Jack closed his eyes.
“You’re a cop, Jack. So, I know how you think. I know how you feel about things. And you’re probably wondering why I didn’t go to the cops. The truth is, I did. I reported this. I believe they spoke to someone. They didn’t give me a name. The thing is, I’m scared. And I want you to know what I know. There’s so much I want to talk about. I want you to know that I bitterly regret leaving you. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me one day. You know my happiest day? It was the day I married you. Don’t forget that. I remember that day. Hottest day of the year. Pouring rain the day before and the day after. But for our wedding, it was flawless. Do you remember that day, Jack? I’m sure you do.”
Jack tasted his salty tears and shook his head.
“I feel so unsafe. I’m afraid. You know me, Jack. I’m a fighter. But I know something is wrong. I know you’re probably wondering what this is all about. It’s a long story. I think it has to do with a story I’m working on. All the information, my notes from the story, are on a disc.”
Jack immediately thought of the Lady Gaga CD. He smiled as Peter wrapped his huge arm tight around his shoulders.
“I trust you, Jack. I know you’ll find out not just who killed me, but also who killed the woman whose story I was investigating. Her name was Sophie Meyer. It wasn’t a sanctioned story by the Post. They didn’t want to touch it. This is my work. I wanted to write a book about it. But I guess that wasn’t to be.”
Jack reached out and touched the screen. “I love you, darling.”
“Jack, do what you can.” She dabbed her eyes. “I believe I’m being watched. One man. There might be others. I’m worried. Really worried. I thought I was imagining it. But I’m not. I just think . . . I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. So, I’m making this recording for you to know that I believe this man is going to kill me. I have no proof of that. But I think it’s because of my investigation. The woman was a socialite, Sophie Meyer. Magazine covers, you might remember.”
Jack remembered reading about the story in the New York Post.
“I believe her husband was involved in her death. I don’t know how. But I believe he had some part in it. His name is Henry Graff.”
The name crashed through Jack’s head. His mind flashed back to the brief Fox News clip he had seen back in the Internal Affairs office in New York. He remembered that the President had attended a private memorial service on the third anniversary of her death. And they specifically mentioned it was to commemorate the late wife of Henry Graff, an old friend of the President. He paused the footage and told Peter. “I remember that name, son of a bitch!”
Peter wrote it down.
“He’s a friend of the President,” Jack said.
“I swear to God. This is not good.”
“The clip didn’t mention the name Sophie Meyer, as far as I can remember. But they definitely said Henry Graff. The same woman Caroline is talking about.”
“And he was married to this socialite, Meyer?”
“That’s what she’s saying.”
“That’s fucked up.”
Jack gathered his thoughts and resumed the footage.
“You’re probably wondering what made me look into her death. Well, journalists talk to people. Off the record. And something about the nature of this woman’s death—she overdosed—and her connections to a host of powerful people in Washington . . . I thought that was too convenient. She took a lot of secrets with her to the grave. It looked like a typical overdose. But why now? Had she gotten careless? And so, I started digging into it. I was greeted by a wall of silence to begin with. I was warned by people not to pursue this. That freaked me out. But it also made me more determined to find out what really happened. I believe the same people who killed her will come for me. I don’t have any proof of that. But the man who is following me might be one of them. Why did they kill her? The woman who died knew too much. Maybe I know too much. Henry Graff is the key.”
Jack sighed. “Oh Jesus, Caroline.”
“I hope you take the necessary action with all this information. I want people to be held accountable. It’s probably too much for one person to investigate. I would hope the FBI would be interested. But I’ve come up against numerous brick walls since I started this investigation.”
Jack closed his eyes tight. The sound of her voice was breaking his heart. It reminded him of the day of their wedding. The clarity of her speech. The lightness. It made him feel good remembering it.