Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(96)
Was that fear in his eyes? He was shaking his head at her, back and forth, thinking hard, she could see it, and when he finally spoke, he sounded horrified. “Not me! You must stop this now. I knew nothing about that Zoltan shooting. Nothing. What I’ve done, what I’ve tried to do, has only been in your own interest. All right, in both of our interests.”
She marveled at him. Which were the truths, which were the lies? She no longer cared. He’d betrayed her, the man she’d given her love, her future. He’d betrayed her with Gemma. He’d betrayed her for money. There was simply nothing more left between them.
“Give me the key, Rich. It’s mine, not yours. If you don’t, I will tell Agent Savich what you’ve done, how you schemed to steal that money and failed. He’s very good. He’ll find a way to connect you to those crimes, you and Gemma both. Can you imagine the headlines when Congressman Manvers is indicted?”
“I want you to tell me what this key belongs to, Rebekah.”
“What I know or don’t know about that key is no longer any of your concern.”
He cursed in a low voice, threw the key at her. It fell on the sofa beside her. “Keep the bloody thing. I don’t care. I was an idiot to get involved in any of this with Gemma. An idiot. But if you accuse me to Savich, I will tell the world your father, the esteemed Congressman John Clarkson, stole ninety million dollars from the government. Your daddy doesn’t deserve to be remembered as a criminal, does he?”
She saw the banked rage in his eyes fade the moment he realized they were deadlocked.
He gave a bitter laugh and shrugged. “You do know where the bonds are, don’t you?”
She said, “I want you to leave the house now. No, I don’t want your house. I’ll move out tomorrow. But I want you to leave now.”
“Rebekah, you have to believe me—”
“Do you know, I’m understanding Beck better with each passing minute in your company.” She didn’t look at him again, walked out of the living room, her head held high, carrying the small brass key and her father’s letter, and climbed up the wide staircase.
She heard the front door slam. She slowly walked back down the stairs and turned the dead bolt, remembered Beck, sighed, and flipped it off. It didn’t matter if Rich came back. What could he do?
When she stepped into her bedroom, she looked toward the bed where she’d slept beside her husband for six months, a man she’d married and trusted, counted on. She looked at her father’s letter again. Life is an incredible gift, regardless of its unexpected tragedies.
A gift. Perhaps someday she’d believe it. She looked down at the key and smiled.
62
D.C. JAIL
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Agent Dillon Savich, Agent Pippa Cinelli, Chief Matthew Wilde, and federal prosecutor Sonja Grayson sat in the small conference room and watched two guards bring in Marsia Gay, one holding each arm. Her wrists were pressed together with flex-cuffs. She stopped in the doorway and looked at each of them in turn. “What’s all this? All the top guns here to visit me? To bring me news? Good news, I hope. And who are you?”
“I’m Chief Wilde of St. Lumis, Maryland. I believe you’ve visited my town.”
She shook her head at him. “Sorry, never had the pleasure.” Her smile stayed fixed as she turned to the prosecutor. “I suppose you’re here, Ms. Grayson, to tell me I’m not going to trial? Not enough proof, is there? Poor Veronica. Does anyone know who attacked her? Such a pity. Of course, since I’m innocent, it will mean justice for me. When will I be released?”
Sonja said, “We’ll talk about your legal status in a moment, Ms. Gay. First, Agent Savich wants to speak to you.”
“Sit down, Marsia,” Savich said.
The guards sat her down, placed her hands on the table in front of her. She said to Savich, “Isn’t life strange, Agent Savich? You simply never know when misfortune will befall you. Me, being here, you, with that fire at your house? I have to say, in all fairness, what you did to me, putting me here, was worse.”
Savich studied her face, saw the banked excitement in her eyes. Yes, Marsia thought she was about to waltz out of here. “I’d like you to hear what Agent Cinelli has to say. She was in St. Lumis to investigate the red boxes you had sent to me, the ones containing pieces of a puzzle depicting Major Trumbo hanging out of a burning hotel window.”
“Sorry, Agent Savich, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Savich continued over her, “Agent Cinelli worked with Chief of Police Matthew Wilde.” He nodded to Pippa.
Pippa said without preamble, “Ronald Pomfrey and his mother, Lillian Trumbo, told us what happened that night in Ronald’s cabin in the Poconos, where you witnessed Ronald stab Major Trumbo in the back. They’re more than willing to testify against you.”
There was not a single sign Marsia found this news upsetting. She even smiled. “Of course I know those people. I dated Ronald briefly when we were in school. But I have no idea what they’ve been saying to you.” She tried to rise, but a guard pushed her back down. She smiled up at the guard. “Sorry.”
Pippa said, “We know you dated Ronald Pomfrey in your first year at Maryland Institute College of Art. He thought you loved him, you were planning to move in together, but by the time you first showed him your black heart that night in the Poconos, it was too late for him.