Authors: James Patterson
She described how Zeus had handcuffed them to the bed, then used his fists and his teeth, focusing more on Caroline than on her, for reasons she couldn't explain, even now. By the time he had raped both women, she said, "Nicole was barely conscious, and the mattress cover on the bed was slick with blood." He left soon after that, and Hannah had begun to hope the worst of it might be over, until two men came in to take them away. One was tall and blond, the other Hispanic and stocky. That's when she understood what was coming next — on account of what had happened with Zeus,
on
account of what she and Caroline knew about
him
.
"They worked quickly, like they'd done it before. Cleaned up his mess," Hannah said. "I can still see the two of them. The bored look on their faces."
Both girls were then carried down and put in the trunk of a car. Hannah told us how she held Caroline's hand there in the dark and tried to keep her talking for as long as possible. Eventually, though, Caroline stopped answering. By the time they got where they were going and the trunk opened again, she was dead. They were in the woods, at a cabin of some kind. A third man was there, and he seemed to take over for the other two. The only light on them was his lantern, and he held it up to Hannah's face, examining her as though she were a piece of meat. Then he set it on the ground to have a closer look at Caroline, to make sure she was dead.
That's when Hannah decided she had nothing left to lose, since they would surely kill her too. She kicked the lantern over and ran for the woods.
The three men came after her, of course, and there were gunshots, including the one that lodged in her back. Somehow, she managed to keep going. It was nothing she could explain at this point, or even remember very clearly, right up until she came out on the road and saw the oncoming headlights of Aubrey Johnson's pickup truck.
Everything about the story lined up with what I already knew — the indications of bite marks on Caroline's remains, the cabin in the woods, the description of the two men with the car. There was only one question still hanging.
The
question.
"Who was he, Hannah? Who was Zeus? How did you know who he was?"
"We knew because he showed us his face. He lifted his terrible mask and said it didn't matter if Caroline and I saw him."
"Hannah," I said next. "Who is he? Who is Zeus?"
And even then, with everything else I knew about this case, her answer still floored me.
For Teddy, it was definitely a night to celebrate. Ask any of these glitterati about the week's headlines, and nine out of ten would have told the same story. Zeus was dead. A very bad man had done terrible things, and he'd paid the ultimate price for his indiscretions. It was the stuff of classics. And like any good fairy tale, it was a lie only loosely based on truth. In fact, Zeus was right here among them, enjoying the lobster cocktail and champagne just like anyone else.
Well, not exactly like anyone else.
Teddy's was a world where even the power elite kissed his butt on a regular basis, and people paid good money just to be in the same room with him. If that wasn't a privilege worth preserving, he didn't know what was. Still, there was the matter of "the urges." To screw beautiful girls. To see them in pain. To kill. Whether or not he could keep "the urges" in check now was yet to be seen, but the timing, and the opportunity to leave it all page 93
behind, could not have been better. He was in the clear now. He'd been given a second chance. So Teddy pushed all those hot thoughts way to the back of his mind, where they belonged for now, and resumed working the room as only he could. This was pure Teddy, Teddy at his best, Teddy in his element. He chatted briefly with Meryl Streep and John McLaughlin at the bar. Complimented the House Speaker on his recent
Meet the Press
slam dunk interview. Congratulated Patti LuPone, one of the night's honorees, for all of her stunning achievements — whatever they might have been. And he kept moving, kept moving, kept moving, never staying too long in the same place, never wearing out a welcome, never revealing a thing about himself. That was the beauty and allure of the cocktail hour.
Eventually, he came upon Maggie in the Hall of Nations, schmoozing the new Democratic governor from Georgia and his greyhound-faced wife, whose name Teddy could never remember.
"Speak of the devil." Maggie hooked her arm into his. "Hello, darling. We were just talking about you. Douglas, Charlotte, and I."
"Hello Doug, Charlotte. All good things, I hope," he said, and the others laughed as though it were expected of them, which it was.
"Your wife was just telling us you're quite the equestrian," the governor said.
"Ah," Teddy answered. "My little-known secret. I have so few these days. I don't like those to get out."
"We'll have to have you down to the farm sometime. We've got some beautiful trails around our summer place."
"That sounds absolutely terrific — the farm," he said, telling the kind of lie that never hurt anyone. "And the president and I will have to have you overnight at the White House one of these days." He looked over at Maggie, smiling placidly. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
Most of the resistance was from Secret Service, who ironically had the least say in this decision, except maybe for me. Their deputy director of investigations, Angela Riordan, was doing most of the talking.
"We're certainly not going to put up with any of this habeas grabbus crap, understand? This is the First Gentleman of the United States we're talking about. If the Bureau even thinks about crossing our security line, he'll be gone before anyone gets inside the building. Do I need to repeat myself?"
"We have no issue with that, Angela." This was Luke Hamel, the Bureau's assistant director in charge on the case before it got moved to Charlottesville. We also had the FBI director himself, Ron Burns, listening in with a few of their people from legal. "No one's talking arrest yet," Hamel went on. "We just want to speak with him. He's a person of interest at this point."
"Then there's no reason it can't wait until tomorrow." I recognized the slight accent of Vance's personal attorney, Raj Doshi, who was driving in from Maryland as we spoke.
"Actually, there's a very good reason," I said. "People have already died under this cover-up. Not doing anything tonight means risking more lives, and the fact that we're having this conversation only increases that risk."
"Excuse me — Detective Cross, was it?" Riordan asked. "We're not going to make tactical decisions here based on your gut feelings or your paranoia."
"With all due respect, you have no idea if I'm being paranoid or not," I said. I didn't want to put too fine a point on it, but Ned Mahoney and I were holding more cards here than anyone else on the call. Ultimately, I think Riordan recognized her lack of options, and she agreed to pull Vance in for questioning. When Doshi insisted the interview take place off site, the FBI had no objection to the demand. They quickly settled on the Eisenhower Building.
"This is Cross again," I said into the speaker. "Can I assume Dan Cormorant is already on duty at the Kennedy Center?"
"Why do you want to know?" It was Agent Silo Ridge this time; I hadn't even realized he was on the line.
"Cormorant's been my Secret Service contact on Zeus," I said. "I'd be surprised if he
didn't
have information page 94
we could use."
The full truth was that I had some questions of my own for Cormorant, and I wanted to see him face-to-face before I said anything I might regret later.
They never answered me, but it didn't matter. I'd find out soon enough. I could see the Kennedy Center looming straight ahead.
We convened on the Kennedy Center's River Terrace just outside the Grand Foyer, where the party was in full swing. I'd already seen a handful of movie stars floating by the sixty-foot-high windows, but as yet there was no sign of Teddy Vance.
No sign of Zeus?
Luke Hamel from the Bureau had brought another senior agent with him, James Walsh, whom I didn't recognize and didn't think I'd met before. My old boss Ron Burns was keeping his distance on this one, but he'd also made sure there was a place here for me and Mahoney. I'd return the favor someday if I could. From Secret Service, we had Riordan and Ridge in addition to the operational team already on site. That meant agents in tuxes paired up on all the doors, a heavy MPD presence down at street level, and a chopper and EMTs on standby, all standard for any presidential event.
Other than the White House, there wasn't a more secure building in Washington tonight. I could feel the tension spreading everywhere in my body.
Once we were in place, Riordan put the center on a temporary "crash condition" — no one in or out until the First Gentleman was away. Next, traffic was routed away from the building. A lot of drivers were about to be seriously inconvenienced, but that was the least of our problems right now.
The First Gentleman was in all probability a murderer.
Less than a minute passed before Dan Cormorant stepped outside in his tux. He reported straight to Angela Riordan and ignored everyone else.
"Ma'am. We're good to go inside."
"All right. I want a nice, quiet exit on this, understood, Dan? Montana will come out this way, and we'll proceed to the EEOB."
"Yes, ma'am."
He caught me staring at him as he turned to go. I didn't know how much Cormorant had already been told, but my presence spoke for itself. He'd have to know what this was about. Still, I couldn't get a read on him, and he was already headed back in, radioing orders into his cuff.
"This is Cormorant. I need Montana detail ready to move, on my lead. Command, we're going to need full transport from the North Plaza.
Immediately
."
On instinct, I leaned over and spoke quietly to Agent Ridge.
"You should go in with him," I said.
He didn't look at me. "Thanks for the tip, Detective."
"I'm serious," I told him, but he put a hand out to keep me back, more like a straight-arm.
"Cross, someday you're going to be king of the world, but in the meantime, just keep your damn shirt on." I was finding that hard to do. I didn't like this scenario one bit — not if Theodore Vance really was our killer.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Governor, hold that thought," Teddy told his and Maggie's guest. "I'll be right back." page 95
Then, not knowing quite why, he leaned in and kissed his wife on the cheek. "I love you, darling," he whispered, and she winked back.
Sweet Maggie. The world would probably never know how good this woman could be. Not that he really loved her, exactly, or could even tell himself what that was supposed to feel like. But it worked.
They
worked. However much about him she would never know, it couldn't erase what was true between them. Sum of the parts and all that. Complicated, like all relationships.
He double-stepped to come alongside the agent as they moved across the foyer.
"What's going on, Dan?"
"Sir, I need you to stay calm," Cormorant said. "The FBI have a few questions for you. They're waiting outside to follow us to the EEOB."
Teddy stopped short. "Hang on a second. Are you trying — " He cocked his head to one side and smiled at a couple of passing gawkers. Then he turned his back to the room. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack here?"
"Sir, I know what I'm doing. I really do. I need you to trust me."
"Trust you? You're walking me right into them!"
Cormorant shoved his radio hand into his pocket, and his voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "Haven't I proven anything to you by now? For God's sake, Teddy, get it together. They just want to ask you some questions."
"Why don't I believe that, Dan? This is bad. This is very bad, isn't it?"
"Listen to me." The agent's eyes traveled to the farthest exit and back again. "The only viable way out of this is straight through those doors. We either keep moving or they're coming in after you. There's nowhere to run, Teddy. If they come in here, it will be an embarrassment for the president." He could see them now, a collection of dark suits out on the River Terrace — including that MPD detective who had been dogging him. Alex Cross. The one who should have been dead and disposed of a long time ago.
"Sir, we have to go."
"
Don't rush me,
goddamnit! Are you forgetting? I'm Teddy Vance." Teddy straightened his tie and took a fluted glass off a passing waiter's tray. It was a struggle not to down it all at once. Just a swallow for now, and another casual smile for the room, while the blood pounded in his ears.
"All right," he said. "Let's do this. I can certainly answer a few of their questions."