Thomas had promised that Sean could ask any questions he wanted. They could meet again, as often as Sean wished, to sort out the answers. There was no pressure. Along the way, the two men would decide what kind of relationship they would have moving forward.
CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION
“Since we missed breakfast, I want to take you somewhere special for lunch,” Jon said.
Sarah looked up at him, startled. “Like this? I’m a mess.”
He swept a hand dramatically over his own wrinkled clothing and rubbed his unshaven chin. “And I’m any better? You’re fine just the way you are. You never have to change for me.”
“But I still have some pride. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready.”
She washed her face, put her hair up in a ponytail, and changed her sweats to jeans. “So, where are we going?” she asked as they walked to his car.
Jon smiled. “You’ll see.”
While he drove, she closed her eyes and rested. She loved that about Jon. He didn’t always have to talk. He could simply be with her. It was exactly what she needed right now.
At last she spoke. “I just realized I did the same thing Sean did. I fled. Didn’t think about anything or anyone except myself.”
He turned toward her. “Yes, you and your brother are more alike than you think. But Sean ran away from everything familiar. You ran toward what was familiar. That’s a big difference.”
It was a signature Jon statement—subtle but clarifying.
“You’re right.”
Several minutes later, they drew up to a little restaurant called The Springs in Maple Springs. It was almost directly across the lake from her family’s home in Chautauqua Institution.
She sighed as soon as she saw it. “I love this place. Their crab cakes are homemade—to die for.”
“I know. You told me a long time ago that this was your all-time favorite restaurant.”
“And you remembered.”
He winked. “Of course.”
They entered to the tantalizing aroma of sizzling burgers and slid into a corner table.
Her father might love the Athenaeum, but this was Sarah’s favorite—the kind of place where you could get a great burger with cheese for $6.95, and dinners for $10.95. Where the owner of the place went from table to table and talked with his customers. It was a place where she wasn’t a Worthington. She was just Sarah.
They both ordered burgers with the full works, and crab cakes. Sarah was surprised how hungry she was as they awaited their food. When Jon excused himself for a moment to go out to his car, she was curious. But he didn’t explain.
When the crab cakes arrived, Jon grinned. He took a birthday candle out of his shirt pocket, stuck it in one of the crab cakes, and then pulled out a small lighter. “Voilà—a candlelit lunch.”
It was beautiful—a reminder of the simpler side of life.
“How on earth did you have a birthday candle and a lighter? You don’t smoke.”
“No, but I keep them both stashed in my car. I always find a way to celebrate my kids’ birthdays, and it’s often on the spot.”
She smiled. The more of his heart he revealed, the more she was hooked.
54
NEW YORK CITY
Sean and Elizabeth were munching on pantry offerings for a belated lunch when she gave him a nudge.
“Think you should give your sister a call?”
He sighed. “Yes, but I’m wiped out. I’m not sure I can handle a lot more right now. And Sarah can be . . .”
She nodded. “I understand. But it may be easier than you think.”
Sean eyed her. “And why is that?”
She grinned. “Jon’s taking the brunt of her frustration on your behalf.”
“Yes, that.” He chuckled. “Brave guy.” He reached for the phone and dialed Sarah’s number.
Within the space of seconds, a masculine voice answered her phone.
“Jon?” Sean asked. “Is Sarah all right? I wasn’t able—”
“We’re working things out,” Jon said calmly. “Give her a bit more time, and I’m certain she’ll have plenty to say to you. In the meanwhile, don’t worry. I’m here for however long I’m needed.”
Sean didn’t doubt it. With Jon, his sister was in the safest of hands.
Even with the abrupt end of the conversation, Sean breathed easier.
CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION
“Thanks for that,” Sarah murmured as she and Jon strolled her mother’s favorite cobblestone path. “I wasn’t quite ready to talk to him. Want to process a bit more before I open my mouth.” She didn’t miss Jon’s smirk and quickly added, “I know I can tend to be a bit spontaneous and—”
“Maybe hotheaded at times?”
“Yes, that.” Sarah paused. “I still haven’t apologized for hammering you twice, have I?” She looked down, fidgeting.
He clasped one of her hands and turned her toward him. “No need. I really do understand. The past is the past.” Jon tugged her to begin walking again. “But as we were saying, those pictures with the Polar Bear Bomber will come to light eventually. No doubt of that. There will always be unscrupulous people who’ll use anything to climb the ladder—politically or otherwise.”
She lifted her chin. “So we don’t let them win. We embrace the truth and tell it boldly at the next press conference.”
“And turn it to your favor at a critical point in the election. Imagine, an honest politician.” Jon laughed. “With nothing to hide.”
She sighed. “Except the parentage of one of her brothers.”
“That’s something you and your family will have to work out.” He frowned. “But I don’t think revealing that private matter is the right way to go. Some things should stay private.”
“And you think it will stay that way with me running for president? I’m amazed I have a couple of days to myself, with no media tracking me. Good thing too.”
“Must be a novel experience for a Worthington.” Jon grinned. “By the way, your father was right when he told you siblings it was time for a Worthington to be at the helm of America.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You knew about that?”
“Yeah. Sean was pretty ticked when he left that family gathering. I got an earful afterward. But your father was right back then. He just didn’t know the one running for president would be his baby daughter.”
She whacked his arm, then grinned back.
Jon’s belief in her meant everything. It gave her wings to fly. She rolled her eyes at herself. Even in her head, that thought sounded so cheesy, like a bad commercial. But it was the truth.
Jon had helped her see the strength of character in both Thomas and Ava. Yes, something had happened between them that was morally wrong. But afterward she had honored her husband, and he had honored his wife, and both had stayed away.
No, neither was perfect. Neither am I, Sarah thought ruefully. Her mother, the paragon of virtue and the perfect wife in Sarah’s eyes, had fallen from her pedestal. With Jon’s help, Sarah saw her mother’s loneliness, her desperation to feel loved. She had always known her father was focused on his career, but she’d never considered the high price that had exacted on her mother.
And Bill? When had he discovered the truth about Sean and come to grips with it? Sarah wasn’t sure. Yet now he and his wife were on a second honeymoon to Australia. The power of her father’s love and his ability to forgive and move ahead had swamped her emotionally earlier that day. Once again, Jon had allowed her to cry it out, with no judgment.
For the first time, her perfect family had revealed their imperfections.
And what have I lost along the way because of my own drivenness in my career? she asked herself. That was a question she could wallow in for some time.
But Jon was right. The past was in the past and couldn’t be changed. It was how they chose to handle what happened from here forward that would make the difference.
Her father’s warning from long ago
edged into her mind. “Far more events than you could ever imagine are at play here.” Had he been trying back then to tell her to be careful? Because he knew or at least suspected that Sean wasn’t his son by blood?
“We need to have a family conference,” she announced suddenly to Jon.
He nodded, as if that was a foregone conclusion and he was just waiting for her to arrive at it.
“Drew too,” she added. “But he likely knows everything anyway.”
Jon squeezed her hand. “That man is a vault for secrets. And he is part of the family.”
“We’ll get everything out on the table between us. No more secrets. Without secrets, nothing can be held over our heads.”
They stopped and sat for a minute on a bench overlooking the water of Lake Chautauqua.
“I refuse to have those photos revealed by surprise during my campaign. So I’m going to cut any potential gossip off at the knees,” she determined.
“Sounds like a good plan. You going to run it by your family first?”
“Yes.”
“What about Sean and Thomas?” He stared toward the water. “You think Thomas told his wife and son about their connection?”
She frowned. “Somehow I doubt it, with a woman like Victoria. If she knew, she would have used it for leverage. Though it is possible she and Spencer know. However, in my interactions with President Rich, there wasn’t even a hint that he had any connections with my family. Of course, I wasn’t looking for them then.”
“Remember when I got that tip in the newsroom that your mother had had an affair?”
She swiveled toward him. “I never let you explain about that, did I?”
“Not really.” He raised his eyes to hers, a twinkle in them. “You were, shall we say, a little combative.”
She sighed. “I am sorry about that. So, what did it say?”
“The note was anonymous and addressed only to me. It said something like, ‘If you like history and mysteries, try this one: Bill and Ava Worthington visited Camp David when Thomas Rich was president of the United States. Only Ava and Thomas stayed. What does that say to you?’”
Sarah narrowed her eyes in thought. “So it didn’t say they had an affair, just largely hinted at it. But no hint toward a baby? Sounds to me like somebody was fishing.”
“I agree. Tips are usually addressed to the Times in general, or sent multiple times with details to heighten their chances of getting through to someone who might be interested in checking them out. This was sent one time, straight to my attention.”
“So whoever it was knows your reputation and your ability to uncover truth,” she theorized.
“Possibly. Or the source wanted me to dig and clarify what had happened because they didn’t know.”
“Only one person makes sense,” she mused.
He said it first. “Spencer Rich.”
“You’re right, because Victoria and Thomas are already settling their divorce. She has nothing else to gain. But Spencer? Maybe he’s trying to find out if he has a brother so he has something to hold over his father’s head. Or if he confirms his half brother is a Worthington, he’ll try to force me out of the Republican race. He’s already in so much trouble over the quid pro quo and funds from ISIS for his campaign, he may be grasping at anything to save him.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jon agreed.
“Would you go with me to the family conference, Jon?”
He didn’t seem surprised. “Anything you want.”
“Okay. My parents will return to New York in a few days. I’ll call them as soon as they’re back. But I’ll call Will right away.”
NEW YORK CITY
Will was deep in conversation with Drew when he received a call from his sister.
“Sarah. You all right?”
“I am,” she said with her usual determination. “But we need to talk. Is Drew there? If so, close your door and put me on speakerphone. He needs to know this too.”
Once Will’s office was secure, he told her, “Shoot.”
He had expected an earful for not telling her the full truth about Sean. Surprisingly, she didn’t even mention that. She was calm. He was impressed. Jon clearly had worked wonders in his little sister. Maybe with him in her life . . .
“You’re listening to me, aren’t you, Will?”
He refocused. “Of course.”
“Jon,” she directed, “tell Will and Drew about the note.”
So, Jon was still there with her. Will and Drew exchanged a bemused glance.
After Jon had filled them in on the contents of the tip he’d received, they all agreed—it had to be Spencer Rich, and he was fishing for information.
“That means it’s likely he doesn’t know the full truth,” Drew reasoned. “He may guess about the affair, but not about Sean.”
“Exactly,” Will said.
“So we hold our cards to our chest and don’t let him see any of our next plays until they happen,” Sarah added. “We’re all good at that.”
“So what’s next?” Drew asked.
“After we announce the plans to Mom and Dad and Sean and Elizabeth, and get their agreement, I’ll ask Sean to arrange for a press conference.”
55
EN ROUTE TO NEW YORK CITY
Darcy was known to be persistent, but she’d never call three times back to back unless it was important. Sarah phoned her from Jon’s car as they drove back to the city. She’d left her car in Chautauqua.
“And just where have you been?” Darcy demanded.
“Later,” Sarah answered swiftly. “Just tell me why you called.”
“He finally cracked,” Darcy announced.
“Carson, you mean?”
“Yep.” Darcy seemed jubilant. “Felt the net closing in. Gave us details to show he’s a good citizen.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“It was Stapleton who directed Carson, but Sandstrom clearly agreed with it. However, Carson said Stapleton made it clear, without saying so directly, that he had orders from the highest possible source.”
“Meaning, of course, Spencer Rich,” Sarah interjected.
Jon raised a brow at the name and threw a questioning glance Sarah’s way.
“There was no doubt of that in Carson’s mind,” Darcy explained. “Justin probably didn’t even know he was being filmed. Carson just paid him an extra couple hundred bucks to show up at that certain bar and chat up the guy Carson gave him a picture of. He didn’t ask why. He was just happy to have the money.”
“Did Carson say how he met Justin?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, and here’s where it starts to get interesting. He says Stapleton told him exactly where to find the kid. Told him to offer Justin a job as a street actor for a day. Carson claims all he did was set up the deal. He told the kid he’d deliver a package to him at a specific time, and Justin met him on the subway to pick up the backpack. From there, he’d go straight to the American Frontier building.”
“Did he tell Justin what was in the backpack?”
“No. At first, Carson claimed he didn’t know himself.” Darcy blew out a breath. “Then, after a little pushing and a nod from his lawyer, Carson said there was a lot of pressure on him coming from all directions—Sandstrom, Stapleton, and indirectly the president. All of those men said the Arctic situation needed to turn around in the media and that Will couldn’t be elected, or it could blow their long-term plans of controlling the White House. It was just a little chunk off their building, and it would turn sympathy AF’s way. Nobody would get hurt. It wasn’t a big deal. So Carson agreed to do it.”
“I’m sure it was tough to convince a man of his caliber,” Sarah said sarcastically.
“Carson says Stapleton had given him an envelope to pay the kid a few days afterward, when things settled down. Carson told Justin to meet him on the first floor of the building in Times Square. But Carson claimed the kid didn’t show. So he waited around until he saw cops arriving, then hightailed it out
of there. He tried to reach Justin and then Stapleton but couldn’t. He saw on the news that a guy had jumped off the top of the building, put two and two together, and panicked.
“Stapleton finally called Carson back, and they met. Stapleton calmed him down. ‘You don’t know the kid was the jumper. We’ll just try to call him again in a day. Maybe he just got nervous,’ he told Carson. He also asked Carson to scribble down the number of the burner cell he’d used with Justin. Then he told him to keep the pen and the envelope of money as a bonus for his work.”
“Okay, stop right there,” Sarah said. “If Stapleton delivered the backpack and all the goods to Carson, Stapleton would have bought the cell phone. Wouldn’t he already have the burner phone number?”
“Ah, I knew you’d catch that.” Darcy sounded triumphant. “But when I asked Carson that, he just looked blank. He said, ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that. Guess I must have been too upset to think straight.’”
“So Stapleton set Carson up to take the fall if anyone connected them with the bomber,” Sarah reasoned. “The contacts, the payoffs, the backpack, the envelope of money he kept, his fingerprints on the pen that wrote the suicide note.”
“Bingo. And I’m guessing Stapleton didn’t take Carson’s call right away because he was busy himself—likely entering Michael Vara’s apartment and planting the suicide note. When we drew up this likely little scenario, Carson was more than eager to prove his story. Said he kept a backup of the video from the bar in a safe in his apartment and was willing to give it to us.” She laughed. “Then he started claiming that he should be in the witness protection program because it wouldn’t be safe for him anywhere.”
“Bet you walked out after that request, huh?”
“I left him and his attorney to argue over the Cokes and donuts. But we still don’t know what led Justin to the roof, much less to jump off it that night. And we still can’t identify those fake cops. It’s downright aggravating.”
“But you will,” Sarah said with confidence.
“Oh yes, we will.”
A SECURE LOCATION
“Finally found one of them,” he told the man. “Frederick Simms. The other fled to an unknown destination long ago and isn’t likely to come back soon, if ever. Simms was more than willing to talk, once we connected some dots for him.”
A Primary Decision Page 20