Murder Inside the Beltway - Margaret Truman [81]
As he walked into his reception area, one of the detectives told him that a young man had tried to gain access to the suite. “His name’s Massie,” the detective said. “He said he works here.”
“Yes, Brian Massie. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” was the detective’s reply. “We told him he couldn’t enter without clearance.”
“Well, I clear him. How long ago was he here?”
“Twenty minutes, a half hour.”
Rollins went to his office and called Massie’s cell number. “Brian,” he said, “it’s Jerry. I’m sorry for the confusion.”
“That’s okay, Jerry. I certainly understand with everything that’s been going on. I thought I’d catch up on some things, that’s all.”
“Then by all means, come in. Where are you?”
“The Starbucks on the corner, reading the Post and sipping a budget-breaking latte.”
“Come back, Brian. I’ll clear it.”
Massie arrived a half hour later and secluded himself in his office while Rollins sat behind his closed door and consulted a list of calls that had come into the house that he intended to answer. He started with members of his staff, thanking them for their hopes and prayers, and for their offers to help. Sue’s mother, of course, had called in a panic, and it took a long time to calm her down, and to dissuade her from rushing to the house. She was upset anew this day when he called, but she listened to his reasoning and agreed to stay away and wait by the phone. She had her television on twenty-four hours a day, she told him, which he knew provided her with more questions, and causes for anxiety, than had she left it off. He promised to stay in touch.
After spending the better part of two hours there, with the detectives assigned to him coming and going, he announced he wished to return home. He stopped by Massie’s office before leaving.
“You’ll be at home tomorrow, Jerry?” Massie said.
“No, I’ll be here.” He closed the door. “They, the detectives, want me to maintain a relatively normal schedule in case whoever took Samantha wants to make contact away from the house. Whatever meetings are scheduled, my lunch with Testa from Senator Precott’s office, everything is to be carried on as though nothing has happened. Caroline has my schedule on her desk.”
Massie shook his head. “That’ll be tough for you, Jerry,” he said. “I’m not sure I could do that.”
“I don’t have any choice, Brian. It’ll be business as usual, if having cops hiding in the next office could ever be normal. I’ll see you to-morrow. I’ve told the detectives that it’s all right for you to stay as long as you wish.”
The young attorney got up from behind his desk, came to his boss, and wrapped his arms around him. “We’re all with you and Sue, Jerry, every inch of the way. You need something, you just ask.”
“Thank you, Brian. That means a great deal to me, and I know it will to Sue, too.”
A patrol car appeared outside the building and in fifteen minutes Rollins walked through the door of his home, ignoring questions yelled at him by members of the press. By this time, Matt Jackson had returned, carrying a small overnight bag, and Mary Hall had departed for her apartment. Kloss was gone; he was to attend a meeting of the task force established at Metro, but would return in a few hours.
“Anything new?” Rollins asked Jackson.
“No, sir. No calls. Anything happen at your office?”
“No. Where is Mrs. Rollins?”
“Sleeping. Detective Hall convinced her to get some rest. She needs it.”
“Good. It’s like watching grass grow,” Rollins muttered. “Waiting for another call.”
Jackson shook his head. “It must be hell for you and your wife,” he said. “I