“FBI—from what I understand.”
Shit. “Any idea on who leaked it?”
“Doug’s working on that. I made some calls. But, Dana; I’m worried someone is trying to make it appear that someone in our camp leaked it.”
Dana sipped her coffee again. Doug’s assessment made sense. After all, several members of The House Committee on Intelligence were publicly insinuating that Candace and others had leaked classified information during her time in the Senate. It seemed an unlikely coincidence that classified information regarding Candace’s best-known adversary would occur the day she clinched the Democratic nomination. Ironically, it had been Candace who had worked to keep the story out of the papers, even when Dana had offered her opinion that the story was fair-game.
Petru Rusnac was a Moldovan oligarch, connected to the highest power brokers in Russia, Ukraine, and Serbia. Dana didn’t know all the details of Rusnac’s dealings. She’d heard the name over the years while working with Candace. She understood that Rusnac was sympathetic to what many referred to as “the old guard” in the region, namely The Soviet Union. That had been the extent of her knowledge until one of her sources at The New York Times contacted her about a story that landed on his desk. He’d been curious if Candace had any insight as to its validity. That’s when Dana had learned that Lawson Klein had a lengthy history of dealing with Rusnac, and that an investigation into their connection had been continuing for several years. Rusnac was suspected of numerous illegal and unethical activities including money laundering and extortion. Dana had heard those allegations before. That was a matter of public discussion in international policy circles. This story didn’t focus on Rusnac’s shady business practices or even his unsavory alliance with Russian autocrats. The allegation that The Times was investigating involved human trafficking. Horrible on its face, it was made worse by a plausible connection to real estate investments and purchases made involving Lawson Klein.
At first, Dana had been inclined to dismiss them. As she considered her response to Glenn’s news, she recalled Candace’s reaction to the story.
“I know, it’s crazy,” Dana said. “I thought you should know.”
Candace licked her lips and sighed.
“What?” Dana inquired.
“It might not be as crazy as you think.”
“Klein involved with Rusnac? Come on, Candy; this is somebody’s idea of a great novel after the election.”
Candace nodded. “Sit.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“I don’t know if Klein is aware of Rusnac’s business practices. I can’t say. I can tell you that Rusnac has been involved in almost every unethical and evil practice you can imagine. And, I can say with certainty that Klein has done business with Rusnac. He’s also done business in Moldova.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with Rusnac trafficking women?”
Candace was reluctant to elaborate on the story. If the paper had anything tangible, Dana would find out along with the rest of the world. Candace was not inclined to allow that to happen. Laura was part of the rest of the world. Learning that your father had been befriended by a man who enslaved innocent women was not something anyone with a shred of morality would want to hear. Finding out that your father might be beholden or worse, complicit in that practice would be devastating. As much as Candace Reid would have loved to eviscerate Lawson Klein in the press, this was not the method she would choose.
“Candy?” Dana asked.
“I can’t say what Klein knows or doesn’t, Dana. He sold some property to Rusnac.”
“Lots of people sell property to foreigners.”
“True. If that property became a place to filter women into the country who…”
“Oh, my God.”
Candace shook her head. “I know.”
“Why doesn’t someone shut it down?” Dana wanted to know.
“If only it were that simple,” Candace replied.
“I would think that getting women out of slavery would be simple.”
Candace nodded. “So would I. Not much that pertains to Rusnac is simple, Dana. That’s all I can tell you.”
“What do you want me to do? What do I tell him?”
“Lead him to think he needs serious vetting of the source.”
“Does he?” Dana asked.
“It’s always best to know who the source is.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you worried about this breaking because of Laura or is it something else.”
Candace offered an unconvincing smile. “Yes.”
“Dana?” Glenn called for his friend’s attention. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Can you stall it?” he asked.
Dana groaned. “It’s been a long time coming,” she said. “Probably not. We need to know who’s pushing it.”
“Do you want me to call Candy?”
“No. She has enough to deal with today.”
“Maybe, but if they break this…”
“I know. I have a flight back to New York at 1:00. I’ll make my way to Candy. I don’t think a call is the way to deliver this news.”
“Doug will try to keep it at bay a while longer.”
“Do what you can. Find out who is determined to get this out now.”
“We’ll try, but does it matter?”
“Oh, it matters.”
“Candy has her enemies. It could be…”
“Whoever it is, they aren’t just Candy’s enemy, Glenn. Whoever it is has a grievance with Lawson Klein too. Find out who it is.” Shit. Is it too early for scotch?
***
Candace sucked in a deliberately long breath and stepped through the door to her mother’s hospital room. The moment it opened, her eyes met her older brother’s.
“Candy.” David made his way to his sister and embraced her. “You should’ve gone home and gotten some rest,” he whispered.
Candace took a step back and smiled as best she could. “I needed to come.”
“I know.”
Candace looked over her brother’s shoulder at her mother. She closed her eyes momentarily to process the scene. Oh, Mom.
“JD.” David moved around Candace and extended his hand to Jameson.
“Hi, David. Sorry about your mom.”
“I know. It’s strange. We all knew this day was coming.”
“What you know doesn’t change what you feel,” Jameson offered.
Candace opened her eyes. She didn’t turn to the sound of voices behind her but she smiled genuinely. One more deep breath and she made her way to her mother’s bedside. Candace studied her mother for a moment and shook her head. Oh, Mom.
David followed Jameson’s gaze across the small room. “I’ll give you some time,” he said.
Jameson nodded her thanks. She moved to Candace’s side and put her hand on Candace’s shoulder.
Candace reached up and took Jameson’s hand.
“I think I’ll join David,” Jameson said. “If you need me…”
Candace’s reply came in the form of a gentle squeeze of the hand holding hers. She waited until Jameson’s footsteps passed through the door. Her hand reached over and brushed her mother’s hair aside. The woman lying in the bed was a shadow of the woman Candace recalled as a child. It broke Candace’s heart. For all the acrimony that permeated their relationship, Candace loved her mother. Marjorie Stratton, the debutante, differed in countless ways from Candace Reid, the politician. Mother and daughter had seldom seen eye to eye whether it had been regarding attire, education or family.
Candace’s hand moved to hold her mother’s. She’d always marveled at the older woman’s poise. She’d come to realize in the last few years how much her mother had influenced her. It wasn’t a topic she discussed with others—not even with Jameson. Pearl and Candace’s grandparents had shaped the way Candace saw the world. The compassion, tenderness, and affe
ction that she had always been shown on her stays in Schoharie as a child shaped Candace’s view of people. More than that, her time in what was now her family’s home had given her direction and purpose in life. For many years, Candace had scoffed at the notion that Marjorie Stratton has provided her with anything but frustration and feelings of inadequacy. That perception had changed measurably. Candace felt the warmth of flowing tears fall over her cheeks.
“I wish I knew what to say,” she confessed. She looked upward as if some voice might bequeath her with an answer. Slowly, her attention returned to her mother. “Something tells me you can hear me. I hope you can. I know you haven’t always agreed with me.” Candace chuckled. “Actually, you probably never agreed with me.” She sighed. “You did teach me some things that I didn’t realize until recently. So much is happening, Mom. I wish—I wish that you had been able to know Jameson. I think she would have changed the way you see so many things. She’s certainly changed the way I see life. She reminds me what matters most. You would’ve liked her, even if you didn’t admit it. Marianne didn’t want to admit it at first either. Now? I think Jameson’s the best friend she’s ever had. I know she’s mine.” Candace chuckled again. She closed her eyes to calm her rising emotions, blew out a forceful breath and opened them again. “So much is happening, Mom. Some days I don’t know what direction I’m supposed to take. Some days I just want to throw in the towel and forget all of it—escape to Schoharie, be with the kids.” Candace sighed as her tears fell without restraint. “What am I doing, Mom? I think I know, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything more today than I did yesterday. Every answer just seems to bring a thousand more questions.”
Candace’s eyes fell closed again. Her tears were threatening to turn to sobs. She sucked in a ragged breath and willed her emotions to obey her commands. Another deep breath, and another—one more, and she opened her eyes. A smile graced her lips and she gripped mother’s hand tenderly. “That’s what you taught me, Mom. I didn’t pay attention, did I? I couldn’t do this if you hadn’t taught me how to stand tall—how to appear confident and poised when inside every part of me is quivering with uncertainty. Jameson sees that. You saw that. I know you did. I didn’t understand that until now. Now, I understand. Someone is always watching—I understand.” Candace leaned over and brushed her lips across her mother’s forehead. “I love you, Mom. I hope you know that. I do. I’ll miss you.”
Candace’s head fell onto her mother’s shoulder. Marjorie had never been demonstrative. As Candace laid there, her thoughts wandered until they fell on a memory long forgotten. She soaked in the image. She couldn’t remember how old she had been—five or six, she thought. David had punched her during an argument. Her lip had split open, and blood had trickled down her chin. That memory had always been vivid. For some reason, she had forgotten the scene that followed. Now, she remembered with such clarity, she thought she might be transporting to a different time.
“David!” Marjorie yelled. “What on earth were you thinking?”
David shrugged. “She wouldn’t stop!”
“And your answer was to hit your sister?”
He shrugged again.
“Go to your room. Your father will deal with you later.”
“Mom!” David whined.
“Now.”
Candace sat on the ground with her face in her hands. Marjorie shook her head and scooped Candace up.
“Shh,” Marjorie hushed her daughter. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Candace clung to her mother as she was carried to the kitchen.
Marjorie kept her daughter in her embrace while she retrieved some ice from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel. She grabbed a cloth and wet it with some warm soapy water, placed Candace on a chair and knelt in front of her. Gently, she wiped the blood from Candace’s mouth and chin. She smiled sympathetically. “I know it hurts,” she said. “Candy,” she continued. “Remember that sometimes people will knock you down so hard you won’t want to get up. That’s when you need to stand up the straightest. Don’t you ever let them keep you down. You hear me? When they hit you, you stand up and you smile right back at them. You show them you are stronger even if you don’t feel that way.” She placed the cold towel against Candace’s lip and kissed Candace’s forehead tenderly. “You are stronger,” she whispered. She took hold of Candace’s hand and placed it over the makeshift ice-pack. “Now, stand up straight, go walk past your brother’s room, and give him a smile.”
Candace’s tears fell on her mother’s shoulder. Her arm wrapped as best it could around the woman, and she held on as if willing the memory to linger.
Jameson stepped up to the door and looked through the window. Her heart rose in her chest, nearly choking her. Few people would ever realize who Candace truly was. Jameson had seen the woman behind the stateswoman immediately. She’d recognized Candace’s inner child, the longings of a woman’s heart that most people never took the time to see. Those were the parts of Candace that Jameson loved the most—the raw vulnerability beneath the controlled surface Candace always managed to portray. She stepped back from the window. Candace needed time. Jameson would not intrude. When she was ready, Candace would emerge the picture of calm readiness even as sorrow tinted her expression. Jameson understood.
“She okay?” David’s voice asked.
“Not even a little bit,” Jameson answered honestly. “But she will be.”
***
“It’s going to print,” Dana told Glenn. “I can’t stop it. Candy’s managed to hold it for months. They’re confident about the sources. Where are we on that front?” she asked.
Glenn groaned. “Stalled indefinitely.”
“What’s Doug’s gut say?”
“It could be anyone, Dana. You know how this all works. Might be someone who wants Candy in their pocket.”
“Yeah, well, that won’t work. We both know that. Who would want this story out about Klein? Doesn’t seem to me that Wolfe would. Klein’s been lining the campaign’s pockets since the beginning.”
“Grant is digging.”
Dana sighed.
“Still don’t trust him?” Doug surmised.
“Right now, Glenn, the number of people I trust is shrinking by the minute.”
“I understand that. We both know this was inevitable.”
“Maybe so. The timing is what worries me. Somebody’s got an agenda. I’d like to know what that is and who’s behind it.”
“Yeah, I got that. Working on it. You do know that Candy will have the best idea what those answers are.”
“I know, but I’d prefer to go to her with those answers rather than ask her for them—particularly now.”
“I know, the timing sucks.”
Dana laughed. “Accurate.”
“Are you headed straight to Candy’s?”
“No. I’m stopping home first. JD called a little while ago. They’re all heading back to the hospital this afternoon around 4:00. Then, I guess it’s just a waiting game. She said the doctors told them it could be minutes or even days. I guess, their best guess is it will be minutes to hours. I just can’t believe this is happening now. They’ve never been close. It’s still her mother.”
“She’ll be okay, Dana. Candy’s tough.”
Not as tough as you think. “Yeah. I told JD to let me know when they’re headed home. I’ll talk to Candy then, not while they’re at the hospital.”
“You realize if she sees it and no one…”
“I’ll make sure she’s aware,” Dana said.
“Can’t you get them to just hold off one more day for Christ’s sake?” Glenn asked.
“Not this time.”
“Assholes.”
Dana laughed. “Accurate again. I’ll be in touch. You let me know if there’s anything else I need to know.”
“You’ll be the first.”
Dana put her phone in her lap and closed her eyes in the back seat of the car. “It never ends.”
***
“Hey.”
“Where’s David?” Candace asked.
“David headed down to get some coffees.”
Candace nodded.
“Candace?”
Candace made her way to the loveseat Jameson occupied. She took a seat beside her wife and shook her head. “I’m not sure what to say,” she confessed.
“You don’t have to say a word.”
Candace gratefully folded herself into Jameson’s embrace. She had no words and she had no desire to search for any. Lately, her days were filled with a constant search for the best way to explain everything from her feelings to her ideas. That was the nature of a politician’s public life. At times, that reality flooded into Candace’s personal world. She worried about her children’s needs and perceptions, about her staff’s energy level and enthusiasm. More than most realized, Candace Reid chose her words carefully. Words possessed power. That was a fact that many people liked to deny. It was a reality that Candace had come to understand early in her life. Words served as a vehicle to shape perception. That gave speech the power to incite action. Candace knew that how she addressed any situation in her life impacted the perception of those around her. She couldn’t censor her emotions and her beliefs, she could control how she expressed them to others. Jameson provided her safe place, the place where all pretense could evaporate and Candace could speak freely. Now, she had no words to express the feelings that rolled through her in waves. The only thing she desired was the safety of Jameson’s arms.
“You need a little rest,” Jameson observed.
Election Day (By Design Book 10) Page 3