David Kent - The Triangle Conspiracy

“Do you know who did kill her?”

Faith hesitated longer. “I’m not sure.”

“Tell me about Franklin Sanborn.”

“Haven’t we covered this?” Hendler said. “Sanborn’s a ghost.”

“So was Katherine Hall,” Cain said. “Kind of strange to be talking about a dead ghost, isn’t it? When I talked to her a few hours before her death, she said she was running from Sanborn, had had an abusive relationship with him, but that now he understood, now he wasn’t going to bother her anymore.”

Faith rubbed her cheek, touched her scar. “Franklin Sanborn’s not an abusive boyfriend. I can tell you that.”

Cain nodded. “When I first met you, that day at Barry’s, I thought you recognized the name. Our nice little lunch ended pretty quickly after his name came up. So if Sanborn’s not the abusive boyfriend, two questions come up.” He raised his index finger. “One: why did she say he was?” His middle finger went up beside the other one. “Two: who is he?”

Faith swallowed. Facts and feelings and shifting loyalties collided. Faith had declined to protect Daryn. Now Daryn was dead. Within a few hours after Faith cut her loose, the young woman was dead, shot and hanged from a tree.

Faith hadn’t thought anything about Department Thirty could make her feel guilt. Generally, everyone she dealt with was guilty of something. But now, the guilt had turned around. The girl had pleaded for protection and Faith hadn’t protected her. It was that simple. There must have been some kind of evidence, something Faith hadn’t seen. Maybe if Sean hadn’t been so twisted up in the middle of it, she would have seen what she needed to see to protect Daryn. And maybe Daryn would still be alive today.

Or maybe not, the cold, pragmatic professional voice told her.

It’s about the people, Art Dorian had told her when she first learned of Department Thirty’s existence. If we lose sight of the people, the rest of it doesn’t matter a whit.

Strange words to come from a Department Thirty case officer. Department Thirty’s first case officer, in fact. The words didn’t seem to jibe with the whole idea of the department. It was about information, wasn’t it? Not people. It had certainly seemed that way to Faith since she joined Thirty.

But she thought back, to some of the people she’d met in the last three years. There were the “ordinary” cases, people like Leon Bankston who were criminals, had been caught, and a straight exchange of information was made with them. But there were also people like Ryan Elder, and Eric Anthony and his beautiful deaf son, Patrick. And Alex Bridge, whom she now considered a close friend. All people that had butted up against the Department Thirty apparatus for one reason or another. And with them, the information had served the people, not the other way around.

But no amount of information had been there to save Daryn McDermott.

Or her brother. God only knew what had happened to Sean, what had been done to him.

Or what he’d done, she thought for the first time.

“Faith?” Hendler said.

And here was Scott Hendler, a good man, arguably a great one, who somehow saw things in Faith that she didn’t see in herself.

Faith shook her head. What would happen if she told enough of the truth to put aside some of the lies? Could she walk the tightrope? What would Yorkton say?

To hell with Yorkton.

A woman was dead, a woman Faith could have protected.

“I think,” she said to Cain, “that she told you Sanborn was an abusive boyfriend just to get you to back off.”

Cain looked surprised.

“We all empathize with a woman who’s been in an abusive relationship,” Faith said. “She’d been gone without a trace for two weeks, now she’s back with no explanation. If she’s hiding something, she wants to get rid of you as quickly as she can.”

“So she tells him a story that she thinks will get him to back off the questions,” Hendler said.

“She was lying from the get-go,” Cain said. “But she wasn’t trying very hard at it. I could see that right away. That’s why I decided to cut it short. That’s why I called you and wanted to meet with you in the morning.” He turned his coffee cup around a couple of times. “I just didn’t think the circumstances would be what they were.”

“Faith,” Hendler said, “who is Sanborn?”

Faith took a deep breath and swam out into treacherous waters. “I don’t know, but I can tell you who Daryn told me he was.”

Cain took out a small spiral notebook and a pen.

“We know Sanborn’s not real,” Faith said. “At least not by that name. Just like we know Katherine Hall wasn’t real by that name.”

“At least we know that now,” Hendler said.

Faith glanced at him. They would have a long, private talk sometime soon.

“Point taken,” Faith said. “Daryn told me that Franklin Sanborn was one of the leaders of a radical political group called the Coalition for Social Justice.”

She went on to give a carefully sanitized account of what Daryn had told her-the Coalition’s goals, its involvement with the terrorist attack downtown, the “target” list that turned out to be a fantasy. She omitted Sean’s role altogether, and never mentioned the fact that Daryn had requested any kind of protection.

When she finished, Hendler gave her a long look. By now he expected her to dance around the issue of Department Thirty with “outsiders,” namely anyone outside the DOJ structure. But Faith suspected he was dismayed that she’d left out her brother completely.

“And what’s your role in all this?” Cain asked her directly, barely waiting a breath after she’d finished. “Why would this girl, this senator’s daughter who has strange ideas of social justice and likes to stick it to her father, be telling you all this? Don’t insult my intelligence by telling me ‘special projects,’ either.”

“I can’t answer that,” Faith said.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t. And won’t. I’m not trying to hold up your investigation, Rob. I hope you believe me on that. I want to know who killed Daryn McDermott just as much as you do, and probably more so.”

“You know,” Hendler said, “that probably within a few hours there’s going to be a shit storm over this. The fact that she’s the daughter of a U.S. senator.”

“I know,” Faith said.

Cain looked at both of them, then stood up. “For the record, Faith, I’ve never seriously considered you a suspect. But I had to bring it up. I wanted to see how you’d react. You’re a pro. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Also for the record, I’m royally pissed off that you know more than you’re telling me. Pardon my language.”

Faith shrugged.

“Under normal circumstances,” Cain said, “I could hold you as a material witness, charge you with obstruction, all that good stuff. But if I did that, I’m guessing that my bosses would get calls from somewhere east of here. And that’s never good.”

Faith said nothing.

“Of course, we’re all going to be getting some of those calls pretty soon, from Senator McDermott.” Cain leaned against the table. “Daryn McDermott’s address is listed as a condo in the Georgetown area of D.C. Her father, being a senator from Arizona, has a place outside of Phoenix. I wonder what this girl who had no ties at all to Oklahoma was doing here, why she wound up dead in downtown Oklahoma City. She was a long way from either Phoenix or Washington. Food for thought, isn’t it?”

Hendler stood up. “I’ll drive you back downtown, Rob. Would you head on out to the car and wait for me?”

Cain nodded to both of them and left the house. Faith walked Hendler to the door.