“You’ve been scarce around here lately,” she observed. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. Just a long-term assignment. I can’t say anything.” I grimaced.
“Oh, I get it. It’s okay.” Her forehead wrinkled and she frowned at me. “I don’t know anything about this one, Tas, but do me a favor, okay? Be careful. Things looks murky in your future.”
My heart sped up. “Murky? What do you mean?”
Fee shrugged. “Just generally, when I try to get a read on what you’re doing here. Nothing with Michael or any other part of your life. I can’t see anything with clarity, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I decided it might be a secrecy spell that was keeping the outcome of this mission from Fiona’s view. I couldn’t worry about it at the moment, but running into her did make me think of something else she might be able to predict with more accuracy.
“Fee.” I lowered my voice. “Remember my first job with Carruthers? The lawyer’s office, the farmer?”
Her lips tightened slightly. “Yes, I remember.”
“You said you got a read on that, right? What the nephew was going to do?”
Fee nodded again.
“Did you know that the sale went through? Mr. Cummings sold the farm to his nephew.”
She looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I didn’t see that, specifically, at the time. But. . .” She heaved a sigh. “Yes, I know he sold it.”
“Why did he do it? Can you see that?”
“No, I don’t see the whys and wherefores, Tas. Just outcomes. Some possible, some more definite.” She paused, and I sensed that she was struggling with sharing something else.
“Fee, I promise, I’m not going to tell anyone. I just need to know for my own peace of mind. Did the lawyer tell his client what we reported?”
She shook her head. “No. And you’re not going to like this, Tasmyn, but I’ll tell you anyway, because you’d find out eventually. That piece of land is really valuable, and it’s eventually going to be developed by a corporation whose owners include the nephew, that lawyer. . .and Carruthers.”
I closed my eyes. “So I helped them get a jump on what was going to happen so that Carruthers could get in on the action, too?”
Fee looked miserable. “I don’t know if that was the intent or if it was just a happy accident. But really, Tas, it’s okay. Mr. Cummings and his wife are going to have a nice retirement with the money from the sale. I only see happiness for them.”
I pondered that all the way back to campus. I’d signed on with Carruthers for two reasons: to use my abilities to help others, and to learn how to control my more mercurial powers. I was well on my way to accomplishing the second goal, but the first one still felt vague.
My parents were happy with how everything was progressing, They still gushed about Cathryn and Harley in our weekly phone calls, and they frequently told me that joining Carruthers was the best decision I’d ever made.
But I wondered.
On Friday night, I donned my hot little black dress once again, did up my hair and waited for Michael to pick me up. Sophie looked at me in amusement.
“Look at you, hitting the big time! Party at the Congressman’s house.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, please.” I flapped a hand at her. “It’s just a volunteer thing.”
Michael’s knock saved me from further questions. We made a quick escape and were soon in the Mustang heading out of town.
“So,” Michael said as we drove off campus. “What’s my name? And my cover story?”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Your name is Michael Sawyer, and you are a sophomore botany major at Perriman College. You come from King, Florida. And you have a sweet and wonderful girlfriend.”
“Aw.” He shook his head. “That sounds really boring.”
I slipped my hand over his on the gearshift. “Not if you know the back story.”
I read from Chelle’s directions, and we easily found the Remington estate. We pulled up to tall wrought iron gates, gave our names and were given admittance. Valets met us in front of the house, sweeping us both from the car and up the steps as they handled the parking.
Soft music filled the foyer. The two rooms adjacent had doors thrown wide open, and people stood in small groups, eating, drinking and chatting.
“Tasmyn!” Chelle, clad in a very short red dress, dashed up to us. “I’m so glad you made it. My directions worked?”
I smiled and nodded. “Chelle, this is my boyfriend, Michael. Michael, Chelle is kind of my boss at the campaign headquarters.”
“Oh, no.” Chelle waved a deprecating hand. “We’re all just working for the same goal! Come in, have some food and mingle.”
We trailed behind her and found a table with hors d’oevres. Michael snagged a couple of drinks from the corner bar—soda for him, a sweet tea for me—and I glanced around.
“That’s the congressman over there,” I said in a low voice. “Standing by the fireplace.”
“Very distinguished,” Michael remarked.
“Yes, he is. Oh, and that’s Emma sitting on the loveseat over there. Ben Ryan is sitting next to her. He’s Remington’s campaign manager.”
Michael frowned as he looked down at me. “Emma. . .?”
I shook my head slightly. “Shh.” I heard him deliberately change the direction of his thoughts and hid a smile. He had many talents, but I didn’t think intrigue was one of them.
I introduced Michael to a few of the other volunteers. We mingled, as Chelle had ordered, until I sensed the approach of Congressman Remington.
“Ah, Ms. Vaughan. Glad you could make it. Have you met my wife?” He put his arm around the lovely redhead who stood next to us. “Mariana, this is one of our hard-working volunteers, Tasmyn Vaughan. She’s a student at Perriman.”
Mrs. Remington smiled warmly. Her mind was as calm as her husband’s, and I couldn’t sense any dissembling at all.
“Thank you for coming tonight!” She took my hand and shook it gently. “And who is this handsome young man with you?”
I made the introductions once again. We chatted for a few minutes about Perriman, about Michael’s botany major and my pretended interest in politics. I turned to the congressman’s wife. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Remington.”
She beamed. “Thank you. It’s quite historical, you know. There is a legend that General Stonewall Jackson stayed here at one point when he was stationed in these parts.” She paused and tilted her head, considering. “Of course, he wasn’t a general then. I don’t know what his rank would have been. But it makes a good story, don’t you think?”
“Very,” I agreed.
“Tasmyn loves history,” Michael said, squeezing my hand. “She can tell you more about the Civil War than most college professors.”
“Is that so?” Mariana turned and laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “John, you should show her your great-grandfather’s sword and journal. He was in the war, too. The family lived in Virginia then.”
Congressman Remington looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Oh, Mariana, these young people aren’t interested in that sort of thing.”
“Nonsense. Take her to the library and let her see it. Meanwhile, I’m going to bend Michael’s ear about my roses.” She led him toward a sofa in the other room.
John Remington was frowning and his thoughts were decidedly unhappy. He most certainly did not want to be alone with me in any capacity. My association with King troubled him, and given what I had heard him thinking about Nick, I wasn’t surprised.
The library was suffused with dim lighting. The congressman led me to a low display table and opened it carefully.
“Here it is. . for what it’s worth.” He shot me an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you’ve seen much more exciting artifacts than this one. Thank you for humoring my wife.”
“I wasn’t,” I assured him. “It really is cool.” I touched the gleaming silver reverently.
“You’re very ki
nd.” There was an odd tone in his voice, and I glanced up, hearing and feeling the vague melancholy. I knew why I made him uncomfortable.
“Congressman.” I was not sure of the best way to broach this topic, but with his guilt growing, I felt it might be my best opportunity to finally get some real information. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”
His eyes widened and I felt the burst of panic. And then he was back in control. “Now why would you say that?”
I shrugged. “I think it might have something to do with the fact that I come from King. I think maybe that town has some bad memories for you.”
He rubbed his neck, sighing. “You’re very perceptive. Yes, my association with King was not a happy time in my life. I lost a good friend.”
“I’m sorry.” I hesitated again, wondering how far to push. He was pensive, but remorse licked at the edges of his mind. I picked up the journal that lay next to the sword and mindlessly traced the leather etchings.
“Thank you. When you reach a certain age, you begin to realize how much you miss those people who have fallen along the wayside in your life. Nick and I had been knowing each almost our whole lives.”
I would have laughed with jubilation if the mood hadn’t made that impossible. He had just given me the opening I needed.
“Would that be Nick Massler?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “How did you know?”
Partial truth was my best bet here, I decided. “I went to school with Nell Massler. I know her father is Nick, and King isn’t that big a town.”
The congressman nodded. “That’s true. A very small, very insular town. Very odd. Things happened there. . .” He shook his head again. “Things I can’t explain. Things I did that I can’t explain.”
“Do you see Nick nowadays? Do you have contact with him? I think he lives around here.”
Remington’s mouth twisted. “He lives less than five miles from here. But no, I don’t see him. I. . .hear things, of course.”
“Like that he might be thinking about running for the senate seat you want?”
He looked at me, half amused and half afraid. “You seem to know a lot about Nick.”
I raised one shoulder. “What I hear is that he has a pretty good shot at it. And that can’t make you happy.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course it doesn’t. No politician wants to run against a friend, not even one he hasn’t spoken to in years.”
“So I guess you would do just about anything to keep him out of the race.”
Remington narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“Nick’s girlfriend was killed a few weeks back. Very brutally. There’s talk he could be blamed for it.”
He didn’t answer, but his mouth tightened.
I drew in a deep breath. “Did you have anything to do with Helene Gamble’s murder, Congressman?”
His shock and horror were genuine and immediate. “What? God, no! What are you talking about? Why would you think. . .” His voice trailed off. “You think I killed Helene to make it look like Nick did it, to set him up. Good Lord, what a low opinion you have of me!” He wheeled around and stalked to the wall of casement windows.
His denial didn’t surprise me. It was what he was thinking that interested me; it was why I had so baldly asked the question. There was not even a glimmer of guilt when I mentioned Helene’s name. He wasn’t hiding anything about her.
“Something happened, though,” I mused, just barely aware that I was speaking out loud. “Something with Nick that you regret. More than just friends growing apart because their lives went in different directions.”
Remington drummed his fingers on the windowsill. “Yes, perceptive,” he muttered. He sighed again, and then turned to face me.
“It’s not nearly what you suspected. I promise you no one was hurt—at least not physically. And I had the best intentions.”
I was silent, just listening. In his mind, he was already back in King.
“How much do you know about Nick and why he gave up his political hopes?”
I measured my words. “His wife had some sort of incident. She ended up in a mental hospital.”
“I knew Nick from the time we were boys. We went to school together. And then he met Alyse. It was odd from the beginning. Like he was just obsessed. Have you seen pictures of her?”
I shook my head. “No. But I think Nell looks like her. At least I’ve heard that.”
“Yes, there was a strong resemblance when she was a child. Alyse was striking, but not pretty. She was flamboyant, but mercurial. You never quite knew where you stood with her. But that didn’t matter to Nick. He wanted her, he had to be with her. After they met, when she went back to King, he was desperate to see her again. I’d never seen anything like it.
“We all assumed it would play out, or if they married, she would come here and be part of our society. Support Nick’s career. And they did end up getting married, but she wouldn’t leave King. We were all amazed that Nick agreed to live there.”
“Were they happy?” I really wanted to know. I thought of Nell lying alone and still in her hospital bed.
“At first, yes. They were thrilled when Nell was born, but it was not long after that Nick began to seem restless. I visited down there pretty often, because I wasn’t married yet, and I was still hoping that Nick would come back. Life as it should have been could resume. We had a plan.”
“ A plan?”
“Yes, we’d had this idea for a long time. Nick would run for office—he had the family connections—and I would run his campaign. And then once we had him set up, he’d pave the way for me. We were going to take Florida and then DC by storm.
“I started reminding Nick of the plan, talking about setting up his run for state senate. It was the first step. He was tempted, and he talked about it. But in the end, he wouldn’t leave King. He wouldn’t leave Alyse.”
I was beginning to see what had happened as it took shape in Remington’s mind. “So you thought you should help him out. Give him some sort of nudge.”
He looked at me sharply. “Yes. I had spent enough time with Alyse that I knew she too was restless. She had sensed Nick moving away from her, probably knew on some level that it was just a matter of time. But while Nick would stay out of a sense of obligation, Alyse was vengeful.”
I thought about Nell, and I shivered.
“So I introduced her to someone. I put things in place, planted seeds. I’m not sure I thought out what I expected to happen. I guess maybe I thought she would have a flirtation, maybe worst case an affair. And that would rattle Nick, make him realize he had to get out of King, get his family out. Force Alyse to move up here with him.”
I snorted. “Kind of backfired on you, didn’t it?”
The congressman dropped his head into his hands. “I helped them meet. I told Alyse that I saw how Nick was ignoring her. She was very self-centered, and it never even occurred to her that I had an ulterior motive. At least she never said.
“When it came out what she tried to do to his wife, I was aghast. Nick was devastated, and all I could see when I looked at him was my own guilt.”
“You never told him?” I kept my voice soft, no accusation.
“I didn’t. I think. . .Alyse might have said something. Possibly even the man she was seeing. I think Nick suspected. He came back here after all, but there was no race for him. Instead I ran. I tried to reach out to him, but he stopped returning my calls.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath. “There you have it. There’s my deep, dark secret, Ms. Vaughan. Now you tell me something. Are you working for Nick?”
Startled, I jerked back. “What? No. I work for you. It’s like you said, I’m just really perceptive.”
Remington pursed his lips, about to speak, when the door opened. Mariana poked her head into the room. “Are you all still talking history in here? John, shame on you, you’re neglecting your guests.”
I stood, re
alizing that I was still holding the leather journal. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Remington, I’m afraid it’s all my fault. We got chatting on history, and I just monopolized the Congressman.”
I turned to face Remington. “Thank you, sir, for sharing this with me.” I tried to telegraph a reassurance that I wasn’t going to say anything about his story, but his eyes remained bleak.
As I slipped past Mariana Remington in search of Michael, I thought that there was no good to come from including the congressman’s confession in my report. There was nothing to do about it now. And I had a strong feeling that living with the guilt was punishment enough.
Saturdays were typically my favorite day of the week. I had Michael all to myself, without work or classes to distract us.
But the day after Congressman Remington’s cocktail party, I couldn’t settle down to anything. Michael had a meeting for a group project in the middle of the day, so I spent the morning in my own dorm room, picking up one task and then another before putting them down.
I didn’t realize how much I was bothering Sophie until she fixed me with a steady reproving gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just restless today, I guess.” I glanced out the window at the sun-drenched day. “Maybe I’ll go outside and read.”
“I think that is a very good idea,” Sophie agreed. I shoved a few books and a towel into my backpack and headed for the green.
I lay in the sunniest, least-crowded section, but even with a book I’d been dying to read and the warmth beating down on my back, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept hearing the Congressman’s voice, seeing his haunted face. I had to wonder what would have happened if Remington hadn’t interfered in his friend’s marriage. Would Nick have stayed in King? If Nell had never lost her mother, might she have been a different person?
“Is this sun spoken for?” The deep voice was familiar, jerking me out of my reverie. I shaded my eyes and looked up into the smiling face. It took me a moment to remember his name, but then he thought it—Seth Philips—and I remembered. Aline’s boyfriend.
“Hi, “ I said, turning over. “Um, how are you?” It was awkward; I had met him off campus, but I knew he was a professor. There had to be a certain amount of respect and formality.
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