The Chessman Read Free

thought.
    “I’m confused, Drew,” Preston spoke again. “According to your nightmare scenario, the Chessman tricked us all into believing that he was dead. So even if we assume he’s still alive somewhere out there, you refuse to credit him with Gottlieb’s murder?”
    “I have no idea what to think right now. All I’m saying is that if he went to such great lengths to stage his own death, to throw us off the scent, then his resurfacing doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Then help us prove it’s a copycat, and then you can be on your merry way,” Jund said, a pleading look in his eyes. “But if your nightmare scenario turns out to be the case, Drew, we’ll need you to smoke him out.”
    “Quite frankly, sir, you should have fired me three years ago.”
    “Admittedly, the investigation went dramatically south. But we’re neck deep in a situation here and we need your help to—”
    “No.”
    “What?”
    “I said no.”
    Assistant Director Jund dropped his pen onto the open folder. “Liz, could you and Agent Evans be so kind as to take a fiver?”
    It was impossible to tell which agent made more haste to exit the conference room, leaving the two men alone to gawk at each other.
    “What’s the matter with you,
Agent Cady
?” The job title slid thickly off the assistant director’s tongue, as though addressing Cady like he was still with the bureau would make it true. “You used to be my prize bloodhound. Tough as nails.”
    “I was never tough as nails, sir.”
    “The hell you weren’t.”
    “Senator Farris came to see me that first night in the hospital…at George Washington.”
    “That so?” Jund replied. “The good senator was all over my ass that week, calling for my resignation. Had an ‘off the record’ with him to make it stop. Never knew he visited you in the hospital.”
    “Visit might not be the right word. I had my hand elevated, my jaw wired shut, a Grade 1 concussion, and a knee the size of Mount St. Helens, and even with the morphine drip, my head throbbed. I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck and I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
    “I’ve seen road kill look more chipper than you did that night.”
    “About four a.m. there’s a commotion outside in the hallway. A second later Arlen Farris storms in, glares at me for an eternity and says, ‘I wish to hell it were you down there in the morgue instead.’”
    “Senator Arlen Farris is a bully and a jackass.”
    “I’d gotten his son killed.”
    “No you didn’t, Drew.” The assistant director took a thicker file from his briefcase and placed it on top of the open folder in front of him. “The only reason you were at Patrick Farris’s home that night was because of their bullshit.”
    “However deceptive the senator and congressman were, I should have seen through the smokescreen.”
    “Clairvoyance is not part of the job description.”
    “Remember, sir, they came to us for help.”
    Jund looked at the file he had just set on the tabletop and then abruptly switched subjects. “How’s Laura? You two work through it?”
    “I guess,” Cady said. “She got remarried in June. Some guy who owns a car dealership in Akron.”
    “I hadn’t heard.” Jund’s face reddened. “I’m sorry.”
    “A mutual friend set them up on a blind date. I guess they clicked.”
    The assistant director looked at Cady’s left hand. “You’re still wearing the ring.”
    “Guess I’m living the lie.” Cady paused, searching for the right words, and then said, “Look, sir, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. I appreciate your confidence in me, I truly do, but I’m not cut out for this. Not anymore. If anyone wants to pick my brain on what happened back then, I’m a phone call away.”
    “I’m beyond spent, Agent Cady. I’ve not slept in nearly thirty hours, so please forgive me if I give you the Cliff Notes version of the pep talk. You’re like a broken pop machine, son, with an ‘Out of Order’ sign hung on the