A Killing Sky by Andy Straka

her?”
    “Cartwright told me in an E-mail.”
    “Odd that she would tell you if she really suspected you of withholding information from her.”
    He shook his head and shrugged.
    “Suppose someone, a stranger maybe, were feeding Cartwright certain information. Information she thought was leading her to discovering something about your past. Accurate or not, would that've been a strong enough motive for her to take a chance on meeting this stranger?”
    The congressman didn't answer. He turned his chair toward the window and looked outside. Sunlight struck the back of his head at an odd angle, the effect of which was to make his dark hair appear brown. When he finally spoke, his voice dropped considerably.
    “I don't know,” he said. “How can I know? Her sister told me she was going to meet with this swimmer Haynes, and now you and the police tell me the kid says he never saw her and you think he's telling the truth.”
    I decided to switch gears. “Who are you sleeping with these days, Congressman?”
    He waved the question away. “Look, my friend, this is too much. This is my personal life. Even a politician is entitled to some privacy.”
    “Your daughters may not think so.”
    “I know that, goddamn it. That's why I'm… that's why I'm … “
    “What?”
    “That's why I'm telling you all this now. Just like you, I want to know if Cartwright mistrusted me enough to put herself in danger.”
    “Danger from what, Congressman? From whom?”
    “I told you … I don't know,” he said.
    “There's something you're not telling me.”
    His face grew strangely passive. “I've been more than honest with you, Pavlicek. I'm giving you the truth.”
    “Okay. Then you won't mind answering some more questions. Ever heard of a couple named George and Norma Paitley?”
    He glanced out the window for an instant. “Paitley? No, I don't think so. Why?”
    “Their names have come up in the course of my investigation. You sure?”
    He looked me square in the eye. “I'm sure,” he said.
    “Where were all your staff night before last when your daughter disappeared?”
    “You'll have to ask them.”
    “You were on the phone with someone that night. About one in the morning. The call originated from Cartwright's cell phone. Then you called the same number back.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Who were you talking to?”
    “You've got no right to spy on me like this.”
    “No more right than you have to spy on your daughters.”
    We stared at one another. His smile was long gone. “I'll go to the right people with this, Pavlicek. I'll get an injunction if I have to.”
    I shrugged.
    “You want more?” His eyes grew cold, indifferent. “I can see to it you won't even be able to get a job as a crossing guard in this state.”
    I stood up to leave. “It's been interesting,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
    “Now wait just one minute. I've told you some private things here.”
    “And they'll stay private, until I get together the evidence I need to nail you and whoever else is involved in your daughter's disappearance.” I started to leave.
    His chief of staff, Dworkin, suddenly appeared at the door. Maybe he'd been secretly summoned by his boss or maybe he'd been listening the whole time. “Problem, sir?” He stood blocking the doorway.
    I looked back at Drummond, whose face had transformed. Now it appeared small and fearful and full of rage. His chief of staff wasn't all that big, but he looked plenty strong. Dworkin set his feet as I approached him and tried to push me back into the room. I took his momentum and grabbed him by his wrist, pulling him to the side and backhanding him across the mouth.
    He fell backward. “Christ!” He took out a handkerchief and spit out some blood. “Here, asshole, take this.” He pulled a blank sheet of paper from a stack on a table next to him and held it out to me.
    I jerked it from his hand. “What's this?”
    “It's all that's going to be left of your life