The Soul Catcher

CHAPTER 69

Gwen found Maggie down in her office, curled in the overstuffed chair, her legs thrown over an arm, a stack of files resting on her chest, her eyes closed. Without saying a word, she let go of Harvey’s leash and gave him a pat on the hind end, telling him it was okay to go to his master. He didn’t hesitate and didn’t ask for permission to put his huge paws up on the chair to reach Maggie’s face and begin licking.

“Hey, you!” Maggie grabbed the dog’s head and hugged him. He jumped back when the file folders opened and the contents started sliding down on top of him. “It’s okay, big guy,” Maggie reassured him, but she was already out of her comfortable position and on her feet by the time Gwen came over to help pick up crime scene photos and lab reports.

“Thanks for bringing him,” Maggie said. She stopped and waited until Gwen met her eyes. “And thanks for coming.”

“Actually I was glad you called.” The truth was Gwen had been surprised, not by the call but by the request. Harvey may have started out as a good excuse, but Gwen had heard the vulnerability in Maggie’s voice immediately, long before her friend quietly told her, “I need you here, Gwen. Can you please come?”

Gwen hadn’t hesitated. She had left linguine in a colander in the sink, a pot of homemade Alfredo sauce probably now congealing on a cold stove. She was out the door and in her car, heading for Quantico by the time Maggie finished giving her what scant details were available. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “Or do you even know?”

“You mean since I don’t get to participate?”

Gwen studied her friend’s eyes. There was no anger. Good. “You know it’s best that you don’t. You do know that, right?”

“Sure.” But Maggie was watching Harvey investigate the corners of her office, pretending to be distracted by his curiosity. “Cunningham says the government has an informant. Someone who just recently came forward. He works in Senator Brier’s office and he’s also a member of Everett’s church. His name’s Stephen Caldwell.”

Gwen helped herself to a Diet Pepsi from the minifridge in the corner of Maggie’s office. She looked up at Maggie. “No Scotch?” Maggie smiled at her and held out her hand, so Gwen grabbed another Pepsi. “This informant,” she said, “how do we know he’s not double-crossing us, too? How do we know that he can be trusted?”

“I’m not convinced that he can be. For one thing, it may have been Caldwell who used his high-level security clearance to gain access to those retired weapons, the ones found at the cabin. But Cunningham tells me it was Caldwell who arranged my secret meeting with Eve.” She saw Gwen’s question before she asked. “Eve is an ex-member. I talked to her when you and Tully were in Boston.”

“Ah, yes. Boston.” Gwen felt uncomfortable at the mere mention of the trip, but Maggie didn’t seem to notice. As far as Gwen knew, Maggie hadn’t even heard about Eric Pratt’s attempt on her life. No sense in bringing it up now. “If Caldwell has been stealing weapons and possibly leaking classified information to Everett, why is he suddenly willing to help the government?”

“Evidently, he’s grown attached to Senator Brier and his family.” Maggie wrestled a tennis shoe away from Harvey. “Ginny’s murder shook up Caldwell’s loyalties. He claims he’s convinced Everett that they need to proceed to Cleveland, that Everett doesn’t know about the arrest warrants, only about the negative media attention. Caldwell claims we can safely arrest Everett and Brandon in Cleveland at the prayer rally, in public with little resistance and no threat of Everett being able to stage a standoff. That Everett won’t be expecting such a public arrest and will be taken completely by surprise.”

“Wait a minute,” Gwen interrupted. “If Everett didn’t know about the warrants, then what about the dead bodies the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team found?”

“Cunningham said the unit announced themselves. Too many booby traps around the compound to sneak in. They think those left behind got scared, did the one thing they were prepared to do when the FBI came knocking at their door.”

“Jesus! Are we sure they weren’t in contact with Everett?”

“That we don’t know for sure. But there wasn’t a whole lot of time. It happened quickly.”

“But what about Caldwell?”

“He was informed about the arrest warrants. He wasn’t tipped off about the raid. It was meant to be a surprise. A surprise so no one would get hurt.”

At this, Maggie avoided Gwen’s eyes again. She noticed Harvey scooting under her desk and reached down, rescuing the tennis shoe’s mate. She set the pair on the bookcase, out of his reach. The big dog sat and watched as if waiting for compensation. Gwen watched, too, quietly waiting for Maggie to continue. She knew the distraction was intentional. Maggie was doing an excellent job of giving her all the difficult details while sidestepping the subject of her mother. Even Gwen remembered the countless times Maggie had mentioned her mother’s new friends, Emily and Stephen. This Stephen Caldwell had to be the same Stephen.

“And Caldwell’s conflicted loyalties,” Gwen finally said, “how do they affect your mother and her safety?”

“That I don’t know. As far as we know, Caldwell is still with Everett. And so is my mother.” She sat back down in the chair and Harvey went to her, laying his head in her lap as if this was an expected routine. Maggie absently petted him while leaning her head back into the soft cushion. “I tried to talk to her about Everett. We ended up…it was pretty awful.”

Gwen knew to be quiet. Maggie had shared very little about her childhood, and what Gwen knew of Maggie and her mother’s relationship came from hints, personal observations over the years and a few rare and accidental admissions from Maggie. She knew about the alcohol abuse and learned about the suicide attempts only after the fact, even though there had been several attempts within the time since Gwen and Maggie had become friends. But Maggie had kept her mother and their relationship off-limits, and whether it was right or wrong, Gwen had allowed it, hoping that one day Maggie would decide on her own to share that obvious struggle. Even tonight and under the present circumstances, Gwen expected little insight, little sharing. She leaned against the corner of Maggie’s desk and waited, just in case.

“She always does and says such hurtful things,” Maggie said quietly without moving her head from the back of the cushion, avoiding Gwen’s eyes. “Not just to me but to herself. It’s like she’s been spending a lifetime trying to punish me.”

“Why in the world would she want to punish you, Maggie?”

“For loving my father more than I love her.”

“Maybe it’s not you she’s trying to punish.”

Maggie looked up at her with watery eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Could be she’s not trying to punish you at all. Did it ever occur to you that all these years she may have been trying to punish herself?”