Situation Room

by J. A. Armstrong

  Claire mocked him with another role of her eyes. “If anyone is insubordinate it’s you.”

  “That’s it—”

  Claire stood and placed her badge and gun on the desk. “Save your breath. I’m just curious, AD Breer, when was the last time you solved any case.” Brackett laughed. “That’s what I thought. If Toles here wants to deal with your bullshit, that’s her decision. I quit.” Claire turned on her heels and left the office.

  Alex threw her head back , closed her eyes, and groaned.

  “Do you share your partner’s views?”

  Alex opened her eyes and met AD Breer’s gaze. “What partner?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A WEEK LATER

  Jameson drummed her fingers nervously on her desk. Separation had always been a reality in her relationship with Candace. It remained an unpopular reality for them both. “What is wrong with you?” she muttered. “It’s only two days.”

  “Holding court with yourself?”

  Jameson looked up and was stunned to see Candace leaning in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  Candace laughed. “Hello to you too.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you again before I left.”

  Candace stepped inside Jameson’s office and closed the door. “It is only two days. You’ll be stuck with me for two weeks when you get back.”

  Jameson nodded.

  “Jameson?”

  “Are you really okay with this?”

  “Being stuck with you,” Candace tried to joke.

  “Me going to West Virginia.”

  Candace claimed a seat in front of Jameson’s desk. “Is this what you want to do—pursue helping New Roads?”

  “I want to see if it’s the right fit.”

  “Then, you need to go to West Virginia.”

  Jameson groaned.

  “Jameson, what is this about? We’ve talked about this for a couple of weeks. You know that I support you.”

  “But am I supporting you?”

  Candace took a deep breath and considered how she should reply. Jameson had received a few rebukes to her idea, some from close quarters. Candace wouldn’t lie to Jameson. Partnering with any program closely associated with Family Values International carried some political risk. Everything carried some political risk. She had no intention nor desire to sway Jameson away from projects that mattered. Candace wasn’t a novice when it came to politics and special interest groups. She’d taken the time to review New Roads’ programs independently. She’d had her Chief of Staff dig into the group’s financial resources. While FVI was a major contributor, it was not New Roads’ sole source of funding. She trusted Jameson’s instincts and she admired her wife’s intentions.

  “You are always supporting me,” Candace said. “Stop allowing people to make you question your instincts.”

  Jameson shook her head.

  “Jameson—”

  “I hear you. But, Candace, when it comes to designing buildings, to finessing a structure, or—I don’t know, building something—I trust my instincts in that arena. This? This is your field of expertise. I don’t want to do anything that could cause you issues down the line.”

  Candace nodded her understanding. “Everything anyone in this family does—publicly speaking, every decision I make, every policy I put in place, veto I deliver, speech that I give—all of it will cause me an issue with someone at some point. You know that better than most.”

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Jameson commented.

  “What’s that?”

  “Keep from doubting yourself.”

  Candace roared with laughter. “You, of all people, know that’s not true.”

  “Maybe not, but you approach things confidently.”

  “I have to, and so do you. I didn’t want this job because I hoped to win a popularity contest.”

  “I know that.”

  “Yes, you do. Things have changed for you, though. You have an official office—an international presence, and people whispering into your ear constantly. That can be distracting. I know Laura means well. Dana means well. People think they are looking out for you and for me.”

  “And, you don’t think they are?”

  “To a point. You and I both know that Laura can’t be objective in this case. Her father makes that impossible. And, Dana?” Candace chuckled. “Like eighty-percent of the people in this building, she’s already thinking about the next election. I’m not suggesting they aren’t focused on their jobs today. I am saying they are looking four years down the line.”

  “I know you’re right. I just—”

  “Trust yourself. I trust you.”

  “I know that you’ve been struggling lately,” Jameson said. “You’re restless. I also know you can’t tell me everything. I understand. I don’t want to add to any of your stress.”

  Candace smiled. Jameson. She moved across the room and sat in Jameson’s lap. “Stop worrying about me.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Candace leaned in and captured Jameson’s lips sweetly. “I’m all right. This is a good reminder for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I need to take the advice I give more often.”

  Jameson grinned. “Probably true.”

  “Go to West Virginia. See how you can help.”

  “It’s not too late for me to—”

  “Do you feel this is what you want to do?”

  “You know that I do. I can’t explain it. The moment I read about the program I felt like I was supposed to get involved. But—”

  “But?”

  “What if my baggage with Craig is clouding my judgment?’

  “What if your experience with Craig is what gives you clarity?” Candace challenged.

  “Clarity?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think anyone would see my baggage as clarity.”

  Candace sighed. Jameson still carried guilt about her cousin’s death. Guilt might be misplaced, but that didn’t make it any less real to a person. Candace knew that. What a person knew did not always equal the way a person felt. Some part of Jameson would always wonder if Craig’s path would have differed had Jameson stayed closer to home. Candace wondered if Jameson had ever taken the time to consider that both their paths would have been changed. Everyone carried baggage. Candace didn’t see Jameson’s desire to help someone change their life because of a lesson she’d learned as baggage. She viewed Jameson’s need to help as clarity.

  “Don’t you?” Candace asked.

  “Clarity?” Jameson chuckled. “What if…”

  “There are no what ifs. We’ve talked about that a million times. You’ve told that to the kids a million times. I’ve heard you.”

  “I just don’t want my shit to cause you a shitstorm.”

  Candace smiled. “That was poetic. Please stop questioning yourself. I think that losing Craig is something that you will always carry with you. Part of that is lingering questions that you will never be able to answer. We all have those. Set them aside. Trying to help people because you were unable to save someone you loved is not baggage. It’s action. I told you a long time ago, politics is about people. Too many people lose sight of that, Jameson—people close to us. Don’t you forget that. Politics is not about elections. It’s not about campaign speeches and popularity polls. We’re here to try to make a difference for as many people as we can in as many ways as we can. We’ll both fail. The goal is to succeed more than we fail. If you can look at yourself in the mirror and say that you did your best, that you made the decisions you made because you wanted to help—then what anyone says doesn’t matter.”

  “I wish I had a tape recorder.”

  “Why?”

  “So that you could listen to your advice. Maybe you should play back your words before bed.”

  Candace sighed. “Maybe.”

  “I hear you. I will always worry about how my decisions effect you.”

  “I know. That
goes both ways. Go to West Virginia. Enjoy a couple of days away from the madness.”

  Jameson pulled Candace close and held her. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything that you don’t know.”

  “No, but I needed to hear it, and maybe you did too.”

  Probably so.

  ***

  THE NEXT DAY

  “Missing JD?” Dana asked.

  “I always miss her,” Candace said. “This is good for her.”

  “Are you really taking the afternoon off?”

  “If by off you mean that I will not be in any type of office, yes.”

  “Cooper will be thrilled.”

  “I know. Selfishly, I’m a little glad that Jameson is away tonight.”

  “Ah, you get Coop’s full attention.”

  Candace shrugged. There was no point in denying Dana’s statement. “It gives me a reason to pull away, and a reminder that I shouldn’t need a reason to pull away.”

  “Give yourself a break, Candy. It’s not like you have much choice most days.”

  “There’s always a choice, Dana. I need this time as much as Cooper does.”

  “Worried about leaving him for two weeks?”

  “Not worried. Aware. I have something planned that I think will make the time go a little faster for him.”

  “Let me guess, sending him back to New York for a bit.”

  “Four days. It’ll be good for Pearl too. She misses home. I know she does.”

  Dana nodded.

  “What? Did Pearl say something to you?” Dana asked.

  “I think she’s a little concerned about you—if you want to know the truth.”

  “I wish everyone would stop worrying about me.”

  Dana laughed.

  “What?”

  “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Candace sighed when the intercom beeped.

  “Madame President?”

  “Yes, Janine?”

  “Secretary Gorham is on the line.”

  “Thank you.” Candace looked at Dana. “Sorry—”

  “I get it. Buzz me when you’re done so that we can review this afternoon’s briefing.”

  Candace nodded her agreement. She waited for Dana to close the office door and picked up the call. “Jen.”

  “I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” the secretary of state apologized.

  “It’s not—not unless you have bad news.”

  “I don’t think I’d define it as bad.”

  “But you wouldn’t define it as good either,” Candace guessed.

  “More like expected.”

  “Go on.”

  “Ambassador Grigg called me this morning,” Secretary Gorham offered.

  “Problems in Poland?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Candace detected reluctance from her Secretary of State to deliver whatever news Candace needed to hear. “Jen?”

  “Candace—it hasn’t broken—the news. It will—soon.”

  “What news?”

  “Jeremy got a call from one of his resources in Ukraine. There was an attack on a group of lesbian activists in Kiev early this morning.”

  Candace sucked in a deep breath just as her phone beeped again and a knock landed on the door to the Oval Office. Shit. “I think your news has reached other ears,” she commented. “Okay, I need as many details as I can get as soon as I can get them. Meeting here in an hour.”

  “Candace, I—”

  “I know. Just get me everything you can from your end. I’ll see you shortly.” Candace hung up her phone and took another deep breath. “Come in.” She wasn’t surprised to see her Chief of Staff, Don Milton standing beside Joshua Tate. She shook her head.

  “I assume someone beat us to the punch,” Don said.

  “I just got off the phone with Jen. How bad?”

  “Five dead,” Tate said.

  “How?”

  “Not certain. Some type of explosive device. It was a meeting in preparation for a conference in Belgium.”

  Candace massaged her eyes and stilled her emotions. For any other president, this news wouldn’t warrant comment without question. For Candace, this event demanded a press conference. She was more than a face for women or for Americans, she was a beacon for the international LGBTQ community. Bigotry existed across the globe. Ukraine was already on her radar for more reasons than she cared to count. She would need to speak clearly, carefully, and with conviction. She would also need to act decisively. She sighed and shook her head. “God damnit.”

  Tate’s jaw clenched. The last thing Candace needed at the moment was an international issue that would raise her profile as “the lesbian president.”

  Candace looked back at the two men. “I told Jen to be here in an hour. One hour. I need all the information you can get me. Who directed this? Does it have political backing? Was it an individual, a group? Get me everything and anything you can find. Everything. One hour.”

  Tate and Milton nodded their understanding.

  “Close the door behind you. One hour, gentlemen.” Candace was tempted to indulge in a glass of scotch. She picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

  “Two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. This can’t be good,” Alex said.

  Candace chuckled despite the reason for her call. “Five lesbian activists dead in Ukraine.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know this is not within the scope of what we discussed—”

  “Everything is within the scope,” Alex disagreed. “You want me to see what I can find out.”

  “I’ve called a meeting in an hour. I probably have just about that long before it breaks on the news.”

  “I’ll call you before anyone walks into the office,” Alex promised.

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Candace?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s none of my business, but maybe while you wait you should call Cass.”

  Candace smiled. “You read my mind.”

  ***

  “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice called into the small office.

  “Yes?” Luke Monroe asked.

  “I’m sorry. There’s a call for Ms. Reid.”

  Jameson pulled her phone from her pocket and groaned inwardly. She rarely silenced her calls. She wanted Luke Monroe to have her full attention and had directed Laura to do the same. Four missed calls from Candace was not a good sign. She breathed a sigh of relief at the text message that read ‘No one is hurt. I do need to talk to you.’

  “I’m sorry,” Jameson apologized. She turned to the woman hovering in the doorway. “I’ll call her from my phone.”

  The woman nodded her understanding.

  Jameson sighed and shook her head. “I am sorry.”

  Luke held up his hand. “I would guess that being married to the president means being on-call almost as much as she must be.”

  “Good guess. Is there—”

  Luke stood. “How about Laura and I take a walk and find some fresh coffee? You can use my office.”

  “I can—”

  “It’s fine, Ms. Reid.”

  “Jameson.”

  Luke smiled and nodded. “Take your time.”

  “Thank you.” Jameson held her breath as Laura followed the New Roads’ Director out of the office. She lifted her phone and waited.

  “Hi.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Candace sighed heavily.

  “Candace.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

  “Candace—”

  “I also didn’t want to take the chance you’d hear this from anyone else.”

  “What?”

  “There was an attack in Ukraine, Jameson—an attack on a small group of lesbian activists. They were preparing to head to a women’s conference in Belgium.”

  “Oh no. How bad is it?”

  “It’s not good.”

  “Are you okay?”

&nbs
p; “No. And yes.”

  “What are you going to do?” Jameson asked.

  “Get as much information as I can. Make a statement.”

  “Has it hit the news yet?”

  “Just starting to trickle.”

  “Candace, I know this is not what you need right now.”

  “It’s not what anyone ever needs.” Candace grew silent.

  “What can I do?” Jameson asked.

  “Have a productive meeting in West Virginia.”

  “If you need me—”

  “They’ll start asking you questions, Jameson. I’ll forward Laura a copy of my statement and the basic facts.”

  “I can leave early.”

  “No, you can’t. Something is always going to happen. Neither of us can stop everything.”

  “Maybe, but we both know that this isn’t just something—not for us.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Candace agreed. “That’s why we both need to be prepared to speak to it, not just about it. How is it going there?”

  “Too early to tell.”

  “No sense?”

  “Luke seems genuine and open.”

  “To your help?”

  “And to me.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Candace wanted to know.

  “I hope so.”

  “Still skeptical?”

  “Cautious.”

  “Don’t be too cautious,” Candace advised.

  Jameson chuckled. “I hear you. I’m happy with the tenor of our conversation.”

  “Good. Concentrate on what you are doing. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Because that will happen.”

  Candace laughed. “I’m all right. I just want to be sure I address this appropriately.”

  “Like everything?”

  Candace laughed again. “Touche. I love you.”

  “I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Jameson didn’t waste a second; she opened the browser on her phone and searched the news. Trickles were already mounting into a steady flow of news about the attack in Kiev. She understood that Candace’s presidency heightened any news that pertained to the LGBTQ community. She shook her head at the initial reports. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

  ***

  Cassidy answered the phone certain who would be on the other line. “Not the best day.”