5

27-year-old Regina Franklin usually liked to sleep in on her days off, and today was no exception. When she finally forced herself out of bed around noon, Regina decided a little housekeeping was in order. She'd been neglecting her laundry for a while now, and knew that she'd need a clean wardrobe for the new workweek. Much time was wasted in her small apartment complex's laundry room waiting for a washing and drying machine to become available to do the four loads she'd accumulated over the past two weeks.

"That's the last time I put off doing this for over two weeks," she muttered to herself as she carried the last load of dried clothes back to her own apartment. As she approached her door, she noticed two rather serious-looking and well-dressed men about to knock there.

"Can I help you?" she asked. The two men turned to face Regina.

"That's her," one said.

"Regina Franklin?" the other questioned.

"Yes…" she responded, slightly uneasy, "and you are?"

"I'm Special Agent Thomas Everton, and this is Agent Al Cortez with the Federal Bureau of Investigation… Please put down the laundry basket and remain where you are, placing your hands where we can see them."

"Whoa…oh – my…o-okay," Regina stammered, and lowered the basket to the ground at her feet, a very startled expression on her face.

"Regina Franklin," Agent Everton intoned as he approached her, "you are under arrest for the alleged authoring of a letter threatening the lives of President Desmond Ogilvey, Henry Britland, and Sandra O'Brien Britland."

"What?!" Regina's reaction was one of incredulity.

"You have the right to remain silent," stated Agent Everton as he continued to recite the Miranda warning, handcuffing what was to him a surprisingly cooperative suspect.

***

Jack Collins snapped his cell phone shut. He turned to Henry and said: "They have her in custody,"

"Thank God," Henry sighed.

"But there is one problem," Collins continued. "They're not positive she wrote the letter. As you know, no fingerprints were found on the envelope or the letter itself, and the stamp appears to have been moistened with water and not saliva." Henry nodded at his colleague.

"The only thing we have going for us right now is the handwriting. They're going to be comparing a sample right now. And let me tell you, Henry, if it doesn't match up, you, Sunday and Des are going to be under much more careful watch. We're not taking any chances with this one."

"Has the FBI got anything in regards to a psychological profile from the contents of the letter?" Henry asked.

"Yes, and that's part of the reason they're starting to doubt that the woman they presently have in custody is the author of the letter. She's not matching the profile at all."

"How so?"

"Our buddies at Quantico pegged the author as a single, white female, from twenty-nine to forty; an introvert and a loner who is possibly susceptible to delusions, and has difficulty maintaining meaningful and lasting relationships, romantic or otherwise. She may also have problems holding down a permanent job, and may look for work where her superiors are in positions of esteem in the community so she can feel a part of something important, but she feels incapable of achieving any kind of greatness herself."

"Greatness by association?"

"Something like that, I guess," Collins replied. "Which is probably why she has her sights set on you, Henry. I needn't remind you that aside from your former position of power, before you married Sunday you were considered one of America's most eligible bachelors. You know that still makes you a prime target for all those kooks out there."

Henry sighed and kneaded his temples. "We really don't need this right now."

"Does trouble ever come at a good time?"

"I suppose not," Henry replied wryly. "Keep me posted, Collins. Though I'm starting to sense we may be owing this Regina Franklin an apology."

Sunday felt mostly responsible for the arrest of receptionist Regina Franklin. It had all made perfect sense, of course, in the beginning. After all, Sunday had written her residential address on the admittance forms, and the letter had been signed with a name apparently belonging to one of Dr. Walsh's staff. But now Sunday felt compelled to set things perfectly straight, and asked to see the prime suspect, who was still in custody pending the results of a handwriting analysis. Perhaps she could visually identify the suspect as being the one who received her at the office.

It was a long shot, but if it turned out that Regina Franklin did not actually write the letter, it wasn't an indication she wasn't still the originator of the threats behind it. She could always have gotten someone else to write it, making that 'someone else' think it was meant as a joke, mused Sunday.

Receiving permission to visit the suspect, Sunday, Henry, Collins and the two other Secret Service agents assigned to them that day, entered the New Jersey field office that Regina Franklin was being held.

Peering into the interrogation room where Regina Franklin quietly sat, Sunday shook her head.

"I have never seen that woman in my life."

"Sunday, are you sure?" Henry asked.

"I'm positive, Henry. The woman at the reception desk that day was a redhead. This woman is a brunette, and is slimmer, too. It's not her."

The door to the room opened, and an FBI agent walked in. "Excuse me, but the results of the handwriting analysis just came back negative. The suspect is going to be released without further delay."

"Then I guess we're back to square one," muttered Collins.

"Not necessarily," Henry said. "How many people work in those offices? And how many of them have access to patient files?"

"I'm sure the Bureau has looked into that, Henry," Collins said. "As it stands, the woman sitting in there was the best lead. Now that's been shot to hell."

Sunday and Henry made it a point to intercept Regina in the hallway as she was being released. Sunday could see the look of utter relief on her face. It was an expression that mirrored the look her clients from her public defender days sometimes got on the occasion that they were found not guilty.

"Regina?" Sunday said as she neared the younger woman.

"Yes ? – oh, Congresswoman Britland! And Mr. Presi – I guess you're just…Mr…Britland now…"

" 'Henry' will do, Regina," he assured her.

"Regina, we want to apologize. You've been dragged into something rather terrible, and I am convinced you had nothing to do with this case," Sunday stated.

"You know, I am so relieved!" Regina said. "I kept thinking it was some kind of joke, or prank, or something! But then it's pretty early for an April Fool's Day gag, isn't it."

"Have you any idea why someone would sign your name, or make it appear that you wrote those threats?" Sunday asked.

"They asked me that in there," Regina replied, nodding back in the direction of the interrogation room, "and I really have no clue. Look, I've only been with Dr. Walsh for about two months. I haven't gotten that familiar with all of his clients yet, and me and the other receptionist hardly ever see each other since we don't work on the same days."

Henry suddenly thought of something. "You said there's another receptionist?"

Regina nodded. "Her name's Kelly Hart. I hear she's been there for a while."

"Henry," Sunday said, "she would have the same amount of access to patient files as Regina."

"That's right, she would," the young woman confirmed.

"This may be very important, Regina…Can you think of any reason why Kelly might want to set you up for something like this?"

"Look, I hardly know her at all. And what I do know is that she's a bit…well, ditsy," Regina seemed a little reluctant to admit her thoughts about the other receptionist.

"Can you describe her?" Sunday asked.

"She's your generic airhead blonde, to put it bluntly," Regina said.

Sunday could feel disappointment seeping in. Another dead end. Were they truly so far off-base?

"Thanks for helping us out here, Regina," Henry said to her.

"Mr. Brit – Henry, sir, I'm just totally glad they believe I didn't do it! Anything I can do to help you catch the person responsible for putting us all through this grief, is my pleasure."

"A suggestion, though," Sunday said, "watch out for TV cameras parked outside your apartment. Your arrest is the story of the day."

Regina groaned. "And I thought doing laundry all afternoon was a pain!"

It was scarcely two hours later at Drumdoe that Jack Collins received a call on his cell phone from Agent Seitz. After listening for a few moments, he said: "I'll get him on the line…Henry," Collins turned to Henry, "Agent Seitz needs to speak with you, now."

Henry grabbed the cellular phone from Collins.

"Hello, Agent Seitz… You have what? Where was it found?…" By now Sunday, who was nearby had her curiosity piqued and was listening to Henry intently, trying to glean any kind of pertinent information, but the one- sided nature of the conversation made it difficult for her to follow.

"And you're sure there's nothing potentially harmful or hazardous in it," Henry said, maintaining control over his voice. "I'll be there immediately."

On the other end of the conversation, Agent Seitz was holding another envelope, found on a bench outside a courthouse, addressed once again to 'Mr. President Henry Parker Britland IV'. It was fortunately dealt with by local authorities who immediately turned it over to the FBI.

Handing Collins his phone, Henry informed them that he had to return to the field office where another letter bearing his name was awaiting him.

***

"We've already checked the envelope for prints, Mr. Britland," Agent Seitz informed him, but we'd like to you wear some gloves in case there's anything on the piece of paper inside."

"I understand," Henry said, as he arrived at the field office. Donning a pair of latex gloves, Henry gingerly slipped a letter-opener under the flap and slowly withdrew another single sheet of paper. This time the letter was typewritten, and printed using some kind of laser printer. It read:



Henry,

I can see I'll have to convince you of my love. Regina was a test. You don't trust me. That's why you had the FBI go after Regina, isn't it. I knew they would all think it was Regina. But she deserved to be punished, anyway.

Oh how I wish you could believe me when I say I love you. But don't worry. Soon all you'll have is me, and that woman you married won't even be a distant memory. We'll start building our own memories. We'll be together very soon, I promise, and if we're not allowed to be together, I know deep inside you'd prefer not to live without me, as I cannot live without you, either.

/\/\/\/