NO SOONER HAS ERICA WALKED into her suite than she gets a call from Shirley Stamos.
“Hi, Shirley, what’s up?”
“I have some terrible news, Erica.”
“What?”
“Becky Sullivan either killed herself or was murdered last night.”
Erica is stunned into silence. Then a terrible foreboding grips her and she feels her body temperature drop. “How?”
“She either jumped or was thrown off a wall on Morningside Drive, down into the park.”
“There were no witnesses?”
“No. It’s quiet up there at night.”
“She didn’t know that part of town; she hasn’t been in New York long enough. She was a small-town girl.”
“I had those same thoughts.”
“I’m stunned. It’s so sad. She was a good kid, a little troubled, but I’m sure she would have worked it out.”
“She certainly worshiped you.”
“Jenny adored her. I’ve got to call and tell her.”
“That’s going to be a tough call. Erica, I’m here for you. If there’s anything I can do to help, anything, please let me know.”
“Can you send flowers to her family back in Ohio? Send two bouquets. One ‘from all her friends and colleagues at GNN’ and one ‘from Jenny and Erica.’ And get me their phone number.”
“Of course.”
Erica sits down and tries to compose herself. Becky is gone. Becky who spent many evenings at Erica’s, who was terrific with Jenny. Her poor parents, to lose a child so young—and so violently. And poor sad, insecure Becky. Could it have been a suicide? If Becky had been responsible for the hidden cameras, the fact that they were discovered could have driven her over the edge. Still, why would she have headed uptown to Morningside Heights to do it? She could have leapt out her apartment window.
And if it was murder? Was Becky doing someone’s bidding when she hid the cameras? And once she was unmasked, did she represent a security risk that had to be taken out?
Erica takes a deep breath and exhales with a sigh, pushing her speculation aside and turning her focus to Jenny. No point postponing the inevitable. She calls Jenny’s camp and reaches the director, Meg Winston, who promises to track down Jenny and bring her to the office.
Shirley texts Becky’s home number in Ohio, and Erica calls it.
“Yes?” comes a woman’s voice, sounding numb and drained.
“This is Erica Sparks. Is this . . . ?”
“Yeah, I’m Mary Sullivan. Becky’s mom.”
“I just wanted to call to say how sorry I am. Becky was a lovely young woman.”
“She was a good kid. She wanted to make something of her life.” The poor woman sounds so beaten down.
“She did make something of her life. My daughter adored her. She was very helpful to me.”
“That’s nice to hear. She was talking about coming back home.”
“She was?”
“I think New York was too much for her. I think it scared her. Last time she called she told me she felt trapped.”
Erica wants to ask more questions, but the woman’s sadness is just too much. So Erica says, “Again, I’m so sorry.”
She hangs up and remembers Becky’s overeager face. Then she sees Fred and Judy Buchanan and the innocent bystanders to the bombing, some of whom will never walk or see again. The names and faces tumble out—Markum, Tuttle, Vander.
And Mike Ortiz. The man who changed somehow while in Al-Qaeda custody. Is he now the Trojan candidate, a stalking horse for . . . who? The CIA? They certainly have the resources and the expertise. And the motive. If Ortiz won, America’s shadowy intelligence agency could take control. And who controls the CIA? The military-industrial complex that President Eisenhower, in his final speech to the country, warned posed the greatest threat to Americans’ liberty. In the face of the global terrorist threat, democracies around the world are taking away freedoms, imposing curfews, curtailing free speech, and banning demonstrations. Could America be next?
Erica’s phone rings, and she starts. She pulls herself back to the here and now.
“Jenny?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“I have some very sad news.”
“What is it?”
“Becky died, honey.”
“What?”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
Jenny starts to cry. “She was my friend.”
“I know she was, sweetheart, and you were a good friend to her.”
“What happened?”
Should she tell her the truth? It will be so disturbing. But she will find out eventually and resent being lied to. Erica decides to split the difference. “She fell off a high wall. It may have been an accident.”
“Becky was afraid of heights, she told me that.”
“I know it’s hard to accept, but that’s what happened, honey.”
“I don’t think she fell; she would never get up on a high wall. What if she was pushed?”
“They’re investigating everything.”
“I think she was murdered.”
“It’s really too soon to say, honey.”
“It’s not too soon to say. You know it and I know it. She was murdered.”
“Let’s let the police do their work.”
“No, I don’t need to wait. Becky was probably killed because she was connected to you.”
Erica runs her fingers through her hair and slumps down in the chair—she’s had the same thought.
“Please don’t say that, Jenny. It makes me feel terrible.”
“Good! I think you’re selfish. You don’t care about me! What if you get killed next? And please don’t tell me it’s your stupid job!”
Erica feels like her emotional toolbox is empty. There’s nothing left. What can she say? How can she make this better? There’s a long pause filled with Jenny’s anger and tears.
Finally Erica says, “I sent flowers to her family, from both of us. And I spoke to her mother.”
Jenny says nothing; there’s just faint phone static between them.
“I’m sorry about Becky, honey.”
“I’m sorry about everything. I wish I was still living with Dad and Linda.”
These are the words Erica most dreads. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to leave me, Jenny. It would break my heart. But if you honestly feel that way, we can discuss it.”
“By the way, don’t come for parents’ weekend.”
“Honey, I’m planning on it. I took that Friday off work.”
“Dad and Linda are coming.”
“I wish you had told me sooner.”
“I guess we both wish things.”
“Jenny, I can’t let you go when things are like this between us. I just can’t. It would tear me up. I’m your mother and I love you more than anything in the world. You can talk to me about anything, anytime. I will stand with you and stand behind you, now and always . . . We’ll keep talking?”
There’s a pause and then Jenny says a halfhearted, “Okay.”
Erica grabs that Okay like a life preserver.