by Lucy Farago
“You’ll have to go back down to the landing and take a left on the staircase. Guest rooms are in the west wing. Unless you want some company? You can come to my room.”
Holy shit. He not only pitied her daddy, but every man who caught her eye. This girl was trouble. Exactly what the senator didn’t need. “I think I’ll be going back down.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “But if you change your mind….” Then, thankfully, she closed her bedroom door.
He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He notched a big groove in his brain, reminding himself to stay as far away as he could from Ella. And if he needed to come to this part of the house, he’d better do it when she was nowhere around.
He made his way back downstairs. One step into the kitchen and he saw Grace wasn’t finished with her interview, their conversation looking intense. Instead, he hiked it back to the den and called Monty. He answered on the second ring. Slacker. He usually answered on the first.
“What’s up, Wolfman?”
It was a running joke among the team that Cowboy had been raised by wolves. Monty knew different, but as far as everyone else was concerned Cowboy had no family and never did. In fact, Grace had learned more about him in the past couple of days than his teammates had in the six years since he’d joined ICU. “I’m sending you some intel. One is lab results. Have someone decipher it for me. I can see its bloodwork but it looks to me like they were targeting something specific. See if you can find the lab where it was taken. There’s no patient’s name on it, which is odd.”
“So glad you appreciate my expertise,” he said, clearly full of himself.
Unfortunately for everyone who had to listen to him, he was justified in his boasting. “I not only appreciate it, I bow to it.” Cowboy knew computers but compared to Monty, Cowboy’s skills were akin to pressing the on switch.
“What else?”
“A Day-Timer. Can you run it, see if anything stands out? I’ll go through it myself but the more eyes the better. There’s also a copy of the bill the senator is proposing in house. That shit flies right over my head. If Jessie discovered some political conspiracy, maybe it’s in that bill.”
“Not my expertise, but Ryan is good at that stuff.”
Ryan was good at a lot of things, but their boss rarely involved himself in the investigations. Not that he was averse to it, but he paid them well and someone on the team knew something about something. Still, Monty was right. Ryan was a good one to ask for anything politically related.
“You got anything else?”
“Think you can find a copy of the will that gave the senator his mother’s house?” He walked over to the window and drew back the curtain. Through the reflection given by the outside emergency lights, he could see the rain coming down in sheets. It was one hell of a storm. “See if it’s original or when it had been amended?”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“And one more thing.” Quite possibly the most important. “I found a picture of a kid, a boy, in Lyle Stanton’s desk. Run it through missing kids.”
“Any idea who he is?”
“No. Do your magic.”
“I just opened the picture.” After a short pause he said, “If we’re lucky I can identify the building in the background. It will help narrow the city. By the way, that judge, the one who will sentence Mrs. Stanton. She’s a close friend of the family. Very close.”
“She can’t let Mrs. Stanton off with a slap on the wrist. The public is watching the case.”
“Who knows with crooked judges. All right, let me get to work.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He shut off his phone, wanting desperately to believe he’d found something, anything, that would lead him to Jessie. Tomorrow he’d search the stables. Jessie didn’t ride, or hadn’t when he’d known her, but she loved animals. He’d seen her spend numerous summer vacations dog-walking or cat-sitting people’s pets when they were either out of town or too lazy to do it themselves. It’s possible that when she’d visited the house, she’d gone to see the horses.
He headed for the closet and then returned the kit back to his trunk. He wandered back to the kitchen and seeing they’d yet to wrap it up, returned to the den and reached for the gaming paddle. Who knew how long they’d be at it.
Chapter Seven
Grace was pleasantly surprised by Stanton’s candor and understood the sentiment behind Jessie’s article. He was charismatic, coming off as genuine. He was deeply saddened by his wife’s predicament and at the same time angry. It wasn’t clear if he still loved her but he’d stand by her, even though she had some serious choices to make. And if she continued to make the wrong ones, he hinted there’d be serious consequences. She took it to mean he’d be patient as long as he could, but standing by her didn’t mean staying married. He could not and would not enable her.
It was very touching, but to Grace’s eyes, he was fed up, the stress of their marriage going far deeper than a DUI. He seemed to want to stick around because it was the right thing to do…for now. Whether that was to save his career or to actually help his wife was anyone’s guess. Grace was leaning toward the former. A man didn’t work as hard as the senator to get elected to have his drunk wife ruin what he was passionate about. And Grace believed he was entrenched in his role as the people’s representative. He couldn’t leave his wife. That would paint him as a coldhearted bastard. But nor could he keep condoning her behavior by doing nothing. For a politician he was practical. Grace liked that.
She regarded the man now in the kitchen making her another cup of herbal tea and was reminded of her father. Weird. The two were nothing alike. Her father said it like it was. No niceties, no smoothing it over with pretty words, no bullshit. Stanton’s career was based on spinning the truth, twisting words. He had a job to do and to keep that job—well, the truth rarely set you free where politics were concerned. Yet there was something genuine in what he’d told her. Was she allowing Jessie’s article to cloud her judgment? Had Jessie seen the man for who he was? Or was there something else?
He returned with a tea for her, bourbon for him.
“My next questions are regarding your nephew and the alleged rape.” Alleged her ass, but she had to be a professional no matter how much she’d like to string his nephew up by his balls until they fell off.
“Anything I had to say was already said.”
He’d said nothing. Two months ago, twenty-two-year-old Harrison Stanford was found innocent of raping a sophomore when she was too inebriated to give consent. She’d been apparently flirting with him prior to the party and had agreed to see a movie with the asshole. How the judge equated an interest to date with a, sure, fuck me when I’m black out, Grace and most every other woman in the world didn’t know. It made her skin crawl.
The senator had kept his comments to the press to either “no comment” or “I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter.” Of course, it would’ve been political suicide to openly support the son of bitch. Lyle Stanton, however, had no qualms about standing by his nephew.
“I don’t want to ask you directly about the trial. That’s already been done. Campus SaVE was implemented last year. It requires all schools to offer programs for the prevention and awareness of sexual assault. We know that students new to the freedom of college life are the most vulnerable. No mommy or daddy guiding or preventing them in the dos and don’ts of overdrinking. Bad choices can be made because of alcohol and/or lack of life experience.” She herself hadn’t partied much at school. Besides seeing her friends have way too many worship sessions at the porcelain altar, she was there to learn. And unlike some of her classmates she’d been taught about sexual predators from the day her father waved goodbye to her that very first day of school. She didn’t need her school to teach her to recognize signs of abusive behavior. She herself could’ve taught the course. But how about teaching men it was wrong to rape? The world was indeed a screwy place.
“It’s good law, but more
importantly,” he said, “it forces schools to report the number of complaints, and it has the inclusion of bystander-intervention. Increasing awareness of what constitutes sexual assault might encourage more students, like the two that caught Brock Turner, to take action.”
Grace leaned forward and set her mug of tea on the coffee table. He might not have an answer to her next question, but he would need to, because it was the question on many peoples’ minds. “Senator, the victim involved in your nephew’s case had filed two previous complaints against him. Yes, she admitted to agreeing to go on a date and she had flirted with him, but when she second-guessed her decision, she did tell him she’d changed her mind.
“Harrison also admitted to knowing this, but when he saw her at not one but two house parties, he claims he believed she was playing hard to get, as neither of the parties would normally have included freshmen. Apparently, he didn’t know her older sister was a senior and had invited her along. A sister, who, as I’m sure you know, was in not one but two of his classes.” The district attorney’s office had also proved he knew his victim’s sister and the odds of him not seeing the two women together at the parties, two women who could have passed for twins, was not in his favor. “Yet the court sided with him, saying she was stalking him and had thrown herself at him in a drunken haze.” There’d been more bullshit evidence but she didn’t need to go over it to prove her point. “Truth was the girl had been roofied, barely capable of saying her name before she passed out. Tell me, senator, why would any father of a young college girl ever vote for you given your family history?”
He was silent for a moment, drawing in a deep sigh before answering. “I think part of the solution to the sexual assaults on campus is continuing education. Campus SaVE is a good start but students are inundated with information their first few months on campus, how much of it sticks? They’re excited to be embarking on this new chapter of their lives, and they believe they won’t be another growing statistic. I’m one of the few representatives who continues to push for more education, continuing education throughout their college years. My granddaughter starts college soon. I want her to be safe. I will do everything in my power to ensure she is.” He set his glass of bourbon down beside her tea and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his finger tented, seeming to consider what he would say next.
Her next questions were going to be about his relationship with his father, and if her suspicions were correct, the two men did not get along. If she followed that train of thought, and Lyle Stanton supported his nephew, it would stand to reason to think Presley did not. But Jessie could be wrong. He could have pulled out all the stops to convince her, and she had to be honest where Jessie was concerned, a relatively naïve newbie to political reporting, that he was a decent guy.
“I would like to say something that isn’t recorded. Would you mind, Ms. Irvine?”
“Call me Grace.” She leaned over and shut off her tape recorder. “Off the record.”
“Grace, can I have your word you won’t print this?”
She nodded.
“This is very personal to me and I don’t publically discuss it. It’s too painful for my wife. While I’m not making excuses for her drinking, she’s never gotten over the loss. You may or may not know that my son died trying to save a young woman from a would-be rapist. He gave his life to help her. Imagine how I feel about what my nephew did. But I had to stay out of it for her sake.”
“That’s why you took the extended vacation through his trial? To keep her away?” She wasn’t getting the connection.
“You might not think it reasonable—to associate his trial with our son’s death—but my wife shares my concern about the assaults on campus. She chairs, chaired several boards and even volunteered at the rape crisis center. His arrest felt like a slap to her face. Then she fell off the wagon again. You can imagine what that did to our relationship. I’ve been a patient man. Thankfully, with this last incident, she agreed to go into a program. So you see, that’s why I stayed clear of it.”
He was sharing something personal. Trying to gain her sympathy, perhaps. She knew his son had been murdered. Only the details had never been released to the media in order to protect the underage victim he’d saved. “You were trying to protect your wife.”
“I was,” he said, nodding. “A lot of good it did her. She still went back to the bottle. I’m telling you this because I really do want you to understand who I am. I can’t come out and tell the public, not without dragging my wife into a yet another media circus. But I ask you to be sensitive to my predicament when you write your story.”
“I’ll even let you read it before it goes out. How’s that?” She wasn’t here to slam the man, just to find the truth. But if he did have something to do with Jessie’s disappearance, she didn’t know what. She was nowhere closer to finding her than before she came.
“That would be good. I have to say I can’t believe how accommodating your paper has been. First Jessie and now you. I really…I really hope the police find her.”
At Jessie’s name, Grace’s heart constricted. And the way he’d said it, like he cared, made he wonder just how well the two had come to know each other. “You and she got along?”
“You could say that,” he said, smiling to himself. “I’ve known Jessie for a long time. I hope the police find her.”
What the hell was he talking about? He knew her before the interview?
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m tired. I’ve had a long day. We can finish this tomorrow if you like. I’ll have Lily show you to your room. Let her know if there is anything you need.” He stood. “Stay and finish your tea if you like. Perhaps Daniel will join you. You two seem to be getting along fairly well. Goodnight, Grace.”
“Goodnight, senator.” She watched him leave, wanting desperately to have him explain how he knew Jessie. But she hadn’t told him Jessie was her roommate. Asking would make him wonder why she herself hadn’t been forthcoming with that information.
Her tea had grown cold. She picked up her cup and brought it to the microwave to reheat. Tea snobs would be aghast but she didn’t waste things if she didn’t have to. Her thoughts preoccupied with what Stanton had said, it took her several minutes to figure out the drawer just under the island counter wasn’t a stainless steel drawer but a microwave and then it took a few more minutes to understand how it worked. She finally slipped her mug inside and pushed the one-minute button.
“How was your interview?”
Grace jumped. “Way to sneak up on someone,” she said, her hand over her thudding heart.
“I wasn’t sneaking. You were just too busy figuring out that thing.” He pointed to the microwave.
“Still,” she huffed, her adrenaline spike ebbing. “Interview went fine. More than fine.”
“Are you going to share? Or is it top secret?” He leaned one forearm on the granite countertop.
“Most of it won’t help. I mean, I did get to see the man Jessie saw, but now I’m wondering…” She trailed off, unsure what exactly it was she was wondering. Jessie had acted strangely from the first day she’d met with Stanton. Had Grace misread the situation? Jessie had known the senator. How? And why the hell hadn’t she told Grace? Why had she agreed to do the story and not mention her acquaintance with the man? Jessie. The girl who didn’t lie had omitted to tell her she’d been acquainted with Presley Stanton. Grace could believe that of someone else, but Jessie? No way.
“You’re doing it again,” he said, twirling a finger in the general direction of her head.
“Huh?”
“You’re in la-la land.”
“I am not,” she argued.
“Did you hear the microwave beep?”
“It beeped?” She looked down at the timer. Sure enough it had stopped. She opened the drawer and pulled out her tea, holding the warm cup between her hands. This she could count on. Stick something inside a microwave and it would come out hot. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Be friends with
someone for five years and you might not even know them.
Daniel snapped his fingers in front of her face, startling her.
“Dang, girl. I hope you don’t do that crossing the street.”
“No,” she said, pushing passed him. “Only when I drive.”
“Good to know. So tell me. What’s got you all perplexed?”
“Cowboys shouldn’t say perplexed. Makes you appear like you’re trying to sound smart.”
He snorted. “I am smart. An accent don’t make me stupid. I read, remember?”
“Super, because I could use another brain.” Did her dad know the senator and Jessie were acquainted? Stanton didn’t sound like he’d been keeping it a secret. “Jessie knew the senator before the interview,” she said, lowering her voice just in case Stanton returned.
“And you know this how?” he whispered back. Then he held up a finger and went back out into the hall only to return a few seconds later. “Empty,” he said in a normal voice. “Whispering is for dirty words said in bed. So again, you know this how?”
She swallowed, trying to shake the image of one naked cowboy whispering said dirty words in bed. “Stanton.” She took a seat on the sofa, settling into the cushions.
“Your roommate never told you?”
“No, and you think she’d have said something when I gave her the story.” Instead, she’d complained she wasn’t qualified or experienced enough to handle the assignment. Damn it all to hell, she’d lied.
“He didn’t tell you how they knew each other?” He took a seat beside her, his thigh brushing up against hers.
She ignored it. For the most part. He was a hard man to ignore, even trying to understand why her best friend, the only best friend she’d ever had, lied to her. “No, I didn’t get a chance to ask.” And what else had Jessie kept from her?
“Maybe you misunderstood?”
“He clearly said he’d known Jessie for a long time. No misunderstanding. But if I hadn’t been suspicious enough about him before, I am now. Maybe that’s why her story had been in favor of the senator. He didn’t pull some political Jedi trick on her…they were friends.”