Death of an Intern (24 page)

A
few miles south across the Potomac River from the accident scene, two FBI agents drove past Frankie Grayson's street. When they saw a Secret Service SUV parked in front, they knew the Vice President was in residence and that other agents would be in the area. Therefore, they cruised by like casual passersby and left the area.

The Bureau had arranged for a secure spy nest to back up the street surveillance. An arrangement was made with a resident whose fifth-floor apartment gave them an excellent view of the Grayson townhouse. It was available 24/7.

Once out of sight of the townhouse, one agent got out of the car while his partner drove to the apartment. The now-walking agent waited on the street until his partner confirmed that he was in place at the spy nest. When the walking agent reached the apartment, the resident had some freshly brewed coffee waiting.

When Frankie Grayson arrived, she had a passenger, Lisa Sherra. They emerged from the car as the garage door opened, revealing a black SUV inside. Grayson gave her keys to the Secret Service agent sitting in the driver's seat, and the two women went up to the first floor, which from the outside would be the second floor of this three-story building.

Vice President Rick Grayson, dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt, sat casually talking with a Secret Service agent.

They greeted each other informally.

Lisa looked surprised. “Oh, is Alma here?”

“No,” said Rick Grayson.

Frankie asked Lisa, “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She and Frankie went to the kitchen; the Secret Service agent went downstairs; and Rick remained in the living room.

“Take your beer and start the shower. I'll fix some snacks,” Frankie said, smiling.

“You're coming up?” Lisa asked her.

“You bet.”

Lisa took her beer and headed for the stairs. Frankie began putting together some eats as Rick entered the kitchen.

“Do you like her?” he asked.

“You were right; she turns on easily,” Frankie said, busy with the food.

“She's very sensitive. I'm scheduled to leave at 11:30.”

“I'm not staying here tonight. We left Lisa's car at the Ellipse to save time. I'll take her back and then go to the residence as well. I'm going up to shower.”

“I'll bring up the tray.”

Frankie ascended the stairs to the master bedroom. She could hear the shower. The bedroom was soft-toned in its colors and furnishings. It had a seductive feel to it. Lisa had turned on the lights, which were dimmed.

However, there were candles around too. Frankie took a box of matches from a dresser drawer, lit the candles, and turned off the lights. The room softened and the atmosphere warmed, as candlelight flickers cast changing patterns on the walls. She turned on the CD player. Soothing music filled the room.

Frankie took off her clothes and went into the bathroom. “How you doing in there?”

“Fine, better when you get in.”

“Un-huh.” Frankie dropped her clothes in the hamper and entered the large walk-in shower. “Here, let me scrub your back.”

Rick entered the bedroom and put a tray of goodies down on a table near the king size bed. He pulled back the bed covers. He looked around the room, then snuffed out the candle nearest him. He liked the new effect and sat on the bed. He slipped out of his T-shirt and shorts, and swung his legs up and under the covers. His body was still lean, his upper body showed the effects of regular workouts. He felt in great shape. He listened to the giggles in the bathroom. A moment later the shower was turned off.

He felt a warm tingle of anticipation in his groin.

Frankie stepped out of the shower, grabbed two towels and handed one to Lisa. They dried each other and giggled. There was no hierarchy, just two women thoroughly enjoying each other.

“We're going to have some fun tonight.” Frankie put her arm around Lisa and kissed her. Lisa responded in kind. They walked into the bedroom where Rick was lying on the bed, the sheet up to his waist.

Lisa stopped when she saw him and looked quizzically at Frankie.

“You like going both ways. We talked about a ménage à trois. I thought it would be fun, especially after you two had been together. We talked about wanting to try it, remember?”

“Yeah, I just never thought it would be with the two of you.”

“Oh yeah, this is very special.”

Rick looked at Lisa with soft eyes. “We're not strangers, Lisa.”

“No, we're not. It's just, wow, with both of you.”

“That's what we thought. You are a warm and sensitive woman,” Frankie said.

Lisa's reticence passed. Frankie maneuvered her so she would be in the middle of the spacious bed.

“I told Frankie how much fun we had the one night we were together. Then when you and she…well, it seemed like a natural.”

He pulled the sheet back, and Lisa slid over next to him. Frankie followed. The sheet was forgotten. The Vice President of the United States rolled over on his side to face Lisa, then kissed her gently on the cheek as he began fondling one of her full breasts. Frankie began on the other side.

Lisa quivered with enjoyment. She was aroused easily. Frankie turned her attention to between Lisa's legs, and Lisa reached for Rick's erection.

The twins smiled at each other. Lisa was already wriggling in pleasure.

T
he SUV carrying Max, Laura, and Kat pulled into the large drive through entrance of the Ronald Reagan Institute for Emergency Medicine across from the old GW Hospital where President Reagan had been taken in 1981 after being shot.

The driver jumped out and opened up the back, so Max could slide out. Four uniformed officers approached. A gurney was on the way.

“She could have broken legs, broken arms, and a concussion. She's lost a lot of blood,” Max called out, as the gurney arrived. Max scanned the officers as the medical people attended to Kat. “Who is senior?”

One replied. “Who are you?”

“Thought you knew.” He realized he had put his badge in a pocket. He took it out. “Captain Walsh, Homicide.”

There was a definite adjustment in demeanor from all four.

“This is a hit-and-run right now,” Max told them. “It could become a homicide, but let's hope not.” He turned away from the uniforms and went to see about Laura. Mr. Andrews had her out and leaning against the side of his vehicle. “We need to get you inside, have someone look you over. Thank you, Mr. Andrews.”

Hospital personnel had moved Kat inside on the gurney. Max and Andrews flanked Laura, walking her to the entrance, where two nurses met them. Max explained her delicate situation and then relinquished her to the ER folks. Before letting Andrews go, Max gave him his card. “Do you have one?” Max asked. Andrews got one from his billfold and handed it to Max.

Max extended his hand. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” They shook.

Andrews nodded. “Glad to be of help, sir.”

Before he rejoined the assembled men and women in blue, he put Andrews' card in his wallet, and then went to them.

“There were multiple casualties at 18th and E. Some driver sideswiped the two women we just brought in. I was at the scene. It looked deliberate. I fired shots at the fleeing car. Several hit it and most likely the driver too. The car burst into a fireball.”

“Yes sir,” one officer said, “Second District Commander Harrison is at the scene with fire and rescue. When you're finished here, he would like to talk with you.”

“I understand. In the meantime, check with him. I don't think we need more than one team here. I'll help with statements.”

Police, fire, and rescue people had arrived at the accident scene in profusion. The vehicle's flames had been doused, and only a trickle of the black smoke remained.

Annika's state of undress had become an instant attraction after the SUV left, her statuesque athletic body attracting considerable attention. She was down to a sheer bra and running shorts, leaving little to the imagination. Talbot got a police jacket from MPD and brought it to the FBI mole.

The three now stood in a tight cluster looking at the smoldering car trying to sort things out. “It was good you came along when you did, Donna,” Beth said.

“I was at the game. That car was just ahead of me.”

“He must have been flying by the looks of that crash,” Annika said.

“It happened very fast. I didn't see Kat or Wolfe. I did see Captain Walsh fire some shots at the perp. I'll tell you one thing, Frankie isn't going to like this, not one bit,” Donna said, as two MPD officers approached the three women.

Following his conversation with the officers, Max went into the ER looking for Kat and Laura. They told him that Katherine Ann Turner's situation was critical and that she was in surgery.

Max was directed to a room for an L.W. Fields and found Laura sitting on a bed. The newly constructed hospital building eliminated the old circular-curtained bays in a large, open expanse in exchange for more private, walled spaces.

“Jer's on his way,” he told her.

Laura nodded wearily. “Thanks. I don't think I could have made that call. He's probably ordering our tickets to Siberia right now.”

“I would say he sounded more shocked than upset.”

“What I want to know from my OB-GYN is how he ever thought I was delicate? Not that I'm going out of my way to prove him wrong.”

Max grunted. “I'm glad you cleared that up. I was concerned.”

The scene at 18th and E streets was one of cleanup and investigation. The severely burnt body of the driver had been removed and the car's remains put on a flatbed. The sideswiped cars were wrapped in yellow tape and guarded by MPD officers.

Max had been on the phone several times with various people, including his chief, Commander Harrison, and Mr. Brown.

He was now at the accident scene, conversing with Commander Harrison. They'd known each other for over twenty-five years, back to when they were patrolmen together, before Max transferred to Homicide.

He walked Harrison through the action.

“The man was burned beyond recognition,” Harrison said. “We're tracing the car's license plate. It was an old model car.”

“I hate to say this, Commander, but it looked deliberate to me.”