The Senator's Daughter

By Robert L. Bailey

Homicide Sergeant Jack Bowden is stuck in a job he never wanted and doesn't like. He doesn't have a clue that his life can get worse. Senator Brian McKeon is found dead floating in his swimming pool and Jack is assigned to the case. He travels to Washington State to join up with the senator's daughter, Kathleen Mckeon who has hard evidence of corruption and treason in the highest levels of the federal government. They are attacked in her mountain home and flee across the country barely staying ahead of agency assassins. In just a short week he is witness to the special talents and abilities of the senator's daughter as they go head on against the professional killers. They share a dangerous adventure on their journey and share frustration at how slow romance develops between them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 20, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469766911

Robert L. Bailey

Robert L. Bailey is a seasoned storyteller with ten previously published novels. He is now retired from a career of public service and spends time editing manuscripts and working on his next novel. He lives with his lifelong companion, his wife Linda, in rural Southwest Iowa.

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The Senator’s Daughter

Robert L. Bailey

Writers Club Press

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

The Senator’s Daughter

All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Robert L. Bailey

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

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ISBN: 0-595-14219-2

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6691-1 (ebook)

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

Dedicated to all the hard working publishing services associates at Writers Club Press / iUniverse.com with appreciation for all their help and patience

To recognize credit where credit is due, my son Robert L. Bailey Jr. who analyses my manuscripts and encourages me to work harder for perfection and for his efforts to promote my books

CHAPTER 1

June 5, 1999

Fairfax County, VA

East of McLean Virginia near the intersection of Dominion Drive and Kirby Road there is a mansion typical of many homes built by wealthy plantation owners in the deep south. The large old house sits back from Kirby Road nearly a quarter of a mile but the imposing white, round columns can easily be seen from the road by all the commuters on their daily drive into the nation’s capital. It sits in the center of a forty-acre estate that always appears to be perfectly maintained. Several acres of grass, trees and flowers surround the house close in. The balance of the grounds has been planted with lush pasture grasses surrounded by miles of white fence similar to a horse farm in Kentucky.

Summer was coming early to rural Virginia; it would be in the eighties by noon. The early morning dew that usually covered the ground was dried and gone by nine o’clock.

A weather beaten Chevrolet pickup came down Dominion Drive, slowed for the turn at Chesterbrook onto Kirby Road. Behind the wheel, Howie Sanson knew he was late for work but was certain there would be no one around to notice. He slowed for the driveway and turned onto the long, fence bordered lane leading up to the big house. The place belonged to his boss, Senator Brian McKeon. The senator was too flamboyant and lived too well to be satisfied with a town house or an apartment in Washington when Congress was in session. The senator represented the State of Washington but spent little time on the West Coast. His district included the huge metropolitan area along Puget Sound where he employed half a dozen aides in offices throughout Seattle and Tacoma. These loyal employees represented him well allowing him to spend most of his time in the large old mansion in Virginia or among the power brokers in Washington D.C.

Howie was in charge of maintaining the grounds of the estate. He had been working for the senator for many years. The staff included a cook, two maids and a butler in the house. Six grounds keepers under Howie’s direction took care of everything out of doors.

Howie drove the old truck around to the back of the house and down to the large horse barn where the tractors and mowers were stored. It was Saturday and the only employees on the premises would be one maid and the butler. Those two always stayed in the house when the senator was gone. He was out in Washington State and not expected back until Monday. None of Howie’s people worked on weekends and this was part of the reason for him coming in late. He was scheduled to work Saturdays to help with anything the senator might need when he was at the mansion. There were usually half a dozen cars sitting around on the driveway on Saturdays. They would belong to the senator’s peers in the Congress or other powerful people in the government. The senator greatly enjoyed his seat at the center of power in the country.

Howie did very little on Saturdays except steal from the senator. With no one around it was the perfect time to fill up his old pickup with gas from the barrel behind the barn. Anything he wanted from the stock of supplies in the barn was always loaded in the bed of the truck and covered with a tarp he kept there for that purpose. He figured he had plenty of time to get what he wanted this morning but didn’t get to it right away. He was hungry for a sweet roll and a cup of coffee he could always find in the kitchen of the big house. He walked from the barn past the tennis courts up three-rock embedded steps then onto the brick patio that surround the swimming pool. He barely noticed the pool as he walked along the patio to the back door of the house. He turned the knob and started in then hit his head on the door when something stopped it from opening. He swore, rubbing his forehead, then pushed on the door again. Damn, something is blocking it he thought. He walked back across the patio and around to the front of the house.

He was surprised when he found the front door hanging open. He walked through into the large entry hall then on past the big open staircase toward the kitchen. He pushed open the swinging door then walked around the island counter in the center of the room to get to the back door. He stopped when he saw the butler lying on his back by the door. Hell, that’s why the door wouldn’t open he thought. He slowly moved closer to see why the old man was on the floor. The butler’s eyes were open but Howie was sure he wasn’t seeing anything. He bent down until he was directly over the man and could then see a small hole in his head with a trail of blood leading down his cheek and to a puddle on the floor. Howie thought he was going to be sick. He stood up, turned around and hurried out of the kitchen, back through the entry way and through the front door. When he was outside he started to run. He ran around the house down the driveway and into the barn. He grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed 911. As the phone started to ring he threw up all over the floor.

The dispatcher in the public center in McLean picked up the phone and the first thing she heard was the sound of someone vomiting. She pulled the receiver away from her ear and looked at it. She slowly put it back to her ear and said, 9ll emergency.

He’s dead! I need some cops out here right away, he’s dead! Howie shouted into the phone.

Who’s dead? Who is this? the dispatcher responded.

The butler. He’s on the floor in the kitchen. I know he’s dead.

Where are you?

I’m at Senator McKeon’s farm out on Kirby Road. You have to send some cops out here.

I know the place, what’s your name?

Howie Sanson, I work for the senator.

Now Mr. Sanson, we’ll have someone there in a few minutes. Don’t touch anything. Where are you? Are you inside the house?

I’m in the barn. He’s in the kitchen. I know he’s dead.

Stay in the barn Mr. Sanson, someone will be there soon. Stay on the line now, I’ll be back in just a moment, the dispatcher said as she pressed down on the button to key up her short wave radio to call a sheriff ’s deputy. When the officer responded she dispatched him to the senator’s house with the code for a possible dead body. She then dialed the intercom for the command officer on duty in the building. She reported the call then went back to the phone.

She tried to get Howie Sanson back on the line but he was outside the barn in his pickup with the doors locked.

The deputy who received the call was just six miles from the estate. He turned on his emergency lights and siren and shoved the accelerator to the floor. He reached the driveway to the mansion in five minutes. As he drove around the circular drive in front of the house he spotted Howie in the pickup down by the barn. He continued on around the drive beside the house and stopped by the barn, got out of the car and walked to the pickup. He tried the door handle then tapped on the window. Howie looked him over then opened the door and stepped out.

You called in something about a dead body? the deputy asked him.

Up there in the house, in the kitchen, Howie said pointing to the mansion.

Get in the car, the deputy told him walking to his cruiser and opening the passenger door. Howie climbed in as the deputy walked around to the driver’s side. He backed the vehicle up the drive then pulled around in front of the house, told Howie to stay in the car then went to the front door. He stopped and turned back to look at the car. Shit, I don’t know where the kitchen is, he said. He walked back to the car and yelled for Howie to get out. Howie reluctantly left the front seat and joined the deputy on the front stoop.

Show me, the deputy said. He took Howie by the arm and started back to the door. He heard car engines accelerating behind him and turned around. Two state police cruisers were speeding down the driveway toward him.

Shit, I can’t respond to a DOA call without those hot dogs showing up, the deputy said. He waited for the state cops and just shook his head as the cars slid to a stop and both officers came out with guns drawn as though responding to a bank robbery. He felt better when he saw a sheriff’s cruiser coming down the drive. He ignored the state troopers and waited for the car from his department. When the other deputy joined him by the front door he told everyone he had just arrived and Howie was going to show him where the body was. He pushed Howie through the door and everyone followed as he led them through the house and to the kitchen in the back. He stood just inside the kitchen door and pointed to the body on the floor. Everyone made his way around him then he backed out of the kitchen.

The deputy went down on his knees and searched for a pulse but the skin was cold and he knew he had been dead for some time. He told the other deputy to stay with the body and asked the troopers to go with him to check out the rest of the place. They went through the ground floor and found it empty. They went up the large open staircase to the second floor and found each room empty until they entered a small bedroom at the back of the house. A woman was lying on the bed. She was covered with a sheet and blanket and the pillow under her head was soaked with dried blood.

This one was shot while she was sleeping, the deputy said. He took a small portable radio from his belt and called the dispatcher reporting multiple homicides and requested more help. They closed the door to the bedroom and went back downstairs. They went out through the front door and split up to search the grounds around the house. The deputy walked up on the patio in back and spotted a body floating in the pool. He walked to the water’s edge to get a better look.

I think we’ve found the senator, he said. He asked the trooper with him to stay with the body then he and the other trooper went back around in front. The deputy opened the door of his cruiser and sat down. He pulled the microphone from the dash and called the dispatcher reporting three bodies found and requesting a forensics team, the coroner, the sheriff, the chief of detectives and the district attorney. When he received an acknowledgment he left the car and went back inside the front entry hall. Howie Sanson was standing in the center of the large room and he didn’t look very well. The deputy told him to park it on the stairs and wait. The deputy and the trooper went down the driveway to the barn and continued to make a search of the grounds.

The first of the brass to arrive was Captain Joseph Rentz, Chief of Detectives of the Fairfax County Sheriff ’s Department. Not far behind was the Fairfax County Sheriff, Jimmy Rousch. Both of them wore expensive suits as it had been years since either of them was down in the ranks and required to wear uniforms. They found a deputy in the entry hall and asked where the bodies were. The deputy led them upstairs first then back down to the kitchen and then out to the pool. The deputy asked if they wanted the body pulled out of the pool. Rentz told him to wait and let the forensics people do it.

The sheriff took Rentz by the arm and led him away from the deputy.

Who’s up for the next homicide? the sheriff asked.

I think it’s Bowden. You want me to handle this? the captain responded.

The sheriff thought about it for a moment then responded. No, give it to Sergeant Bowden like it is just another homicide. If it gets out of hand we can always take it over. Get him out here.

Rentz left the sheriff and went back to the deputy. He instructed him to get in touch with Sergeant Bowden to handle the case. The sheriff walked past them and through the open French doors of the family room. Rentz looked back at the body in the pool then turned and followed the sheriff inside.

The senator lived pretty damned good, the sheriff said. Have you ever been out here to one of his parties?

Captain Rentz looked at him for several moments then responded no. Rousch was about to say more on the subject but the look on the captain’s face told him he shouldn’t.

I’m going back to the office and make some calls to D.C. and spread the word about the senator. You can bet we’ll have the FBI in our hair on this one, the sheriff said as he started for the front of the house. He was in the entry hall when the district attorney, Dick Lawson came through the front door.

Is the old bastard really dead? Lawson asked the sheriff.

Out there floating face down in the pool. From the looks of the color of the water I would guess he has one more hole in him than he’s supposed to have, the sheriff said.

The call said there were three down, who else? Lawson asked.

Servants, the butler is in the kitchen and the maid is upstairs. All the signs of a professional hit, probably sometime late last evening. The maid had gone to bed, the butler was in the kitchen fixing a sandwich and the senator was taking a swim. No sign of forced entry. The grounds keeper found the butler and called it in. He said the front door was open. They came in shot everyone here and then just strolled out the front door. I doubt of any of the victims knew what hit them, the

sheriff responded.

You calling Washington? Lawson asked.

Going to do it now or would you rather handle it?

Go ahead, you know I hate those bastards across the river, Lawson said. Remind that son of a bitch at the bureau that this is in our jurisdiction and we will handle the investigation.

The sheriff merely nodded as he left through the front door. Lawson continued through the house and found a deputy in the kitchen. He asked for a tour and a rundown on what they had so far. His stomach churned as he looked at each body. He normally didn’t respond to most of the homicides but this was going to be a very high profile case and he knew he had to come to the scene and look. He stood by the pool looking at the body of the late senator McKeon and felt no remorse. He was relieved to think the old bastard was gone. He never liked that man he thought to himself.

CHAPTER 2

Sergeant Jack Bowden was sound asleep when the phone started ringing. He was on the bed in his shorts; sweat running off his chest and then down to soak the sheet under him. His apartment was on the fifth floor of a high-rise apartment building. The windows