Sealing Fate Read online

  “When what happened?”

  “When the car they were driving exploded. You saw what happened to the building.”

  “The explosive was in the car?” Brian asked, stunned.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  Merrick acknowledged Brian's reaction with a nod. His expression was one of worry. “That was your wife's car, right?”

  “Huh? Yeah, that was her Volvo.” Brian's head felt heavy, and he let it fall to his hands.

  Merrick stared at Brian. “You got any ideas about who might want to blow up your family?” Merrick asked.

  Brian felt like he had been gut punched. He wanted to fall to the floor screaming. He knew exactly who had done this, and he knew nothing would stop him. He made himself find the words. “No one would want to hurt Barbara, Officer. Everybody loves her.”

  Merrick nodded. Then he pulled out a small spiral notebook and wrote for a moment. “How about her sister or the child? Anyone after them? Any domestic problems?”

  Brian shook his head. “No, nothing.”

  As he finished speaking, a doctor, clad in hospital greens and matching cap, came into the room and walked toward them. “Barbara Madsen?” the young man said, looking at her.

  “Yes,” she said anxiously.

  They all looked at the doctor expectantly.

  He noticed the officers and gave them a nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “Your sister is okay. She has a couple of fractured ribs. Otherwise, just multiple bruises and abrasions that aren't serious. We'll have her out of here in two or three days.”

  Barbara nodded. “How about Lindsay? Is she okay?”

  “To tell you the truth, we're not sure yet. She has fractures of the collarbone and a severe concussion. The biggest problem is that she's just not coming around yet and the next forty-eight hours are critical. She's getting nourishment intravenously, and she's being constantly monitored. There's just not much more we can do at this point.”

  Brian saw Barbara tearing up as she said, “I understand, doctor. Thanks.” She was quiet for a moment. “Can I stay here?”

  “Yeah, sure,” the young doctor said. “I can't let you in with her while she's in intensive care, but you're welcome to be here as much as you want. If you need anything, just ask one of the nurses. They have instructions to page me anytime there's any change in her condition.”

  “Thanks, doctor,” Brian said.

  The doctor nodded and turned to go. Brian held Barbara in his arms and tried to assure her that Lindsay would be all right.

  Merrick was quiet. He waited a few minutes before Brian turned back to him. “Go on, Sergeant. Let's finish up.”

  Merrick nodded. “How about you, Mr. Madsen? Anyone who might be angry enough at you to come after you? Maybe someone who thought you'd be driving your wife's car?”

  “I can't think of anyone,” Brian said, holding Barbara close to him.

  Merrick ran a hand through his hair while he considered Brian's answer. When he spoke again, there was irritation in his voice. “Look, Mr. Madsen, somebody just blew up your car. Probably tried to blow up your family. Usually that would mean that there's someone in your life who doesn't like you too much. Or someone you've really pissed off. It's a lot faster investigating this kind of a case if you can give us a starting point. Any names come to mind?”

  “None,” Brian said. At least technically he was telling the truth. He had no idea of the name of his own personal terrorist.

  Merrick looked frustrated. “Here's my number.” He thrust a card at Brian. “Call me if you think of anything.” Merrick watched Brian's expression before continuing. “Anything you think of might be important. Don't omit any details. Whoever did this might not be done yet.”

  Brian nodded. Merrick nodded curtly to Barbara, and he and Palmer walked toward the door. Brian watched them leave, wanting to tell them about the trap he was caught in, but too afraid of where it would lead.

  Chapter 13

  “So what do you think?” Palmer asked Merrick as they drove away from the hospital.

  “I think he knows a whole lot of shit he's not telling.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Palmer shook his head. “So why is he keeping quiet when it may get him and his family killed?”

  “That, my friend, is the sixty-four thousand-dollar question,” Merrick said as he made a right turn on Hope Street and drove toward downtown. “My bet is he's afraid of something. Something is going on that's scaring the shit out of this guy.”

  “Like somebody has the goods on him and they're threatening to share the information. I mean, he is a politician. There's always something in the closet.”

  “You're learning, kid.” Merrick grinned. “There's hope for you yet.” He was quiet for a moment, and his expression became more serious. “The only thing is that these guys usually crack easily. This son of a bitch is saying nothing even when his family is in jeopardy. If we're guessing right on this one, whatever that somebody's got on him must be pretty fucking good.”

  Palmer looked at Merrick questioningly. “You got any ideas?”

  Merrick looked over at Palmer and nodded. He saw the light of recognition in Palmer's eyes.

  “Holy shit!” Palmer exclaimed. His eyes grew wide.

  “Exactly.”

  * * *

  Bob could feel that the ropes that bound his hands were beginning to give. He was now in a kneeling position with his weight against the doorjamb to maximize the pressure on the ropes. The still air of the closet and the intense work on the ropes soaked his brow with sweat. The darkness that surrounded him was total, and the silence had an ominous quality, like the stillness hid something terrible lying in wait.

  Bob used his weight and balance as he moved. He could sense that, after a few more minutes, the bindings would give, so he worked intently, concentrating on obtaining maximum friction on the rope. He was so engulfed in his task that he didn't hear the door open. Bob could feel that just a few threads were holding the rope together. He rubbed harder and faster. He could feel that he was seconds from freedom. Suddenly everything turned to darkness. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

  Chapter 14

  It was only after the intensive care charge nurse assured Barbara that she would call her with any change in the condition of Lindsay or Janet that she agreed to go home long enough to sleep for a few hours. Brian called a cab to drive them home. They rode in silence, each trapped in his or her own thoughts.

  Once they arrived home, they sat down on the couch, exhausted and consumed by worry and fear. Brian could see all of it on Barbara's face, and it added the familiar guilt to the weight of his own thoughts. He put his arm around her gently. He looked into her eyes and saw the worry and the pain there. But the look of innocence needing reassurance did him in. And he knew it would all come out.

  Brian knelt on the floor beside the couch and touched her cheek. “Barbara, I'm so sorry.”

  She looked at him and smiled. “You have no reason to be sorry. It's not your fault.”

  The undeserved trust that she had for Brian made him feel horrible. “It may be, Barb. I did something that allowed all this to happen. The phone calls, this afternoon, all of it.”

  “What? What do you mean?” she asked with her brow furrowed.

  He took her hand and told her about the night of the inauguration. He could see the pain of his betrayal appearing in her eyes. He didn't stop. He told her about seeing Cathy on other occasions after the inauguration. He saw the pain in her eyes turn to anger.

  “I was confused. I always loved you, Barbara. I never doubted that. But I was somehow drawn in and couldn't get out.”

  She stared at him silently, wounded and angry.

  “I knew it had to end.” He paused and took a breath. “The night I went to her place to end it was the night she died.”

  Her hand pulled away.

  “I didn't do it,” Brian said quickly. “I lost the courage to tell her good-bye. I put
it off until next time, and I came home at about one o'clock. She died after I left.”

  She stared at him icily. “The news said she had sex before she died. You had sex with her that night, didn't you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but I went there planning to end it. I swear to you.”

  “And when you left her?”

  “She was fine.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Barbara screamed. She stood up and walked to the bedroom without looking back.

  Brian followed her and found her staring out the bedroom window. If there had ever been any doubt, there was none now. At that moment, he knew how much he wanted to keep her love.

  He walked to within a few feet of her and stopped. “I love you, Barbara,” he said weakly.

  She turned and looked at him. Then she said quietly, “How do I know you didn't kill her?”

  He should have been expecting the question, but Brian was shocked, maybe the delivery or perhaps the thought that she could actually believe he could kill someone. “Barb, you know I could never kill anyone, don't you?”

  She was quiet again. When she spoke, it was slow and measured. “I didn't think you could go out and fuck your campaign workers either. I didn't think you could betray me and our marriage. So just what do I know that I can believe?” Tears were in her eyes.

  “I didn't do it.” There was silence while he waited for a response and got none. “Dammit, Barbara, I didn't do it! Why would I?”

  “Why would you?” she asked angrily. “Like I'm supposed to have any idea of what motivates you now? How do I know, Brian? Maybe she was threatening to tell someone. Maybe you needed to keep her from hurting your precious political career. All I know is that you're asking me to believe what you say right after confessing that our whole marriage is a lie. Why should I believe you?”

  He was quiet for a moment, understanding her feelings. There was no good reason for her to believe him. He finally said softly, “Because I need you to, Barbara. Because no one else will believe me.”

  She stared at him with cold eyes. “Okay. I'll believe you for all the years we've been together. Or just because I want to.” She hesitated. “But that doesn't mean I'll forgive you.”

  He nodded, moving toward her. “I know you may not. And if you do, I know it will take time. I'll do whatever it takes, Barbara.” Brian leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.

  “How soon did she die after you left?” she asked.

  “The papers say they fixed the time of her death at one thirty or two o'clock.”

  “Only a half hour to an hour after you left?”

  He nodded. “I was the last one to see her alive, but no one knows it.” He paused. “My fingerprints are all over the place.”

  She shot him another look of anger.

  “The caller says he has the murder weapon and it has my prints on it too.”

  “Oh my God. The police need to know all this.”

  Brian shook his head emphatically. “I'm the only suspect. And he's got all the evidence.” He took a deep breath. “You know that jewelry box the police just received?”

  She nodded.

  “That lunatic sent it to them just to let me know that he can have me picked up anytime. I had touched it. He wiped it clean before he sent it in, but he let me think—-” Brian stopped midsentence.

  “Can't we just tell them all of this?”

  Brian shook his head. “I'm still the only suspect. And I told the police that I never saw her socially. Now I'm a liar too.”

  She glared at him and then said in a monotone voice, “Yes, you are.” She took a deep breath. “So what do we do?”

  “We? You're still with me?” Brian asked tentatively.

  “It means you're in trouble and I'll help you. I don't know beyond that.”

  He nodded. “I know I can't ask for anything more. Thank you.”

  She sat down on the bed. “So what do we do?”

  There was a silence before he spoke. “I've started thinking about doing what he wants.”

  “About killing someone?” Barbara asked in a disbelieving tone.

  “It's about more than whether I get charged with Cathy's murder. Think about what happened today, Barbara. He almost killed you. Even now, we don't know how Lindsay's going to do. There's just no limit to what this son of a bitch will do.”

  It was almost seven o'clock as Sheila stood at the door of Michael's office. “Goodnight, Michael.” She waved a hand in his direction.

  He looked up from a file. “Goodnight, Sheila.”

  She glanced at her watch. “You better leave too. Your flight takes off in just over an hour.”

  “Yeah, I know. Just a couple more calls and I'm out of here.”

  She nodded. “Have a good trip.”

  “I will. I'll probably come in tomorrow night when I get back. Can you have the Wellington Pharmaceutical detail ready for me by then? Let's say six o'clock?”

  “No sweat. It'll be ready. Give my regards to Bob Nicholas and the San Francisco bunch, will you?”

  “I will.” He grinned. “You know they love you.”

  She smiled and then turned to go. Michael waited and listened while her footsteps faded. He gave Sheila enough time to get to the elevator before he picked up the phone.

  Brian sat down on the bed next to Barbara. He struggled to find words to get past her pained expression. There was so much he wanted to say. The telephone rang, the sound startling Brian, even though the call was expected. Brian glanced at his watch. It was a little after seven o'clock. He and Barbara looked at the phone and then at each other until it rang three times.

  Brian finally picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Brian,” the icy voice of the killer said. “I knew you wouldn't have much time to think about my offer today, having your own tragedy to deal with and everything, so I'm extending your deadline until tomorrow. Tomorrow you get to protect your family as well as yourself.”

  “You son of a bitch, you almost killed them,” Brian shouted, seething with anger.

  There was a momentary silence. Then the killer said, “Relax, Brian. It was a message. I don't aim and miss. I just wanted to show you what might happen. Understand?”

  Brian said softly, “I understand.”

  “It all comes down to tomorrow. There won't be any more lessons.” The line went dead.

  Brian stared at the phone.

  “What did he say?” Barbara asked.

  “More of the same.” He took her hand in his. “I want you to leave town for a while. Maybe for a few weeks.”

  She was watching his eyes. Her look was disapproving.

  “Just listen,” Brian said. “You need to be away from here. I can't deal with knowing this guy may come after you again.”

  “I'm supposed to leave you here to deal with this?”

  He touched her cheek lovingly. “I'm scared shitless of this guy. There's nothing he won't do, so I need to know you're safe. There's just no choice.”

  She nodded reluctantly. “I could go see one of my college buddies for a week or so. Maybe Marilyn in Scottsdale.”

  Brian shook his head. “No. Nowhere with people who know you. There can't be any way to find you. Maybe Boise or Topeka. Somewhere you've never been and have no compelling reason to go.”

  “I want to stay,” Barbara said with pain in her voice.

  “Thank you, Barb. Really. But this guy will hurt you to get to me. Just give me two weeks. Then I'll come and get you.”

  She hugged Brian, and they held on to each other as if to never let go.

  * * *

  Sheila never quite made it to the elevator before realizing she had left her keys at her desk. She walked away from the elevator bank in the direction of the executive corridors. The click of her heels on the wood paneling broke the silence until she reached the carpeting of the hallways and her sounds disappeared. At this rate, she would get home just in time to return with morning rush hour, she told herself, letting out a
deep sigh. She ran a hand through her long red hair. Her slightly turned-up nose and full lips gave her a voluptuous appeal. Her broad bedroom eyes seemed to conflict with aristocratic distance of her features. As she reached her desk, impatience was conveyed on her frown and furrowed brow.

  She looked around, moved her in box slightly, and found the keys sitting on the corner of her desk. As she picked them up, she could hear Michael through the open door with an unfamiliar tone in his voice. She walked over to the wall next to the door, staying out of view, and listened. Involuntarily, she put a hand to her mouth in shock. There had to be some explanation for what she was hearing. She stood frozen in disbelief.

  Moments later, the conversation abruptly ended, and Sheila heard Michael put down the phone. She walked quickly out of the office, hearing his footsteps behind her. She walked into the hallway and then ducked into the supply room, closing the door behind her. The room was the size of a walk-in closet and very dark. She left the light off and waited.

  It took about five minutes for Michael to gather his materials, slip on his coat, and disappear down the corridor toward the elevators. Sheila waited in the dark of the supply room for another five minutes after hearing his footsteps before stepping out into the hallway. She looked down the hall to make sure he wasn't coming back and then walked back into his office. She moved quickly to the phone and pressed two buttons. She heard the last number that had been dialed replayed at high speed. Then it rang.

  “Hello?” a male voice answered.

  Sheila wasn't sure what to say. “Did you just receive a call from a man?” she finally asked.

  “Yes, we did,” he said in a surprised, almost desperate tone. “Do you know who it was?”

  She was quiet, evaluating the situation. What did it all mean?

  “Please tell us. We need to know who it was. He's threatening us,” the man pleaded.

  Sheila felt a sudden fear. What am I doing? What would I be doing to Michael?

  “Please, who is this?” the man repeated.

  The fear became too much. A sensation of panic overtook Sheila, and she put down the phone. She stood there feeling sick and then impulsively picked up the phone and dialed the police. It rang once. She returned the handset quickly to the cradle. What would I tell them? What did I really know?