Tuchman looked furious, but she was smart enough to know when to back down.

“I will be in touch with your superiors, Agent Evans. Good night.”

“It looks like you’re not going to get your way, for once,” Brad said.

Tuchman glared at him then stomped off without saying another word. Evans turned to Brad.

“Before I talk to Mrs. Erickson, I think it would be a good idea if you told me why you think President Farrington was involved with the murder of her daughter.”

Marsha Erickson was a mess. Her broken nose was bandaged, her right cheek had been stitched, and her bruised and bloodshot eyes followed the agents warily when Evans and Sparks walked into her room.

“Good evening, Mrs. Erickson. How are you feeling?” Evans said.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Evans heard the tremor in her voice and smiled to calm her. He was certain that she’d been crying.

“We’re not anyone you have to fear. I’m Keith Evans, an FBI agent assigned to the independent counsel’s office. This is my partner, Margaret Sparks. We’re here to guard you from the people who are trying to kill you. I’ve made sure that agents will be posted outside your door as long as you’re in the hospital, and I’m here to offer you protection when you’re discharged.”

“What do I have to do to get protected?” Erickson asked, her suspicions edging aside her fear.

“Mrs. Erickson, the United States Congress has charged our office with the task of determining President Farrington’s involvement-if any-in the murder of a young woman named Charlotte Walsh. I assume you’re aware of the matter, since it’s been front-page news.”

Erickson nodded warily.

“You know about the D.C. Ripper, the serial killer?”

Erickson nodded again.

“At first, we thought that Miss Walsh was a victim of the Ripper. Now we think that the person who killed her copied the MO of the Ripper to throw us off the track. We also have evidence that suggests that President Farrington may have been having an affair with Miss Walsh.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“A serial killer named Clarence Little was convicted of kidnapping and murdering your daughter while she was babysitting for Christopher Farrington when he was the governor of Oregon. We have evidence that suggests that someone else killed Laurie and copied Mr. Little’s MO in the same way that someone may have copied the MO of the D.C. Ripper in the Walsh case.

“I know you’ve been through hell. You’ve had to deal with the death of a child and this vicious attack. I don’t want to cause you any more pain, but I have to ask. Do you have any reason to believe that President Farrington was intimate with your daughter?”

“I can’t talk about that.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to, for several reasons, the most important being that telling us the truth will keep you alive. I know what happened at your house. You’d be dead if Dana Cutler and Brad Miller hadn’t saved you. If you continue to protect Christopher Farrington, and he’s behind this attack, it won’t help you stay alive. He’ll always be better off with you dead. Then you can never tell what you know.

“And you won’t be able to keep your secret anyway. The independent counsel has subpoena powers. I can always take you in front of a grand jury. If you don’t answer questions there, you could be sent to jail for contempt. I really don’t want to resort to that option because I feel very sorry about all you’ve gone through. It would be cruel to punish you that way. But I am prepared to do what I must to learn what you know.

“If you think about it, your interests and our interests are the same. We both want you alive. And here’s something to think about. Once we know what you know, the president won’t have any reason to kill you because the cat will be out of the bag. So, what do you say?”

Erickson looked down at her blanket, and Evans let her think. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears.

“I don’t know what to do. He was so good to me and he said he didn’t do those things. He said he was paying me the money because I was always a good secretary and because he felt bad that Laurie was kidnapped from his house.”

“But you had reason to disbelieve him, didn’t you?” Evans asked gently.

Erickson bit her lip. Then she nodded.

“Why didn’t you believe Farrington was telling the truth?”

Erickson tried to speak, but she was too choked up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand. Sparks handed it to her. She took a sip. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and wept.

“She was all I had, and she was so good. When she told me…” Erickson shook her head. “I feel so guilty. I wouldn’t believe her. I told her she was a liar and I promised to punish her if she ever said anything like that again. But she’d never lied to me before. Not about anything important. I should have believed her.”

“What did she tell you, Mrs. Erickson?” Evans asked.

“She told me…She said Chris-the governor-had bothered her.”

“When was this?”

“Months before-I don’t remember exactly-but months before she was…”

“Take your time.”

Erickson sipped some more water.

“Can you tell us exactly what your daughter told you? Did she describe how Governor Farrington was bothering her?”

Erickson nodded. “She said that he was touching her in places, her breasts. Sometimes he would put his arm around her shoulder and pull her close. She said he tried to kiss her once.”

“Did she say she resisted?”

“Yes, she told me she didn’t like it.”

“How did she react when you told her you thought she was lying?”

“She was very upset. She cried and she…she swore at me.”

“Did you ever bring up the subject again?”

“No.”

“Did she?”

“No.” Erickson shook her head and took more water. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I should have believed her, but I was afraid. And, at first, I didn’t believe her. Chris had been so good to me-to us. When my husband left me he made sure I’d be okay financially. He handled the divorce for free. He was good to Laurie, too. He bought her nice presents for her birthday and…”

Erickson stopped. She seemed exhausted.

“Did you notice any changes in your daughter between the time she made the complaint and the time of her death?”

“Yes. She grew distant, cold. She started wearing makeup and dressing differently, more grown-up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Provocatively.”

“Sexy?” Sparks asked.

“Yes. And she was, I don’t know, more adult. I was upset by the way she was acting. I spoke to her about it, but that always led to arguments.”

“Did she ever mention the governor again? Did she complain about him?”

Erickson shook her head.

“Mrs. Erickson,” Evans said, “I’ve heard rumors about another girl Mr. Farrington may have molested, a Rhonda Pulaski. Do you know anything about that?”

Erickson wouldn’t look Evans in the eye. “I heard some things when I was his secretary at the law firm and the case was in the office. There was gossip, but I didn’t believe that either.”

“Don’t get down on yourself,” Evans said. “It’s always hard to believe the worst about someone you know well.”

Erickson didn’t respond.

“Mrs. Erickson, you said that Mr. Farrington paid you money after your daughter died.”

“Yes.”

“Were there any conditions attached to receiving the money?”

“I had to promise that I would never tell that he was paying me and I had to promise that I would never discuss anything about Laurie and the governor with anyone. If I did, the payments would stop. That’s why I was frightened when the lawyer showed up.”

“Brad Miller?”

“Yes. That money is all I have. And the house. President Farrington owns my house. I’d lose that, too.”

“Who sent you the money?”

“Dale Perry. He was a lawyer with the Kendall, Barrett law firm in Washington, D.C. They told me he died.”