by J. L. Brown
“Are you going public with this?” he asked.
“Not yet. This is between us for now. And Dr. Sangha.” Dr. Sati Sangha was the physician to the president.
“Who’s the father?” Chandler asked.
She and Grayson had agreed, for now, not to share the identity of the rapist with anyone. Another secret they wouldn’t be able to keep for long.
“He wasn’t a father,” Emma said. “He was a rapist. You should be supporting her. Your mom is president of the United States!”
Chandler glared at her, grabbed his tie, and stomped out of the room. Grayson rose to go after him.
“Let him go,” Whitney said. “It’s a lot to absorb.”
Since Chandler had discovered politics during his last year in college, a chasm had opened between Whitney and her son.
She needed to get him back.
Chapter Three
Seattle, Washington
“Will the defendant please rise?”
From the back of the crowded courtroom of the US District Court on Stewart Street, Jade watched as a man at the defense table stood. In a mismatched tan jacket and brown slacks, he appeared bigger than the last time she had seen him, thanks to a prison weight room.
The Asian-American judge said in a soft voice simmering with anger, “Noah Blakeley, you have endured a gross miscarriage of justice.” Through enormous owl-like glasses, she scanned the spectators from the dais, the polished wood gleaming. The United States and Washington State flags stood sentry. Jade could’ve sworn the judge’s eyes paused when they landed on her.
Did she recognize Jade as the arresting agent?
The judge’s gaze returned to the man before her. “On behalf of the federal government, I am ashamed and apologize for its actions. You are hereby exonerated from the ninety-nine counts of wire, bank, and computer fraud, computer intrusion, aggravated identity theft, and all other charges brought against you.” She paused. “I am pleased to tell you, Mr. Blakeley, that you are free to go.”
Slamming her gavel once, she gathered her black judicial robes and made a brisk exit through the door behind her.
Noah’s legs buckled slightly. With a pained keen, he began to sob.
One of his hands flew to his mouth, while the other found purchase on the table, gripping the edge as if to prevent him from falling. His attorney belatedly moved in closer to hold him up. She handed him his cup of water, and he gulped it gratefully.
There was no one else to catch him. After his conviction, his wife, Diane, had left him. The couple had been childless. His brother, August, and his father, Augustus, weren’t present.
Jade slipped out the door and stood across the hall from the courtroom door, waiting. Ten minutes later, Noah and his attorney came out. Up close, Jade saw stubble dotting his cheeks and chin.
This wasn’t one of her better ideas. As Noah and his attorney started to walk past her and out the front door of the courthouse, she stepped forward.
“Noah.”
He stopped. “Agent Harrington.”
“I—”
Noah grabbed both of her hands, his eyes still moist. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you in person, and here you are.”
“For what?” she said, incredulous.
“For never giving up on me. Without you, I would’ve rotted in that cell forever. I wouldn’t have survived.”
You were in that cell in the first place because of me.
Letting go of her hands, he hugged her. A desperate hug, like he was clinging to a life raft. Maybe he was.
She extricated herself gently. “What are your plans?”
Shrugging, he said, “Equality One is dead. The concept is still a great idea, but it’d be hard to raise money after what happened. I’m not sure my father will take me back.” He hesitated. “Not sure I want him to anyway.”
Just before his arrest, Noah had resigned as the chief operating officer of his family’s international shipping firm to head up Equality One, a nonprofit that provided jobs and homes to people who needed them.
“You can start something else,” she said.
A glance downward. “The stigma from this will follow me wherever I go. For the rest of my life. No matter what I do. But you may be right.” He extended his hand. “Thanks again, Agent Harrington.”
Jade hesitated and then shook it.
Noah’s attorney led him out the front door, where a crowd of reporters and camera crews anxiously awaited his statement on the courthouse steps, and probably his plans to sue the Seattle Police, the City of Seattle, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and Jade Harrington.
To avoid the crowd, Jade headed for a side door she’d spotted on her way in.
“Agent Harrington.”
She turned. A woman she didn’t recognize held out a smartphone, the red button indicating that it was recording.
Guarded, Jade said, “Yes?”
“My name is Iyanna Adey. I’m with KIRO7. We’ve spoken before, on the phone.”
Jade remembered. The reporter had asked for a comment on the Robin Hood case. When Jade refused, the woman divulged that Jade’s supervisor, Ethan Lawson, had been the source for details regarding that case. Soon thereafter, Ethan took a leave of absence from the bureau.
The black reporter wore expensive three-inch heels and a tight-fitting blue dress, despite the forty-degree weather outside.
Jade had never understood women who wore sleeveless dresses in the winter. Was it to show off their arms? It did appear that Adey worked out. Or was it more comparable to those football players who sported short sleeves in below-freezing temperatures? To prove… something.
Eyeing the phone, Jade said nothing.
Adey gazed through the glass doors at Noah, who spoke into a microphone on a makeshift podium. “Care to comment about Noah Blakeley’s release?”
“No.”
“You arrested an innocent man and were instrumental in his conviction. I’m giving you a chance to explain your side of the story. To set the record straight. The people have a right to know.”
“No comment.”
“Are you sure? I can portray you in a positive light.”
Sure. Jade started to push past the reporter.
“Come on,” Adey said. “We need to stick together. Won’t you help a sistah out?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s hard for us to be assigned real stories.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t? I’m sure you feel guilty about what happened—”
Jade strode away down the long corridor, what she should have done when the reporter had first called her name.
From behind her, Adey said, “Lovely to finally meet you in person, Agent Harrington. I’m rooting for you.”
What did Adey mean by that?
Jade kept walking. Before reaching the door, she glanced back.
Iyanna Adey had joined two people: Detective Kurt McClaine of the Seattle PD, whom Jade had worked with on the Robin Hood and TSK investigations, and Kyle Madison, the managing director of a venture capital firm, a victim in the former case, and someone Jade had become close to during the investigation.
Too close.
Out of the three of them, Kyle was doing most of the talking.
Jade watched them for a moment longer before turning, pressing the release bar to open the door, and stepping out into the misty morning.
Chapter Four
Washington, DC
The walls of the private room were painted gray—not an institutional shade but a modern one. Except for the medical equipment, it could have been mistaken for a hotel room.
A man was sitting up in the bed. Most of his face was covered in bandages, except for his eyes, which never left her face.
“Not bad for a hospital room,” Whitney said.
“Most people would kill for this room,” Blake said, “but I miss the office.”
“Not home?”
“My office was my
home.”
They both pretended to watch the muted television on the wall near the foot of the bed.
The clear liquid in Blake’s IV flowed to the needle inserted in the thin skin on the back of his hand.
“Sorry I haven’t visited before now,” she said.
“You’re busy.”
“Still.”
She’d squeezed in this midday visit between meetings with the CEO of Goldman Sachs and the president of the Service Employees International Union.
“It’s only been a couple of weeks,” he said. “Any leads?”
Blake Haynes had been at New York City’s Rockefeller Center, promoting the New New Deal and the Federal Anti-Bullying Act on MSNBC’s morning show, when a suicide bomber blew himself up, killing twenty-seven people and injuring forty-five others. Five more subsequently died from their injuries.
Blake had needed multiple blood transfusions, leading Sasha, Whitney’s chief of staff, to discover that he and Whitney shared the same rare blood type. DNA testing proved her maternity.
“No.” She hesitated. “I guess we should talk about—”
“Not sure I’m ready,” he said.
“I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t.”
“You deserve to know.”
She described the circumstances of his birth. “Seventeen and still in school,” she concluded, “I wasn’t in a position to raise a child. I did what I thought was best for you.”
She didn’t mention that she’d wanted an abortion.
Blake listened without interrupting. “My parents were good to me. I never felt adopted.” He hesitated. “Who was it? The rapist.”
“I don’t know,” Whitney lied.
His bandaged left hand reached for hers. She slipped her left hand through the side rail, meeting him halfway, their hands resting on the thin bedspread. Their eyes met. For a few moments, they didn’t speak. A bond had always connected them, even before she’d learned that he was her son. Now she understood why.
“Thank you,” he said, “for donating the blood.”
“Better than my liver.”
His brow furrowed.
“I’m joking,” she said. No need to mention the amount of wine she had consumed since the attack.
He released her hand. “It’s going to take some time. To get used to.”
“For me too.”
“Does the First Gentleman know?”
She nodded.
“What about Chandler and Emma?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How did they take it?”
She made a face.
“That well?”
“They’ll need time to adjust.” Especially Chandler.
“How are things at the office?”
Whitney laughed. “That question is different for my job, isn’t it?”
“Guess so,” he said, chuckling. “How’s Lena doing?”
Lena had been White House press secretary before Whitney poached Blake from his commentator job on a cable news channel. Lena left the administration to form her own public relations firm. When Whitney called after the tragedy to offer her the acting press secretary position, Lena accepted without hesitation.
Whitney wasn’t sure she could be so forgiving. She looked at Blake. As either of them.
On the television screen, a reporter spoke outside the hospital. Judy Porter, middle-aged with auburn hair, had been in the press pool accompanying Whitney during the presidential campaign. In uncovering an explosive story about Grayson, her reporting led to the revelation that Whitney had given up a baby for adoption.
Whitney didn’t bother turning up the sound on the TV. Judy wasn’t finished digging into Whitney’s past. And she never would be.
She turned back to Blake. “What’s the prognosis?”
“I won’t be running marathons anytime soon.”
“Seriously.”
“Healing.”
“Well, that’s great news.”
“But not fast enough. My recovery will take months.”
“Any friends been by?”
“A few.”
“Jade?”
The bandages prevented her from seeing his face, but his eyes betrayed him. He shook his head.
Whitney frowned. “That’s surprising.”
“It’s okay.” He exhaled. “I can’t face her.”
“Why not?”
His eyes flashed. “I don’t want her to see me like this!”
A knock at the door. Josh McPherson, Whitney’s lead secret service special agent, poked his head in. The florescent light from the hallway shone on his bald ebony dome. “Is everything all right, Madam President?”
“I’m fine, Josh. Thank you.”
He looked from her to Blake, then shut the door.
“I think you underestimate her.” She paused. “I thought there was something between you two.”
Shifting his gaze, he said, “So did I.”
“She’s a hard one to read, that one,” Whitney said gently, “but I’m sure she’s worth every word. I wouldn’t give up just yet.”
He didn’t respond. He was still looking out the window when she left the room.
Chapter Five
Washington, DC
At the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Acting Special Agent in Charge Jade Harrington was no longer in her old cramped office down the hall. She was now ensconced in Ethan Lawson’s office, reviewing a report.
Jade couldn’t stop thinking about Noah Blakeley and the part she played in his arrest and conviction. She hadn’t forgiven herself. The details of the case replayed on an endless loop in her mind. What had she missed? She wasn’t one to make mistakes. Jade was the type of person who could ignore everything she’d done right and focus on the one thing she’d done wrong. Since learning of Noah’s innocence, she was figuratively sore from kicking herself.
Leaning back, she slowly spun around once in the high-backed chair. The old FBI emblem on the wall behind her, depicting the scales of justice and the motto Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity remained, as did the mahogany coatrack in the corner. Her former boss’s diplomas, of which he was proud—especially the one from the George Washington University—were stored with his other personal effects in a cabinet in the credenza.
To an outsider, it appeared to be the temporary office that it was. No diplomas. No family pictures. Jade’s only personal items were a basketball paperweight sitting on one of the stacks of files on the desk, a family-size yellow bag of peanut M&M’s that she kept in the center drawer, and an old basketball she spun on her finger when she needed to think.
Jade was waiting for Ethan to return from a leave of absence that she didn’t believe was voluntary. He couldn’t be the source of the leaks on her last two major cases, as she’d been led to believe.
She missed him. His guidance and his unwavering support. Ethan had put her name forward to fill in for him. Jade had no idea when he’d be coming back. He hadn’t called, and she suspected he didn’t want her to call him.
Around the same time that Ethan left, President Whitney Fairchild had asked Jade to be a special assistant on her staff. Serving in the White House and for the person whose decisions impacted three hundred fifty million lives, even more when you counted the rest of the world, was an honor that Jade hadn’t taken lightly. But it was also a temporary position lasting the remainder of Fairchild’s presidency, whether that was three more years or seven.
Regardless, the FBI was in her blood now. It was her life. One day Director would be on the nameplate next to her door. Leaving the bureau, even temporarily, would put that aspiration in jeopardy. The decision had been a no-brainer; her eyes were on the prize.
“I don’t pay you to daydream.”
Jade started at the sound of his voice. “I was thinking,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
Assistant Director, Criminal Investigative Division, Warren Barringer strolled into Ethan’s office and heaved one of his haunches
onto the desk. She cringed. He was white-haired and overweight, and Jade found it hard not to stare at his white bushy eyebrows.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Okay.”
“About your cases…”
“What about them?”
“Solving them. Since you took over, the department’s solve rate has decreased.”
Jade offered no excuses. He was right.
Although she’d replaced Ethan, she hadn’t found someone to replace her, because she’d been too busy doing both jobs. She didn’t want to hire someone from the outside in case Ethan returned. Promoting someone on her team was an option, but Pat Turner didn’t want to supervise people, Micah Alexander was too green, and neither Christian Merritt nor Dante Carlucci was ready.
Or she wasn’t ready to let go. Jade wasn’t much of a delegator.
“I hear you,” she said.
“You’d better,” Barringer said. “I’m not happy about the outcome of the cybertheft case.”
Sitting up, she inclined her head, frowning. “But we sent an innocent man to prison.”
“It was closed,” Barringer said.
“You’d rather keep the wrong—”
“I can always bring Ethan back.”
Jade shrugged. “Do it. That’s what I want. Why is he on leave anyway?”
“Or install someone more… suitable.”
Something within her ignited. Before counting to ten, she said, “What does that mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“This diversity stuff has gone too far.”
What was he saying?
He slid off the desk and left, not bothering to shut the door.
Before this interim appointment, she hadn’t worked much with Barringer. Clearly unenthused about her promotion, he’d been unnecessarily hard on her. Opening the desk’s bottom drawer, she removed the furniture polish and a towel. As she rubbed out the moist spot he’d left, she concluded that the Robin Hood case was the real reason he’d come to her office. Even though truth had won, he wasn’t happy with the outcome.
Why?