“Maybe there’s a sanity time limit for some things, Vianne,” Tanner reached for her hand, his thumb rubbing over the rings he’d bought for her. Wedding rings. She was his now. He’d take care of her, shield her.
“Maybe. The idea of building a library for the reclamation fascinated me, though,” she admitted slowly, drawing in a deep breath and sitting upright in the seat as they approached the gates of the large, looming house nestled out on Mercer Island. Multi-million dollar houses dotted the coast line of Lake Washington and this one was being used by the candidate.
“Vianne Summers has an appointment with Melody Richardson,” Tanner informed the guard at the gated entrance, his palm up to touch the ear piece as he walked off from the SUV.
“Go straight to the main house,” the guard ordered, the gates sliding apart silently and quickly.
“No problem,” Tanner said with a tip of his head. “You know I really hate this kind of thing.”
“What? The guards?”
“The millions used for politics,” he ground out flatly.
“Keep your liberal views inside,” she warned, flicking one finger at his thigh sharply. “I’m supposed to be open minded and considerate of all political views.”
“Bullshit,” Tanner mumbled testily, receiving another sharp flick of her finger. “One more, woman and you’re going over my knee.”
Vianne wasn’t sure where the heck the soft giggle came from but she turned to look at him seconds before they pulled before the wide, spread front porch. She had her right hand on the door handle while the left quickly flicked his thigh again. She jumped out while he was still swearing at her. She smiled brightly and extended her palm to the impeccably dressed Melody Richardson.
“Mrs. Richardson. Thank you so much for allowing us to interview you,” Vianne kept the friendly smile in place. She glanced over her shoulder, almost laughing at the ball cap Tanner had pulled from the back seat. The large video camera swung from his hand and he remained near the front of the SUV, one foot raised and resting on the bumper until she called for him.
“It’s my pleasure. Please, won’t you come inside. I’ve set up a nice tea out on the back veranda. The sun has just hit the center and it’s nicely warm out there,” the petite, slender woman led them into the large house.
“It’s a lovely house. I understand it belongs to one of your contributors,” Vianne commented casually. “It’s a nice way to donate to the campaign.”
“We have some very generous contributors,” she gestured to one of the comfortably cushioned patio chairs. “Please. Have a seat. Tea? Coffee?”
“Some very cold water, please,” Vianne settled into a chair, very aware of Tanner casually positioning himself to get them both in the shot. “Thank you.”
Vianne led her through the standard polite questions about being a candidates’ wife and the trials of politics in general.
“Since Ross was already involved in politics when we met, it wasn’t a great surprise,” Melody answered with carefully affected poise. “He’s so dynamic and intense. Passionate about helping our country and Americans.”
Vianne smiled politely and continued with the general questions before slipping back to contributors. She looked up at the sun and the large back side of the house, the crystal clear outdoor pool sparkling a few feet from where they sat.
“Does it bother you that people comment how out of touch some candidates are with what normal people, normal families, are searching for from their government or simply from life in general?” Vianne watched the woman’s face, her features and the absolutely polished and perfected sympathy in her gaze.
“I think the availability to achieve is present for all in our country,” Melody Richardson met Vianne’s eyes steadily, as if patiently waiting for her to argue. “Ross worked his way through college, as did I.”
“You worked while in college,” Vianne said quietly, hazel eyes daring her to correct her. “Both of you had family that supported your tuition costs. Not very many Americans have that luxury these days. Because of the economy and the diversity of businesses and locations, few live in the same areas they were born in, thus separating them from that sense of community from relatives. They end their college years with tuition loans or drop out because they simply can no longer survive working and studying and oft times with families. What you have spread here, is provided for you by a contributor. And my information says this property is owned by Vincent Technologies.”
“You’ve collected a great deal of information, Miss Summers.”
“It’s my job to report all sides to a story and allow the viewers or readers to make their own conclusions. I would do that no matter who the candidate was,” she pointed out with a little shrug. “When you have people like the Vincent’s behind you, who then bring in others that they do business with or are associated with, there seems to be a slight imbalance of wealth being slid around because of loopholes in our system.”
“The Vincent’s believe in the policies and want to see them help Americans.”
“You socialize with the Vincent’s a great deal,” Vianne flipped a page in her notebook. “Charity functions, various fund raising events for your husband as well as other candidates in the party. Is that how your husband met Adam Wayne?”
Tanner almost broke out in laughter at the absolute innocence on Vianne’s face.
“My husband has many associates and friends. I don’t know them all,” Melody answered, her voice betraying a little tension and features suddenly less than co-operative.
“So you’re unfamiliar with Adam Wayne?” Surprise edging her words. “My researcher tells me they’ve been…” She paused deliberately. “Friends…for several years.”
“I’m sure my husband’s acquaintances aren’t nearly as important as the issues in the campaign,” she sat up straight, hands gripping the edges of the chair.
“But you’re very familiar with the Vincent’s. You’ve met their daughter, Erika? I don’t believe she’s a contributor, though,” Vianne thumbed through her notes, looking up and blinking at the silence. “Do you believe the way a candidate conducts himself or herself, has a direct reflection on how the voters will see them? Do you believe their private lives should be kept secret?”
“What are you getting at, Miss Summers?” She paused for a moment, her eyes hardening. “I saw you on the news this morning. It isn’t Miss Summers any longer, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” Vianne answered with a smile. She doubted Tanner would be recognized by Melody Richardson. He was in an almost invisible position of a camera person wearing a baseball cap and eyes on the small screen.
“Do you believe your personal life belongs on the news screens? Are you not entitled to personal decisions and choices?”
“My choices and beliefs aren’t in contradiction with what I’m professing to maintain as a public standpoint. Nothing I say is an attempt to convince people to vote for me because we have things in common.” Vianne kept her features calm, her gaze never leaving the woman across from her. “What I’m getting at, Mrs. Richardson, is the old do as I say, but not as I do philosophy that too many leaders practice these days. Before you can cast stones, your own life should be one worthy of emulating, don’t you agree?”
“I believe whole-heartily in the policies and ideals my husband has embraced,” she informed Vianne stiffly.
“Your husband doesn’t believe in equality where marriage is concerned. He doesn’t believe that gay individuals have a military right or purpose, no matter how much they love their country,” Vianne rattled off quickly. She looked up from her notebook and found Melody’s face drawn and tense. Her features were stone-like, her chin tipped. “Have you met Erika Vincent? I know you’ve been at some of the same functions.”
“What does she have to do with my husband’s political campaign?” Melody Richardson demanded sharply, one hand waving in a dismissing gesture. “I may have met her, spoken to her at one of the political functions.”
<
br /> “She was engaged to a man your husband is extremely familiar with,” Vianne said simply. “My information states your husband met Adam Wayne over ten years ago. That they’ve been very close friends for years. That he knew Adam Wayne before you were married. That he’s maintained a very close relationship with Adam Wayne.”
“What do you want?” The words practically hissed from her lips.
“I’m merely asking questions, Mrs. Richardson. If I research and come up with something that is opposite of what the public is being told, I have to ask questions. I’m here to give you the chance to refute them. Perhaps your husband is available and I can interview you together.”
“Ross is busy with meetings today.”
“I’m sorry if my questions make you uncomfortable. My information about Adam Wayne comes from an impeccable source. That information not only calls into question policies and ideals, but lifestyle choices that your husband, the candidate, is radically opposed to. The public really dislikes being played for fools,” Vianne watched Melody carefully, the other woman’s hands whitening on the arms of the chair.
“I think you should go now,” Melody said firmly.
“My other concern is what kind of information Adam Wayne has that would convince Neil Vincent to not only support Ross Richardson, but to use his daughter to the edge that it might actually be considered abuse. All in an effort to create a cover-up that makes the voters look very foolish for believing in what they’re told, when what’s going on behind the scenes, is very, very different.”
“What do you want?” She repeated coldly. “How dare you make…”
“I’m after nothing more than information. What do you know about your husband’s association with Neil Vincent?” Vianne let her voice harden, matching the woman across from her.
“I think you should go now,” Melody stood up, her palm aimed at the camera. “This interview is at an end. Good day, Miss Summers,” she turned and walked into the house, sending one of the black suited guards out to them.
“Well…” Vianne stood up and chuckled, slipping her note pad into her pocket and striding toward Tanner. She met his gaze and they walked ahead of the guard, around the house and to the waiting SUV.
Tanner stored the camera and slid behind the wheel. He started the SUV and headed them along the drive, his gaze caught on the mirror and the chatter going on between men watching them leave.
“I believe you upset the candidate’s wife.”
“I believe I did,” Vianne said with a little nod. She slipped her phone out and tapped in a number. “Vianne Summers for Neil Vincent, please.” She waited, humming along with the music softly. “Mr. Vincent, this is Vianne Summers. I’d like to know if you’d consider an interview about your involvement with Ross Richardson, the candidate for the conservative party.”
“My involvement, as you term it, is documented and above board.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything to the contrary,” Vianne said smoothly.
“Then what are you suggesting, Miss Summers?”
“I’m making an attempt to connect the dots between Ross Richardson, Adam Wayne and Vincent Technologies,” she listened to the silence on the other end of the phone.
“Good day, Miss Summers.”
“Hmm…seems I’m not very popular these days. I’m sure I showered,” she murmured.
“I think I recall being there with you,” Tanner teased, lifting her palm and twining his fingers with hers. “What did you want to accomplish with this, Vianne?”
“It’s a little like stirring up a wasps nest,” she opened her phone again and tapped in a number. “Hold on…Hi, Erika. I don’t have Zee’s number,” she said smoothly. “Can I talk to him a minute? Won’t be long, I promise. No…well…” Vianne sighed. “Just put it on speaker, then.”
“Hey, Vianne,” Zee looked at his new wife with a little frown. “Why is Erika looking at me oddly?”
“Because she doesn’t trust me. I just wanted to warn you that I might have stirred up a few people and to keep a close eye on Erika.”
“What people?” Erika asked slowly.
“Your father and the candidate’s wife. I’m still working on connecting the dots and when I find out anything concrete, I’ll be in touch,” Vianne promised. “Just be careful, alright?”
“I’ll take care of her, Vianne, thanks for the heads up,” Zee ended the call.
“Good. Now I wait and see what my research assistant comes up with tomorrow.” Vianne settled back in the seat, closed her phone and let it fall into her pack.
“What kind of reaction are you looking for, Vianne?” Tanner asked again, his voice steady.
“Panic,” she answered instantly and simply.
“You’re going to make me grey,” Tanner wrapped his palm around hers and carried it to his lips. “How about some food? I want to get the rest of my things from the resort.”
“I’d love some Italian.” She looked down at the palm he held, her head still wrapped around the rings that occasionally caught the light.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You set yourself up,” Tanner paced the condo. Anger was probably far too mild a word for what he was feeling. He’d spotted the tail on the way from the resort, his temper rising with each turn he made guiding them along the coastal road home.
“I do what I do, Tanner,” Vianne exhaled deeply. “I didn’t expect them to move quite this quickly, but…” She shrugged and only just realized the mistake in that action. “I know how to take care of myself. Politicians don’t generally resort to violence, Tanner. They bribe and discredit and pull favors…”
“This…that we don’t even have a fucking clue what it is yet…but this, appears to be something worth violence and kidnapping over, Vianne,” Tanner shoved his hands into his pockets just to keep from grabbing her and lifting her to her toes to make her listen.
“I am still working on the why part,” she said calmly, wondering how to soothe a husband. She’d already fed him, so food was out. For a long moment she wondered who she was now. If he hadn’t been in her apartment…she turned away and went to the computer, folded one leg beneath her and sunk into the chair. “Whatever it is, it’s very tightly buckled down. None of my sources can pinpoint anything even slightly off.”
“Try and pinpoint when something…anything…changed,” Tanner paced across the apartment. He knew he couldn’t pull her away from what had become part of her nature, so the easiest thing open to him was to help her solve the problem.
“Oh, gee…thanks. Prof,” Vianne chuckled, not wanting to dent his male ego with comments about investigative journalism 101. “A time line…” she pulled a sheet of plain paper from the printer well and drew a line. “Erika first noticed Wayne taking an interest here. Now…that said, it doesn’t mean it’s where things began. He could have been making forays into her life for a month and she was too distracted to notice.”
“I honestly can see how she’d be distracted,” Tanner shook his head. “So let’s start with that time. What was happening politically? What was going on in her parent’s life? What was happening in the company? Finding the tie in between her father, Wayne and Richardson seems to be the apex. I think Erika was a secondary line in the whole thing. Otherwise, somehow she’d have been dragged into the mix sooner.”
“The company,” Vianne frowned and stared at the notes her research assistant had made. “I need someone inside who knows what’s going on. Like contracts and acquisitions,” she murmured, fingers flying over the keys as she nibbled on her lip.
“Are their contracts public knowledge?” Tanner went to his own computer on the opposite side of the large desk, the high powered laptop opened and started.
“The government ones are and the others and information on them are public if they involve the government,” she thought her way through it. “They’re also public knowledge when they receive the go because it’s a publically traded company.”
Tanner started his own sheet on t
he computer screen, adding names and ideas in a haphazard chart.
“What’s Wayne’s position?”
“Vice-president in electronics,” she read through information from her assistant. “He’s with international and governmental contracts.”
“I have a feeling there is our first clue, sweetheart,” Tanner added that to his chart and leaned back in the chair. “No…not involving Erika,” he said thoughtfully.
“At the top of the list we have Neil Vincent. Hard core conservative. With a man in charge of one of his most profitable divisions who is gay. Only it’s not public knowledge. I haven’t been able to find a source that can confirm or deny, other than Erika. And the same is true of Richardson, but his concealment makes sense, politically speaking. Wayne could sue the company if he was discriminated against. Until you throw Richardson into the mix of his life,” she leaned back in the comfortable office chair, her hands up behind her head, lips pursed as she stared at the screen without actually seeing what was there.
“Now one of the first questions – did Vincent know his VP was less than vanilla? Somehow I don’t think he did,” Tanner stood up and paced to the patio doors, his hands up and on the frame. “You need a novelist. This is something out of a best seller in the corporate espionage section.”
“I’m usually good at seeing the novels,” she said with a little laugh.
“What could they be doing that needed Erika to be married to Wayne? To the point where her mother would risk imprisonment by drugging her own daughter,” Tanner worked best when he talked out loud. “The only thing that makes sense, is without Erika, the consequences would be worse.”
Vianne lifted her phone and tapped in a number.
“Vianne Summers, Mrs. Vincent. I’d like to see if you’d consider an interview to discuss the division between yourself and your daughter. Let the public know your side of the story,” Vianne spoke quickly because the likelihood of being hung up on was pretty high. But she got lucky.
WindSwept Narrows: #22 Erika &amp; Vianne Page 25