“Tell me.” Georgia crossed and recrossed her legs.
Vic explained what had happened with the Russians, the Uzbekistan situation, and the fracking bill. “Some of it was bad timing . . . or corrupt politics . . . or competing against dark money.”
“What do you mean?”
“Succeeding in DC is a game, a race, actually. You need to pick winners—both the issues and the folks behind them—before anyone else. Then you get on the pay-to-play merry-go-round. See, the only important thing for a congressman is to get reelected. They need money to do that. Carl can help get them that money. In return for considering his interests, of course.”
“Where does this money he gets them come from?”
“Different places. Depending, again, on the issues.”
“Are you talking bribes?”
“We call them ‘quid pro quos.’”
“An Illinois governor went to jail because of that.”
“And the president almost pardoned him.”
“It’s against the law.”
“Sure it is.” He splayed his hands. “So what? It’s pretty much mandatory here.”
Georgia thought about it. “And I thought Chicago was a swamp.”
“Welcome to Washington,” Vic said. “I’ll tell you what my father told me when I told him I wanted to move here. He used to watch Huntley-Brinkley religiously.”
“The news program.”
“Right. He said David Brinkley nailed it.”
“Nailed what?”
“In the old days politicians left DC on Memorial Day and didn’t come back until after Labor Day. Summers here are almost unbearable. Temperature ninety-five degrees; humidity the same. So . . . a swamp.”
“And?”
“Then they air-conditioned the Capitol buildings. Congress could work year-round. So they started all sorts of overreaching government programs and spent like sailors on a spree. That’s how Big Government and deficits were born, Brinkley said. Sixty years later, we’re still at it.”
“You sound like you don’t like how it turned out.”
He shook his head. “You’re right. I’m leaving. Going back to South Dakota to practice law with my dad.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t help figure out where your boss is now.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, he was acting weird. Almost paranoid.”
“I think this city does that to people.”
“True, but this was more. After the fracking legislation fell apart, he kind of lost it.”
“How?”
“For starters, he thought he was being followed.”
Georgia arched her eyebrows, thinking of the car that had tailed her. “By whom?”
“He didn’t know.”
Georgia leaned forward. “Hold on. Your boss got money to bribe some congressmen to pass fracking legislation. But it doesn’t work. Wouldn’t the people who gave him the money in the first place be ticked off?”
“Of course they would.”
“Would Baldwin give them their money back?”
“It was gone by the time the legislation got to a vote.”
“Well then?”
“They gambled, they lost. That’s the way it works here.”
“There wouldn’t be any repercussions?”
“Oh, they could smear Baldwin. You know, attack his reputation. In fact, that’s probably what’s happening. Why we’re on the ropes.”
“But they wouldn’t actually hurt him . . .”
Vic rubbed his temples. “You wouldn’t think so.” He looked up. “Except, you know, right before he bolted, he said something weird.”
Georgia cocked her head.
“He said he thought the fracking people might have been involved in his daughter’s murder.”
Georgia went rigid. “How? Why?”
“I don’t think he knew. At one point, he said it might have been a warning. But then he thought they were punishing him.”
“That’s crazy. If they were upset about the vote, they’d take it out on him, not his family. He was the one they were pissed at. Right?”
“Well, you see, the thing is, Carl has close connections to the current administration.”
“So?”
“They wouldn’t like it if something happened to him. So his enemies might have targeted his daughter instead.” Vic looked around as if those connections might appear out of thin air to bolster his theory. “Look. I don’t know. Carl could have been making stuff up. Like I said, he was acting crazy.” He hesitated. “But Dena was pretty vocal about fracking. She got her group to take a stand against it.”
Georgia was surprised he knew anything about Dena’s activities. “How do you know that?”
Vic reddened. He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Carl made me join the group. To keep tabs on her. It was part of my job.”
“I thought they were estranged.”
“They were.” He stood up. “Listen. You want something to drink?”
Georgia was still processing what Vic had said. She replied absently. “You have Diet Coke?”
“That’s what Carl drinks. There’s a case in the pantry. I’ll be back.” He headed toward the kitchen.
Georgia tried to sum up. At least two people in DC were monitoring Dena’s Facebook page for different reasons. Her father made promises he couldn’t keep to people with clout. Lots of money changed hands. So who or what was Beef Jerky? Was Jimmy right that Beef Jerky was a person? Did he exist? Given Baldwin’s troubles in DC, did it matter? Maybe someone from DC had set up Jarvis. But then, where did the yurt fit in? And why did the Bureau close the case so fast? Had someone applied pressure on them? The current administration was known to do that. Maybe the Bureau just didn’t want the scrutiny. They had their killer, no matter if his body was blown to bits. With blowback from both the Left and the Right, it was a no-win situation for the FBI. And for Georgia?
She heard Vic moving around the kitchen. She got up, crossed the hall, and went back into Baldwin’s office. She started going through his inbox. It was overflowing with legal documents, copies of the Congressional Record, proposed legislation, and letters, all of them official-looking and written in language that people never used. But there was nothing to indicate where he’d gone or why. Or anything about Dena, for that matter. His outbox was empty.
She frowned and checked her watch. Vic had been gone nearly ten minutes. Much longer than it took to open a pop. He was a member of Dena’s Facebook group. Was that just an estranged father’s way of keeping tabs on his daughter? Or was it something nefarious? She headed into the kitchen.