Chapter Forty-seven
By midnight there were no cars in the remote section of the mall parking lot where Charlotte Walsh had been murdered. Dana waited in the shadows behind a light several rows from the spot where she’d told Claire Farrington to meet her. An hour and a quarter after Dana began her surveillance a car pulled in near the spot where Charlotte Walsh had parked her car. Irving Lasker got out. The first lady waited in the car while the Secret Service agent scoped out the area. When he gave the okay she got out and walked to the spot where Charlotte Walsh had parked. Farrington was dressed in jeans and a lightweight tan jacket. A baseball cap with the brim pulled down covered her hair. Dana waited a few beats then walked over to them with her hands held out from her sides.
“I assume you want to search me for weapons,” she said. Lasker nodded then searched her thoroughly. When he was certain that Dana was unarmed he stepped away from the investigator.
“We need some privacy, Irv,” Farrington said.
Lasker joined the driver, who was standing next to the car and scanning the lot.
“Let’s see the photograph,” Farrington said without preamble when she was sure that her escorts couldn’t hear her.
Dana took an envelope out of her jacket pocket and handed it to the first lady. Farrington took a photograph out of the envelope and studied it. Someone had pasted a picture of her face into the hood of the sweatshirt. This job wasn’t as well executed as the first and the fakery was even more obvious.
Farrington held up the photograph and looked over her shoulder at Lasker.
“Can you hold this, please,” she asked, using the signal they’d agreed on earlier in the evening. Lasker and the other agent walked over casually. When he was a few steps from Farrington Lasker drew his gun, and the first lady stepped behind the other agent.
“You’re under arrest, Miss Cutler, for extortion.”
A triumphant smile lit up Claire Farrington’s face. “You must think I’m awfully stupid. I didn’t murder Charlotte Walsh, so I knew that the pictures you sent me were fakes. An expert has confirmed this.”
Farrington was about to continue when three cars appeared at the side of the mall and headed their way.
“Get in the car,” Lasker told his charge.
“You don’t have to worry about the first lady,” Dana said. “That’s the FBI. I arranged for them to be here.”
Farrington looked confused. Lasker ordered her to get into the car again and she obeyed, but her eyes never left the cars, which stopped moments later. Keith Evans got out and held up his identification.
“Hey, Agent Lasker, remember me?”
“What are you doing here, Evans?”
“Before I answer that, I have a few questions I need to ask you,” Evans said in a tone low enough so Farrington could not hear him. “How did you know where to go tonight?”
“The first lady told me.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She wanted to go to this mall.”
“What did she say or do when you got to the mall?”
“She directed us to a spot in the parking lot.”
“What were her exact words?”
“I don’t remember her exact words, but as best I can recall, she told us to drive around the corner of the mall and go to this row. Then she had us stop near this parking space.”
“She gave you specific directions?”
“Yes. Now what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid the first lady is in a lot of trouble,” Evans said.
“Hey, wait,” Lasker said as Evans and Sparks walked to the back of Farrington’s car.
“Please don’t interfere, Agent Lasker,” Evans said. The FBI agents from the other cars moved in on Lasker and the driver, and the Secret Service agents realized they were outnumbered.
Claire had lowered her window in an attempt to hear what was being said.
“Good evening, Dr. Farrington,” Evans said.
“Good evening, Agent Evans. We’ve just arrested Dana Cutler for trying to extort three million dollars from me for a set of photographs allegedly showing me murdering Charlotte Walsh. Unfortunately for her, I knew the photographs couldn’t be real and I had them examined by an expert.”
Evans smiled. “The photos are faked and we know Miss Cutler asked you to pay three million dollars for them, but she wasn’t extorting money from you. She was helping us prove that you murdered Charlotte Walsh.”
Farrington looked amused. “How would a set of phony photographs do that?”
“Oh, the photographs wouldn’t. We would never introduce them at a trial as direct evidence. On the other hand, they did lure you to this parking lot. Agent Lasker just told me that you knew the exact spot where Charlotte Walsh parked, the spot where she was murdered. Mind telling us how you learned that information?”
Farrington started to say something but she caught herself.
“That’s okay,” Evans said. “You don’t have to talk to me. In fact, you have a right to remain silent because anything you say can and will be used in court to convict you. You also have a right to an attorney. If you can’t afford a lawyer, the court will appoint one to represent you.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Is it? Charlotte Walsh’s body was found in a Dumpster behind a restaurant in Maryland. As far as the public knows that was where she was murdered. There were rumors that she was killed here, but we were very hush-hush about the location in the lot. We towed the car without the press learning where it was discovered. In fact, very few people knew the exact spot where she was killed.”
“Charles Hawkins…”
“Confessed to a crime he could not have committed. We can prove it was impossible for him to do it. He didn’t have time to go from the hotel to the farm, meet the president at eleven-fifteen, and murder Miss Walsh in this lot at eleven. But you had time to sneak out of the hotel after Dale Perry diverted the guard at the stairwell, come here, kill Miss Walsh, and return to the hotel before one.”
“This conversation is over,” Farrington told the agents before calling to Lasker.
“Irv, please take me back to the White House.”
“Sorry, Dr. Farrington, that’s not going to happen right now,” Keith Evans said. “I’m placing you under arrest. We’ll do this quietly. I’ve already arranged to have a judge available, and Mort Rickstein will be meeting you at the federal courthouse. Given who you are, I bet he’ll be able to get you released immediately. Everyone in this country will be fascinated to find out what happens after that.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Dana finished giving a detailed statement to the FBI at three in the morning. She should have been exhausted but she drove away from the office of the independent counsel on a high that acted like a triple shot of espresso. Charlotte Walsh, Laurie Erickson, and Rhonda Pulaski had been avenged. Their spirits could rest easily because she had nailed Claire Farrington.
Dana was still too excited for sleep when she parked in Jake Teeny’s driveway. Jake opened the front door before she could get out her key.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his concern obvious in his voice and on his face.
Dana pulled Jake to her and kissed him. Jake tightened, surprised by the ferocity of the kiss. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “I love you,” Dana said. “I’ve loved you for a long time but I’ve been too fucked-up to tell you.”
Jake pushed Dana to arm’s length. He stared at her, as if uncertain that he’d heard her correctly. Dana’s high disappeared in an instant. She’d spoken without thinking, and she knew that when she’d said she loved him, she’d just messed up whatever it was that she and Jake had together.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have…”
“No, I love you, too. I’ve just…With all that happened to you…”
Dana’s heart began to beat again. She felt lighter than air. It was going to be all right. She put a hand on Jake’s cheek.