They decided to scope out Doakler’s house during the day while he was at work and then come back at night to do the interrogation.
“So we’ll follow the same plan as with Williams. You stay out of sight while I do the dirty work. No sense in blowing up your game if we don’t have to.”
Scarlett nodded. “He’s pretty soft. He should cave easily. Probably faster than the senator.”
Xander cracked his knuckles, ready to do this, but he was a little apprehensive of the outcome, too. “What happens if we’re right and the Secretary of Defense has something to do with McQuarry’s death? How do we prove it? He’s pretty high up the food chain.”
Scarlett shared his concern but she was in TL mode. “Focus on the objective,” she said. “We need to find out if Doakler knows anything. If something turns up, we’ll move to the next objective. One step at a time.”
Xander nodded, breathing a little more easily knowing they had a plan. “All right, are you ready to do this?” he asked.
Scarlett gloved her hands and pulled her dark beanie over her bright red hair, her smile painted on. “More than ready.”
“You just want payback for that slobbery kiss he planted on you,” he teased as they climbed into the car.
“Don’t front. You want payback for that kiss, too.”
Ohhh, the woman knew him well. No sense in lying. He hated the idea of anyone touching Scarlett aside from him. Instead, he just gave her a cocky nod and left it at that. Their feelings for one another were an additional complication that they didn’t have time to confront. One crisis at a time.
They rolled up to Doakler’s neighborhood, cutting the engine a block away and parking in a dark alley away from the main road.
Doakler lived alone with his cat in an upscale neighborhood but nothing quite as fancy as the senator. The block was made of newer construction, an upwardly mobile subdivision filled with young families and middle-aged couples in the prime of their adulthood.
Xander pulled the black ski mask over his head and they made their way silently into the house, quickly bypassed the alarm system and found Doakler asleep in his bed, clutching a small ratty teddy bear.
Xander shared a look with Scarlett before she melted into the shadows and then scared the ever-loving shit out of the man by dragging him out of the bed and dropping him to the floor.
Doakler yelped like a kicked puppy, terrified as Xander hauled him to his feet and tossed him into the ornate chair in the corner. Tying him easily to the chair, Xander blindfolded him with a pair of Doakler’s own underwear and then once he knew Doakler couldn’t see, he removed the ski mask and motioned for Scarlett to join him.
“I have money...” Doakler pleaded, scared out of his mind. “I know important people!”
“I’m not interested in your money. I just want some information.”
“Information?” Doakler repeated, confused. “What kind of information?”
“The classified kind,” Xander answered, grinning when Doakler’s bottom lip began to tremble. “Word on the street is you’re an important man.”
“No, I’m no one. I—I—I’m just a glorified clerk. I push paperwork. I don’t know anything.”
“I think you’d be surprised what you know.”
Doakler shook his head. “I don’t understand... Who sent you? Oh my God, are you...Russian?”
“Do I sound Russian?” Xander asked dryly. “No, I’m not Russian, you idiot. I need answers and I think you’re going to give them to me.”
“I honestly don’t know anything about anything. I’m just a paper-pusher, a gopher. I get coffee and lunches and file papers... Truly, I don’t know anything of real value.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jimmy,” Xander said, amused at how quickly the man lost the bravado he’d put on display for Scarlett’s benefit. “I think you know more than you realize. How about I make you a deal...”
“Anything,” Doakler promised with a fervent nod. “Whatever you want.”
“If you answer my questions like a good boy, I’ll leave all your parts exactly as I found them—attached to your body.”
Doakler gulped. “And if I can’t answer your questions?”
“Then I’ll have to take out my frustration on your fingers and toes and other extremities. You don’t want me to do that, do you?” Doakler shook his head. Xander smiled. “Good. Then let’s start.”
“But what if I don’t know what you’re asking?”
Xander answered in a dark tone, “Well, let’s just hope that you do.” Doakler swallowed and jerked a nod. Xander was surprised the man hadn’t pissed himself yet. “Okay, let’s start with something easy. How closely do you work with the Secretary of Defense, Mark Bettis?”
“I’m his clerk,” Doakler answered, licking his lips. “I prepare the paperwork, send emails, handle his social and business calendar.”
“So, is it safe to say you keep him organized?”
“Yeah. I guess so. Yes, that’s accurate.”
“Would you say that no one gets an audience with the secretary without your knowledge?”
Doakler bobbed a nod. “Y-yes.”
“Good, good. Okay, so being that you’re pretty much in charge of his comings and goings, it’s probably safe to say that you know quite a bit about his personal life.”
“I guess so.”
“Tell me what you know about Bettis.”
“What do you mean?”
Xander provided as an example, “His wife’s name, favorite golf course, foods he likes and dislikes, people he associates with socially... Those kinds of things.”
Doakler paused and Xander tapped the man’s knee with his gun to remind him that his patience had a limit. “H-his wife’s name is Janet, he doesn’t golf and he’s allergic to shellfish. I—I don’t know what you mean about people he associates with. P-please clarify.”
“Sure thing, buddy. What I mean is who’s he sleeping with aside from his wife?” Xander asked, putting it bluntly.
It was dark so Xander couldn’t see if the man had just paled but he was willing to bet Doakler had. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Jimmy, you have to ask yourself if protecting the secretary’s secret is worth your kneecaps. I mean, would the secretary protect your secrets with the same dedication? I don’t think so. All you have to do is tell me who he was sleeping with and then I’ll let you go.”
“I—I don’t know,” Doakler squeaked but Xander wasn’t buying. Xander moved the gun from Doakler’s knee to his groin, purposefully pushing the gun against his junk. Doakler yelped and tried to scoot away but he was tied tight. “Please! I want to have kids someday!”
“I understand, but I have to have answers. I can’t leave without them, so either you fess up or I’m going to have to turn you from a rooster to a hen, my friend, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pissing in a bag.”
Now Doakler was sobbing. “Man, I don’t know. I don’t. I’m not lying. I swear to you. Please don’t shoot my penis!”
Maybe the man was as useless as he said. Xander looked to Scarlett who motioned for Xander to keep trying. A thought occurred to him. He returned to Doakler. “Okay, stop your crying. For God’s sake, you’re a man. Act like one.” He paused long enough for Doakler to stop blubbering, then said, “Okay, tell me who Bettis was rumored to be sleeping with.”
“Rumor? But...that’s just office gossip.”
“Let me be the judge of that. You know what they say, within every rumor lies a kernel of truth.”
Doakler shook his head, adamant. “No, the secretary is a good man.”
“Good men can make bad judgments,” Xander said with a small shrug. “Humor me. Tell me who Bettis was banging on the side, according to the water-cooler gossip.”
It was obvious Doakler hated even letting the words fall from his mouth but he answered, “When you hear it, you’ll know it’s a total lie.”
“Out with it.”
“An Oklahoma senator.”
Both Xander and Scarlett perked up, straightening as they held their breath. “Yeah? Which one? The dead one? McQuarry?”
Doakler shook his head. “No. Sheffton.”
Holy friggin’ shit.
Sheffton?
“Are you sure?”
“That’s the name that was tossed around but like I told you, it’s a total lie. For one, Bettis has been married for thirty years to the same woman—clearly not gay—and for two, Sheffton was only ever on the secretary’s calendar once.”
“When? Was it before or after Senator McQuarry was killed?”
Doakler paused to remember, then said, “Before. A month or so before.”
“And why was Sheffton visiting Bettis?”
“Sheffton came to voice his concerns over H.R. 720 but by the end of the meeting, he’d changed his mind and decided to support the bill.”
“Why? McQuarry was still alive. Sheffton would’ve had no pull on the Senate floor.”
Doakler seemed stumped as well, as if he hadn’t thought about that reasoning. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted.
What if McQuarry hadn’t been sleeping with anyone but his gold-digging mistress and the story of him sleeping with some high-powered official was simply a smoke screen?
And if that were true, was Sheffton the one who had orchestrated McQuarry’s death for his own gain?
“I swear that’s all I know,” Doakler said, swallowing hard. “Please don’t shoot me.”
Xander patted Doakler on the head like a dog and said, “You did good. I’m not going to shoot you, but I am going to leave you tied up so I can leave without you calling the cops.”
Doakler sagged with relief. “Thank you. Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome?”
Xander and Scarlett cleared the house and jogged back to the car. Only when they were safely driving away did Scarlett say, “You know he could starve to death and then his damn cat will eat him.”
He shook his head. “Naww, I didn’t tie him up that tight. If he struggles long enough, he’ll break free.”
Scarlett grinned. “You enjoyed that a bit too much.”
“I did,” Xander agreed. “God, I miss my job. Can we hurry up and solve this so I can go back to torturing and killing people for a good cause?”
“I think that psych doc was right—you are a sociopath,” Scarlett joked with a shake of her head.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing...”
They laughed and detoured for ice cream before heading back to the motel.
“Your intel was good. James Doakler gave up some information,” Scarlett said to Conrad over the phone. “He said that Sheffton came to the Secretary of Defense before McQuarry died to talk about H.R. 720 and that prior to the meeting, Sheffton opposed the bill but after the meeting, was supportive.”
“Why would Sheffton’s influence matter?”
“That’s exactly the question, right? Unless Sheffton already had plans to make McQuarry go away and he had deep enough connections to ensure that the governor would appoint him in the event of McQuarry’s death.”
“A workable theory. Any proof?”
“Aside from the frightened ramblings of a man about to piss himself? No.”
“That’s not admissible in court,” Conrad pointed out dryly. “Even if your theory is right on the money, if you’ve got no way to prove it...you’ve got nothing.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “Thanks for the tip on the raid, too.” Conrad exhaled heavily and Scarlett knew her friend was treading on thin ice for her. “I’m sorry you’re in the middle.”
“It’s a place I put myself in,” he replied, but Scarlett knew he was doing this all for her. The guilt sat heavily on her shoulders but they were all in too deep to pull back now. “Platt said something that was a little weird last night when he called me in the dead of night to drunk ramble at me.”
“Does your boss make a habit of making those kinds of calls?” she asked.
“Not before this case started. I think someone is doing more than putting a little administrative pressure on him for the sake of making the Bureau look good. I think someone is blackmailing him.”
“Really? Any idea who?”
“My guess is that whoever offed McQuarry is the same person putting the squeeze on Platt.”
Scarlett let that sink in for a minute. “It would have to be someone in a position of power...or someone with really damaging dirt on Platt. How much do you know about your boss?”
“I know he’s a thorough investigator on the job but I don’t know shit about his private life and frankly, I was okay with that. He’s not the kind of man I would hang out with after hours.”
“No? Why not?”
“His personality is shit and he’s a little awkward. Platt has just always given me a weird vibe. But he’s good at his job and up until this point, he never gave me any grief. Now that he’s riding my ass, I’m about ready to transfer to a different branch.”
Scarlett frowned, uncomfortable with the position Conrad was in because of her. “Maybe you should pull back. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”
“I’m fine. You just worry about finding the evidence you need to get us all out of this mess.”
“I’m trying,” she said, frustrated by the incredibly slow amount of progress they’d made. “Seems each time we go a few steps forward, we take even more steps back. It’s hard not to lose faith, you know?” She trusted Conrad, otherwise she never would’ve revealed how she was struggling with the situation. But again, she realized it wasn’t fair to Conrad to lay her problems on his table. “I’m sorry. I’m just cranky today.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Scarlett. I care about you. I’m here if you need someone to listen.”
“I know.” Scarlett bit her lip, knowing that Conrad had feelings for her that she could never reciprocate. If she were smart, she would’ve felt something more than friendship with Conrad when they’d dated. He was a good man—but she felt absolutely nothing when they kissed. Not a spark, not even a tiny zap unlike the way her body lit up like a Disney light parade when Xander so much as looked her way. Attraction was a funny thing and almost always inconvenient. “Thank you, Connie. Be careful out there, okay? You never know who could be watching.”
Again, Conrad promised he’d be fine and they clicked off.
That unsettled feeling refused to leave her gut. If Platt was being blackmailed by someone high up the chain of command, say the Secretary of Defense, how the hell were they going to find the evidence they needed to take down a giant in government like that?
And even if they did manage to find some shred of evidence that connected McQuarry’s death with the secretary, would anyone care or listen?
The current administration seemed a little lax in the alarm department when it came to potential treason or international sanctions. Would they even care if the secretary had orchestrated the death of a US senator if he spun the story with the angle that he was protecting the American people?
There was a reason she hated politics.
Everyone had a secret face and an even more covert agenda.
Sussing out the truth was going to take an act of divine intervention and Scarlett was fresh out of patron saints to pray to for help.
Maybe Xander was right—they ought to cut their losses, pack up and leave for Mexico. Xander had the cash to make it happen. They could live comfortably for a while before the money ran out.
Even as the thought of fleeing was appealing for a brief moment, she knew it would never happen. Neither Xander nor Scarlett were hardwired to run away from a crisis.
Sure, Xander split before getting arrested, but that’s because he’d known the only person who’d care about his innocence was himself and he wasn’t going to rot in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.
He may joke about running off to another country but he’d never actually do it.
And neither would she.
No, it was either prove his innocence...or die trying.
That was the cold hard truth, the one she’d been trying to avoid.
She knew Xander would never go to prison.
He’d rather put a bullet in his own skull before he’d let that happen.
And the thought of Xander dead was more than she could handle.
Time to double down. The answers were out there, waiting to be found.