April 19, 1992
1:27 p.m.
'
It isn't a call I want to make.
I tell myself that I have done everything possible, given Mary McGarrett every chance to back off, to stop being so curious. But she just kept at it.
I'm sure she thought she was being discreet. That nobody noticed what she was doing. Noticed the eyes that lingered on memos just a little too long at the copy machine, the ears that perked up anytime someone came into the office, the hands that filed documents too slowly. But I noticed. And I knew. Knew she was digging. That she was onto me.
I tried to make friends with her, throw her off-guard, and cause her to doubt her suspicions. Make her think that I was such a good person, she must be imagining things. So, I always asked her about her day and commented on the family pictures she keeps framed on her desk. I even exchanged a recipe with her once, even though I don't cook. And every time, she smiled and chatted back as if nothing was amiss. I have to hand it to her, she's a very good actress. But I'm a very good liar. And what is acting if not pretending, lying. And every liar has his or her tell. Even the good ones.
For Mary, it was wetting her lips. Whenever she put on a show, it was preceded for a second by a quick brush of her tongue over her bottom lip. Then she would spin her yarn, which was always logical, and act perfectly natural the whole time. She was good. So good, in fact, it took me a few months to catch on. She has so much talent, so much potential, it's going to be a shame to waste it. But really I don't have another choice.
I never wanted to be a PTA mom, never wanted to raise a family and bake cookies. I didn't even care about getting married. All I wanted was one thing. Power.
It was apparent from an early age that I wasn't like the other little girls. At recess, we would all run outside, grateful to be free of the classroom. The girls would head over the swings, where they would patiently wait for their turn to soar into the sky. And while they waited, they would talk. Talk about school gossip or a new flavor of lip gloss or how cute Paul McCartney was. I was never interested in talking to them or waiting for my turn. Instead, I headed straight for the boy's domain of the playground- the dirt mound.
King of the Hill was my type of game. Straightforward. Ruthless. And, most importantly, hierarchic. The king was in charge. And more days than not, I was king.
My goal in life never deviated. I still want to be king. And now after putting in the requisite years at college and a prestigious law firm, I am finally on my way. State representative for district 12 is a good start towards my ultimate goal. Governor of Hawaii.
So, as much as I dislike making the call, I have to do it. I can't let Mary McGarrett get in my way. And after today, she knows too much.
I saw what she tried to conceal- the flash of recognition in her eyes when she heard a name. She shouldn't have even been there. I was in a private meeting in my office. But she opened my door just at the wrong moment, unaware I had left instructions not to be disturbed. Even for a vote on the floor.
I could try to explain things to her, but she just wouldn't understand how things work. Her "do-gooder" streak is too wide. She wouldn't understand that sometimes you have to scratch a few backs. And then, in return, you get what you want. Money. Votes. And, most importantly, power.
I pick up the phone and dial the number. After two rings, it is answered.
"Yes?" says the voice on the other end of the line.
"I have a problem," I say.
"Does this problem have a name?" the voice asks.
"Mary McGarrett."
"And what is the nature of the problem with Mrs. McGarrett?"
"Mrs. McGarrett is…" I hesitate as I consider my reply. The next word I say could seal her fate.
I have crossed many boundaries that some people see as black and white, while I see them as grey. And it's never bothered me. I've never even really thought twice about it. But even I know this one is wrong.
I have been many things in my life. But I have never been a killer.
Until now.
Is that really what I want to be? Do I want to be someone who would end the life of a woman who only wants to love her family and serve her state? Whose only crime is being honest? Being good?
But I know our goals are mutually exclusive. And I know where her loyalties lie. If she lives, she "serves the state" by bringing me down. And I can't let that happen. Not now. Not ever.
I don't have a choice.
I take a deep breath and finish the sentence.
"Mrs. McGarrett is… disloyal."
And it's done.
"Understood," the voice says on the other end of the line before I hear a distinct click.
I slowly hang up the phone and look out the window. I'm not sure how it will happen, or where, but I know Mary McGarrett will not make it home tonight. It might be a car accident or a stray bullet that takes her out, but she has seen her family for the last time.
I watch the Hawaii State Flag as it waves in the wind outside my window in the Capital. Someday, I'll have that office in the corner with the Governor's seal on the wall.
And when the time comes, I hope it will be enough.
to be continued...