The Wall, page 18
She moved to the bedroom. At least here there was some small evidence of her sister’s existence. A robe was thrown across the bottom of the neatly made bed, and as she breathed in, her nostrils filled with the lingering scent of her sister’s favorite perfume. Sharp and citrusy.
She returned to the living room and collected the trash bags she’d brought with her. Back in the bedroom, she opened the drawers and pulled out the underwear—plain cotton, her sister hadn’t been one for fancy underwear—and shoved it into one of the bags.
Next, she tackled the wardrobe. Mainly black suits. She placed them in a separate bag—they would go to the goodwill store. Shirts and sweaters would as well. She kept her mind blank as she worked, only becoming aware of the tears that rolled down her cheeks as her vision blurred. She sank onto the bed, clutching a cashmere sweater to her face.
She was still sitting there when the doorbell rang. Kate wiped a hand across her cheeks, gave herself a quick glance in the mirror before she went to let her mother in. Her mom was dressed in a black knee-length dress. Her eyes were red, but they appeared clearer than they had in a long time, and her expression held a hint of something Kate had never seen before. Maybe determination. But to do what?
Kate gave her a quick hug. They hadn’t been a demonstrative family in a long time. For a second, her mother’s arms tightened around her, then she let go. She stepped back. “We need to talk,” she said.
Kate had been about to turn away, but now she studied her mother. She’d thought she would have to wheedle or coerce the information out of her. Now it looked like she was ready to talk. Had Stella’s death unlocked her somehow?
After giving a quick nod, she turned and led the way into the living room. He mother sank into the corner of the dark-gray velvet sofa, clutching her hands in her lap. Kate gave her clenched face one glance and headed into the kitchen. Her sister wasn’t much of a drinker, but maybe she kept something for visitors.
In the fridge, she found a half-full bottle of bourbon. Maybe Stella liked to drink alone. She grabbed the bottle and a glass from the counter, then changed her mind and picked up a second glass.
Her mother was seated exactly as she had left her, staring straight ahead. Kate placed the glasses on the steel coffee table and poured a measure of bourbon into each.
“Here, mom.”
Her mother automatically put out a hand for the glass. Kate sighed and sank down beside her. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs under her, sitting at an angle so she could see into her mother’s face. She sipped her drink. Now that they were here, she didn’t want to start. Maybe there was something else she could say.
“I love you, Mom.”
Her mother had been staring straight ahead. Now she jerked as if she’d been struck, then swallowed her drink in one gulp.
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” Kate said.
“I want to, but I can’t.”
“You can. You’ve already decided to. Now you just need to get the words out.”
“You’ll hate me.”
“I could never hate you. I need to understand what went wrong with our family.”
Her mother visibly gathered herself together. She placed the glass on the table and folded her hands back in her lap. “When your sister was fifteen, she was raped by Harry Coffell.”
The world dropped out from beneath Kate’s feet. She realized she hadn’t a clue what she had expected. Just not this. “The president?”
“He wasn’t president then. It was a few years before he was inaugurated.”
“Tell me.”
“She was a beautiful child. And he took her innocence, destroyed her belief in herself, hurt her. He told her that if she disclosed what he had done, then he’d destroy our family.”
“So how did you know?”
“Aaron.”
“Aaron Frome. Gideon’s brother?”
“They were childhood sweethearts.”
“Aaron and Stella? But it was Gideon and Stella.”
“That was later. Aaron’s mother was a very good friend of mine. Stella and Aaron were the same age. They grew up together. We always knew that one day they would marry.”
“I didn’t know.”
Her mother gave a small smile; the first Kate had seen in so long. “You weren’t aware of anything going on around you. Your head was always stuck in a book, or a movie, or some god-awful ancient TV show set in space.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“You weren’t bad at all, just different. Certainly different from your sister. Anyway, we told them they could date when Stella was sixteen, but they’d sneak out to meet—innocently, I’m sure. They just loved to be together.”
Had Gideon known? “What happened?” A heavy weight settled in her stomach. She both needed to hear this and, at the same time, wanted to cover her ears so she didn’t have to listen.
“She was at a Young Loyalists meeting at the White House. Aaron had arranged to meet her outside when it was over. When she didn’t turn up, he went looking. He found her huddled down a side street where Harry’s henchmen had dumped her. She was crying and bleeding. At first she wouldn’t tell him what had happened, until he threatened to call the police.” She waved at the bottle and Kate poured her another drink. She sipped it for a moment. “He brought her home—she refused to go to a hospital, though she was clearly hurt. You were out, thank God. Your father was home. If he hadn’t been, things might have gone differently. Aaron wanted to report it, but your father was adamant. No one could know. It would be the end of the family.”
“What did Stella want?”
“She was almost hysterical—said they had to forget it. It hadn’t happened. That Harry had said they would all be killed as traitors if she talked.” She took a deep breath. “So I gave in. I was afraid. Maybe I even thought we could put it behind us. Go on with our pretty lives as though nothing had happened. Except that the pretty was only a veneer over the ugliness, and after that I could never stop seeing the ugliness, however hard I tried.”
“The drugs?” Kate asked carefully.
Her mom gasped. “You knew?”
Kate nodded.
“I’m sorry. I was a coward.”
“You were just trying to do what was best for us all.”
“Stella didn’t confide in me after that. I never knew what she was thinking. She refused point-blank to see Aaron. It broke his heart, and he went a little wild. It was only a matter of time before he got into trouble. The poor boy was as broken as Stella.”
“What about Gideon?” How did he fit into this? How had he become engaged to Stella? Had he known? She was pretty sure he hadn’t.
“That was your father’s idea. And Gideon’s. He’d made it clear he was interested in Stella. She was beautiful, but she hadn’t looked at anyone since that night. Gideon was persistent, and your father said it would be a good idea. Of course, Harry was president by then and more powerful than his father had ever been.”
After Harry Senior had suffered a stroke, they’d kept him in place until he’d gone beyond the stage of even acting the part of a figurehead. It was rumored he was close to insanity. At that point, he’d been discreetly moved to a secured home—supposedly a temporary measure. He’d never been seen again, though occasionally his son would mention him in a speech. She presumed he was still alive. Somewhere.
Harry Junior had slid into his father’s place like a snake into a rabbit hole. Oh, there had been a whole lot of talk about resuming the democratic system and promises that elections were just around the corner. That was twelve years ago, and the first time Kate had taken an interest in politics. She’d been a couple of years away from finishing high school, had high hopes of college, and was totally fascinated by the banned subject of artificial intelligence. She believed that maybe with the removal of Martial Law and the reintroduction of democracy, there might be a loosening on policies related to research.
Looking back, she couldn’t believe how self-centered she had been. Although she understood that part of her self-absorption had been a way to shut out her family life, which had become intolerable. Subconsciously, she’d sensed the darkness beneath the surface and had gotten through it the only way she could, by concentrating on the one thing that had never let her down. Computers.
“We’d hoped that when Harry Senior stepped down, there might be elections. Or at least someone else might take over.”
Instead, Harry had taken over with hardly a ripple and a load of platitudes about not making any changes during this dangerous time of transition. He’d spoken about keeping his father’s dream alive. Making America a better place for Americans. Blah, blah, blah.
“Harry just got more powerful. And invulnerable. He started that Secret Service group, which is like his own private army. When we realized he was there to stay, we had to take steps to make Stella safe. It was like living on a bomb. We couldn’t avoid him entirely and he was always super pleasant to Stella.”
“Smarmy bastard.”
“She would throw up after she had seen him. Once she was safely out of sight. But he knew. He’d get this look in his eyes.”
“Harry hates it when someone doesn’t love him,” Kate said. Her mother frowned, and she continued, “Something Gideon told me.”
“I think he’s correct. There was always something not right about him. He was spoiled as a child and as a man. Then something broke inside him when his mother was killed. Anyway, we had to make him believe that she was over what had happened. That she was loyal to the Party. Gideon was a favorite—he was going to go far. Stella didn’t care enough to argue. She just went along with the engagement like a doll being moved around with no thoughts of her own.”
“What happened with Aaron?”
“We don’t really know. Something triggered him—sent him into a rage. Maybe Stella getting engaged to his brother was just one step too far. He was a member of the Bring Back Democracy group by then. He gave an interview, hinted that he knew things about the president. Threatened to reveal all.”
“Then he disappeared.”
Her mother nodded. “His father called us. Told us Aaron had run, that he expected to be arrested and questioned himself at any time, and that Gideon was likely to be as well. He said we should distance ourselves. Stella was going to break off the engagement, but Gideon broke it off first. I think your father went to see him, though I don’t know for sure. If Stella had married him, then he might have saved her. He was always such an honorable man.”
“He still is.”
“And he’s back now.” Her mother pushed herself up slowly, suddenly old. She wandered the room for a minute, stopped, picked up the photo Kate had earlier, then put it face down on the dresser. She came back, stood gazing down at Kate. “We made this world. All those years ago, we stood at a crossroads and we could go either way. And we chose this. America for Americans.” She laughed, but the sound held no humor. “A shit place for shit people. We deserve the world we’ve got.”
Kate rubbed her arms, a chill running through her. “There’s still time for change.”
“Is there?” She sighed. “I needed to tell you. For you to understand. I think it’s only a matter of time before they come for us. For you, too, maybe.” She looked around the place and shrugged. “I wouldn’t bother sorting out her things. There’s nothing of the real Stella here. She died when she was fifteen at the hands of that monster.”
She turned and walked away. Kate didn’t move, couldn’t think of anything she could say that would make things better. Except maybe I’m going to kill President Harry Asshole Coffell. Would that make her mother feel better?
Maybe.
The front door slammed.
But her mother had been wrong about one thing. Stella had been alive. The last few years, she’d had a purpose and a new vitality. She’d just learned to hide her real self too well.
Kate had an almost overwhelming sadness that Stella had hidden from her as well. Then again, what had she ever done to earn her sister’s trust? The most important thing that had ever happened to her, and Kate had known nothing.
Had she met Aaron again? Had she been working with him? Had that been discovered by the Secret Service? Kate suspected not. Because if the connection had been found, she would have been arrested in the open; there would have been no need of an accidental death.
They would have wanted to question her, find out what she knew.
Instead, she had just been killed.
Had she died purely because she hated Harry, and Harry wanted to be loved?
It seemed unbelievable. But, strangely, Kate did believe it. The man was insane.
Yeah, she was going to see the bastard dead. And save the world.
Though she still had no clue how.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” Thomas Jefferson
Gideon closed the door and crossed the room to his desk. He’d come back here yesterday afternoon and found out nothing of any use. They were shutting him out. He hadn’t heard anything from Kate, and he tried to tell himself that was good. But worry nagged at his mind, like a fleabite he couldn’t scratch.
He’d once spent a week trapped inside a flea-infested hut outside the Wall. He’d become used to them in the end. In fact, he preferred fleas to the company he had to keep right now.
Eventually, he picked up his phone. He’d have to be discreet—all calls were monitored—but at least he could check she was okay. He punched in her number and she picked up straight away.
“Kate Buchanan.”
She sounded breathless. He realized she wouldn’t know it was him—the call would just show up as Secret Service. He’d probably given her a heart attack.
“It’s me, sweetheart.”
“Gideon.” Her relief was palpable. “How are you? What do you want?”
“Just to say good morning. I missed you last night.”
“You did?”
“I did. Did you get your sister’s apartment sorted out?”
“Some of it. I’ve organized a cleaning firm to come in and do the rest.”
“That’s good. Are you ready for tonight?”
“Not really. I have nothing to wear. You sprang this on me rather suddenly.”
She was acting; she sounded outwardly flirtatious, but he could hear the reserve beneath the banter. “I couldn’t bear the thought of going without you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet, but as I said I have nothing to wear.”
“Go buy something pretty, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay. Bye, Gideon.”
“Bye, sweetheart.” He put down the phone and sat in the chair behind his desk.
He liked calling her sweetheart, partly because he knew it would wind her up. He liked winding her up. It was something he’d never done with Stella. They hadn’t had that sort of relationship. She’d always been very reserved, but he’d reassured himself that she would get over that when they married. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Both their families had been keen on the relationship. When they were younger, he’d always thought that Stella and Aaron would end up together, but their friendship had fizzled out when they’d been teenagers. He’d once asked Aaron why. His brother had just shrugged and asked who knew how girls thought.
She’d been so beautiful, almost perfect, with her quintessential American looks. Blonde hair and blue eyes. He’d been enchanted by the idea of them as the perfect American couple. Together they could help take the country to the next level.
Except that they hadn’t really been a couple, never mind a perfect one. They hadn’t shared anything.
He’d been so busy back then working on the president’s staff, trying to make a name and a place for himself, that it had almost been a relief that Stella hadn’t asked for much of his time.
He stared out of the window. She was dead now, and he’d never really known her.
His relationship with Kate felt more real. Hell, it was more real.
And was going absolutely nowhere.
It might all be over by tonight. They’d be caught and locked up, and there was a good chance they’d be tortured. His guts twisted at the thought of anyone hurting Kate.
He’d spent the night trying to think of an alternative, but he’d come up blank. He wouldn’t get past the door of Stella’s office, never mind into the systems. This was the plan and they had to stick to it. Which didn’t mean he had to like it.
What he needed was an idea of what was going on here. Who was in and who was out.
He’d heard nothing around the office about the massacre that had taken place yesterday. It had to have been planned, but there hadn’t been a whisper. He was quite aware that the guard at the checkpoint would have recorded his presence there. So there was no point in pretending; it would seem odd. He also wanted to know more about what had happened and who had ordered it. And why?
He could find nothing in the records, no orders. The only reference was the allocation of assets. A large number of personnel had been allocated to what was supposed to be a peaceful demonstration. The order for that had come from the top—from his boss, Boyd.
He looked up the roster and found that Corporal Watson, the agent who had escorted them back to the checkpoint, was in the building at the moment. That was a starting point. He made a couple of calls and located Watson in the basement. He headed down there and found his man on one of the firing ranges. He stood at the back of the room watching while Watson shot at the man-shaped target. He was mediocre at best. When he turned, Gideon could see the frustration on his face. He caught sight of Gideon and scowled, then his face cleared of expression.
