Sandra Brown - Smoke Screen

“Turn off the camera.” Raley knew they had to tell Fordyce about Pat Jr., but he wanted to protect his confidence, too. Britt, knowing why he didn’t want this part of their interview recorded, did as he asked.

“Pat Wickham’s son is gay,” he told Fordyce. “Jones had assaulted him in Hampton Park, broke his leg, busted his face. He sustained bad, disfiguring, permanent damage. Pat Senior wanted to give Jones some of his own medicine, and he got his buddies to help him.”

Fordyce divided a look between them, then stood up and moved to the window that afforded him a view of his swimming pool. He gazed out onto the pool for several moments, then turned back to face them. “That’s the piece that was missing. Now that I have it, it makes sense. They had two secrets to protect.”

“There’s more,” Britt said, switching the camera back on. “We don’t believe Pat Senior died in the line of duty.” She related what Pat Jr. had told them about his father’s steep decline after the fire. “He went downhill even further after Suzi Monroe’s death and his part in that cover-up.”

Fordyce said, “He cracked under the burden of his guilt.”

“A breakdown seemed imminent to those close to him,” Britt said. “Apparently Jay and George McGowan were afraid that he would confess and then they would all topple. Raley and I suspect his slaying wasn’t a random crime. Jay was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He wanted to clear his conscience before he died.”

“So McGowan had to dispose of him, too,” Fordyce said thoughtfully.

She raised her shoulder and gave him a significant look, letting him draw the logical conclusion. Then he looked at Raley, who said, “McGowan is the only one left breathing.”

“No wonder he’s been dodging my calls.” The AG sighed heavily, then asked, “Do you have any proof whatsoever of what you’re alleging?”

Britt answered. “No. But McGowan must be afraid that I do. My car is at the bottom of the Combahee River.” She told him about that horrifying experience. “I would be down there with it if Raley hadn’t been behind me. He saw my car disappear.”

Fordyce turned to him. “You rescued her?”

“I got lucky. Another minute, she would have drowned.”

“Well, that explains your ‘disappearance,’” the AG said to Britt. “You were safe so long as you were believed dead.”

“I was afraid I wouldn’t live long if I came forward.”

Raley assessed Fordyce. He appeared to believe them, but he was a careful man, whose courtroom win-loss record was impressive, partly because he never took anything at face value but filtered everything through the innate skepticism of a good trial lawyer.

“I hope you realize the seriousness of these allegations,” Fordyce said. “By process of elimination, you’re suggesting that George McGowan is an arsonist and murderer. And that he also made this attempt on Britt’s life.”

“We’re alleging that he conspired in all those crimes,” Raley said. “Until just a few minutes ago, we thought you two were probably in cahoots.”

Fordyce glanced at the pistol still lying on the table amid framed family photos and smiled grimly. “That explains why you came here armed.”

“I think McGowan hired two men to take care of Jay and Britt,” Raley said. “Not musclemen, not thuggish, but blend-in types. They searched my home and truck two days ago. Britt recognized one of them from The Wheelhouse, where she met Jay. The same two were at his funeral. They followed me from there, but I eluded them. We ran into them again last night but managed to get away.” He didn’t give the details of that encounter and was glad Fordyce didn’t ask. “We’re guessing they’re the two who forced Britt’s car off the road, although she can’t swear to it.” He paused, then said, “That more or less brings you up to date. That’s where we are.”

Neither said anything more, giving Fordyce time to assimilate everything they’d told him, which was a lot. During the silence, Britt switched off the camera, which was signaling her that the battery was failing anyway. It was fortunate that it had lasted this long.

Finally, Fordyce gave a slight nod of his head, as though having reached a decision. “At the very least, what you allege about Cleveland Jones and the fire demands reinvestigation. A full reinvestigation, and I want you to lead it, Mr. Gannon.”

Taken aback, Raley said, “Thank you.” But he wasn’t going to let Fordyce off the hook just because he’d thrown him this bone. “And the Suzi Monroe matter?”

“Will also be reinvestigated. You have my word.” He pointed toward the camcorder. “You have my admission that I was negligent the first time around. I intend to own up to that.”

Raley gave him a curt nod.

Fordyce looked at Britt. “You’re still charged with Jay Burgess’s murder. I’m afraid I can’t spare you the ordeal of answering to that charge, although, honestly, I thought it was preposterous. After I’ve had a chance to talk to the detectives investigating the case, I’m sure the accusation will be dropped. Without delay, I’ll have George McGowan brought in for questioning. And I want these men who’ve been following you found and identified. I don’t suppose you have names.”

“Only a license plate number,” Britt said.

Fordyce passed her a Post-it pad and pen. She wrote down the make of the maroon sedan and its license number, along with the location of the Holiday Inn. After having been seen there last night, it was unlikely the pair would remain at that location, but it would be a good place to begin the manhunt.

“Once they’re brought in, separated, and questioned, I’ll bet we can get one or both of them to give up McGowan,” Fordyce said.

Raley doubted those two would be that easy to crack. But he kept that opinion to himself.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Britt asked.

Fordyce regarded her for several seconds, then smiled wryly. “I never dreaded seeing you in the press corps. You’ve always been tough but fair, and usually favorable in your reporting of me and the job I’m doing for the state. I’ve never doubted your integrity, Britt. So, I’m going to place you in protective custody rather than under arrest.”

“I appreciate that.”

Fordyce looked at Raley. “Both of you are extremely vulnerable. I’m sure you’re aware of that,” he said, again glancing at the pistol on the table. “You’re key to making these felony cases against McGowan. If he would kill his own friends to keep them quiet, he won’t hesitate to dispense with you. You’ll need protection.”

“For how long?” Raley didn’t like the idea of being under guard, but he saw the necessity of protecting Britt.

“At least until George McGowan and the two men following you are in custody.”

“We only know of two,” Britt said. “Who’s to say there aren’t more? McGowan has a lot of money.”

“I’ll do everything within my power to protect you,” Fordyce told her. To Raley he said, “Actually, Mr. Gannon, you were wrong when you said that this was the day I’d been dreading for five years. I’ve often wondered-daily in fact-if I would have been elected if not for the notoriety I gained from that fire. It’s an uncertainty that’s haunted me since I took office. I actually welcome this opportunity to prove, if only to myself, that I won on merit, not because of instant fame.”

Then, shaking off the reflective thought, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make some calls and get things rolling.”

Britt and Raley stepped into the foyer, where she wrapped her arms around Raley’s waist, hugging him quickly but tightly. “This is the best we could have hoped for!” she exclaimed with a soft gasp. “We have a powerful ally in our corner now.”