The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [89]
Linwood was silent.
“You might want to go see her. Make amends—”
“Thank you, Agent Vail, for your concern.”
“At least call me Karen.”
Linwood bowed her head, rested a hand against the wall, steadying herself. Symbolic support for what she was about to say. But as the seconds passed, Linwood did not talk. Did not move.
“Tell me about my father.”
Linwood’s head lifted and she stared at the ceiling. “I think it’s best you leave now.”
Vail should have anticipated such a response. If Linwood had, in fact, worked to bury her past—and Vail now had confirmation of that—then that would be the last topic Linwood would want to discuss.
“You abandoned your child. How could you do that?”
“There’s more to it than you know, or should ever know.” The senator was quiet a long moment, then her shoulders rolled forward. As if realizing she needed to explain further, she said, “It was the best thing for both of us at the time. I had my own survival to worry about. Believe me, it was a good thing Emma was there.”
Though Vail had seen druggie teenagers with babies—women who didn’t know what responsibility was, or what it meant to be a mother—she had a hard time seeing the regal Eleanor Linwood in the same light. But Vail had not come there to understand why her mother had abandoned her. Or perhaps she had. Perhaps it was something she should ask about, if nothing else to understand. But either Linwood was a closed individual, or the thought of having abandoned her daughter was too painful to relive, even harder to discuss. For the moment, Vail would focus on finding her father. It might be easier for a man to talk about the past he had left behind.
“Senator, I need to know about my father. You have that information. I can find it out by other means, but the attention I’d draw would probably be something you’d want to avoid.”
“It was another lifetime. One I’d rather forget.”
“Am I that much of a disappointment to you?”
Linwood spun to face her. Her eyes were swollen and red. “This has nothing to do with you.” Her gaze was fixed on Vail, as if there was more she wanted to say. But she hesitated, then finally shook her head.
“I’m sorry to have brought this anguish to the surface. I would’ve thought you’d be glad to see me. But obviously you’re not. Fine, I’ll deal with that. Give me the info I want and I’ll be out of your life.”
Linwood looked away. “Even if I tell you who your father is, nothing good will come of it.”
“You don’t know that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, I do.”
“Maybe he’s not the same person he was forty years ago.”
“Someone like that doesn’t change.”
“Senator, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell him who you are or where you live.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Vail began to feel the same frustration she’d felt hundreds of times in the past, sitting in an interview room opposite a skel she knew was guilty, but who refused to give it up. There was one case where a kidnapper would not divulge the location of his victim. Vail never could elicit the information, and they never found the woman. She felt that frustration now, swelling in her throat, threatening to choke her.
Vail took a cleansing breath and slipped into interrogation mode, using techniques she taught at the Academy. “You’re worried he’ll find you, that my poking around will somehow compromise your secret. Or even make him resurface, bring him back into your life. I can understand that. But I won’t let it happen. You have my word.”
“It would destroy my political career. I’m gearing up for reelection. My opponent would take me to task in the media if he found out about my association with your father. And if it ever got out I’d changed my identity—”
“No one would be able to piece it together.