Godless (32 page)

“I can't do that.”

“Can't, or won't?”

“I haven't done anything wrong.”

“All of us have sinned. All fall short of the glory of God.”

“I told you, I don't believe in God,” Matthew said severely. “And you won't call me Matthew. I'm an anonymous source. You promised.”

“I'll honor our agreement,” said Julia. “But I need more details if I'm going to write a complete story. Can we meet face-to-face?”

“I've told you everything I can. Now please, do what I've asked.”

“But—”

The call ended.

“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Mayhew as if clicking off the television, “that certainly was exciting, wasn't it?”

Julia met the pastor's eyes. “What do you think he'll do?”

“I don't know,” he said, rubbing his temples. “All I know is that from the first time we met I sensed that man had a tortured soul, as if he had begun sliding toward madness. Now I fear something even worse.”

A brief silence.

“What was it he said?” Alex continued. “That he freed his mother to thrive?”

“That's right,” Julia said with lamentation at her part in Matthew Adams's descent.

“And then he mentioned the names of others he helped to transition, or, in his words, ‘free.'”

The pastor reached toward the coffee table, placing his hand on a large book. He rubbed the cover's iconic image of the Madonna and child.

“I worry he now intends to ‘free' someone else.”

“Such as?” Julia asked with alarm.

A tentative shrug. “Himself, perhaps?”

A cloud of heaviness settled over Julia. She reached one hand toward Mrs. Mayhew and the other toward Alex. “Please, Pastor,” she said, “will you pray?”

Kevin jumped
out of the taxi as it approached the front door of University Hospital. His best friend stood waiting just inside. They embraced.

“How are they?” asked Kevin as they rushed toward the elevator.

“They're fine,” said Troy. “Although your dad is a bit upset that you got on a plane so fast. He kept ordering me to call you off.”

“Let me guess. He said there's no need to make a fuss.”

Troy smiled while pressing the elevator call button. “Exactly. Although your mom was glad to know you were on your way.”

“I wish I could have come sooner. It's been, what, twelve hours since the attack? Any suspects yet?”

“You can ask the detective. He's still here.”

They stepped onto the open elevator.

“Still here?” Kevin growled. “Why on earth isn't he tracking down whoever did this to my parents?”

“Whoa, pal,” said Troy, placing a paw on his friend's tense shoulder. “Take it easy. I told you, they're going to be fine. They've been gathering clues. In fact, he's interviewing Julia right now.”

“Why interview Julia?”

A single ding followed by opening elevator doors.

“Let's just say she had an interesting morning.” He waved his hand to insist Kevin exit first. “But I'll let you hear it from her directly.”

They turned left and walked about fifty steps.

“This is it,” said Troy as they approached the room. “You go ahead. They'll want you all to themselves for a few minutes. I'll be around the corner with Julia and the detective.”

Kevin eased the door open. He saw his mother sitting beside his father's bed. They were holding hands, eyes fixed on a television screen mounted on the wall. Kevin smiled when he realized they were watching an episode of his mom's favorite classic program,
I Love Lucy
. His dad had never even liked, let alone loved, Lucy. He had apparently lost the battle over programming preference, as usual.

With two raps on the door Kevin drew their attention away from the screen. His mother's eyes instantly welled up with tears. She tried to stand but Kevin waved her back into her chair. He approached quickly, entering her outstretched arms while placing a firm hand on his dad's shoulder.

“Are you two all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” said his father with a manly snort that betrayed tender emotion. “You shouldn't have come. A bunch of fuss, that's all.”

“I'm glad you're here, Son,” overruled Kevin's mom. She squeezed his neck tighter. “Very glad.”

“I got here as quick as I could.” He sat in the other chair.

“You shouldn't have come at all,” his dad repeated.

“So you said.” Kevin winked toward his mom. “You look like an underdressed mummy,” he added while pointing at his father's head bandage. “I'd hate to see the other guy.”

“Nailed him right in the ear with my old hiking boot. Your mother wanted me to get rid of those boots years ago.” He looked at his wife. “Good thing I didn't listen, right, doll?”

She slapped his outstretched hand. “Hush,” she scolded. “Nobody cares about your crusty old boot.”

He turned back to Kevin. “Find a guy walking around with a size-ten boot print indented into the side of his head and you'll find the culprit.”

They shared a chuckle.

“The police officer who called me this morning said there were two intruders.”

“That's right. But I only nailed the one. The other guy was in the living room tying your mother to a chair. I'd have given him a full-facial whack if he hadn't run so fast.”

“It's a good thing he did run,” said Kevin's mom. “You were lying on the ground bleeding. I thought you were dead.” A distraught sigh. “It was terrible. Just terrible!”

“It was just a little blood,” barked Kevin's dad. “That wouldn't have stopped me. There was no way I was going to let them harm my sweet bride. I wanted to kill someone when I saw her strapped down with those plastic zippy things like some kind of animal!”

Kevin felt his father's anger fueling his own.

“Where is that detective anyway?” the elder continued. “We need to catch those guys before they try to invade some other home.”

Kevin stood and moved toward the door. “Let me check. He was talking to Julia Simmons.”

“Great!” said his dad with displeasure. “The detective is sipping coffee and chatting instead of chasing criminals.”

Kevin's thoughts exactly.

He rounded the corner to find Julia, Troy, and a man he didn't recognize. He had a shadow of dark stubble on his head and a small beard on his chin. He wore plain clothes with a badge that read “Denver Police” hanging from his belt.

The man leaped to his feet at Kevin's approach while Julia rushed in for a consoling embrace.

“Oh, Kevin,” she said, “I'm so sorry.”

He patted her back. “Thanks for coming, Julia.”

The stranger extended his hand toward Kevin. “Congressman Tolbert, I'm Tyler Cain. We spoke earlier this morning.”

“Yes, of course,” he said while measuring the man's grip. “My father and I would appreciate a briefing on what you know.”

“Certainly.”

The four moved into the hospital room for a consultation.

“Excuse me,” said a stern-looking nurse who had apparently slipped into the room to check her patient's blood pressure. “We only allow three visitors at a time.”

Tyler removed the badge from his belt. “Police business,” he said assertively.

The nurse reached for a laminated plastic name tag hanging from her neck. “Hospital rules.”

“Please,” said Troy, “won't you just give us a few minutes? The congressman's parents were attacked in their home this morning. We need to figure out who was behind it and why.”

The nurse's eyes widened, then she glanced at the name on his father's chart. “Congressman…Tolbert?”

“That's right,” said Kevin.

She smiled admiringly. “I voted for you.”

He quickly peered at her tag, “Thank you for that, Ms. Sledge, is it?”

“Please, call me Jill.”

“Jill then,” he said warmly.

The nurse looked at the others, then back at Kevin. “I just had my third baby,” she said, as if making a generous contribution to the congressman's cause. The emotion in her voice caught Kevin by surprise.

“Thank you for that, also,” he replied.

She removed the blood pressure device from the senior Tolbert's arm. “Let me just get this out of your way,” she said before scurrying out the door.

“Well,” said Kevin, taking command of the ensemble gathering around his father's bed. “Tell us what you know.”

“We didn't know much more than what I shared with you on the phone this morning until Mrs. Simmons here told me about a meeting she had with her pastor about an hour ago.”

Kevin looked at Julia. “Pastor Ware?” he asked, struggling to make a connection.

She relayed the odd story.

A mysterious message inviting her to meet at the church.

An anonymous note asking the pastor to hear the writer's confession over the phone.

The hope that Julia would use the confession to expose an alleged assassin.

“Mrs. Simmons believes the anonymous confessor to be a man named Matthew Adams,” said Tyler.

Kevin tried unsuccessfully to place the name.

The detective continued. “We had him in custody last year for a while, but let him go when we learned he couldn't have committed the murder.”

“Wait,” interrupted Kevin. “I don't understand what any of this has to do with the attack on my parents.”

The detective pulled out his tablet and tapped the screen before handing it to the couple. “Do either of you recognize—”

“That's him,” shouted Mr. Tolbert. “The guy I whacked with my boot!”

“Thank the Lord,” said Mrs. Tolbert. “You found him.”

“Not exactly,” explained Tyler. “This picture is about a year old, from when Mr. Adams was being held under house arrest until we could officially confirm his innocence.”

Mr. Tolbert frowned. “Great! You set him loose to continue the killing spree?”

“No, sir,” said the detective. “He didn't kill the judge. I know that for a fact.”

“How?” asked Kevin.

“He was with me at the time of the murder. I had tracked him using what appeared to be threatening letters he had written to the judge. In fact, that's when I first met Mrs. Simmons.”

Julia nodded at the mention. “Matthew is a former high school acquaintance who had a crush on my sister,” she explained. “Mr. Cain used Maria as the bait to reel him in.”

“But he was innocent then,” said Tyler.

“Well, he isn't innocent now,” barked Mr. Tolbert. “That is definitely the man who attacked me.”

“Why would he want to kill my parents?”

“That's what I've been trying to figure out,” said Tyler. “Like I said this morning, I've been investigating a string of similar incidents ever since I rejoined the force about a year back. But until now I've had no survivors who could provide positive identification.”

“But you just said this guy didn't kill the judge. So how is he connected?”

The detective turned toward Julia. “That's what Mrs. Simmons was about to explain when you walked up.”

Julia cleared
her throat. “Well, during his phone confession this morning the anonymous voice claimed he had been framed for Santiago's murder. He also said he had been tricked into doing something bad.”

“What kind of bad?” Tyler asked.

“He didn't say. But he insisted it wasn't anything illegal.”

The congressman spoke next. “Like a scheduled transition?”

“That would fit the other cases,” said Tyler. “All apparent volunteers.”

“So that's why they claimed my husband made an appointment,” said Mrs. Tolbert.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Kevin's father assertively. “Go after the fool!”

“We would,” said Tyler, “if we knew where he was.” He looked at Julia. “Did you pick up any indications of where he might be heading next?”

“No. Nothing,” she said. “But he sounded pretty distraught. I got a very bad feeling. So did Pastor Ware. He's afraid Matthew plans to do something dramatic.”

“Like?”

“Like take his own life, or possibly the life of the man he believes is behind all of this.”

“Who's that?” asked Tyler.

Silence.

“Did he mention a name?” he pressed.

Julia hesitated. “I'm reluctant to say.”

He waited for more.

“You need to understand. I nearly destroyed a man's reputation once before.” Julia looked toward Kevin with eyes full of regret. “I swore I wouldn't let that happen again. All I know is what an anonymous source, a man desperate to pin the blame on someone else, has alleged. I need confirmation before I accuse anyone.”

“What about the pastor?” asked Tyler. “Do you think he might tell us?”

“He swore to keep the conversation confidential. All he agreed to do is confirm hearing the confession I report, which I intend to do as soon as I can substantiate details of the accusation.”

“What kind of details?” Tyler insisted.

“He claimed that the person who framed him did so by mimicking letters Matthew wrote.”

“I have those letters,” said Tyler. “They matched the alias of the letters your sister received. Remember?”

She thought for a moment. “Who else saw those letters?”

“The assistant chief,” said Tyler. “Judge Santiago's assistant. Oh, and Mrs. Santiago, of course, since the final letter came to her at the house.”

Julia shook her head thoughtfully. “The confession didn't include any of those. He pinned it on someone pretty influential.”

A sudden realization pierced Tyler's memory, a remote possibility he had tried to forget. There was one other name that he'd hoped would never cross his lips, that of a man he'd convinced himself had nothing whatsoever to do with the judge's assassination. Because if he had, Tyler shuddered to think, Tyler himself would share the blame.

“He didn't by chance mention a man named…Evan Dimitri?”

The room fell silent. Kevin and Troy appeared stunned while Julia simply nodded.

Tyler sighed deeply. “I was afraid of that,” he began. “But it fits.”

“Evan Dimitri of the Saratoga Foundation?” asked Troy.

More nodding.

Kevin spoke next. “Didn't Dimitri write a large check to my reelection fund?”

“He did,” said Troy uneasily. “But more to the point, Dimitri is the big money behind Franklin's run for the White House.”

“Do either of you know a reason Dimitri would want to see Judge Santiago dead?” Tyler asked.

“You bet,” said Troy. “Dimitri has a vested interest in protecting and expanding the Youth Initiative.”

“What kind of interest?”

“He controls the serum of choice used by NEXT Transition clinics.”

“He owns PotassiPass?” Tyler asked as if finding another piece of the puzzle.

“And a dozen other related businesses, I'd bet.”

That's when Tyler noticed Kevin Tolbert's head fall into his hands. “I'm so sorry,” he said.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” asked Mr. Tolbert.

“I think I know what's going on. And it means I put the two of you at risk.”

“How?” asked his mother.

“Dimitri hates my Bright Spots proposal, or at least the parts that run counter to the Youth Initiative. He knows I'm speaking at the convention next week. He knows a large bloc of voters like my message.”

“Of course they do,” said Mrs. Tolbert. “But—”

“Listen, Mom,” he interrupted. “There are billions of dollars at stake in this debate. Every potential volunteer is a potential source of revenue for a man like Dimitri, not to mention a potential life preserver for a federal budget drowning in debt. I should have realized…” He stopped.

“What's wrong?” Tyler asked in reaction to the congressman's face.

“Imagine the headlines. ‘Parents of Youth Initiative Critic Volunteer for Transition to Support His Cause.' What better way to discredit me?” He turned toward his parents. “Mom, Dad, I'm so, so sorry.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said the elder Tolbert. “You've done nothing wrong.” Then the old man looked straight into Tyler's eyes. “Am I right?” he demanded.

More right than he knows
, thought Tyler. How much to say? It was Julia who had originally suggested someone like Evan Dimitri might provide clues in the Santiago case. Innocent enough, he had thought. Float the letters by Dimitri to glean a scrap of information, no matter how remote. Instead of leading him to the killer, however, Dimitri had shut him down right after seeing copies of the letters written by Matthew Adams.

“Julia,” Tyler said, “I think I can provide the confirmation you need for part of Matthew Adams's confession.”

She appeared confused by the comment. “How?”

He hesitated. “Can't say. I can only say that Evan Dimitri had access to Matthew Adams's letters.”

“Which would have given him what he needed to frame Matthew!” she said, connecting the dots. “So he was telling the truth. Matthew has been nothing more than a pawn.”

“So it would appear.”

“I don't care if he's a pawn, a knight, a bishop, or a rook,” said Mr. Tolbert, “I want that man arrested for what he tried to do to my wife.”

“Of course,” said Tyler. “Don't worry. We'll track him down.”

“He could be anywhere by now,” said Julia, glancing at a clock beside Mr. Tolbert's bed. “It's been nearly four hours since he left Pastor Ware's office this morning.”

“Alone?” asked Tyler.

A blank stare.

“Did Matthew visit the pastor's office alone this morning or was the other attacker with him?”

“I believe he was alone.” Julia appeared to think for a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it's been over twelve hours since the other man fled the Tolberts' house. He could be anywhere in or out of the country by now.”

“Dear Lord!” said Mrs. Tolbert. “That means he could be in Washington. Angie! The kids!”

Tyler felt a swell of panic in the room. “Congressman Tolbert,” he asked intently, “are your wife and children in a safe place?”

“They're at home,” came the urgent reply.

“Baby Leah,” whispered Julia.

“What about her?” asked Tyler.

“I can't say for sure,” Julia said with confusion and alarm.

“Can't say what?” Mr. Tolbert demanded.

“I've felt a need to pray for Leah, as if something was about to happen. I hadn't thought it might be connected to this incident until now.”

Kevin was already activating his phone.

So was Tyler. “This is Detective Cain,” he said to the dispatcher. “I need you to contact the D.C. police immediately. I want a patrolman sent to the home of Congressman Kevin Tolbert right away.” He looked toward Troy, who gave him the address. He repeated it into the phone.

The congressman appeared distraught, and suddenly pale. “No answer,” he said. “I'll try my backup phone.” He pressed another icon. One second later he reached into a vibrating pocket, then grimaced at the realization he had brought both phones with him.

“Is there any other way to reach her?” asked Tyler. “A neighbor perhaps?”

Tyler noticed Julia kneeling beside Mrs. Tolbert in an apparent fit of prayer.

That's when the congressman's phone rang again. Tyler glanced at the screen to make out what appeared to be a photo identifying the caller.

Kevin's fingers shook as he accepted the call.

“Angie?” he pled. “Is that you, babe? Are you all right?”

A brief silence as all eyes tried reading the congressman's face. Features frozen in fear quickly melted into a warm, relieved grin.

“Hi, buddy!” he sang while tossing a wink toward Mrs. Tolbert and Julia. Their prayers, it seemed, had been unnecessary. Or perhaps answered. “I'm with Grandma and Grandpa,” he was saying. “Uncle Troy and Aunt Julia are here, too.”

He paused to listen. “Now?” he asked before adding, “you got it!”

Kevin tapped an icon before pointing the device at the television screen mounted on the wall. “Tommy says we all need to see something.”

The screen came alive. They waited a few seconds for the big event. “Ready, Daddy?” said a boy who, to Tyler's eyes and ears, seemed seven or eight years old.

“We're ready, buddy!” Kevin replied.

Tyler positioned himself at just the right angle to see what was on the screen. A lovely woman, the congressman's wife, sat on a sofa holding a toddler on her lap.

“Hi there, Leah,” said Grandma, returning the child's Mommy-induced wave.

“Hi, Angie,” added Julia.

“I'm so glad you're all together,” said the mommy to her relieved audience. “You won't believe what just happened.”

The screen zoomed closer to the toddler.

“Here we go,” came her big brother's voice.

The lovely woman leaned close to whisper something into the little girl's ear. Whatever she said prompted a smile of delight. All eyes remained fixed on the scene.

Then they heard it: a single, indecipherable syllable, followed by another.

The room erupted with elation as if the kid had hit a grand slam in the World Series.

“Did you hear that?” shouted the congressman while accepting a kiss on the cheek from Julia and a high five from Troy.

Tyler looked at the elder Tolbert, who sat beaming with pride in his hospital bed. “What just happened?” he asked.

“This is a big day for the Tolbert family,” the old man explained. “Our granddaughter, whom we feared might never speak, just said her very first word.”

“Not just any word,” added the congressman. “She said, ‘Daddy'!”