by Nic Tatano
“Anyway, the majority of the lunch conversation was about a certain redhead. How’s Madison? Is she still serious about this other guy? Is there anything I can do to get her back? I told him there was no way but that didn’t seem to get through. Sorry, kiddo, he really misses you and wants another chance. I could have given the guy a lap dance and it wouldn’t have helped.”
“Well, thanks for trying.”
“Oh, this was interesting. I noticed that when he took out his wallet to pay the bill, he had one of those police courtesy cards from the Commissioner. He must be well connected.”
“Considering he gave me ten grand for the animal shelter, he probably just made a big donation to some police charity.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Oh, almost forgot. He said he had someone who could help you with your story.”
“Huh?”
“Your Senator Collier investigation. He’s gonna have a friend of his with inside information call you. Said it should keep you from wasting your time chasing a dead end.”
“Yeah, he did mention he knew someone in the campaign. Anyway, thanks for trying, Tish.”
“Maybe A.J. would have more luck. She’s a little more, shall we say, forward than I am with men.”
“I dunno. He might start getting suspicious with all my friends hitting on him.”
“Well, anyway, I guess you’ll have to deal with it. Meanwhile, you’ve got a terrific guy waiting for you at home. Sweet, smart, funny, a real-live hero, awfully cute, and obviously in love with you. Most women would kill for that, you know.”
I nod. I need to focus completely on Nick, stop worrying about hurting Jamison and bury the past. “You’re right.”
We finish our walk and head back to the house, finding Nick in the living room playing with Bumper. He’s got a ball of aluminum foil tied to a yard stick, holding it inside a shoe box with a hole cut out in the side. Bumper is having a ball reaching through the hole trying to catch the foil. Nick looks up and smiles. “Oh, hey. I invented a game for him since he can’t jump.” He turns his attention back to the kitten.
Tish leans forward and whispers in my ear. “If he’d do that for a kitten, imagine what he’d do for a child.”
I can’t help but smile as I watch this tough-as-nails cop play with a special needs kitten. It speaks volumes. “Point taken.”
“So, can the defense rest now?”
“Yeah. The verdict is in on the L-word.”
“About damn time. Case dismissed.”
Nick and I are sitting at the kitchen table, going through the mountain of papers sent to me by the Congressman.
But that’s not occupying my full attention.
Incredibly, a kitten has once again helped me make an important decision. If he was a black and white kitten I would change his name to magic eight ball.
For the first time I’m perfectly relaxed. Jamison is out of my head. Yes, he’s a great guy who would no doubt treat me like a queen while offering an incredible lifestyle, but it doesn’t matter. Seeing Nick playing with my kitten … well, that’s an intangible quality which goes deep into my soul. The fact that a man who can’t walk, who is recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound, would take the time to create a toy for a kitten … well, a woman can’t ask for a better man.
We’ve been going through papers for an hour and my eyes are getting tired. I reach over and take his hand. “Hey, how about we take a break. I’m getting cross-eyed looking at all this.”
“Sounds good to me. You wanna watch TV for a while?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.”
I lean back in my chair. “By now you know that I’m a rather stubborn, strong-willed woman who likes to be in charge.”
His eyes widen. “Seriously? I had no idea. I’m outta here.”
“Very funny. But there’s something I wanted to ask you. About moving you in here.”
“What about it?”
“That day in the hospital when I basically told you that you were staying with me. I guess I’ve always wondered how you felt about it. I didn’t exactly ask for your opinion at the time.”
“It’s been great, Madison. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“I don’t mean since you moved in. I meant … did you feel pressured to come here? Was I out of line taking charge of your life?”
“Not at all. I was thrilled. Even if I had family to take care of me, I’d rather be here with you.”
“Thanks. I just wanted to be sure.” Another loose end tied up.
“Y’know, Madison, you worry about the smallest details. If I could change one thing about you, I’d want you to simply relax and accept things as they are without analyzing every little detail. It’s like trying to explain why I’m attracted to you, why any two people are attracted to each other. Some things you just accept without trying to figure out why.”
I slowly nod. “You’re right. I do over-analyze things.”
“By the way, I have a confession to make. I’ve been worried about something. I mean, since you brought up the moving in thing.”
“What are you worried about?”
“Well … if I get to the point where I can walk normally, it’s going to be awfully hard for me to move out.”
“I think you’ve just gotten spoiled having a woman wait on you.”
“Trust me, I’d much rather be waiting on you.” He locks eyes with me.
“Ah, that’s something I must consider. So, regarding that apartment of yours. When is the lease up?”
“Next month. Why?”
“Tell you what, Marino. Why don’t you call the landlord tomorrow and tell him you won’t be renewing.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah. Last night you told me I was safe and I was loved. I want you to know that you are too. I love you lots, Marino. More than you know. Welcome home.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
By Thursday morning I have sorted through most of the papers on Senator Collier and the third party candidates and weeded out the useless stuff. It’s clear campaigns are buried in paperwork required by the federal government, but that also offers them the opportunity to hide stuff with creative accounting. While I’m no expert in finance, when it comes to something illegal involving money I’ll know it when I see it.
But the investigation pales in comparison with my personal life the past few days since I came to the realization that Nick is the one for me and I really do love him. The Jamison dreams have stopped, and I’m no longer second-guessing myself. Funny, it took seeing him play with Bumper to make the light bulb over my head turn on. The image of a real-life hero playing with a kitten plays on a loop in my head, reminding me of the kindness of this man.
I’m up early on my day off, sipping coffee as I study the now smaller haystack on the kitchen table. Nick rolls into the kitchen, stops next to me and gives me a kiss. “You’re actually up before me. I’m shocked.”
“I’ve been sleeping so well, I guess I don’t need as much.”
“Probably because for the first time in your life you’re at peace. About your mother, I mean.”
“Well, that … and having you in my life.” Bumper meows from a sun square on the floor. “And yeah, you too, kitty.”
Nick rolls toward the coffee machine and the kitten backs up to give him room. He’s learned to give the wheelchair a wide berth, obviously not wanting to have his tail run over. Nick fixes a cup of coffee then leans down and brings Bumper onto his lap. “How ya doin’ fur ball?”
“I’m glad he’s not a one-person cat, because you’re getting more time with him than I am. I still think you’re stealing my pet.”
“He’s great company when you’re not here.” He cocks his head toward the papers. “Find anything since last night?”
I shake my head. “I’m stuck. If only I could find out where the PAC money for the third party candidates comes from.”
“What’s a PAC?”
“Political action committee. Clever way for rich people to stash money in a campaign, very often off the books or done in a shady manner. Basically it’s a slush fund for politicians.”
“So that’s how the third party candidates funded their campaigns?”
“That’s a big part of their contributions. I’ve tried to find out who put money in the PAC but someone or some organization really covered their tracks.”
He looks down at the cat. “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Bumper goes in reverse gear when my wheelchair is moving. Maybe you need to reverse the way you’re looking at the campaign. Since you can’t find the source of the money, see where it was spent. You know how politicians love kickbacks. There might be one that would lead you back to the original donor.”
My jaw hangs open. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re a reporter and I’m a cop. Or maybe because I just saw the cat walk backwards. We look at evidence in a different way. Hey, you’ve helped me a lot with my cold case just by sharing your techniques.”
I quickly grab a set of papers with the campaign expenditures of the third party candidates, and start to scan through the expenses.
And then the air is knocked out of me as I see the one common denominator in all three.
Nick takes my arm. “You find something?”
I slowly nod, still staring in disbelief at what I’m seeing. “Oh my God …”
Right there in black and white. Multi-million dollar expenditures for each campaign.
To Jamison’s production house.
I quickly start what will be a thorough search into the life of the man I was dating. While I have already figured out the obvious (how he is able to afford his oceanfront home, fancy car, classic sailboat and limousines), I need more. Much more.
And I’m pretty sure what I’m going to find isn’t going to be good.
More important, how the hell did I miss something like this? Am I that bad a judge of character?
A simple search of his name turns up several people named Jamison Rogers. So I narrow it down to New York.
The top hit is a photo that is a punch to the soul.
Jamison standing next to Senator Collier, who has his arm around him. I click on the link to bring up the caption.
Jamison Rogers with stepfather Senator Joe Collier
I lean back as my jaw drops. “You gotta be friggin’ kidding me.” I shake my head and continue digging, discovering that Jamison is the son of Corinne Rogers, Senator Collier’s third wife.
“Something good?” asks Nick.
“Something incredible.” Yeah, the guy I was dating and almost picked instead of you is a criminal. “The person who produced the commercials for the third party candidates is Collier’s stepson.”
“Whoa.” He looks at the papers. “Wait a minute, why would the guy’s stepson—”
“It’s ingenious. Think about it … Collier bankrolls the third party campaign, takes money from his own campaign and funnels it somehow through the other candidate to his step son. Millions of dollars for running a campaign that only required producing a few commercials. Basically he’s taking campaign contributions and giving it to his own family, at the same time tampering with an election.”
“Is that last part illegal?”
“If not it’s unethical as hell.” I pick up my cell. “I gotta call Congressman Dexter. I need the FBI’s help on this. The story isn’t complete until we get a paper trail back to Collier. I need that smoking gun.”
Picture the most excited child you’ve ever seen on Christmas morning. Now multiply that by ten and you’ll know how a reporter feels when she’s about to break a major, and I mean major, national story.
So those lottery ping pong balls which have gotten a rest are bouncing around in my head as I sit in the doctor’s waiting room while Nick is getting checked. This story is almost too much to process; while getting the smoking gun on Collier is huge, what I’m experiencing knowing that Jamison was part of it lies somewhere between hurt and anger.
I haven’t told Nick that Jamison was the other guy, and not sure how or even if I should do that.
The door to the exam room opens and Nick wheels into the waiting room wearing a big smile with the doctor right behind him. I get up and shake the doctor’s hand. “Good to see you again, Doctor.”
“You too, Miss Shaw.” He pats Nick on the shoulder. “I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised at how well he is recovering.”
Nick looks up at me. “She’s a good nurse. Really works my tail off with physical therapy.”
The doctor nods. “Well, it shows. And it’s time to take things to the next level.”
I’m at one end of two long, parallel steel handrails. Nick is at the other, seated in his chair. The physical therapist, a muscled, thirtyish guy with huge biceps named Joey stands next to him. He looks at Nick. “You ready?”
“Let’s rock.”
The therapist gets behind Nick, places his hands under Nick’s arms, and helps him to a standing position. Nick grabs the rails and rolls his head. “Whoa. Little dizzy.”
“That’s because you haven’t been standing for a while. Take your time. I’m right behind you so you won’t fall. Now brace yourself with the handrails and let’s see if you can walk a little. Your goal is to make it to that hot redhead waiting for you at the end of the room.”
Nick smiles at me. “That’s all the incentive I need.” He pushes himself up straight, then grimaces as he slowly swings one leg forward. He shakes his head as he catches his breath. “Harder than I thought.”
“It takes time,” says the therapist. “Let’s try another step.”
I clap a few times. “C’mon, Marino. Your best girl is waiting and she desperately wants to give you a hug. You’ve gotta come here to get it. Let’s go, Officer.”
Nick nods, pushes himself up again and swings the other leg forward. He pauses, then takes another step. Then another. And another. Beads of sweat cover his forehead.
“You’re doing great,” says the therapist, still standing right behind him with his arms on Nick’s waist.
I extend my arms as he gets closer. “Just a few more.”
Nick takes two more steps and reaches me. I quickly wrap my arms around him and give him a strong hug, laying my head on his shoulder as tears of joy stream down my face. “You did it. You’re gonna walk again.”
He leans back and looks at me. “No. We did it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
One week later I’m sitting in a nearly empty restaurant, waiting to meet Jamison for a late lunch at two o’clock.
No, it’s not what you think.
I’m wearing a wire in return for an exclusive and the FBI has agents masquerading as waiters.
The Feds have pretty much what they need to take down Collier, but they want ironclad proof from his son so the Senator can’t have the popular “plausible deniability” that many politicians use to get out of jams. Having Jamison admit the whole thing on tape will make the case a slam dunk.
I’m pretending to look at a menu when I see Jamison enter the restaurant. He spots me and flashes a big smile as he quickly moves to my table, but I do not get up to greet him. “Right on time, Jamison.”
He takes a seat. “I must say, I didn’t expect you to call me so soon. I got the impression last time that you wanted to avoid me.”
I shrug and smile. “Well, you know, things change.”
“So, the other guy—”
“Don’t want to talk about him. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Big smile.
Got him. That was easy.
He leans back in his chair, totally relaxed. “I’m really glad you called me, Madison.”
“Well, I’m in a good mood. About to break a big story. Well, maybe.”
A bit of concern creeps into his eyes. “Oh, really?”
“Yea
h, finally got the goods on Senator Collier.” His face tightens, his eyes instantly filled with concern. “Oh, relax, Jamison, I haven’t aired the story on your stepfather yet.”
His jaw slowly drops. “How did you find out?”
“I’m an investigative reporter with a wall full of Emmy awards, sweetie. Why didn’t you tell me? It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Uh … I don’t like to use his name. Always wanted to make my own way in life.”
“Ah.” And stealing millions is making your own way. Right.
“So … what exactly are you going to air on television?”
“Oh, I haven’t even decided if I’m going to use it. I might sit on the story.”
He looks around then drops his voice. “What exactly did you find, Madison?”
“The way you can afford your current lifestyle. I must say, the whole thing is ingenious. Funneling millions to a member of your family while controlling an election.”
His fists tighten a bit and the muscles in his neck go taut. “Madison, please—”
“Oh, relax, Jamison. I said I might sit on the story.”
“I would really appreciate that. You have no idea.”
“Hey, you’re a great guy and have always treated me well. And, ya know, I’ve been thinking of late that I’m getting tired of the reporter grind. Might want to do something else. Since you and I get along so well, I had an idea … well, that you might want a partner.”
His eyes widen a bit. “A partner?”
“Yeah. You know, what you did for your stepfather we could do with other politicians. Why stop at one since the system has worked so well for so many years? Of course, I’d have to be paid a lot more than what I make at the network. I mean, let’s put it this way … a good job offer from you and I’d clean out my desk today. Which means the story never hits the air.”
He slowly nods. “I see. So you’re basically blackmailing—”
“Jamison, that’s such a terrible word. I’m giving you a business proposition. Let’s be partners, in business and in life. I might even throw in a bikini for the next ride on that sailboat of yours.” I run my toe up his leg and steal his breath.