Page 126 of Concrete Evidence
“If not for Craig getting shot, I’d suspect the two men were working together.” Marc glanced at Roden. “We’ve noted a few discrepancies.”
The senator anchored both hands on the arms of his chair. “Shipley’s a victim, as loyal as a man can be. Craig’s family.”
Roden stood. “Senator, are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?”
Marc yanked his phone from his jeans pocket to make the 911 call.
The senator held up his hand. “Please don’t. I’m okay. Shocked. Upset. Once we’re finished here, I’ll take my meds.”
Roden pointed to the door. “Go get them now. We’ll wait.”
The senator stood. “Are you suggesting Shipley and Craig linked up to destroy me?”
Marc studied him to ensure a heart attack wasn’t in the making. “Sir, we’ll talk about it after you’ve taken your meds. Do you want one of us to join you?”
“No thanks, Marc. Remember everything in this room is recorded, so don’t talk about me.” The senator forced a smile.
Roden opened the library door. “Not a word.”
Marc took the few moments of waiting to reflect on Shipley’s state of mind—the overwhelming guilt and lack of control over his responsibilities. How far would a man go to protect his family? The senator had worked and failed to keep Avery safe. Roden would give his life for his family. And Marc held the same convictions about Tessa and his mother. Still, neither money nor vengeance would reverse his daughter’s disease.
The senator returned and eased onto the chair. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve never been a man to call another man’s wife, but if Hope Shipley opened up to me before, perhaps she will again. Do you mind if I call her?”
Marc glanced at Roden, and they agreed.
The senator pressed in a number, then the Speaker button, and set the phone on the table before them. “Hope, this is Quinn Elliott. How are you?”
“Okay. If you’re trying to find Nick, I haven’t seen or talked to him, but I’ve followed the news stories about the problems with the dam. I’m so sorry. You might as well know the truth. I left Nick six weeks ago and filed for divorce.”
That coincided with the time the senator, Liam, and his father met with Shipley regarding the blackmail and threats.
The senator’s eyes flashed a mix of surprise and concern. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you if time isn’t an issue.”
“I have plenty of time and a good ear. Colonel Abbott Wilkins’s son is with me and an FBI agent. Does their presence pose a problem?”
She inhaled sharply. “Has Nick broken the law?”
“Not that we know of. He seems distracted.”
“Nick’s not the man I married. Something about him has changed, and it may be the Huntington’s affecting his behavior.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes, but Nick was diagnosed five months ago. He hasn’t told you?”
“Right. I’m sorry to hear the bad news. You wanted to tell me a story?”
“You deserve to know what’s going on. From the time Nick and I were newlyweds, we dreamed of one day retiring on a small ranch. We scrimped and saved to one day have our little spot of heaven. In Nick’s Army career, he aligned himself with successful men who offered sound advice on everything he faced. After he took the position with the Army Corps, he and Liam Zachary became good friends. Liam introduced him to Colonel Wilkins and later to you.
“Nick sincerely admired all of you. When you invited him into a small circle of friends who shared common beliefs about faith, family, politics, and golf, he was thrilled. He learned from you and emulated your ways. About a year ago, he overhead the three of you discuss the possibility of a lucrative investment. Nick interpreted the conversation as a sign from God. Without telling me, he invested all our retirement into the same company.
“When our daughter was diagnosed with Huntington’s, we discovered—because Nick is adopted—he carried the gene. I researched for any medication or treatment to help. I found an experimental drug developed in Europe and highly effective in treating the disease, but the drug hadn’t been approved in the US. I went to Nick with the idea of pulling money out of our savings. He told me he’d poured our life savings into a company that folded. He lost everything. Nickblamed Liam, Abbott, and you. His bitterness built a wall in our marriage. I couldn’t talk to him about anything without him exploding. He accused me of horrible things. I had little choice but to move out with the kids.”
“Hope, again I’m sorry for the tragedy in your family. None of us recommended he make an investment, and I had no idea of the loss. Now I understand his irrational behavior. Are you seeing a counselor?”
“Yes, and so are the kids. I appreciate your listening.”
