Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“I appreciate that, Lieutenant. All I can tell you is that Walter called me. If he was planning on killing himself who would he call? His family has been estranged from him since his marriage to Christine. He had many business acquaintances, but few people he would call true friends. Walter and I have known each other for years, and I considered him a surrogate father. I had taken a very active interest in the investigation of his wife’s death, as you know. All of that together could explain why he wanted to talk to me, particularly if he was contemplating taking his life. That’s really all I know. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

The door opened. Frank did not see that it was in response to a tiny button on the underside of the President’s desk.

The President looked at his secretary. “I’ll be right there, Lois. Lieutenant, if there’s anything I can do for you, you let Bill know. Please.”

Frank closed his notebook. “Thank you, sir.”

Richmond stared at the doorway after Frank had departed.

“What was the name of Whitney’s attorney, Burton?”

Burton thought for a moment. “Graham. Jack Graham.”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“Works at Patton, Shaw. He’s a partner there.”

The President’s eyes froze on the agent’s face.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure.” Richmond unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a notebook he had compiled on this little extracurricular matter. “Don’t lose sight of the fact, Burton, that one very important piece of incriminating evidence, for which we happened to have paid five million dollars, has never turned up.”

The President flipped through the pages of his notebook. There were numerous individuals involved, to various degrees, in their little drama. If Whitney had given his attorney the letter opener along with an account of what had happened, the whole world would’ve known by now. Richmond thought back to the awards ceremony for Ransome Baldwin at the White House. Graham was clearly no shrinking violet. Clearly he didn’t have it. But then who, if anyone, would Whitney have given it to?

As his mind spun out neat blocks of analysis and possible scenarios, one name suddenly stood out at the President from within the lines of precise writing. One person who had never really been accounted for.

Jack cradled the carry-out in one arm, his briefcase in the other, and managed to wiggle the key out of his pocket. Before he could put it in the lock, though, the door opened.

Jack looked surprised. “I didn’t expect you home yet.”

“You didn’t have to stop. I could’ve made something.”

Jack went inside, dropped his briefcase on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen. Kate stared after him.

“Hey, you work all day too. Why should you have to cook?”

“Women do it every day, Jack. Just look around.”

He emerged from the kitchen. “No argument there. You want sweet and sour or moo goo gai pan? I got extra spring rolls too.”

“Whichever you don’t want. I’m not that hungry really.”

He withdrew and came back with two fully stocked plates.

“You know if you don’t eat more you’re going to blow away. I half feel like stuffing rocks in your pockets as it is now.”

He sat cross-legged next to her on the floor. She picked at her plate while he devoured his.

“So how was work? You know you probably could have stood to take a few more days off. You’re always pushing yourself too hard.”

“Look who’s talking.” She picked up a spring roll and then put it back down.

He put down his fork and looked over at her.

“So I’m listening.”

She pulled herself up onto the couch and sat there playing with her necklace. Still dressed in her work clothes, she looked exhausted, like a flower collapsed in the wind.

“I think a lot about what I did to Luther.”

“Kate—”

“Jack, let me finish.” Her voice snapped at him like a whip. In an instant her features relaxed. She continued more calmly. “I’ve come to decide that I’m never going to get over it, so I might as well accept that fact. Maybe what I did wasn’t wrong for a lot of reasons. But it was definitely wrong for at least one reason. He was my father. As lame as that might sound, it should’ve been a good enough reason.” She twisted her necklace some more until it congealed into a series of tiny clumps. “I think being a lawyer, at least the kind of lawyer I am, has made me become someone I don’t really like a lot. That’s not a real good revelation to arrive at when you’re hitting thirty.”

Jack reached out his hand to stop hers from shaking. She didn’t move it. He could feel the blood pumping through the veins.

“With all that said, I think I’m due for a radical change. In my life, my career, everything.”

“What are you talking about?” He got up and sat down be side her. His pulse had accelerated as he anticipated the line she was taking.

“I’m not going to be a prosecutor anymore, Jack. In fact I’m not going to be a lawyer anymore. I submitted my resignation this morning. I have to admit, they were pretty shocked. Told me to think about it. I told them I already had. As much as I’m going to.”

The incredulity was stiff in his voice. “You quit your job? Jesus, Kate, you’ve put a helluva lot into your career. You can’t just throw that away.”

She suddenly rose and stood by the window, looking out.

“That’s just it, Jack. I’m not throwing anything away. My memories of what I’ve done for the last four years add up to about a lifetime of horror films. That’s not exactly what I had in mind sitting in Con Law as a first-year debating grand principles of justice.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. The streets are a heckuva lot safer because of what you’ve done.”

She turned to look at him. “I’m not even stemming the flow anymore. I got washed out to sea a long time ago.”

“But what are you going to do? You’re a lawyer.”

“No. You’re wrong. I’ve only been a lawyer a tiny fraction of my life. My life before that time I liked a whole lot better.” She stopped and stared at him, her arms folded across her chest. “You made that very clear to me, Jack. I became a lawyer to pay back my father. Three years of school and four years of no life outside a courtroom is a pretty big price.” A deep sigh emerged from her throat, her body teetered for a moment before she regained her composure. “Besides, I guess I really paid him back now.”

“Kate, it wasn’t your fault, none of it.” His mouth stopped moving as she turned away from him.

Her next words rocked him.

“I’m going to move away, Jack. I’m not exactly sure where yet. I’ve got a little money saved. The Southwest sounds nice. Or maybe Colorado. I want as different from here as I can get. Maybe that’s a start.”

“Moving.” Jack said the word more to himself than to her. “Moving.” He repeated the word as if both trying to make it go away and trying to dissect and interpret it in a manner that was not as painful as it felt at the moment.

She looked down at her hands. “There’s nothing keeping me here, Jack.”

He looked at her and he more felt than heard the angry response rush past his lips.

“Goddamn you! How dare you say that?”

She finally looked at him. He could almost see the crack in her voice as she spoke. “I think you better leave.”

Jack sat at his desk unwilling to face the mounds of work, the small mountain of pink messages, wondering if his life could possibly get any worse. That’s when Dan Kirksen walked in. Jack inwardly groaned.

“Dan, I really don’t—”

“You weren’t at the partners meeting this morning.”