The Governor's Wife (19 page)

I
t took me three days to find mother and daughter. Another three to convince the mother to see me. We met in my living room. I’d had the apartment swept earlier that morning and all the bugs removed. Then I’d had it swept again. Marie Perry sat in a hard chair facing the street. She spoke without ever having been asked a question.

“The story I told you about me when I was seventeen.”

“The abortion?”

“That was true. Afterward, the doctor insisted I could never have children. When I told Ray, it ruined him. Until, of course, I got pregnant.”

“He wanted the child?”

“He lived for it. Then we got the diagnosis of spina bifida, and Ray wasn’t so sure anymore. My father was adamant I have an abortion. He never knew about the first one—not that it would have mattered—but my father knew Ray. And he knew Ray wouldn’t have the heart for politics once the child was born. Eventually, Ray came around to my father’s
way of thinking. He told me an abortion was ‘the best thing for both of us.’ ”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him I’d rather die than give up our child. So I had the baby and killed our marriage instead.” Marie closed her eyes and turned her face a degree toward the sun streaming through an open window. It seemed like a long time before she spoke again. “What do you know about spina bifida?”

“Amanda gave me the basics.”

“It’s interesting. You meet with the doctor every few weeks during your pregnancy. You look at the ultrasounds of your child and listen while they take things away. First, it’s her ability to walk normally. Then it’s her ability to walk at all. She’ll likely be brain damaged, emotionally impaired, and live her life tethered to a colostomy bag. The defect is growing. The defect has stabilized. We just won’t know until she’s born, but it won’t be good. It’s never good. And all the while, people look at you like you’re carrying an alien inside you and whisper in your ear about things like ‘quality of life’ and the ‘right thing for the baby.’ And then the child no one wants but you is born. And the knives come out for real.”

“Was Ray involved with Emma after she was born?”

“You mean did he hire someone to kill his own daughter?” Marie shook her head. “Ray and I both thought Emma had died of natural causes. The whole thing was swept under the rug and never talked about again. My father had a campaign to run and a governor’s mansion to win. Emma wasn’t going to get in the way.”

I thought about Iphigenia and the bleached sails of the Greeks as an army set sail for Troy. “Money, glory, and power.”

Her smile sparked a million tiny bits of pain. “Seems like Euripides had it just about right.”

“That’s why he’s Euripides.”

“I guess.”

“Tell me about Beacon Limited.”

“What’s to tell? My father
is
Beacon. Always has been. He brought Ray in once we got to Springfield.”

“Why did Ray disappear with Beacon’s money?”

“He didn’t want to go to jail. And he was greedy. I helped because I didn’t want him in my life anymore, even from a prison cell.”

“Did Ray think you’d eventually join him?”

“Ray thought a lot of things, most of it dictated by his ego. That was Ray, for better or worse. Once I found out Emma was still alive, she became my only priority. And Ray became a possible way out. Or so I’d hoped.”

“When did Ray discover his daughter was alive?”

“He saw a picture before he died. That was all he deserved.” Outside the sun dipped behind some cloud cover, burying her face in deep shadow. “Ray used people, Mr. Kelly. He used me to further his career, then to help him get out of the courthouse. Andrew Wallace did a hundred things for Ray, including stealing sixty million dollars from Beacon. You were Ray’s final stalking horse—someone who would smoke out any threats planted in our midst.”

“You mean Karen Simone?”

“I wouldn’t have guessed her, but, yes, Karen Simone. That was your job. And you were well paid for it. Now that she’s dead, maybe there’s a window. A chance to get away. If so, I intend to use it.”

“Your father will hunt you down, Marie. The man wants his money. And you’re his only lead.”

“I have a plan.”

“You mean the church?”

The question hung like a dagger between us. Marie reached for it. “What do you know about that?”

“I know you met your father there. I’m guessing it had
something to do with the money you drove out to Clarendon Hills and Hinsdale.”

“I gave him sworn statements from two families. Both will testify that Beacon Limited killed their loved ones.”

“More blackmail?”

“I want my father focused on me. Believing I’m a viable threat to him and his pals.”

“Meanwhile, Amanda gets your daughter out of town, and Wallace arranges it so the cash follows.”

“The original plan was for both of us to go, but that might not happen. The important thing is that my father never know Emma’s alive. I’ll stay here and distract him by threatening to take the lid off Beacon.”

“Your plaintiffs will be paid off, Marie. Count on it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“They took your money to speak up. They’ll take more from Beacon to keep quiet. Your father understands that. In some ways, that’s his greatest strength. And biggest weakness.”

“Money?”

“Greed. All you have to do is exploit it. Tell him the truth. You have the cash Ray stole. And you’re willing to bargain for your freedom.”

“Why should I trust him?”

“Wallace and I have worked it out so you don’t have to.”

She didn’t know Wallace and I had been talking. It threw her for a minute. “How?”

“We set aside ten million for you and Emma. Another ten gets split between the families. The rest is funneled back to Beacon over a period of years. Gives you time to disappear and lets the wounds heal.”

“The wounds will never heal.”

“Maybe not. But if you go ahead with your plan, they’ll blow it out of the water, and then they’ll kill you. When they
find out Emma is alive, they’ll kill her as well. Or maybe Bones takes custody and raises her as his own.”

A horn beeped somewhere, and a car door slammed. The sun peeked out again from its cloud cover, throwing shards of light across the room. Marie walked to the windows and studied the street below. “I made the decision to have an abortion when I was seventeen. Then I fought to save my baby when I was thirty-eight. At the time I felt each decision was the right one. Now I feel like I’ve only created a culture of death.”

“That’s one way to think about it.”

Marie turned from the window. “You have another?”

“There probably would have been suffering however you chose. It’s what you do afterward that counts. What lives you protect. How well you persevere.”

She crossed her arms and leaned up against the windowsill. “Will I have to tell him about Emma?”

“It’s the only way.”

“Why?”

Marie listened as I laid out the deal I hoped to strike with her father.

“Is that all of it?”

“That’s all you need to know.”

“And I trust you for the rest?”

“Your little girl will be safe. I can promise you that.”

“And it will be over?”

“It should be, yes.”

“I hope you’re right, Mr. Kelly.” She turned away from me again. “Go ahead and make the call.”

S
pyder nudged the suppressor another inch outside the window and nestled his cheek against the smooth stock of the rifle. The woman was little more than a shadow, loitering too far from the open window to get a fix on. Kelly was a couple of feet to her left and every bit as elusive. Spyder moved his scope over to a bird, hopping from branch to branch on a nearby tree. He adjusted the sights and painted a crosshair across the bird’s back. Then he slipped a finger inside the trigger guard and squeezed, slow and easy. The bird flew off in a burst of feathers just as the hammer snapped forward on an empty chamber.

“Fuck.” Spyder pulled back from the window and laid the rifle on the floor. It was warm in the apartment. Spyder stripped off his gloves and took a sip of Gatorade. The flat was empty, save for the rifle, its case, and a plastic bag filled with trash. Spyder had packed up all the gear last night and spent the morning washing the place down with hot water and bleach. He was more than ready for the job to be done. And
was looking forward to collecting his bonus. A floorboard creaked somewhere in the apartment; a hot breeze rustled the curtains behind him. Spyder took another sip of Gatorade and looked across the street.

“Shit.”

She was there, forehead pressed against the windowpane, staring down at the sidewalk. Spyder pulled on his gloves and picked up the rifle again. He wasn’t afraid of being spotted. She could look right at him and see nothing but the black rectangle of a window. He rested the barrel on the sill and fixed his eye to the scope. He’d said he could take out both of them. His bosses knew better and put a man in a car downstairs. Spyder’s priority was the woman. She moved a fraction in his sights. Spyder adjusted and sharpened his focus. The woman turned her back to him. Spyder tickled the sight up and down her spine. She drifted back into the shadows. Spyder withdrew the rifle. He loaded three rounds into the magazine and chambered the first. Then he leaned the rifle up against the wall. He took a picture of Marie Perry out of his pocket and compared it with the woman he’d seen at the window. She’d aged, and not well, but it was her. Spyder put the picture back in his pocket and closed his eyes. All he needed now was a phone call. And a clean shot.

B
ones McIntyre agreed to meet his daughter alone, with only myself acting as a go-between. I told him it had to happen this afternoon, or it wasn’t going to happen at all. Bones balked at the timing, but the lure of the money was too strong. A little more than an hour later, a cab pulled up in front of my building, and the old man got out. He took his time walking up the three flights to my apartment. I waited on the landing.

“Hip doesn’t like all the stairs.”

“She’s in the living room.”

Bones grunted and moved past me, into the apartment. “How about a glass of water?”

I went out to the kitchen and filled a glass. When I returned Marie was staring at a window streaked with sunlight. Bones sat ten feet away, hands folded in his lap, studying his left shoe. I gave Bones his water and moved my chair so I was equidistant from both.

“You guys gonna talk to each other?”

“I thought that’s what you were here for.” Marie spoke without taking her eyes off the window.

“Where’s the money your husband stole?” Bones took a sip of water and rubbed his lips together like it was a fine wine.

“We need assurances,” I said.

“I already gave them over the phone.”

I shook my head. “I told you that wasn’t enough.”

“You told me I’d have the money in return for allowing my daughter and her felon of a husband to escape criminal prosecution and disappear for good.”

“Ray’s dead,” Marie said, her voice like fallen leaves stirring in the gutter.

“Good riddance.” Bones crossed himself and took another sip of water. “We knew about it the day he turned up at the Ambassador. I assume you had the good sense to secure the cash?”

“She did,” I said.

“Of course she did. She’s my daughter.”

“You sicken me,” Marie said.

“And yet here you sit.” Bones turned to me. “What do you want out of this?”

“The truth.”

“In Chicago? That’s easy. Pick one out and I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

“Let’s start with Eddie Ward and Paul Goggin. A couple of guys who helped Ray Perry escape from the federal courthouse two years ago. You knew about them and watched them. Ultimately, you decided they didn’t know a thing about Ray’s whereabouts or the money, so you killed them. To send a message maybe to the people who did.”

“I’m not sure I like your story,” Bones said. “Hopefully you’ve got the ending right.”

“You were never sure what your daughter knew. And proceeded with caution. Smart move there, Bones. But the bodies
started things rolling. Then Ray himself turns up dead, and Marie is all that’s left. Maybe she knows where the money is? But if she did, why didn’t she disappear with her husband? And what are you gonna do about it anyway? Kill your own flesh and blood? I’d think it might be pretty hard to live with something like that, but I’ve been wrong before.” I took out the black flash drive Nicholas Mason had given me and put it on the table. “Which brings us to this.”

“What’s that?” Bones said.

“Seven days ago, a man named Nicholas Mason gave it to me.”

The old man’s nostrils flared. “Never heard of him.”

“In 2004, Nicholas worked as an attendant in the hospital where your daughter had a baby girl.”

“That’s family business. And it was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, the video’s still pretty good. It shows Mason suffocating the child in her crib.”

Bones wet his lips. When he spoke, his teeth glittered like polished pearls. “What’s any of that got to do with me?”

“Mason died two days ago. Before he passed, he appeared in a second video.” I took out another flash drive and set it beside the first. “In it, he went into great detail explaining how you hired him to kill the child. He even tape recorded a conversation he had with you.” I tapped the second drive. “All right here.”

Bones took a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at his daughter. “I did what needed to be done. What no one else had the stomach for.”

Marie still hadn’t looked at her father. I took out my own gun and leveled it at his belly.

“Put it away, Bones.”

“If I’m gonna get shot, I’d rather it be with something in my hand.”

“I could have put a bullet in you ten minutes ago if I’d wanted. Put the gun down.”

“After you.”

I lowered my gun and placed it on the table. Bones did the same. My smartphone was in my pocket and buzzed with a text. Everyone in the room ignored it.

“We’re not here to settle old scores,” I said. “We just want you to know what we have. And what we’ll hang on to.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

“I can’t tie you to Ward or Goggin. This way everyone feels comfortable with the arrangement going forward.”

“Where’s the money?”

I took out a slip of paper and pushed it across the table. “The accounts are numbered and will be set up in whatever names you want. Marie keeps ten for herself and ten for the families. You get twenty today. The rest will be paid out over three years, provided Marie’s safe.”

Bones took a look at the paper I’d given him, folded it in half and put it in his pocket. “And how do I know she’ll keep her end of the bargain once we leave here?”

“Two reasons,” I said and held up two fingers. “First of all, there’s me.”

“You?”

“I live in Chicago and I’m not going anywhere. If she reneges, my life is forfeit. You know your daughter. Do you think she’d let me die?”

Bones thought about that, then nodded. “What’s the other reason?”

I glanced at Marie who turned in her chair and leaned toward her father. For a moment I thought she was going to go after him, teeth and claws bared. Instead, she just hung there, their knees and faces inches apart.

“The other reason’s sitting outside, Father.”

“Outside?” Bones gave me a quick, almost frantic look, but his daughter demanded his attention.

“Nicholas Mason lied to you. He never killed anyone. He and his wife took my baby and kept her safe until they could
figure out who in our family could be trusted. Her name is Emma. She’s ten years old, she’s healthy, and she’s your granddaughter.”

I watched Bones’s face turn to melted rubber. His lips stretched and moved, but no sound came out.

“That’s the other reason you can rest assured I’ll keep my end of the bargain. I’m a mother. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my child as far away from you as possible.”

“I don’t believe it.”

A ghost of a smile played across Marie Perry’s lips. “I’m going to give you a gift. I’m going to let you see your granddaughter. For the last time in your life.” She nodded toward the open windows. “She’s in a cab out front.”

We both watched as Bones McIntyre got up from his seat and shuffled to the windows. He leaned out and looked down into the street. Amanda Mason got out of a yellow cab with a blond-haired girl wearing a light blue dress. The girl looked up, one hand shading her face. Amanda let the moment sit for a heartbeat, then folded Emma back into the cab. Bones pressed his head against the windowsill and closed his eyes. I wondered what the old man was thinking about. His money. His daughter. His granddaughter. I wondered where ambition ended and evil began, and if anyone had ever charted that border on a map. Bones opened his eyes and turned back toward Marie. A pane of glass shattered as the sniper’s bullet struck him in the back of the neck with a quiet thump. Bones fell gracelessly at his daughter’s feet. His hand scratched once on the wooden floor. Then Bones McIntyre was dead.