Exclusive

by Sandra Brown

  “He killed a friend in what he claims was self-defense, but we have only his word on that. He’s hung up on a woman he can never, ever have. He lives like a hermit out in the boonies, which is weird and sort of spooky.

  “Even if he lived around the corner and was Mr. Upstanding/Involved Citizen of the Year, he’s made no secret of his opinion of me, which is that I’m a walking calamity, a disaster waiting to happen. Anyway, this entire conversation is pointless because I’m not interested in him, and anyway he’s disappeared, too. Okay?”

  “So how long after you met him were you in bed together?”

  “About ninety seconds.”

  “Jesus, Barrie.”

  “Yeah. A real professional approach, but only if you’re a hooker.” She sighed. “Since my career as a journalist is over, perhaps I ought to consider going into the purveyance of personal pleasure.”

  “You, a hooker?” Daily chuckled. “That I’d like to see.”

  “I’d have to charge extra for watching.” She swung her legs over the edge of the cot. “This conversation, which I began in the hope of boosting my spirits, has made me feel even more depressed. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “A shower won’t cure what ails you.”

  “Well, I’m going to shower anyway.” She dug into a shopping bag for a new set of underwear. As she clipped off the tags, she said, “If I could be granted one wish, Daily, it would be to pick up my life the day Vanessa Merritt called to invite me for coffee. I would decline.”

  “Meaning that now you’re convinced the Merritt baby died of SIDS, and that the rest of it was just a product of your bad judgment and active imagination?”

  She looked up at him sharply. “Aren’t you?”

  * * *

  “You look radiant!” Senator Armbruster smothered his daughter in a bear hug. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Daddy.” She returned his hug, but he sensed her restlessness and released her. Her smile was as bright as a ten-dollar diamond ring and much more counterfeit. “I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I don’t think radiant is the word I’d use to describe me.”

  “You just got up from weeks in a sickbed. What do you expect? You’ll get the color back in your cheeks in no time.”

  “I think she looks gorgeous.” This from David Merritt, who was buttering a blueberry muffin.

  The three were sharing a continental breakfast in Vanessa’s chambers. In Clete’s opinion, the last thing Vanessa needed was caffeine, and she was on her second cup of coffee. “Maybe you should spend a few weeks at home,” he suggested. “You could lie in the sun, sleep late every day, eat fattening southern cooking. What do you think, David? Should we pack her off to Mississippi?”

  His son-in-law’s best campaign smile was in place. He must have been practicing it. “I just got her back, Clete. I’d hate to have her leave again right away. Besides, she’s definitely on the mend. George has worked wonders for her.”

  The senator didn’t share his son-in-law’s opinion of Dr. Allan. “Night before last, he looked to be hanging on to his ass with both hands.”

  Vanessa was at her vanity table, trying on earrings. “Which should I wear?” she asked, turning to face them and holding a different earring to each ear. “I think the pearls are best, don’t you, Daddy?”

  “The pearls are fine.”

  “They were Mother’s.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “My junior year in high school, you let me wear them to a dance, remember, Daddy? I lost one, and you were upset. But I went back to the gym the next day and searched until I found it. My dress was pink. You had a fit because you thought the seamstress had hemmed it too short. My date was that Smith boy, the one who went to Princeton and then flunked out. I forget what happened to him after that.”

  Before Vanessa was diagnosed as manic-depressive, Clete had been confused and saddened by the violent mood swings he witnessed. She could be abysmally depressed, agitated, anxious, or hyper. But he’d rarely seen her as hopped up as she was now. She was either in the throes of a manic episode or high on an antidepressant drug. The symptoms were so similar that it was difficult to tell. But she wasn’t stabilized, which had been the point of her seclusion.

  David must have noticed her behavior, but he was making a concerted effort to ignore it. He interrupted Vanessa’s chatter to address her father’s comment about the doctor. “George wasn’t at his best the other night, Clete. And can you blame him? First he had the nurse die on him, then he couldn’t locate her next of kin. To top it all off, Barrie Travis showed up at the hospital with you and Gray in tow, creating a hell of a ruckus and a media event that we all could have done without.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Tell me she didn’t seriously think that the corpse was Vanessa.”

  “That little gal got an earful from me, I can tell you that,” Clete said, jabbing the air with his blunt index finger. “And I’m not finished with her yet.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Vanessa said, leaving the vanity. “Look at my arms. Chill bumps. It’s horrible to hear rumors about your own death.”

  “I’ll never forgive that woman for what she put me through,” Clete said. “I’ve known some irresponsible reporters, but she tops the heap. How in hell did she come up with that notion? What’s your version of the story, sweetheart?”

  “What story? Oh, you mean about what happened at Highpoint? It’s foggy. I really don’t remember leaving. When I woke up, I was in my bed here, and George was telling me that I was going to feel much better soon.”

  “And so you are.” David moved toward her, took her hand, and kissed her cheek. But Clete noticed that Vanessa quickly put space between them.

  “George told me that my nurse had had a fatal heart attack. I felt sorry about that, although I hadn’t actually met her.” She readjusted a heavy charm bracelet on her slender wrist. “This thing’s bugging me.”

  “What do you mean, you never met Mrs. Gaston?” Clete asked.

  “Just what I said, Daddy. I can vaguely remember her voice, but I couldn’t pick her out of a crowd. I don’t remember anything about what she looked like. Maybe I’ll take this off.” She slid the bracelet off her wrist and dropped it onto the table with a clatter.

  “George Allan led me to believe that the two of you had grown very close,” Clete said.

  “George is right,” David said. “You just don’t remember, dear.”

  “I never met her, David,” she insisted. “I ought to know if I did or I didn’t, and I didn’t. Why are you always correcting me? You always do that, and I hate it. It makes me feel stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “You treat me like I am.”

  “You were on medication, darling,” he said smoothly. “You became very attached to Mrs. Gaston, but because of the sedatives you were taking to help you rest, you don’t remember.”

  “Okay, okay, whatever.” She waved her hands. “Jesus, I can’t believe she died right there at the foot of my bed. That grosses me out.” She replaced the bracelet on her wrist and shook it. “I love wearing this bracelet. I like the way the charms jangle. Like sleigh bells at Christmas.”

  “Christmas will be here before we know it,” David said, smile in place again. “Then we’ll be ringing in the New Year. Election year. Let’s forget about Barrie Travis and the nurse and all the unhappy events of this year and concentrate on next.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “We’ve got a lot of campaign plans to make.”

  “I don’t want to think about that yet.”

  Taking the cue from his daughter, Clete said, “I agree, David. I think you’re jumping the gun a little. Let’s get Vanessa hale and hearty first. There’s plenty of time to make campaign plans.”

  “It’s never too early to plan.”

  Vanessa began wringing her hands. “Just the thought of it… Listen, David, I feel much better than I have in a long time, but I don
’t think I’m up to appearing at the press conference this morning.”

  Clete had been shocked to learn that a press conference was scheduled for eleven o’clock in the East Room. Vanessa was expected to attend. Her stylist had been summoned to the White House. She’d done wonders with Vanessa’s hair and makeup, but her skilled efforts hadn’t completely hidden the dark circles beneath Vanessa’s eyes, or the gauntness of her cheeks.

  “Why do I have to be there?” she asked anxiously.

  “It’ll only last a few minutes,” David said.

  “That’s no answer,” Clete said. “Why’s it necessary that she be there?”

  Tightly, David replied, “Because Vanessa dragged Barrie Travis into our lives, that’s why. That’s when all this started, and it culminated with that debacle in the emergency room. Rumors are flying fast and furious. The only way we can quell them is to address Mrs. Gaston’s death and explain exactly what happened.

  “Besides, the people have missed seeing their First Lady. You’ve received thousands of cards and letters wishing you a speedy recovery. They can’t go unacknowledged, Vanessa.”

  “Of course I’ll acknowledge them. I’ll get my staff on it right away. But can’t we delay the press conference? Just for a few days?”

  “It’s already scheduled,” David snapped. “Dalton would have a fit. Besides, if we cancel now, it’ll only generate more speculation on why you were at Highpoint under the care of a private nurse. I can’t afford any more negative press. Haven’t you already cost me enough?”

  “David!” Clete bellowed. “For God’s sake.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. I didn’t mean it.” He approached his wife, this time placing his hands on her shoulders. Clete could have sworn that she actually recoiled. “We’ve all been under a tremendous strain, but you more than anyone,” he said gently. “Skip the press conference today if you want. It isn’t that important. I shouldn’t have insisted that you appear if you don’t feel up to it.”

  Vanessa looked quickly toward her father, who saw in his daughter’s eyes panic and helplessness. But she said, “No, David, I’ll be there. It’s my duty as First Lady.”

  He pressed her shoulders. “That’s my girl. I wouldn’t have scheduled the conference if I thought it would cause you a setback. George has assured me that you’re strong enough. In fact, he told me that the sooner you get back into the swing of things, the better you’ll feel.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing. Dalton will deliver a brief eulogy to Mrs. Gaston. He’ll credit you with writing it, but he’ll read it. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty for the cameras. You can handle that, can’t you?”

  “Of course she can,” Clete said expansively. “What time does she need to be downstairs?”

  “Shortly before eleven. If you could stay with her until then, Clete, I’ve got some matters to attend to.” With that, David left the room.

  “You should eat something, Vanessa.”

  “I’m not hungry. I drank some orange juice earlier.” She crossed to the window and parted the drapes. “Daddy, I didn’t want to bring it up in front of David, but did I hear him mention Gray?”

  “Unfortunately,” he grumbled. He had decided not to tell her about Bondurant’s reappearance on the scene and wasn’t at all happy that David had let it slip. “I hoped we’d seen the last of Rambo.”

  “He’s here in Washington?”

  “He was. By now, he’s probably tucked tail and gone slinking back to Wyoming.”

  “You always hated him. You shouldn’t have. He was nice to me. I wish I could see him.”

  “Let’s not argue about him, Vanessa.”

  “What was he doing here? What brought him back?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “It can wait for another time. You’ve got plenty to deal with already.”

  “I want to hear about Gray,” she demanded in a shrill voice.

  Her composure was so tenuous, Clete obliged her. But only to a point. “I don’t know what brought him back,” he lied. “All I know is that he was in the company of Barrie Travis. I can’t think of a more hazardous combination. On the other hand, the two of them richly deserve each other.”

  “How did Gray link up with her?”

  “Who knows? What difference does it make? She’s as unethical as they come. Bondurant is… Why go into it, Vanessa? You know what a low opinion I have of him.”

  “He’s not like you think, Daddy. Not at all. He—”

  Clete laid his thick index finger vertically against her lips. “I don’t want to know, Vanessa.”

  “But you have to know. I have to talk about it.” There were fractures in the beautiful mask the stylist had created for the press conference. Her blue eyes were riddled with emotional turmoil.

  “Not now,” he said softly. “Later.”

  “Things are so messed up. I’m messed up, aren’t I? David’s just pretending I’m well. But I’m not. You know it too, don’t you? I’m… cracked on the inside, aren’t I? I can feel it.”

  “Shh, shh,” he said, drawing her close. Pressing her face into his lapel, he placed his lips close to her ear and whispered, “Listen to me, Vanessa. You’ve always trusted me to take care of things, haven’t you? Well, I’m still taking care of things. You’ve got to trust me. I’ll handle it. All of it. I promise. Okay?”

  She pulled away. He gazed deeply into her eyes, hoping that his message would penetrate her confusion and the drugs in her system. Finally she nodded.

  “Good. Now, go powder your nose,” he said cheerfully. “The First Lady of the U.S. of A. can’t appear on TV with a shiny honker!”

  She headed to the bathroom, then turned back. “Will Spence be there this morning?”

  “I suppose so. Why?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t seen him since I got back, that’s all.”

  The senator’s heavy brows pulled together above the bridge of his nose. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around in a while, either.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You’re as dry as a cornstalk in August.”

  David poked and probed, but, although it was uncomfortable, Vanessa didn’t protest. Her pleasure was derived from his futile attempts to penetrate her. “All my juices are gone, David. You dried them up.”

  “No, you used them up creaming for Bondurant.”

  Wedging his hand between their bodies, he separated the tender folds of flesh and rammed into her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her. This travesty of making love wasn’t even sex. It was domination. He was exercising his power over her, wanting to leave no doubt of his supreme authority.

  His insults had lost the impact they’d once had. Repetition had weakened their effect. With another guttural litany of obscenities, he climaxed. As he rolled off of her, he was gloating.

  “Before congratulating yourself, David, keep in mind that there’s no life in you.” She plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped away the semen between her thighs. “You’re sterile, remember?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Even if I’d known about your secret vasectomy, I probably would have taken a lover just for the experience of making love with a man who’s capable of giving life.”

  “If you say that again, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, David?”

  “I don’t think you want to know.”

  “Are you threatening me? You want threats? Okay. What about the night Robert Rushton died?”

  “Why do you keep dredging that up, Vanessa? It serves us both best to bury it, just like we did the kid.”

  She came off the bed but remained at its side, confronting him. Naked, the physical effects of her recent ordeal were startling. She had lost so much weight that her pelvic bone protruded grotesquely from her concave abdomen. Her skin had lost i
ts elasticity and hung in loose pouches where toned muscles had been.

  Ordinarily, she would have been frantic over such unsightly changes in her form. But she was unmindful of everything except her consummate loathing for the man lying supine on the bed.

  She’d been semiconscious when they transported her from Highpoint to Washington. This morning, she’d been as taut as a highwire. Drug juggling. That’s what George was doing for David. He was playing with her medication, keeping her high or low to suit her husband’s purposes. How much could her system stand?

  More stabilized now, and able to assess her situation clearly, she wasn’t certain that she preferred this soundness of mind. Cognizance bore a shocking reality—namely, that Nurse Gaston’s untimely death had halted David’s plans for her.

  She had endured the press conference like the well-bred politician she was. Standing between her husband and her father, facing the lights and cameras and microphones which had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, she wondered if anyone watching was aware of the terror that gripped her. Or if anyone had noticed the jewelry she was wearing. More to the point, had anyone noticed the piece of jewelry she wasn’t wearing?

  David hadn’t noticed. Emboldened by that small success, she said, “You think you’re so smart to have everybody believing that little Robert died of SIDS.”

  “Which is preferable to everybody knowing the truth about him, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you rather everyone believe the lie? You like being First Lady. What would happen to you if the world learned the truth?”

  “You’re not thinking of what would happen to me,” she said scornfully. “You’re thinking of what would happen to you. To make damn sure the truth never comes to light, Dr. Allan was going to kill me with my medication, wasn’t he?”

  “You’re delusional, Vanessa.”

  “No, tonight I’m seeing things with frightening clarity.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Too bad, David. You failed. You failed. I’m still here. Weaker, maybe, but with every intention of making your life a living hell, just as you’ve made mine.”

  “Yes, anyone can see how hellish your life is.” He sat up and gazed around at the luxurious surroundings. “You live in the most prestigious house in the nation. You’re married to the most important man in the world. You have so many people granting your every whim, you can’t possibly keep track of them all. You don’t even know the names of the people who make your life so comfortable and seamless.