William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

And why would we? Shandy had just started work the day of the murder. Padolino had calculated this perfectly.

“For that matter,” Shandy continued, “I was told not to eavesdrop on any conversations between Senator Glancy and his lawyers, and that if I did by chance overhear any communications between them, I was not to repeat the information to the police.”

So Padolino had covered his ass perfectly. Small wonder he always knew what Ben was doing, that he never made any decent plea offers. He had a mole in Glancy’s camp the whole time.

“Let me ask you one more thing, Miss Craig. Do you have a conscience?”

Padolino rose. “Your honor, please.”

Shandy held up her hands. “No, let me answer that. I don’t mind. Mr. Kincaid, helping the police capture a murderer does not in any way offend my conscience.”

“Move to strike,” Ben shot back. “You don’t know-”

“Sure, I’ve had to pretend to be Senator Glancy’s friend. I’ve had to put up with him staring at my boobs when he thinks I’m not looking, dropping things on the floor and asking me to pick them up, asking me to adjust his tie so he can press up against me, finding accidental excuses to paw me one place or another. But I put up with it-waiting for this moment. The moment when I could help put away the man who killed Veronica Cooper.”

There was more cross-examination after that, more redirect, lots of shouting, many arguments before the judge, and several carefully drafted instructions to the jury on exactly what they could and could not consider as evidence. Ben filed a motion to suppress based on the prosecution’s withholding of information, but given that he’d had complete access to Shandy during the pretrial period-more than Padolino, in fact-he knew it wouldn’t fly. In the end, none of it mattered, because the true bellwether of a trial was written on the faces of the jurors-and when he looked into their eyes he could see exactly what they thought. They thought Todd Glancy was a murderer, and they were ready and willing to give him the punishment he deserved. Barring an unforeseen miracle, this case was over and Glancy was going to death row.

“You don’t understand. I have to talk to her!”

Loving and Daily stood outside the Bethesda ICU, as they had been for the last twenty minutes, arguing with Dr. Aljuwani.

“I understand your pain,” the doctor answered, “but I believe it is you who does not understand the situation.”

“You said she was awake.”

“Her eyes are open, yes, and she is stable. But she has not spoken or in any way indicated that she is aware of her surroundings. She is breathing through a respirator. She cannot talk and you cannot talk to her. She would not understand what you were saying.”

“I don’t care about that. I just-” His voice choked. Tears began to form in his eyes. “Please. I need to see my little girl. Just-just to know that she’s safe. I’ve been looking for her, waiting for this, wanting it, for so long. Please. ”

Aljuwani blew out his cheeks. “You will not attempt to question her? Not even talk to her?”

“No. Not if you say I shouldn’t.”

The doctor was obviously conflicted. But Loving could also see a great deal of kindness and sympathy in his eyes. “Very well. But only for five minutes. And only you. I will not have a crowd in there.”

“Understood.” Daily turned to Loving. “See you in five?”

“I’ll be here. Give Amber my best.”

Daily entered the private room in the ICU alone, as the doctor had instructed. No one else was present, not even an attending nurse.

“Amber?”

Her eyes were open, as the doctor had said, but there was no light in them, no indication that she heard him.

“Amber?” he repeated, but still there was no sign of recognition, no indication of consciousness.

He walked to the side of her bed. “Good.” He switched off the respirator unit, then removed the plastic cup from her mouth. Almost immediately, her breathing became strained, irregular. Her body heaved. She gasped for air.

“And just in case that isn’t fast enough…”

He pulled the pillow out from under her head and shoved it down on her face. She began to convulse, to thrash back and forth on the bed. Her arms flailed and grasped at the air, as if some subconscious spirit was struggling to get free. But he held the pillow down tight. And less than a minute later, the thrashing stopped. The heart monitor flatlined.

“Guess you weren’t immortal after all,” he said, smiling to himself. He put the pillow back where it had been under her head, then started quietly for the door. “Farewell, my princess of the night. Sweet dreams.”

*

S he did not know how long she had been lying on the uncovered mattress in this immense room, nothing to cover herself but the soiled damp sheet that clung to her naked flesh. She had no sense of time or space, perhaps because of the drugs, perhaps because the extended separation from the outside world, from the normal diurnal cycles of day and night, had so thoroughly eliminated her sense of time and place.

She knew she was no longer in the chapel. This room had no rose window, no windows at all, no source of light but the glaring fluorescent bulbs that hung directly overhead. Her face and hair were sticky with blood. The pattern had repeated itself over and over again-the bright lights, the sharp pain, the electric current rippling through her body, the physical punishment, the moments of calm interrupted by more agonizing pain. The draining. And the questions, the never-ending questions. She had told them everything she knew but they acted as if they did not believe her, as if she might actually lie to them. For what? For Colleen? She was beyond help. For Veronica? She, too, was long gone. And she had no idea where Amber was, or even if she was still alive. There was nothing she could tell them. And yet, the needle remained in her arm and the relentless questioning went on and on and on…

Her vision was a turbid fog, just like her brain, and since they all wore identical robes, she couldn’t be sure who it was when the door opened. The sound of his voice told her-it was the Sire. He stood beside the bed upon which she lay. She gazed at his long hair, his thin blood-red lips and the phlegmatic expression she had come to interpret as a smile of pleasure.

“I must know everything,” he said simply.

“I’ve told you everything.”

“What you have told me is useless.”

“I don’t know anything about Amber.”

“Never mind that. I found Amber on my own.”

“Is she here?”

“No. I couldn’t get her away. There were too many people around. I had to simply… eliminate the threat.”

“What does that mean?”

“What I need to know now is who else you have spoken to. Friends? Family? Your sister? My minions tell me she’s in town. Looking for you. What did you tell her, Beatrice?”

“Nothing. I promise you. Nothing!”

He leaned closer, letting her feel his heat, his breath, his intoxicating scent. Despite herself, she was aroused beyond anything she had ever imagined in her life; her need was so intense she would do anything.

“I can give you so much,” he said, whispering into her ear. “Make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”

“Oh please. Oh please yes please.” She squirmed on the table, her legs thrashing, her hips grinding. “Please. Give it to me. Give it to me!”

“Only when there are no more secrets. When there is nothing between us.”