8:36 at night, I can’t.”

Rose had told him that she had information regarding a murder, because six murders would have sounded crazy. For the same reason, she’d left out the Senator Martin part. “But the FBI switchboard operator transferred me to you.”

“I know, but we don’t take complaints over the phone after business hours.”

“Then why did she transfer me?”

“So I could tell you that.”

Rose was dumbfounded. “You took the call to tell me you can’t take the call?”

The Complaint Agent hesitated. “It’s important to the Bureau that the public be able to reach a human being rather than an answering machine, to speak to them as we are, now.”

“I don’t know if I feel better that I’m talking to a human being, when I tell him that I have information regarding a murder, and he tells me he can’t hear it right now. That sounds like a machine, to me.” Rose looked over at the car, where Kristen was still on the phone with Eileen, her head down. “Sir, I’m sorry. My friend’s life is at stake, and I don’t know what to do.”

“If your friend is in danger, then he or she should call 911 or the local police.”

“But she can’t. She’s worried they may be in on it, like a conspiracy.” Rose heard herself, and even she thought she sounded crazy.

“Then I encourage you and your friend to come down to our offices and make a complaint, or call back tomorrow and we’ll take it over the phone.”

“Okay, thank you.” Rose hung up just as Kristen was getting out of the car and walking toward her, her smooth cheeks stained with new tears. In her outstretched hand was an open cell phone. Rose went weak in the knees, and she flashed on the explosion in the cafeteria. The fireball. Amanda screaming. Blood in her blond hair. The missing sandal.