The braid momentarily curved around her cheek as she nodded, and Nichols stared at it. He said slowly, “I believe Senator Abbott told me because he wanted me to talk him out of doing it.”

Jack said, “That’s an interesting theory. Care to tell us what you said to him?”

“I told him it was the worst possible mistake to go public about killing the little girl because the media would devour him, make him into their monster of the month. He wasn’t a monster and never would be, but that’s how it would end up. The media would never take into account things like the man’s excellent character, his caring for every man, woman, and child in this country, the legislation he’d gotten passed—thoughtful, far-reaching laws.

“No, the media would ignore all the good, wouldn’t consider it relevant. I told him that ruining his own career was only the first bullet he’d take. Then they’d go after his family with gossip, half-baked stories and innuendos. His daughters and their families would be dragged into it.

“As for what they would do to the Abbotts, they’d dig up malcontents, interview anyone with an ax to grind against the family. Naturally, such a major scandal isn’t anything the party needs.”

Jack said, “But Senator Abbott realized all this. He’d thought it through, struggled with it for a very long time. He knew what would happen, he knew, yet he’d decided to act, no matter your arguments.”

“Perhaps. But maybe hearing someone say it out loud—namely me—playing devil’s advocate for him, made a difference. As I said, I think he really wanted me to talk him out of it. Look, Agent Crowne, I’ve struggled as well, wondered endlessly if keeping faith with Senator Abbott was the right thing, but you see, I knew the man, knew his heart.

“I also knew the death of the little girl was a dreadful accident, something that could have been avoided had he . . . well, had things been different for that split second, but they weren’t, and so a child died needlessly.

“I tried to make him realize that it was an accident, tried to pull him out of his private hell. He wavered, and I was never sure what he would say from one day to the next, near the end.

“Let me be honest here. I’m simply not sure what his thinking was at the time of his death. I’ll admit that I played the Rachael card—I told him the media would go after you especially, Rachael, you and your mom and her family. And was it fair to smear you in all this?

“Then he died, and now we’ll never know what he would have done.” He paused, steepled his fingers again, a nervous habit, Jack thought, tapped them against his well-shaven chin. “In the end, would he really have resigned his office, confessed it all publicly? I don’t know. When he died, it was all moot. I don’t know what else I can tell you, Agent Crowne.”

Jack said, “Well, we’re still wading through it here, Greg.”

THIRTY-THREE

Nichols’s face spiked red with rage. “You think I’m lying to you? You want someone to blame for his death and you’ve selected me? That’s nuts, you’re nuts.”

Jack said, “Fact is, we’re running short on suspects here, Greg. You agree Senator Abbott told only you, his family, and Rachael. Do you know of anyone else he told?”

“No, I don’t, but there could easily have been others. He had a lot of friends, all the staffers listen at every keyhole.”

He was still breathing hard, his right hand in a mean fist. “Rachael, remember you told me you wanted to carry through with his wishes, you wanted to tell the world about his part in that little girl’s tragic death?”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “I still do. I believe to my soul he didn’t change his mind, he wouldn’t, and someone killed him to keep him quiet. Was it you, Greg?”

“No, it wasn’t. Listen, Rachael, none of us know what your father’s thoughts were in that split second before he died, what his decision was in that moment.”

Rachael said, “I remember Jimmy was very quiet that evening. He gave me a kiss, patted my cheek, called his driver, and left, without telling me where he was going. His driver told the police he dropped Jimmy off at The Globe restaurant in Friendship Heights, where he was to meet some of his colleagues.”

Nichols said, “I had nothing to do with setting up any dinner, and that’s what I told the investigators.”

She nodded. “But there were reservations in his name, for twelve. The guests arrived at the restaurant, but Jimmy never did, because he was dead, at the wheel of his own car, that’s what the investigators told me—that the car was registered to Senator John James Abbott, a white BMW. I’d never seen him drive it, it was always locked in the garage, so I couldn’t even verify that it was his car.

“But the thing is, Greg, if Jimmy decided to drive again, why would he come back to the house without telling me? Why would he go straight to the garage, get into his BMW, and simply drive it away? I don’t think he’d even seen his car keys in months. Better yet, how did he get back here to get his car? Investigators couldn’t find any taxis that brought him back.”

Jack said, “That’s because the murderer had already gotten the BMW, probably forced your father into the car outside the restaurant. It was well planned.”

Nichols asked, “What about Senator Abbott’s driver?”

“Rafferty’s in the clear,” Jack said. “He said when he dropped Senator Abbott off outside the restaurant, the senator told him to take the night off, and so he did. He’s very nicely alibied.” Jack paused, studied the man’s face.

Rachael fiddled with her braid. Jack said nothing, waited, his eyes still on Nichols’s face.

Nichols said finally, not meeting her eyes, “As I already said, I think it’s very possible your father killed himself. No, no, listen. I think he committed suicide because he couldn’t live with the secret, but he didn’t want to ruin your life, Rachael, or that of his family, and so he killed himself. This is what I believe. I think it was his gift to you. I’ll tell you, I was relieved when his death was ruled an accident. I didn’t want it ever said that Senator Abbott killed himself. Ever.”

“Suicide?” Rachael repeated slowly. “You honestly believe Jimmy killed himself?”

Jack said, “You’re saying he drank to bring himself to the sticking point, got in his Beemer, and drove over the cliff?”