Prologue

Washington is a dark and lonely place. The District, hardly Reagan’s shining city on a hill; Columbia, no longer the gem of the ocean. The statues, the ornate buildings, the marble masterpieces casting shadows, hiding its true nature. Steeped in history. Soaked in the blood of the brave and the few—and the innocent. She’d had no idea. And now terrified by the situation she found herself in, it scared her more than anything in her 21 years. 

At the suggestion of a friend, she’d sought an internship on Capitol Hill. The friend was rabid about politics. Her, not so much. But it sounded like a lot of fun for a semester and would mean extending her college career through another football season. She’d applied, and to her surprise, was accepted. The friend found them living quarters through another who had been working on the Hill for the last few years. Arriving wide-eyed, they were excited about the adventure ahead. That was then. This was now. Her life had changed, and she really wasn’t sure of the way forward.

The friend of the friend who’d offered a place to live had turned out to be a real party animal. There had been a steady flow of traffic through the apartment most weekends, sometimes on work nights as well. At first, it had all been a lot of fun. But after a while, the excitement began to wear off. The late nights from when Congress was in session were taxing enough. The fast pace of the job, when combined with party after party, was taking its toll. 

It was at the end of a long week when she’d met him. He was slick and fast, a lobbyist.  One of the biggest, or so he’d claimed. He said his friends called him the Rainmaker. They’d ended up together in a quiet area of someone’s penthouse suite. When he caught her yawning, he’d offered a pick-me-up to give her a little “juice.” Accepting his offer, the next thing she knew, she was in bed with him. Young, but not necessarily innocent, at least not entirely, she’d had a few boyfriends. Maybe more than a few. 

She’d seen the Rainmaker several times over the next month, and they’d fallen into the same routine. She wasn’t sure what the drug was, but it seemed to take all of her cares away. Craving it, she would seek him out, willing to do whatever to get a taste. One night he told her she’d have to do more than just sleep with him to feed her habit. He mentioned how good she was in bed and that he had a friend that would give her anything she wanted to sleep with him; all the drugs she needed. She was so high she agreed. About that time, the door had opened, and he introduced her to the friend. 

This went on for several weeks. She was in a daze but knew she needed the drugs. Sometimes the friends of the Rainmaker were the same, sometimes new. Typically middle-aged, white, receding hairlines or balding. Wedding rings or outlines of such on their ring finger. She didn’t know who they were; she didn’t really care. She’d heard her friend call one of them Mr. Chairman. 

She’d woken up that morning in a haze, frightened, not really knowing where she was. It was not the first time, but this seemed different. Like maybe it would be the last time. Wearing only the earrings her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday, she slipped out of bed and walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside, gazing out over the city. It would soon be dawn. Up fairly high, in the distance, she could see a church steeple rising above the buildings surrounding it. As she stared, it all started to come into focus. She began to realize what she had become. And with that realization, her world came crashing down. 

Tears in her eyes, she opened the window and crawled out onto the ledge. The surface was cool to the touch on her bare feet. She stood there for a moment, her hair blowing in the breeze. Pulling her hair aside, the back of her hand brushed against her earrings, and she thought about her parents. In her last moments, she looked up toward the sun, now rising behind the clouds and whispered, “Mom and Dad, I love you. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”