“My pleasure,” she said as she walked over to the shredder.
“Hey! I worked all night on that. You can’t ignore this, Miles. You’re going to have to address it. Face it, your numbers are taking a nosedive. Faye Rich’s supporters have already jumped all over this.”
“Let them.”
Coy snapped his laptop closed. “Fine, if you don’t want to go on the defensive, we’ll just go on the attack. News of Faye Rich’s teenage indiscretions will be of interest to the media coming to the press conference.”
“Oh, sweetie, I think you missed the boat on that one,” Bernice said. She pulled up Faye’s campaign website on the desktop computer. The headline announced the disclosure of her teenage abortion. Miles’ stomach was queasy just reading it. But he couldn’t feel guilty. It would have likely come out sometime in the campaign. He took some consolation that she was able to prepare her family and get ahead of the story.
Coy unleashed a string of expletives that had Bernice red-faced again.
“You were my ticket, McAlister,” Coy hissed. “The up-and-coming Congressman who’d been practically green-lighted into the White House by the party. They called you smart and upstanding, an all-American guy that the heartland would love. I’ve got news for you, Mr. Squeaky-Clean-Miles-McAlister: Nice guys don’t finish first. It’s the candidates who are willing to do what they need to do who get elected.” He shoved his laptop into his bag, nearly spilling the tray of coffee. “Good luck trying to ride your morals into the Capitol, Miles. I’m out of here.”
He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
“If that boy had a lick of sense, he’d realize that Faye’s admission actually just helped our campaign.” Bernice picked up a blueberry doughnut.
The corners of his mouth turned up at Bernice’s use of the word “our.” He was in the race until the end, and if all he had was his hometown to carry him, so be it.
A phone rang in the front room and Bernice wandered off to answer it. Miles sank back down into the security of the leather chair.
“Let me help you, Miles,” Greer said softly.
“My image could use all the help it can get right now, Greer. But I’m not going to fall on my sword. I’m in this campaign for what I believe are the right reasons and I’m sticking to them. If you still want to help me, it’s going to be on those terms.”
“I admire that about you, Miles. And you know how much I respect you.” She leaned forward, scooting to the edge of her seat. “We’d make a great team, you and I.”
“Jesus, Greer, you can’t be proposing what I think you are.”
A pink flush spread over her face as she slumped back against the sofa. “Is it that horrible of an idea?”
She sounded a bit peeved and genuinely hurt. Miles moved from his father’s chair to the leather sofa beside Greer. “Greer. You have to know that I respect you, too. I care what happens to you, but as a dear friend. That’s why I can’t go through with a marriage of political convenience.” He paused in an effort to search for the right words. “I’ve known a great love in my life. And there’s nothing that beats that feeling. You deserve that, too. You deserve to spend the rest of your life with someone who’s going to revere you and not look at you as a political asset.”
Greer snorted. “Love is overrated, Miles. It can destroy you if you let it. Trust me.”
Miles’ gut clenched. He’d had no idea that his friend might have suffered heartbreak like he had. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
“My father has used me as a political pawn all of my life,” she said quietly. “Did you know I hate politics?”
He shot her an incredulous look.
“Mmm.” She smiled. “I hate everything involved with it. I only stay in the ‘family business’ so that my mother and father will take me seriously. They never gave me the time of day when my documentaries were about real issues. It was only when I moved into the political image consulting business that they saw a use for their grown-up photo op.”
“And you thought marrying into politics just to appease them would make you happy? You can’t live your life for your father, Greer.”
“If it’s any consolation, you were the only one I actually considered. My father’s other protégés are all . . .” She shivered, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.
“Thanks, I think.” Miles gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Selling out to please Daddy seems to be the theme of the day.”
The media had been busy all morning, portraying Lori as a spoiled rich girl who’d do anything to win her father’s affection. While Miles still couldn’t quite square up that image with the woman he’d been sleeping with this past week, Greer’s admission made the scenario seem more plausible. After all, he’d known the governor’s daughter for nearly five years and he’d never suspected she’d been living a lie all this time.
Greer pulled her hand from his. “I’m not sure I want to be lumped in with Mallory Dykstrom.”
“I’m not sure all the facts are out yet,” he challenged. “You and she may not be that far apart in what motivates you.”
She sighed heavily. “But it is a fact that you slept with her.”
Miles didn’t bother acknowledging her statement. He’d never understand what motivated jealousy among women.
“Does she know you’ll never love her, either?”
Her question baffled him. While he’d been friends with Greer for years, he didn’t feel the same distress at losing her as he felt about the possibility of never seeing Lori again. He chalked it up to chemistry and lust, once again cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel that same attraction to the woman sitting next to him. It would have made life so much easier.
“It was just a fling, Greer—one of those ‘heat of the moment’ events that just happened.”
She smiled slyly. “You keep telling yourself that, Miles. But I know you’re not a ‘heat of the moment’ guy. If you were, we’d be announcing our engagement.” Greer stood up from the sofa, smoothing her skirt. “So what’s the plan from here on out? I’m assuming you didn’t know who Lori was before last night?”
Miles nodded.
“Okay, so we need her to go on the record saying that. Maybe to apologize, also. We’ll keep going with the integrity ads that we have. We can portray you as being as human as the next guy while you use this as an example that it’s even more imperative that we pass legislation to get these types of crimes stopped.”
He stood as well. “Are you sure you want to keep your wagon hitched to my campaign? It could very well be a blow to your own credibility in this business. Not to mention your relationship with your father.”
She shrugged. “You’ll be my last hurrah in politics. I told you, I respect what you stand for. Once we get you elected, I’ll have plenty of time to decide what I want to be when I grow up. And you’re right; it’s time I cut the apron strings from Daddy. Watching what Mallory is going through has given me enough motivation.”
* * *
Lori sipped from the coffee Deputy Lovell had brought her from the Java Jolt. After months of serving it every morning, she’d become used to the unique blend. Cassidy had come by the station house after helping with the morning rush at the inn. She’d brought Lori a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a breakfast of leftover muffins Lori had made yesterday.
“I’m going to search the entire B and B from top to bottom,” the teenager said. “I’ll find that stupid pen and bracelet if it’s the last thing I do. Sheriff Hollister can’t keep you here forever.”
Lori smiled at Cassidy. The fact was the sheriff could only keep her for another ten hours. After that, she’d be in Matt’s custody. The idea of Sheriff Hollister holding her in the cozy Chances Inlet jailhouse indefinitely was certainly more appealing.
“Are you really who they say you are?”
Cassidy asked quietly. “I mean they’re saying you’re this greedy girl who just wanted her father to love her so you helped him steal from all those people.”
Lori tried not to cringe at Cassidy’s description of her. “Part of that’s right,” she admitted.
“You’re forgetting who I grew up with. I know the difference between a generous person who cares about others and one who . . . doesn’t.”
Reaching across the small table in the interrogation room where they were having breakfast, Lori linked her hand with Cassidy’s. “Thanks for believing in me. I’m glad you don’t let your past experiences cloud your relationships with others.”
“Is your dad the one you were hiding from?”
“Not exactly,” Lori explained. “I’m sure my dad is living quite comfortably somewhere.”
“He just deserted you?”
Lori’s lips formed a grim smile. “My dad is pretty good at that.”
“Yeah, I always thought my mom would change, you know? She’d disappear for a few days or sell my laptop for money to buy some blow and then beg me to forgive her. ‘It’s the last time,’ she’d say.” Cassidy snorted. “I believed her. Every time.”
“I never knew my dad really. My mom divorced him when I was two. But he was always this larger than life romantic hero to me.” Lori smiled in remembrance. “The gifts he would send me were amazing. He always seemed so important when he came to visit. I would get angry with my mom and stepfather every time he left.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “I’d beg for him to take me with him. But he always told me my mother wouldn’t let me live with him.”
“Sounds like your mother had some common sense,” Matt said from the doorway of the room.
Cassidy pinned the FBI agent with her belligerent glare. Matt was unfazed, shoving a mini lemon poppy seed muffin in his mouth. “Mmmm,” he said when he’d swallowed. “Your pastries are truly one of a kind, Mal.”
He’d showered and shaved somewhere after spending the night in the holding cell across from hers. Matt had refused to leave her despite the sheriff’s assurances that she wouldn’t disappear from the jailhouse. Clearly, the FBI agent didn’t trust anyone in Chances Inlet.
Matt gestured toward the lobby. “Your legal team has arrived. Since there are six of them, we’ll have to adjourn to the sheriff’s office.”
Cassidy stood. “I should get back to the inn and help change over the rooms. I hope the Bensons have left already. I don’t think I can be nice to that lady right now.” She hesitated before quitting the room. “You’ll still be here this afternoon, right?”
Lori met Matt’s eyes. Not if he has his way.
“We’ll stop by the inn before we leave,” he surprised Lori by saying.
Cassidy visibly blanched. “Promise?”
He nodded solemnly.
With one last agonizing look at Lori, the teen slipped out of the room. Matt sat in the chair she’d vacated.
“I hope you weren’t just placating the girl. She’s had a pretty crappy life,” Lori warned him.
Matt scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not a monster, Mal. I’m the same guy who was your friend.”
“Ha!” Lori choked out a laugh. “‘Friend’ is laying it on a bit thick, isn’t it?”
The FBI agent looked genuinely upset. “I was doing my job. Contrary to what you think, I don’t go around picking on innocent people.”
“Until me.”
“I truly believed you were innocent, Mal. Right up until the point where you ratted me out to your old man. Then you ran. I would have helped you.” He leaned across the table. “Let me help you now.”
“That would involve me trusting you, Matthew, and I think we’ve already covered that.”
He gave her a resigned look as he stood up again. “As much as I’d like to stall all morning so those stuffed suits can bill your father up the ass, I’d rather get you back to New York tonight. I’ve got tickets for the Yankees game tomorrow.”
“It’s not going to matter whether I’m here or in New York,” she said. “I’m still not going to cooperate with you, Matthew.”
“I wish you would, Mallory. Things are going to get ugly from here on out.” His charming smile was gone and his lively green eyes were determined as he lowered his voice to speak to her. “Believe it or not, I do care what happens to you. And when I get my hands on your old man—and I will find him with or without your help, Mal—I’m going to make sure they throw the book at him for the way he’s treated you.”
Lori swallowed painfully. She wanted to trust someone. And Matt was definitely one of the good guys. He’d been that way even when he was pretending to be her friend, she reluctantly realized. But the need for self-preservation was greater than her need for reliance and comfort right now. Keeping her own confidences, she led the way down the hallway to the sheriff’s office.
Matt wasn’t lying when he said a team of lawyers awaited them. Four men and two women were seated around the conference table. Two of the sharply dressed people were talking quietly on their cell phones. One of them Lori recognized from his visits to her father—Daniel Thomlin—who was likely the ring leader. He shot to his feet at the sight of Matthew at her elbow.
“Don’t say a word, Mallory,” the lawyer ordered. “Agent Kovaluk, you don’t have permission to speak with our client at this time.” He turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff, we’d like to meet with Ms. Dykstrom in private, please.” No one in the room was fooled by the word “please”—it was a command, pure and simple. The lawyer’s demeanor made her recoil, but the sheriff seemed to take it all in stride.
Sheriff Hollister stood up from his chair, indicating to Lori that she should take his place. She shot him a look of relief as she slid into the position of power within the small room. The sheriff gestured for Matt to precede him out of the office. “If there’s anything you need”—the sheriff directed his remark at Lori—“don’t hesitate to let me know.”
The door had barely closed when Mr. Thomlin began speaking. “This is a fine mess here, Mallory. If you had just remained in New York like you were told, we could have avoided all this nasty publicity.” Not waiting for her to respond, he turned to the lawyers at the table. “What have you got, Eric?”
“The sheriff hasn’t located the missing items. Apparently, he’s been searching the area pawn shops for at least a week and nothing has turned up,” one of the younger minions said.
“Have you disposed of the items yet, Mallory?” Thomlin asked her.
The breath left Lori’s lungs in a whoosh. “Excuse me?” she managed to choke out. Wasn’t her own lawyer supposed to assume she was innocent until proven guilty?
He huffed disapprovingly. “The stolen items. The sheriff won’t find them today, will he?”
“I have no idea,” she said incredulously. “Since I didn’t steal anything, I can’t possibly tell you when and where they’ll be found.”
Six sets of eyes stared at her as if she’d just said the earth was square.
Anger swelled in her stomach. The jerks all really did think she was guilty.
Mr. Thomlin cleared his throat. “If you say so.”
“I do say so!” She slammed her palm down onto the desk.
He looked at one of his other minions—one of the two who had a cell phone glued to his ear. “Where are we with the plea deal, then?”
“Plea deal?” Lori’s chest squeezed in panic. Surely he wasn’t talking about a plea deal for her?
“Yes, Mallory, a plea deal,” Mr. Thomlin said condescendingly. “Your father doesn’t want this to even reach the courts.”
Lori was taken aback that her father was even in communication with this blowhard, much less that he would help defend her. “But I just told you, I didn’t do it.”
The lawyer eyed her as if she were a recalcitrant toddler. “Not the theft. The money
laundering.”
“I didn’t do that, either.”
He all but rolled his eyes at her. “The deed to the restaurant was in your name. It will be impossible to prove you had no knowledge. A plea is your best bet. It will also appease the feds for the time being, which will give your father some peace.”
A roaring began in her head and her face grew painfully warm. Which will give your father some peace. Her father was selling her out. Again. He was going to let her take the fall for something she didn’t do.
“It’s for the best, Mallory,” Mr. Thomlin was saying—most likely in reaction to the look on her face. “Your father has asked that we pursue a deal that would get you to a minimum security facility—most likely the same one where Martha Stewart was incarcerated.” He spoke as though they were booking her a vacation at a resort, not sending her to prison. Lori’s head felt like it might explode any second.
“Sheriff!” she shouted as she jumped to her feet.
The door burst open a second later as Sheriff Hollister stormed back into his office. She was relieved to see Matt standing behind him. Surely this team of morons couldn’t strike a deal without the FBI agent’s backing.
“I’d like to go back to my cell,” she said, biting back the tears that threatened. “And these people”—she waved an arm at the room at large—“do not represent me. Do you hear me, Matthew? I’m not making a deal with anyone.”
Matt gave her that cocky grin she was used to. “Atta girl.”
“You heard her, ladies and gentlemen,” the sheriff said. “You’re off the case. Now get out of my office.”
Mr. Thomlin blustered while his entourage watched in stunned silence. “Don’t be churlish, young lady. Not after all your father has done for you.”
The air in the room seemed to crackle as she turned to face the buffoon who represented Dykstrom. “You tell your client, I know exactly what he’s done for me and to me. And from this moment on, he doesn’t have the right to call himself my father.”
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