“Jesus.” Gray sighed, shaking his head. “He put her through sheer hell every day of those nine months. David had no choice except to go along with all the fanfare, but he was only biding his time.”
The senator’s wide shoulders had slumped forward. Apparently he was giving Gray’s story some credibility.
Barrie was the first to break the sudden, heavy silence. “Why didn’t the President have George Allan perform an abortion?”
“I was wondering that myself,” Armbruster said.
“Because an abortion wouldn’t have been painful enough for her,” Gray replied without hesitation. “I think David wanted to punish her for her infidelity. I think the worst punishment he could devise was to let her carry the child, give birth to it, come to love it, perhaps even relax her vigilance over it. When she did, he meted out his punishment, in spades. And since Vanessa witnessed the murder, he…”
Barrie realized that he couldn’t bring himself to tell the senator what must be told. She turned to the older man. “Mrs. Merritt contacted me for a reason. I believe she was trying to signal danger.”
“Danger?”
“For herself. Because she knows of the President’s crime.” Barrie looked at him sympathetically. “I called you tonight, Senator, because we believe that the President has… has made it impossible for her to testify to his criminal act.”
“Made it impossible?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”
Barrie inclined her head toward the hospital. Armbruster looked through the plate glass. It reflected the interior of the diner, including their somber images. “She was taken there by ambulance about two hours ago,” she said.
“From George Allan’s house?”
She nodded. “We followed them.”
Armbruster no longer looked like the powerful, brash, authority-wielding statesman he was. He looked like a father who’d just heard terrible news about his only child. In the last few moments, his face seemed to have lost its battle with gravity. Lines appeared more deeply etched, folds of flesh sagged more heavily. His voice was weak, laden with denial. “I was in that house only a few days ago.”
“Did you actually see Vanessa?” Gray asked.
When the senator shook his head, the loose skin beneath his chin wobbled. “George told me she was resting and didn’t want to be disturbed, even by me. He assured me that rest is all she needs.”
“Clete,” Gray said patiently, “George will do anything David tells him to, just as he did the night David killed the baby.”
“But the Secret Service is there to protect her.”
“They couldn’t protect your grandson. Believe me, David has planned this meticulously—with Spence’s help, I’m sure. Vanessa takes a lot of medication. He’ll probably use that. If she succumbed—”
“Succumbed?” Armbruster repeated. “Are you saying…” His eyes darted from Gray to Barrie.
Later, Barrie couldn’t remember leaving the diner and jogging the short distance to the emergency room entrance. The Secret Service agents were nowhere in sight. The nurse on duty at the reception desk asked pleasantly if she could help them.
The senator didn’t even glance in her direction. He marched through a pair of automatic doors, with Barrie and Gray close on his heels. Dr. George Allan was leaning against the wall at the far end of the corridor. He looked no calmer than he had when he’d accompanied Vanessa’s body into the hospital. When he glanced up and saw Armbruster, Barrie, and Gray bearing down on him, his face turned the color of putty.
“Senator Armbruster, what… what are you doing here?”
“Where’s my daughter?” He looked at the door behind the doctor. “Is she in there?”
“No.”
“You lying bastard.” He pushed the doctor aside, but George Allan grabbed his sleeve.
“Senator, please. I can’t let you go in. Not until the medical examiner sees her.”
Armbruster made a choking sound like a sob. Gray grabbed the doctor’s lapels and shoved him against the wall. “You weasel shit. They’ll fry you for this—if I don’t kill you first.”
Alerted to a crisis situation, hospital personnel had collected at the end of the cor
ridor, but not even the chief security guard was brave enough to intervene.
Armbruster opened the door that Dr. Allan had been guarding, but he drew up short on the threshold, then he fell back against the doorjamb, grasping on to it for support. Across the room, against the wall, was the gurney. The security straps had been removed. The still form had been draped in a blue sheet.