“Are you saying that Luisa completely fabricated this?”
“She’s taking advantage of this tragedy. She didn’t know Katie Converse. So she gets to have her moment of publicity, of financial gain. And I’m puzzled by that.”
As far as Cassidy knew, Luisa had only told her story to her. And at Channel Four, they never paid for interviews. Of course, that didn’t mean a paid-for interview with Luisa wouldn’t run in one of the tabloids tomorrow. Or that Fairview wouldn’t cast as many aspersions on Luisa as he could.
“Do you think Katie Converse’s disappearance has made you less effective as a senator?”
“No.”
She waited, but it was clear Fairview was determined not to say anything more. “But don’t the people of Oregon deserve a senator who is not distracted by this type of allegation? Have you considered resigning?”
Fairview reared back as if Cassidy had slapped him. “No. I won’t resign. I will finish out my term. Let me tell you—”
Nancy laid her hand on her husband’s thigh and leaned forward. “Because there are so many, many more who don’t want James to resign.”
He nodded emphatically. “My dad taught me when I started a job to work hard and finish it, no matter how tough it got.”
“But with all due respect, Senator, your father never envisioned a missing girl and a Senate Ethics Committee investigation.”
Fairview narrowed his eyes. “I think the principle applies to anything you do in life. And that’s the easy way out. People know my history and my record. People know I’m a fighter. And this is the toughest fight of my political life. Which is why I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to set the record straight.”
“Thank you so much, Senator and Mrs. Fairview.”
“Thank you,” they chorused. Looking daggers at her.
MARK O. HATFIELD UNITED STATES COURTHOUSE
December 31
Unable to sleep after watching Fairview’s interview, Allison had gone to work ninety minutes early. Just as she was putting her key into the lock, the phone began to ring inside her office. She quickly unlocked the door and lunged for the receiver, catching it right before the call went to voice mail.
“Allison Pierce.”
“It’s Greg.” Greg worked down the hall from Allison. The connection was bad, and she had to strain to hear him. “I forgot my security card. Come down and let me in.”
Before Allison could say anything, she heard a click. He had hung up. With a sigh, she dropped her purse and coat on her chair and then started for the elevator. When the doors opened, she got on and pressed the button for the ground floor.
But something about the request nagged at her. Greg was nearing retirement, quiet, polite, and very responsible. He and Allison seldom talked unless they happened to be standing in front of the office coffeepot together. He always made a point of pouring her the first cup, letting her enter the elevator first, and holding the door for her or any other female.
That was what bothered her, Allison thought, as the floors ticked by. Greg wouldn’t order her to come down and get him. He would apologize for putting her out and then politely wait for her to offer to help. Or he would explain himself to security and not bother her at all. Really, there was no reason for him to involve her. Security must have a procedure for when someone had lost or forgotten his badge.
Allison shivered. It felt like something cold had touched the back of her neck. So why had Greg called her? And how had he known she was in her office so early?
She replayed the conversation in her head, focusing not on the words, but on the voice. A hoarse voice, made even rougher by the poor connection. It could have been Greg—but it could just as easily not have been Greg. Had the voice sounded anything like the man who had left the message on her voice mail?
Her arms prickled as the hair rose. What if the person waiting for her in the deserted lobby wasn’t Greg?
What if it was the man who had made it clear he wanted to kill her?
The building was wrapped in darkness; it was at least an hour until daylight. Normally she wouldn’t even be here. Had someone been watching her, following her, ready to seize any opportunity to get her alone? Allison remembered the words on the note, on her voice mail. “I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to like it.”
The doors slid open. The elevator lobby was empty. Its very emptiness seemed expectant, menacing, as if someone was on the verge of jumping out at her. Allison hesitated, her hand on the black rubber edge of the open elevator door. All she had to do was walk around the corner, go out through the security gate, and she would be in the main lobby.
But once she walked through the security gate, who would be waiting for her?
Finally, Allison stepped out of the elevator and pressed her back against the wall, too frightened to pray. Her ears were alert to the slightest sound. She heard nothing but her own speeded-up breathing. She unclipped her cell phone from her belt and dialed.