by Carsen Taite
“Why do you do it? Live in the spotlight, I mean. Do you like it?” The questions were out before Stevie could censor them into something more subtle, but she waited impatiently for the answer.
“It’s not a matter of like or dislike. Public service is a calling. Surely you know that or you wouldn’t work the job you do.”
“I don’t think there’s a lot of comparison.”
“Why? Because my job requires me to win the approval of crowds of people I don’t know? Does it make it less worthy because it requires majority vote?”
“That’s not fair, but you do raise a good point. There are dozens of ways you could serve the public without having to put a public face on it.” Stevie smiled. “Not that it’s not a very nice face.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“Maybe you could move to New York and tell the citizens about your endorsement of my face.”
“Maybe I could just tell them here if you’re going to run for president.”
Meredith’s face clouded. “I have no idea if that’s going to happen, at least not this term.”
“If you do, you’d have to hit the road soon. The New Hampshire primary is right around the corner.”
“But between now and then there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas and at least a dozen Senate votes that need my attention.”
“And here I was hoping there might be other things that need your attention.” Stevie looked down, wishing she hadn’t spoken her desire, but Meredith reached out and tilted her chin back up so they were eye-to-eye.
“Only one person has my attention right now.” She squeezed Stevie’s hand and almost imperceptibly started to lean in. Stevie held her breath, her heart thudding in her chest, but just when she thought Meredith was going to kiss her, Meredith merely leaned close and whispered. “I think we should schedule a proper date. May I take you to dinner this weekend? Someplace public and not in a basement?”
There were all kinds of reasons to say no, but the question she wanted to ask earlier no longer mattered. If she hadn’t been sure the wedding was a date, she was certain now of Meredith’s intentions, but it wouldn’t be easy. The swell of anticipation around Meredith’s candidacy would make any dinner out a press magnet, but Stevie was powerless to resist the pull of her presence. “That would be perfect.”
Chapter Five
Meredith followed Jen into the crowded conference room at the Democratic National Committee headquarters and feigned patience as she shook the hands of the power brokers who all rose to greet her, but she didn’t offer any comments about the latest developments in the race. She’d instructed Jen to handle the preliminaries to keep things from going off the rails.
“I’m sorry we had to postpone this meeting,” Jen said while everyone took their seats. “but the rumors from Drudge don’t dictate Senator Mitchell’s schedule—the citizens of New York do.”
“We’re wondering if the senator might be interested in expanding her voter base.”
The comment came from Jeremy Peregrine, deputy director of the DNC. His smile seemed genuine, but Meredith read a level of apprehension beneath his friendly visage, which told her exactly why they were here. The party had been scrambling since Connie Armstrong pulled her name from contention. None of the other challengers had sufficient national name recognition to pull off a win against the Republican front-runner, Christopher Bosley, and the clock was ticking for anyone new to enter the race. It was already almost too late, which was likely why Jeremy had nearly had a stroke when Jen had called yesterday to reschedule the meeting to today.
The reason for the postponement was pure strategy. Meredith didn’t want to be seen taking a meeting with the DNC hours after Drudge reporting she was running, as if the news was driving the facts instead of the other way around. She’d left Stevie outside the Quarry House and gone back to her apartment to think hard about the road ahead, and she still wasn’t sure where she stood or the true source of her hesitancy. Several times the day before she’d come close to picking up the phone and calling Stevie, but she’d stopped before she dialed. What would she have said? Hey, I know we barely know each other, but I’m thinking seriously about this presidential run. Any thoughts?
Ridiculous, but maybe her desire to reach out to someone who might be objective was a factor of feeling like everyone around her viewed her candidacy as a foregone conclusion. And it was—someday. But now, the party was rocked by the scandal of what happened to Armstrong, and some of that animus would no doubt bleed over onto her, never mind the fact she hadn’t been remotely involved with anything to do with Armstrong’s campaign.
“It’s a matter of honor and duty.”
Meredith’s head snapped to the right. The words had come from Cecily Landau, the finance chair of the DNC, and she wished she’d been paying attention so she didn’t have to ask her to repeat them. “What did you just say?”
“It’s time for us to have a woman president. Connie was on track to bring that trophy home, but now it’s up to you.”
She’d never liked Cecily and she liked her less now. “Really? My gender is my number one asset? I always thought it was my brain.” She felt Jen press lightly against her arm, and she tempered the tone of her next words but not the content. “No one, I repeat no one, wants to see a woman in the White House more than me. I’ve worked my entire adult life as an advocate for equality of all kinds, but I’ll be damned if you are going to push me into running by using the gender card. Not going to happen. If I choose to run, it’ll be because I’m a qualified candidate, just like everyone else in the race. Understood?”
Cecily nodded slowly, but her lips twitched slightly, and Meredith could tell she was itching to say more. She didn’t give her the chance. “I’m not convinced that this is the right time. It’s no secret that I plan to run someday, but until now I didn’t think that would happen until after Connie Armstrong entered her second term. Accelerating my plan by six years is not an ideal approach.”
“And that’s why it’s important for you to know that your party will rally around you,” Jeremy said.
“What about the other candidates in the primary?”
“Stroud and Denst are only running to promote their key issues, energy and choice. Neither one of them expect to win, and they’ll rally behind the front-runner as soon as we get through Super Tuesday if not before. Lankin wants to win, but it’s not his time and he knows it. They’ll start dropping like flies after New Hampshire.”
Meredith let that one go. The DNC couldn’t be seen as forcing anyone from the race, but they would have their ways of showing who their favorites were and making sure the right funding and press bolstered their choice. Politics wasn’t always pretty, but was definitely effective. “Okay, but there’s one thing we haven’t discussed, and you can bet it’s going to be the first thing that Bosley or the PACS that support him will feature in ads.”
The room became silent, and Meredith knew they all knew what she was talking about even if none of them wanted to broach the subject on their own. She looked at Jen who raised her shoulders as if to say she wasn’t sure how to approach it either. “Really? Is no one willing to talk about the fact that not only would I be the first woman president, but I’d also be an out lesbian holding the highest office in the land? Someone needs to start talking about it because you can bet the other side will.”
More silence. After a few uncomfortable moments, Cecily spoke first. “It’s an issue, certainly, but I’m not sure we need to be the ones bringing it up. Like you pointed out, the focus should be on your qualifications, not personal matters that have nothing to do with your ability to do the job.”
“Are you really that naive?” Meredith said. “Whoever brings it up first gets to craft the language used to frame the ‘issue.’” She shuddered. “We really need to find another word for my sexuality.” She glanced around the room. “And you all need to stop flinching at words like sexuality. I refuse to let my sexual orientation become the central issue
in this case, and the way we do that is to normalize it right out of the gate. I want to see some ideas about strategy right away.” She looked over at Jen who was grinning broadly. “What?”
“You sound like someone who’s decided to run for president.”
Meredith grinned back. “Maybe I am.”
The rest of the morning was spent making plans. There were teams to assemble and messages to craft, but as everyone in the room started discussing the details, Meredith felt like she was in two places at once—completely engaged in this new adventure and hovering above the table watching her future play out, enthralled with the idea and terrified at the same time. Either way, she wanted to reach out and tell someone her good news, and Stevie’s name was the first one that came to mind.
* * *
Stevie looked up at the sound of her office door opening, ready to snap at whoever was disturbing her concentration, but when she saw it was Hannah she motioned her in. “Please shut the door behind you. The closer I get to the deadline on this motion, the more I get distracted with interruptions.”
“Sorry, but I’ve got one more. Alice is out sick and needs someone to cover a detention hearing at one.”
“Can’t you get anyone else? Seriously, Hannah, I need to finish this.”
“I promise I asked at least three other people first, but everyone’s got a setting in some other court this afternoon. Alice said you owed her one.”
Stevie sighed. She did owe Alice a favor for handling a motions hearing for her last month, one that was supposed to be simple, but had turned into an all-day affair. “Give me the ten-second rundown.”
“It’s a drug case. The usual, conspiracy. He’s not the first person listed in the indictment, but he’s not the last either.”
“Gotcha.” The first person listed in a typical indictment was viewed as the head of the conspiracy, and the culpability trickled down from there. “Did he take the interview with pretrial services?”
“He did, but I think that his answers might be questionable at best. On top of that, Alice is worried he’ll fail a drug test.”
“Judge won’t hold it over for a day?”
“It’s Reinhardt.”
Stevie nodded. Judge Reinhardt ran a tight ship, and if you didn’t follow his deadlines, you would be cast off the side to drown. “You tell Alice this makes us even. Reinhardt’s going to detain this guy, so it shouldn’t take too long.” She reached out a hand for the file and started studying the sparse contents while Hannah ducked out of her office. After a few minutes, she determined there wasn’t much she could do except make an impassioned argument. Not exactly what she’d geared up to do today, but putting on a game face was the nature of the job.
Reinhardt’s courtroom was milling with attorneys when she walked in. She scanned the defendants in the jury box and matched one of the faces to the booking photo in her file, but when she started to walk over, she was distracted at the sound of someone calling her name from the other side of the courtroom. She turned to see Emily Watkins, the prosecutor from the Barkley case.
“Hey, Em, I’m just here for Alice on the Ortiz case. She and a bunch of others are out with the flu. You have a rec about detention?”
Emily looked confused for a minute and then shook her head. “Not mine. That’s Simon’s case. Actually, I went to your office looking for you and Hannah said you were down here. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.” She glanced around the room. “In private.”
At that moment, the bailiff entered the room and commanded everyone to rise as he announced the judge who dashed to the bench, slid into his seat, and gazed out expectantly over the crowd. Reinhardt was a seasoned judge who didn’t waste time. He called the first case and tapped his finger on the bench impatiently, making Stevie wish yet again that she’d told Hannah no since she hadn’t had a second to talk to the client. When the attorney for the first case walked to counsel table, Stevie walked with them and took a seat in the first row of the gallery next to a pretrial services officer she recognized.
“I’m here for Alice Luther. Do you have the report on Manuel Ortiz?” she whispered, barely getting the question in before the judge started his usual recitation from the bench. The officer handed her a sheaf of papers, and Stevie skimmed the information quickly. Any positive thoughts she’d had about getting bond for Ortiz faded as she read the report. No local family ties, lots of priors, and he’d conclusively failed the drug test administered after his arrest. Those things combined with the fact the crime he was charged with carried an overwhelming presumption against granting bail to the defendant, meant this entire exercise was an uphill battle.
When Reinhardt called her case, she hurried to counsel table, while the bailiff led Ortiz to the chair next to hers. “Judge, I’m standing in for Alice Luther, who is ill,” Stevie said, deciding to risk his anger. “May I have a brief moment to confer with Mr. Ortiz?”
He glared at her, but she stared back at him, knowing from experience that showing weakness would only make him mad. She had a reputation for fighting hard for her clients, and she knew Reinhardt respected her tenacity even when she threatened to throw his tight schedule off the rails.
“Very well,” Reinhardt said, waving a hand impatiently.
Stevie turned to Ortiz and shoved a copy of the PSR toward him. “I assume you know you failed the drug test,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She flipped through the pages of the report until she got to the part about his criminal history. She pointed at the extensive list. “Is any of this not true?”
He scanned the list and shook his head. “I’m not getting out, am I?”
“No. I can stand up and make some arguments, but the crime you’re charged with carries a presumption that you should be kept in custody until trial. There are a few exceptions, but you don’t qualify for any of them. The best thing to do is to set a trial date, get discovery from the prosecutor, and see if you have a viable defense or if you can work out a deal.”
“Okay. Let’s do all that. I can handle myself inside.”
How refreshing to have a client who actually communicated with her. Too bad he wasn’t hers for the long run. For a second she considered offering to trade the Barkley case for this one, but something about William Barkley intrigued her, and she wasn’t ready to give up on him just yet.
After Ortiz was squared away, Stevie walked out of the courtroom and scanned the hall, almost grateful Emily was nowhere in sight. She wanted to know what she had to say about Barkley’s case, but she could find out later—after she’d finished working on her motion. She headed for the elevator, eager to get back to the office, but Emily was waiting by the elevator bank.
“We need to talk,” she said, her tone ominous. “Do you have a minute to come by my office?”
Stevie hesitated for a second before giving in. She’d be working late this evening, but if she could get this meeting out of the way, maybe it would clear a path for her to focus on everything else she had to do. “Sure.”
The prosecutors’ suite of offices was a lot like theirs. Lots of young attorneys, bustling around, but the vibe was a little more tense, like they were scared to show any signs of humanity lest it affect their ability to put people behind bars. She followed Emily past the cubicles to Emily’s office, one of the few that had a door, befitting her standing as a veteran AUSA. She purposely didn’t sit, hoping Emily would take the hint that she was in a hurry.
“That box is yours.” Emily pointed to a small box sitting on a table by her desk. “Don’t be fooled by the size. There’s a hard drive in there, a mirror image of the one we got from Folsom in response to our subpoena. It’s pretty extensive.”
Great. Stevie managed a fake smile as she mentally factored a large document review into her already overblown schedule. “Thanks. What’s up with the early discovery? You have another couple of weeks before you have to produce this stuff.”
Emily sighed heavily and steepled her fingers, pressing
them to her lips like she was conflicted about whether to respond. Stevie’s inner voice whispered that she should just go and get back to work on her motion, but curiosity rooted her in place. They’d known each other a long time, and while almost all of their interaction had been in the role of adversaries, she respected Emily as an opponent and a person. Stevie finally sat down in the chair across from her desk. “Spill.”
“The case agents asked me not to tell you yet, but it’s my decision, not theirs.”
“You’re right about that,” Stevie said, hoping to urge her along.
“What your guy did was bad, and he’s looking at going away for a while.” Emily tapped her fingers on the desk for a few seconds and then crossed her arms. “But we have reason to think that there’s a bigger problem with Folsom Enterprises.”
Stevie instantly perked up. “Like what?”
“I wish I could tell you specifics, but I can’t. At least not right now. Let’s just say we believe there are other leaks, but the company is stonewalling us.”
“I thought Folsom was fully cooperating with your investigation of my client.”
“They were, which makes their lack of assistance now pretty glaring,” Emily said.
“And you want to find out if Barkley knows anything about these other leaks?”
“Yes. It could be very beneficial for him to talk to us.”
Stevie heard the unspoken promise. If Barkley ratted out his employer, the bigger fish, he could cut a deal for a better sentence. And if he didn’t happen to know anything, well then, he was an unlucky bastard. Exactly the conundrum she’d described to Meredith on their unofficial first date. “You’re going to have to give me something to work with here. I’m not going to ask him to start spilling company secrets without an idea of what you’re looking for and some specific guarantees about what you’re willing to do if he helps you.”
“What’s your general feel for him?”
Stevie spent a moment contemplating the question, and longer wondering how much she should share about the fact her client barely communicated with her, making the idea of him outing an entire conspiracy perpetrated by his former employer ludicrous at best. She skated the question. “He seems like a nice guy. Pretty young to be caught up in any of this.”