Laney shook her head. She knew that politicians loved to take strong stances against crime, but the reality was that by the time the criminal justice system got involved, it was usually too late to do anything. Criminals weren’t made when they turn eighteen. They were made through a lifetime of experiences.
Effective crime reduction policies involved early parenting classes, increasing the quality of education that children received, and providing children with a safe environment after school. Those options always looked too soft in the public arena. So Senator Kensington was towing the party line with regards to the appropriate way to deal with criminals – lock them away for as long as possible.
Everything else about him looked normal and above-board as well. Henry had sent over a dossier, and nothing stood out. There were no red flags. Age fifty-nine, Harvard-educated, ran for his first office at thirty-two after running a successful law firm. Married at twenty-seven. His wife had died from breast cancer twenty-four years later, leaving him a widower with two adult sons. One son had taken over his father’s law firm a few years back and the other worked for a hedge fund in Manhattan.
Kensington had made a name for himself on the national scene two years ago when he'd introduced his controversial crime bill. The bill had failed, but his popularity had continued to grow. He’d been considered a shoo-in for the next Republican nomination for president, at least until John Michaels star started rising.
On paper, everything looked good. No scandals, no affairs. He appeared to love God and country. Laney’s additional searches did nothing to change that view. He’d become more conservative in his views in the last decade, at least publicly, but there was nothing that stood out as a problem. He was squeaky clean.
She sighed, clicking on another internet site. “Let’s see if this one is any more useful.”
Her phone beeped and she checked the text message. It was from Rocky. “Pulled his picture off an ATM cam. Emailed you a copy. We're putting it thru facial rec.”
Laney accessed her email and clicked on the attachment Rocky had sent. Even though she knew what to expect, she jolted at the sight. The man glared at the camera, somehow conveying a palpable sense of menace even through the still photo. She shoved her chair back from the table, wanting to put some distance between herself and the picture.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
She shuddered as she remembered the sound of his body colliding with Jake’s car. She forwarded the email to Henry and then closed the picture. She didn’t need that face staring at her. Her nightmares were vivid enough.
She stood up and paced the room. She pulled out her phone and dialed Henry. Absently, she stood at the table and clicked through the pictures of Kensington she’d found. Some of the photos were obviously from the news media, some were surveillance photos. But there was nothing incriminating. Just pictures of the Senator waterskiing, snowshoeing, kissing babies, making a speech, meeting constituents.
He looked normal. Strong, patrician features, the slightest touch of grey at his temples. He looked like he was right out of central casting for a politician.
“But you never can tell, can you?” she murmured.
Her hand stilled over the computer as the next picture flashed across the screen. Paul’s companion’s face stared out at her. “Holy crap.”
She dropped back into her chair, pulling up Rocky’s picture. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the two shots. There was no mistake. It was the same man.
Henry’s deep baritone filled the phone. “Hi Laney. What are you still doing up?”
“Hey Henry,” She struggled to keep her voice even as she paced. “I um, was, um. . .
“Laney?
She gave herself a mental shake. “Sorry. Just got a double hit here. Rocky sent me a photo of Paul’s accomplice. And I just found pictures of him and Kensington. I’m not sure what his role is, but he’s connected to the Senator. I just sent you the picture from Rocky.”
“So now we’ve connected them. Hold on a sec.” She heard rustling and figured he was trying to get his large frame behind a normal desk. It must not be too easy being Henry.
“I can run a facial recognition. But it will take a while.”
“Okay. Rocky’s doing the same. Just let me know when you get something.”
“Will do.” Henry paused. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really?” Henry asked quietly.
She sighed, shutting down the pictures again and walking to the couch. She plopped down, pulling her legs under her. “I don't know, Henry. I mean, I keep trying to make sense of all of this and the one explanation that makes sense just seems impossible.”