…
Could he possibly No, it couldn’t be.
Unlike the man we’d caught on tape pushing Mollie into the hotel, Lansing was over six feet tall and broad shouldered, didn’t favor either leg, wasn’t left-handed.
Regardless, one thing remained certain: I was going to take a closer look into Paul Lansing’s past as soon as we got home.
Another passage.
Another tunnel.
“If he tries to contact you again,” I told Tessa, “don’t talk with him or respond to his emails. And let me know right away.”
“I will.”
After a stretch of silence I felt the need to veer the conversation away from Lansing. “Good job, by the way, on getting this video. You’d make a great FBI agent.”
She was quiet but seemed pleased by my comment.
“Do you know how to read lips?” I asked her.
She seemed taken aback by my question and shook her head.
“Good.” I pulled out my cell.
“What are you doing?”
I cranked the door open. “Two quick calls. I’ll be right back.”
After telling Missy Schuel about Lansing’s claims and assuring her that I would send her a copy of the video when I got home, I spoke briefly with Lien-hua, and she informed me that the congressman had been contacted and was on his way to make a positive ID.
When I told her about Lansing and the Secret Service angle, she offered to do a little poking around to confirm that he really had been an agent. “Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll take care of it. Listen, it’s possible the killers didn’t just leave Mollie’s body there to confuse us. It’s possible they meant to come back for her.”
“I already thought of that. With so many responding officers here and all the news coverage, it’s probably too late, but I did convince Margaret to get us three undercover agents to surveil the entrances and exits in case.”
“As always, you continue to impress me, Agent Jiang.”
“Thank you.” A pause. “In all seriousness, Pat, nice work on this.”
“Thanks. Give me a shout later.”
“I will.”
I hung up.
And took Tessa home.
Four unzipped suitcases lay at Margaret’s feet.
Seeing the contents reminded her of the time a killer had left the torso of one of his victims in the trunk of her car. Just to taunt her.
A tight iciness coursed through her.
Not a good memory.
Congressman Fischer had insisted on making the ID here rather than at the ME’s autopsy room, and finally Margaret had agreed. He’d asked for all four suitcases to be opened, and now he was staring into the smallest one, at his daughter’s face. And when Margaret did as well, she noticed that Mollie’s eyes were still open.
She felt a splinter of anger. As a show of respect, it’s standard procedure for the Evidence Response Team to close the victim’s eyes before any family members arrive. She glared at Agent Natasha Farraday, the ERT member who should have taken care of this, but obviously had not, then knelt and gently closed Mollie’s eyes herself.
The congressman nodded to Margaret in appreciation for the gesture. Then, after a long unsteady moment, he looked into one of the suitcases on the left, pointed to a birthmark on Mollie’s left arm. “It’s her,” he whispered. “There’s no doubt.”
Despite his apparent certainty, Margaret wanted conclusive DNA testing done before she released any information to the public.
It took Agent Farraday a few moments to do the on-site test. As she did, Margaret couldn’t stop thinking about that body in the trunk of her Lexus in North Carolina “It’s her,” Agent Farraday announced. “It’s Mollie.”
The third confirmed victim since Tuesday night. Still no clear suspects, no persons of interest in the case.
Margaret cleared the room so that the congressman could have some time alone with his daughter, then after a few minutes, he exited and his entourage shuffled him out of the hotel.
As she watched Fischer walk away, she thought again of his brother’s connection to this hotel, and to the attempt on his life by the pro-death penalty activist.
Cheyenne had asked her to see if Vice President Fischer’s speech had anything to do with primate metacognition, and she’d found that it had not: it was about the Constitution as a living document and what implications our changing views on the 5th Amendment’s rights to life and liberty might have on social issues today.
The right to life.
To liberty.
Knowing the congressman’s stand on these issues might help the task force identify potential groups that might be politically motivated to harm his family, and perhaps provide a link to the assassination attempt six years ago.
A look at the clock on her cell phone told her it was almost 5:30.
You’ve been working for eleven hours straight, Margaret. Go home.
But she doubted she could step completely away from the case. Tonight after dinner she would take a closer look at Congressman Fischer’s voting record and what might be at stake in this case.
She left to pick up her things from her office and head home to feed Lewis.
66
5:34 p.m.
As soon as Tessa and I arrived home, I forwarded to Missy Schuel the video Tessa had taken of her conversation with Paul Lansing, and only moments later, as I was getting ready to start looking into Lansing’s past, Missy called me.
“I was debating whether or not to contact you,” she said, “but now, in light of everything that’s happened…”
“What is it?”
“One of Lansing’s lawyers finally returned my calls. I have a meeting with them tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow? I thought you said you were hoping-”
“Next week. Yes. I expected that would be the earliest they might agree to meet. So now I’m wondering if this sudden eagerness to get together has something do to with Lansing’s encounter with Tessa this afternoon.” A pause, and then, “Is it possible Paul was aware that their conversation was being taped?”
I considered that. “The way he acted on the video, it didn’t appear so.”
After a moment she said, “I concur, but in either case, these things never move this fast. Something else is going on here.”
Immediately, I thought of Lansing’s connection with the former vice president. “I’m coming to the meeting,” I said.
“I think it’s best if I go alone. At least for this initial-”
“Missy, I’m coming.”
“That’s not the way to play this.”
“You have three children of your own,” I replied. “Did you attend the lawyers’ meetings after your husband left you? Or did you just trust that someone you barely knew was going to help you keep custody of your kids?”
A thin pause. “Point taken. But if we’re going to work together, you’ll have to trust me.”
“I do.”
It’s Lansing I don’t trust, I thought, but I kept that comment to myself.
“All right,” she said. “I advise against it, but it’s your decision. The meeting is at 3:30. My car is in the shop, so if you can pick me up at my office at 2:30, that’ll give us time to discuss specifics before heading over.”
I agreed, and we ended the call.
After my conversation with Missy, I went to the living room to see how Tessa was doing, and I found her lying on the couch reading a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories. “I thought you hated Doyle in favor of-”
“Poe. Yes. I do.” She didn’t bother to look up.
“So you decided to give Doyle another shot?”
“Pandora likes him. She’s always asking me to read these Holmes stories.” Finally she looked at me. “But this is definitely Doyle’s last chance.”
Knowing Tessa, I guessed she’d turned to reading, one of her favorite pastimes, as a way of dealing with the trauma of the day. I tend to do the same thing-retreat into the familiar when faced with the overwhelming. “Tessa, would you like to talk about-”