“They hired private investigators, and they have been compiling their own details about not only you, but your husband as well.”
“My husband?” Rosalind realized her voice had risen, and she forced herself to speak calmly. “What the hell do they expect to find? We live decent lives.”
“They wouldn’t show all their cards to me, but they mentioned everything from dope smoking in college to ongoing mental health issues.”
“Meaning my clinical depression? The panic attacks? Heart palpitations? What has that got to do with my testimony?”
“Don’t you get it? The price you pay is that your reputation is going to be destroyed. Rumors—even false ones—will be leaked to every newspaper and cable TV channel in America. Those rumors will follow you, and your kids, forever. They’re even going to portray you as politically motivated, wanting to bring down the President.”
“Bring down the President? I voted for him. Are you kidding me?”
“Sadly not. This is going to be a slow-motion, orchestrated takedown.”
“What about my findings? The committee will still want to hear about those, won’t they?”
“They will. But this firm has also hired some expensive forensic accountants of their own, and they have a report which is going to conclude that it wasn’t one or two people responsible, but just antiquated accounting practices and software. And as for the kickbacks, they’re going to say that that money was wrongly allocated. They have people, dozens of them, who will swear you are naive, politically motivated, and unstable.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Rosalind, you need to wake up and smell the coffee. They’re working solely on how they are going to manage this situation. But I thought it was important that you fully comprehend what you’re facing.”
Rosalind was shaken by the news. She felt tearful, ready to break down. But she gathered herself, determined not to start blubbering on the phone.
“They’re going to trash your investigation and destroy your reputation. And they’re also, as if that wasn’t enough, lobbying most of the committee to ensure your findings never make their way to the public. For you, Rosalind, this is a lose-lose scenario.”
“Shit.”
His next words were quiet. “There’s more.”
She laughed bitterly. “How could there be more?”
“They’re going to come after your government pension, your benefits. They’ll try to strip you and your family of all of that.”
“They can’t do that.”
“But they’ll try. They’ve made it clear they’re going to play hardball and put you on the defensive all the way. You could spend years of your life dealing with lawsuits and other fallout.”
Rosalind sipped her milky coffee and cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say apart from I’m shocked.”
“Look, I know your motivation. And I know this is about principles. And ethics. And what is right. And I agree with all of that. But, and hear me out, I worry this could get ugly.”
Rosalind felt herself begin to tear up a bit, throat tightening.
“I know the strain it’s put on you, your marriage, and those around you. But that will be nothing compared to what’s ahead of us.”
Rosalind sighed and shook her head. “Frank, I thought you were in my corner.”
“You know I am. And I will be there with you each and every hour in front of the committee.”
“You think I’m crazy for wanting to do this, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I believe you, I believe you have more than enough evidence that something is seriously wrong. But . . . I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, Rosalind.”
“Speak your mind.”
“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this. You have no idea how rough this is going to get. I’m talking not only about these new lawyers, but the chair and members of the committee. They’ve been getting lobbied directly by the Pentagon. They’ll have been promised the moon if they dismiss your report. I fear they’ll take the bait and use the hearing to put the spotlight on your competence instead.”
“Do you think I should just give up on this? Are you saying I should just walk away?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you’re tough. And you can look after yourself. But is this really worth it? The impact on your family. Your career. Your mental health?”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can. But . . .”
Rosalind’s gaze wandered around the coffee shop. “I want to do the right thing. My father was in the military. I was in the military. And he always taught me to do the right thing, no matter what.”
Frank was quiet, letting her work through her thoughts. And those thoughts took her to the calls she’d been receiving late at night for the last month. Calls that, like the murders, she’d told only her husband about. She would wake up from a deep sleep and pick up her bedside phone. But it was only dead air.
“Frank, listen to me,” she said, steeling her resolve. “I know more. There have been people killed. Who all died in suspicious circumstances. I have files. Names.”
“And you’re telling me this now? Are you kidding me?”
“I have the names of accountants. Auditors. Good people. And there is a thread.”
“What kind of thread?”
“They were all involved in investigating the financial systems of the Pentagon, among others. And they all died in strange circumstances. Drownings. Suicide. Electrocution. All appear to be accidents.”
“Jesus, Rosalind, this is crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. In seventy-two hours, I’m going to testify. I’m doing the right thing for the right reasons.”
“Tell me more about the names.”
“I’ll send over what I have.”
“This is late in the game to be throwing this at me. It’s playing into their hands, don’t you see it? They will paint you as a lunatic. What you’re saying is crazy.”
“I know it is. But it’s true, that’s what’s so terrifying.”
Frank sighed long and hard, as if he had given it his best shot.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I’m your lawyer. But I’m also your friend.”
“You want me to back out of this, don’t you?”
“Even at the eleventh hour, there is still time. You need to fully realize that when you walk through the doors into that hearing room, there is no turning back. And it’s going to be the dirtiest fight you’ve ever seen.”
“I appreciate that. But my father taught me how to fight dirty. And I’m ready to fight.”
Nine
Reznick crouched low in the front seat of the new SUV they’d rented, binoculars scanning the inside of the coffee shop. The woman sitting alone, an attractive fortysomething, matched the photo they had of Rosalind Dyer. “I think this is her,” he said. “Black T-shirt, jeans.”
Trevelle was checking his cell phone to confirm the GPS location of the woman’s cell phone. “She hasn’t moved in forty minutes. She likes her coffee, that’s for sure.”