Murder Inside the Beltway (34 page)

Sue broke down. “I’m sorry, but this is all so difficult.”

“I understand, ma’am,” Kloss said. “Only a few more minutes, Samantha. Did they say anything that might help us know who they were or what they wanted? Did they say anything about why they took you?”

“They said it was for business,” she replied. “They said that they were going to let me go because the business was over.”

“Business? Did they say what sort of business?”

“No.” She turned to her mother. “Mommy, I’m so tired.”

“Please,” Jerry Rollins said.

“Of course,” Kloss said. “Get her to bed. We’ll talk more when she’s rested.”

As Mr. and Mrs. Rollins started up the stairs with their daughter, Kloss called after them, “Mr. Rollins, I’d like time with you once she’s tucked in.”

Kloss took Jackson and Hall aside. “What do you figure happened?” he asked. “They hold the kid for days, then drop her at a church with a cell phone to call home. No ransom demands, no nothing, just some vague comment about business being done.”

Matt and Mary looked at each other before Jackson said, “I don’t know for sure what’s going down, Detective, but I have a few ideas.”

“Lay ’em on me,” said Kloss. “I’m all ears.”

W
ith Hall at his side, Jackson related to Kloss everything he’d learned about the tapes and his suspicions about Walt Hatcher’s involvement with them and with Rosalie Curzon. Kloss listened without interrupting. When Jackson finished, Kloss summed up for himself what he’d heard.

“You say that Hatcher was shaking down the murder victim and others,” he said. “Hatcher knew of the existence of the tapes, and that Governor Colgate was caught on one of them. And Hatcher threatened this other call girl, the Simmons woman, that if she talked she’d end up like her friend, Ms. Curzon?”

Jackson affirmed.

“You know, Matt, accusing a fellow officer of committing a crime carries with it an extra weight. Hatcher has had a long career with MPD, and plenty of decorations. You’d better be sure of your facts.”

“We are.”

“And you think Mr. Rollins might have used the tapes as ransom to get his daughter back.”

“I don’t know that,” Jackson quickly said, “but considering the unusual circumstances of her return, it’s a possibility.”

“If you’re right, Rollins put himself in one hell of a dilemma. What do you think, that Hatcher ended up with the tapes and passed them along to Rollins?”

“I doubt if he passed them along,” Jackson said. “Sold them, is more like it.”

“Which put Rollins between that classic rock and a hard place. Turn over those tapes to save your daughter and in the process sink your best friend’s chances of winning the White House.”

“Really no choice when it comes down to it,” Mary offered.

“No, I suppose not,” Kloss agreed. “I think we need a serious talk with Mr. Rollins when he comes down.”

Other officers had packed up the monitoring gear and their personal belongings, and departed, leaving Kloss, Jackson, and Hall to question Rollins. Kloss took the lead, while Jackson and Hall sat quietly across the dining room table. They were impressed with Kloss’s approach. There wasn’t a hint from the wily detective that he knew anything of the tapes that might have led to Samantha’s release. He was gentle, yet firm, a skilled interviewer.

“Obviously, Mr. Rollins,” Kloss said, “there’s been a happy ending to this unfortunate event.”

“Thank God,” Rollins said.

“Your daughter seems fine. I’m sure you and Mrs. Rollins were pleased to hear her say that she hadn’t been mistreated.”

“Something else to be thankful for.”

“Detectives Jackson, Hall, and I have been trying to come up with a rationale for them releasing Samantha at this particular time. Your daughter mentioned that her captors talked about some sort of business having to be concluded before they could return her.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea what they meant by that, what sort of business they were referring to?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Rollins replied.

“I’m sure you can understand, sir, the reason for our confusion. We’ve felt all along that the abduction was a professional job. The way they arranged for her release—no further phone calls from them, dropping her off at a safe haven like a church, and providing her with a cell phone to call you—only reinforces that belief. The question is, why?”

“Isn’t it enough that Samantha is now safe at home?” Rollins said.

“That’s certainly important,” said Kloss, “and we share your relief. But that doesn’t end it. A kidnapping has occurred, and we have an obligation to find and prosecute those behind it. It isn’t over for us.”

Rollins was having trouble disguising his annoyance at this line of questioning. To an extent, Jackson understood. The family nightmare was over. Time to get on with their lives, regardless of the police’s need to press forward with the investigation. But he was also very much in tune with Kloss’s responsibilities.

Rollins thought for a moment before responding. “Look,” he said, “I fully understand that you have a job to do, and I assure you that I’ll cooperate in any way I can. But I’m as baffled as you are why Samantha was taken, and why she was allowed to return home. As for this vague mention of some sort of ‘business,’ only the kidnappers know what they meant.”

“Hopefully,” Kloss said, “we’ll come up with an answer to that question. In the meantime—”

Kloss’s radio sounded. He listened, made a few notes, and ended the call. “I have to go,” he said. “We’ve got a hostage situation, an estranged father holding one of his kids.” He said to Jackson and Hall, “Why don’t you continue this debriefing of Mr. Rollins. I’ll be back in touch.”

Jackson walked outside with Kloss. “What about Hatcher?” Jackson asked.

“Yes, what about Hatcher?” the senior detective replied. “You and Hall finish up with Rollins and head on home. I have your numbers. I’ll call when this hostage situation is resolved and we’ll discuss it.”

Jackson rejoined Hall and Rollins. “I was just telling Detective Hall how much I resent this line of questioning,” Rollins said after Jackson had retaken his seat. “It sounds as though I’m being accused of being involved in some sort of nefarious deal with the kidnappers.”

“No one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Rollins,” Jackson said. “But you will admit that the circumstances surrounding the abduction and return of your daughter raise the sort of questions Detective Kloss was asking.”

“Sorry,” Rollins said, “but your professional obligations don’t give you the right to cast aspersions on me or my family. As far as Sue and I are concerned, the matter is over, closed, a nasty nightmare put behind us.”

Jackson and Hall said nothing. Rollins stood and stretched. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said.

“One other thing, sir,” Jackson said.

“Yes?”

“There have been these rumors about videotapes on which Governor Colgate might have been captured with the murdered call girl.”

His words stopped Rollins as he was on his way out of the room. He turned and glared at Jackson. “Are you suggesting that—?”

“I’m just asking, sir, that’s all. I realize it’s a rumor but—”

“A salacious, baseless one.”

“Even so, sir,” Hall said, realizing her partner, and lover, had stepped into a minefield, “it’s an avenue that we can’t ignore.”

Rollins’s small smile wasn’t convincing. “Somehow,” he said, “I didn’t think that rumors like that would be given credence by bright, young officers like you.”

Jackson wanted to further explain, using what he knew about Hatcher and the tapes to make his case. He thought Mary Hall might be about to go in that direction and headed her off with a look. He was also aware that Rollins’s demeanor had changed. A nerve had been struck. Rollins seemed to be caught in a vortex of conflicting messages, unsure of what to say, or do, next.

When Rollins said nothing, Jackson said, “The tapes might represent just a rumor, Mr. Rollins, but we have to follow up on them as a possible motive in your daughter’s kidnapping. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

Rollins left the room and went upstairs, leaving Jackson and Hall to pack up. As they gathered their things, Mr. and Mrs. Rollins appeared. “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Sue said. She hugged Mary and kissed Jackson’s cheek. “It’s good to know that the city and its law-abiding citizens have fine young people like you working on our behalf.”

“I thought I’d take a ride,” Jerry Rollins said, “rev up the monster out in the garage. Take a spin with me?” he asked Jackson.

“I don’t know, I—”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re dying to. I need to get out now that this ordeal is over. I’ll drop you wherever you want.”

“Go ahead,” Mary said to Matt. “Do you good. We’ll catch up later.”

“Sure?”

“Jerry and his toy,” Sue said without malice. “Just as long as he doesn’t wrap himself around a pole.”

Jackson laughed. “Any danger of that, Mr. Rollins?”

“No, and it’s Jerry. Remember?”

“Sure, Jerry, I’d love to.”

As Rollins fetched his driving gloves and Sue disappeared into the kitchen, Mary said to Matt, “I’ll grab some things at home and go to your apartment.”

Once it became evident that there would be no statement that night from the Rollinses, much of the media had abandoned their stakeout in front of the house. The few who remained were taken by surprise as Rollins, with Jackson in the passenger seat, backed the Porsche from the garage, turned, and roared onto the street, tires screeching.

“Where’s he going?” a reporter asked a colleague who was getting ready to leave.

“Beats me. Who’s the guy with him?”

“That cop who’s been here from the git-go.”

“We follow?”

“Nah. I just caught that hostage situation. See ya.”

The rain that had pelted the city earlier in the evening had stopped, the clouds breaking to allow a three-quarter moon and a smattering of stars to become visible. Rollins drove fast, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror to be sure no one, especially media, was following.

“Slow down,” Jackson said.

“Nervous, Matt? She really performs,” he said to Jackson over the rush of air and the engine’s fine-tuned hum.

“Sure does,” Jackson agreed. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d drive slower.”

Rollins laughed and maintained his excessive speed.

“Where are we heading?” Jackson asked.

“One of my favorite spots.”

“Where’s that?”

“Out by the airport.”

Rollins sharply turned off into what Jackson recognized as West Potomac Park, a spit of land between the Potomac River and the Tidal Basin. As Rollins maneuvered into a parking spot away from a few other cars, a jet aircraft departing from Reagan National Airport thundered above; Jackson had the impression that he could almost reach up and touch its underbelly. Rollins turned off the ignition, sat back, sighed, and closed his eyes. Jackson didn’t say anything to disturb his reverie. Another jet broke the silence, awakening Rollins. “Like to fly, Matt?” he asked.

“Always a little nervous.”

“I love it. I wanted to take flying lessons but never got around to it. You know, business and family getting in the way.”

“Must be fun flying your own plane.”

“I’ll never know. I sometimes come out here just to enjoy the takeoffs. Of course, it depends on which runway is being used. Planes always take off and land into the wind. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“It takes such power to lift one of those planes off the ground. Such power.”

Jackson agreed, and wondered why they were there.

“I’m always curious why people pursue certain careers. Why did you become a cop, Matt?”

Matt laughed. “I’ve been asking myself that same question a lot lately.”

“Disillusioned?”

“Sometimes.”

“I imagine you became a cop because you were going to do something good, get the bad guys off the streets, make society better. Am I right?”

“Something like that.”

“We all come into our chosen professions with lofty ideals. I know I did.”

“The law?”

“That, and politics. You know, Matt, politics in its purest sense is a noble profession. It has the power to change things for the better, cure social ills, promote a peaceful world, lift men’s spirits.”

Rollins glanced at the detective, who sat passively, waiting for more.

“The problem is that idealism too often gives way to cynicism. The power that can be used for the good soon corrupts the idealist. Reality sets in, and you either adapt or find another calling.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Jerry, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

His words were snuffed out by another takeoff, this one seeming even lower than previous jets. Rollins looked to where the few other people in the park were intent upon watching the planes. “You see the same people out here all the time, Matt. It’s a perfect place to see raw power in action.”

Jackson didn’t know how much longer he had with Rollins. The man obviously had something profound on his mind and was trying to express it—for what purpose, Jackson could only guess. Guess? He decided to push it.

“What about those tapes, Jerry?” he asked, not sure whether the question would elicit an angry response, or open up the conversation. He was pleasantly surprised.

“All right,” Rollins said, “let’s say such tapes existed, and that they played a part in Samantha’s kidnapping and return. I’m not saying they did, but let’s accept it as a hypothetical for this conversation. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

“I said before that politics in its purest sense is a positive thing, but that it can turn ugly, the way a war can turn ugly for either side. And let’s face it, politics is war. People may not want to accept that, but it’s the truth, and like any war things are done to hurt the enemy. Am I making sense?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson said. “What I
do
know is that a woman, a prostitute, was murdered, the same woman who taped clients, including some well-known people.”