Chapter 4 #3
There was a thick silence on the other end of the line for a long moment before Walter finally spoke. “Are you telling me you think that the ambassador to France is a serial killer, and that I hung out with him and his latest victim last night?”
When he put it that way, it sounded ridiculous, but Kinley stood her ground. “Well, not necessarily. But I recognized the shoes she had on—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Walter interrupted.
“I swear to God, that’s the flimsiest evidence I’ve ever heard in my life.
No cop is gonna hear that and take you seriously.
I’m offended on Drake’s behalf. That man is no more a killer than I am!
For your information, we were alone last night.
We talked politics and about the conference.
We had a few drinks, then he left. If he picked up a woman in the bar downstairs after he left my room, that’s his business. Did you see the woman’s face?”
“No,” Kinley admitted. “It was too dark, and she had her head down.”
“So all you’re basing your accusation on is literally the shoes the woman had on her feet,” Walter said.
Kinley bit her lip and didn’t respond. She could’ve pointed out she’d also seen the girl’s clothing and hair, but it would take a call to the Paris police to confirm if they matched the victim.
And considering how upset her boss sounded, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
She wouldn’t share that information and risk upsetting him further.
“Have you told anyone else this preposterous story?” he asked.
“No,” Kinley said honestly. “I wanted to talk to you first because you’re friends with him, and you were with him last night. I just thought you needed to know.”
“Right. I was with him last night, and there was no woman—or girl—with us. I’m certain whatever you saw last night was completely innocent.
It’s probably pure coincidence that the woman he was helping home last night happened to have the same shoes as the girl who ended up dead in some alley. Understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Kinley said automatically.
“You’re tired after traveling all day. It’s understandable that you’re too exhausted to think straight.”
“I’m sure that’s it, sir,” she replied grimly.
“I’d suggest not mentioning this to anyone else.
If you do, you’ll be laughed right out of DC.
” He snorted. “It would be your word against that of a respected and hardworking man…who just happens to be friends with the president. Get some sleep, Ms. Taylor. You’ll feel better in the morning.
Because you worked tonight, I’m giving you the morning off. I’ll see you after lunch.”
“Yes, sir,” Kinley said. She was glad she didn’t have to go in bright and early in the morning, but she still felt unsure about this whole situation.
“Thank you for calling and talking to me,” Walter said, his voice dropping and sounding sincere.
“I appreciate that you didn’t let this fester in your head, and that you didn’t do something crazy like call the cops.
Accusing an innocent man is serious business and wouldn’t have looked good for you—or me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
He didn’t give her time to say goodbye, and Kinley continued to hold the phone in her hand for a moment before putting it down.
Everything he’d said made sense…but for some reason, she couldn’t shake the belief that what she’d seen last night was that poor girl’s last moments alive on this Earth.
She hadn’t been steady on her feet, and now that she thought about it, it seemed as if Stryker had practically forced her into his car.
But Walter’s words were enough to make her second-guess herself. And he was right—who the hell was going to believe her? She had no proof the girl had been with Drake and Walter, and who’s to say the ambassador didn’t pick her up in the bar at the hotel and innocently escort her somewhere?
Feeling defeated and uneasy, Kinley forced herself to stand and go get her suitcase. She unpacked and started a load of laundry in her small closet washer and dryer set even as she continued debating with herself.
By the time she’d changed and gotten into bed, Kinley had convinced herself that she was overreacting.
That thousands of people had those same shoes, and she’d simply misinterpreted what she’d seen.
It was just the news clip. It had put ideas in her head that weren’t true.
The power of suggestion was strong, she knew that from years of working in politics.
Despite that, she fell into a troubled sleep, visions of little girls crying for help filling her dreams.
“We have a problem,” Walter told his friend as soon as the other man picked up the phone.
“What?” Drake asked.
“My assistant saw you putting that bitch into your car last night.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a second before Drake swore viciously. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“What was she doing up at that hour?”
“No clue. She’s weird. Probably loves spying on people in her spare time. But she called me all worried because the news over here in the States ran a story about the girl’s body being found, and she recognized her shoes.”
“Fuck,” Drake hissed. “What did you say?”
“I told her she was crazy. That there was no way you were a homicidal killer. She called me because she knows we’re friends—and she also knows we spent the evening together. I cannot get sucked into this,” Walter told Drake.
“Well, it’s too fucking late. You’re involved as much as I am. It’s not like having sex with teenagers is anything out of the ordinary for you,” Drake said.
“Maybe not, but having sex with an underage girl is a lot different than killing one,” Walter seethed.
“You were the one who came up with the plan to find an underage prostitute to fulfill your ménage fantasy,” Drake insisted.
“Sharing child porn was no longer enough for you, you said. You were the one who set this whole thing up. The fact that I was the one who had to cover our tracks shouldn’t be a fucking surprise. ”
“I didn’t know you were going to kill her!” Walter insisted.
“What did you think I was gonna do? Pat her on the head and send her on her way?” Drake asked sarcastically.
“Once she found out our names, her fate was sealed. We both assumed we could have our fun and get away with it, but that wasn’t the case.
Being all paranoid now isn’t helping, so quit your whining and figure out what to do to shut up your little narc assistant. If I go down, you are too.”
Walter took a deep breath. He didn’t like the situation he was in now…but he couldn’t deny last night had been exciting.
When he’d first realized he was attracted to underage girls, he’d been shocked, appalled even. But it had been so easy to find pictures and videos online… The internet was flooded with them. What harm could there be in looking?
But before long, that wasn’t enough. He’d seduced and paid the few girls he’d slept with stateside.
The tryst in Paris was supposed to be risk-free. He’d broached the subject with Drake because they’d shared child porn videos in a few online chat rooms.
It seemed like a great idea at the time, discussing the idea of a ménage with an underaged prostitute with Drake. And the actual encounter had been one of the most exciting nights of his life; he’d never gotten so hard as he had, taking the girl with his friend and colleague.
Drake had reassured him that he’d get the girl back to where he’d picked her up without anyone being the wiser. No one would know they’d spent the night with a girl young enough to be their daughter. Or granddaughter.
Walter was relieved they’d both used condoms, so there would be no DNA inside the girl’s body, but he had no idea if there was any other DNA evidence, like hair or fingerprints, that the forensic techs might find.
And neither of them had expected anyone to see Drake leaving the hotel with the girl.
He had to do damage control, otherwise he and the ambassador were potentially fucked. He might not have murdered anyone, but that wouldn’t matter. If his sexual preferences were discovered, both his career and marriage were as good as dead.
“Kinley has no friends or family,” Walter told his colleague. “I know someone who owes me a favor. I can have him threaten her to make sure she keeps her mouth shut.”
“You can’t just threaten her,” Drake warned. “She’s different from us. She’s gonna blab about what she saw to someone. She needs to be taken out before that happens.”
“I don’t know anyone who’s into that,” he balked.
“Fuck!” Drake swore. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.
The last thing I need is the president thinking I had anything to do with a murder.
I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, and no fucking secretary is gonna ruin it.
I’ve got more power now than I’ve ever had in my life. She’s not taking that away from me.”
“But don’t make it obvious,” Walter warned. “It needs to look like an accident. Or like she killed herself or something.”
“I know that. I’m not an idiot,” Stryker said.
An idea formed in Walter’s head. “I can plant something on her computer and make it look like she’s committed treason.
I’ll have no choice but to fire her. No one will dare re-hire her after that.
And no one will have a hard time believing the girl with no family, who dared betray her country, stepped in front of a moving bus or train out of guilt. ”
“Don’t get too complicated,” Drake warned. “Keep it simple. But I think firing her can help us. At the very least, it’ll put some distance between the two of you.”
They talked a little longer about the best way to make sure Kinley Taylor didn’t tell anyone else what she’d seen. Stryker assured him once more that he’d hire someone to take care of her, which was a relief to Walter.
“Your job is to get her out of your office. Don’t call me again until it’s done,” Drake ordered. He hung up without another word.
Walter sat back in his chair and steepled trembling hands under his chin. He didn’t have a lot of time to set things in motion. It would be better if her alleged treachery was found as soon as possible. As if she hadn’t covered her tracks before they’d left for Paris.
Nodding to himself, Walter felt confident about his plan. What would be discovered in his assistant’s email would give him ample reason to fire her.
He felt a small pang of remorse. Kinley was a hard worker, and he’d never had a more competent assistant. But she’d had the bad luck to be looking in the wrong place at the wrong time. If she hadn’t seen Drake putting the girl in his limo, they wouldn’t be in the predicament they were in now.
The thought of killing her made him extremely uneasy. But Walter knew he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to go to prison, he was all too aware of what happened to pedophiles when they got locked up. It was his life or hers—and he wanted to live.
Walter actually hated that he was attracted to girls…wished he wasn’t…but he couldn’t help it. He was the way he was. But he never should’ve gotten Drake involved in his fantasies.
He had no idea if the girl was Drake’s first kill or not, and he didn’t want to know. As it was, he knew too much. But if his friend was actually The Alleyway Strangler…?
Swallowing hard, Walter closed his eyes. Everything had spiraled out of control, and it was in danger of spiraling further.
“Walter,” his wife called from down the hall, “it’s late. Come to bed!”
Sighing, Walter forced himself to respond. “Coming, dear.”
He knew he should feel more guilty for doing what he and his friend were planning to do to Kinley, should maybe even put a stop to it, but their political careers were more important than some nobody.
She’d thought she was doing the right thing in calling him about what she’d seen, but in reality, it had been the worst mistake of her life.