by J. L. Brown
Zoe pointed up. “Do you hear what’s playing?”
“Sade,” Jade said.
“Thought you would like that, being from your era and all. Do you want to order takeout? There’s a great new Japanese restaurant in Dupont Circle that delivers.”
“You know I don’t eat Japanese food.”
“Why not? You’re half Japanese. Your mother—”
“Zoe,” Jade said, “this isn’t a social visit.”
She placed a blown-up drawing of Zoe’s tree tattoo on the coffee table between them.
“What is this?” asked Zoe, sitting up.
Jade placed another drawing on the table and tapped it. “The Japanese symbol for ‘progress.’”
Zoe’s eyes became huge. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw it. Last year. When you covered me with a blanket.”
“I need to wear tighter clothes,” Zoe muttered to herself.
“These tats are related to some cases I’m working on. Who’s the artist?”
Zoe stood. “This is crazy. Are you investigating me? Again? What for? I thought we were friends. Best friends. If this is the way you treat me, I feel sorry for your enemies. Isn’t this abuse of power or something? Doesn’t a crime have to be committed?”
“We are friends,” Jade said, standing as well. “That’s why I’m here. Alone. This is your chance to tell me the truth.” Jade picked up the photographs and returned them to her briefcase. “Crimes have been committed, and I think you’re involved. Do you have something to tell me? I can get you immunity.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Were you involved with the death of Congressman Barrett or setting up Noah Blakeley? You were a hacker in college. A good one. All along, we’ve thought foreign agents were responsible, but now I think you were involved in one or both cases.”
Jade’s eyes never left Zoe’s face.
She looked for a sign that Zoe was lying: A shifting of the eyes. Swallowing. Clearing of the throat. Grooming gestures. A pause before responding.
Zoe paused, swallowed, cleared her throat, and ran her hand through her short hair. Her eyes blinked rapidly.
The FBI believed that only a sophisticated hacker—or hackers—had the ability to pull off the Robin Hood heist of millions of dollars from corporate and individual bank accounts. All the ill-gotten funds had been used to help people by providing low-income housing, jobs, and education. All good causes. All causes that Zoe believed in.
Cyber didn’t believe the perp kept any money for himself.
Or herself.
In college, Stanford had suspended Zoe for two weeks for changing everyone’s grades in her poli-sci class to As. The reason: she wanted everyone to be a winner. She was reinstated only when she agreed to join the university’s information security department, assist with counter-cyberthreat efforts, and promise never to use her skills improperly at the university again. As far as Jade knew, Zoe had kept her promise.
And Jade should know; she’d been Zoe’s roommate.
Although Zoe was capable of committing the Robin Hood heist and altering the manifests in the Barrett case, she didn’t possess the resources to pull off these crimes alone.
Jade hadn’t told anyone of her suspicions. Her friend deserved a chance to come clean first.
Zoe’s silence spoke volumes.
“Who are you working for?” Jade asked.
“My organization helps pro—”
Jade stepped closer, looking down at her friend. “Zoe, who do you really work for?”
“Get out!”
The two women stared at each other for what felt to Jade like minutes.
Placing a hand on Zoe’s shoulder, she said, “I’m worried about you. Are you in over your head? If so, I can get you out. But if you don’t tell me, I might not be able to protect you.”
Anger flitted across Zoe’s face before compassion took its place. She placed her hand over Jade’s. “You’re my best friend, and I love you. I can’t tell you anything, but I will tell you that you need to stop investigating me or anything else to do with the Robin Hood and Barrett cases.”
Something in Zoe’s words reminded Jade of what Micah had said at the conclusion of the Robin Hood case: “Move on.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.
“Do you know Micah Alexander?”
Zoe blinked. “No.”
Jade yelled, “Why are you lying to me?”
Zoe put her hands over her ears. “Stop! Stop with the questions. Or else!”
“Or else what? Is that a threat?”
Sighing, Zoe pulled her hands away and shook her head. Her eyes beseeched Jade’s.
“It’s not a threat, Jade. It’s a warning.”
@TheGodOfVeritas: President Fairchild invited some important people to a Kennedy Center Gala next week. Why doesn’t she ever invite the common people? #shame
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Washington, DC
Jade read the paragraph again, still disturbed by her conversation with Zoe the night before. A chasm had erupted between them, and Jade wasn’t sure it could be crossed.
Movement at her office door made Jade shift her gaze from the email she’d been reading.
A man poked his head in. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Jade laughed—she hadn’t done anything. It still looked the same as when he’d occupied it. “Ethan!”
Hopping out of her chair—his chair—she ran to him, giving him an uncharacteristic hug.
He hesitated, then hugged her back.
She pulled away from him. “What are you doing here?”
He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a black suit, pressed white shirt, and—she knew without looking—suspenders underneath his jacket. She could see her reflection in his polished shoes.
Looking rested and fit, he smiled. “Running, as a pastime, is overrated. I’m ready to get to work. And I want my office back.”
*
Jade sipped champagne in the small red-and-gold room adjacent to the presidential box at the Kennedy Center. She had come alone and was unacquainted with the other invitees. She watched them mingle with each other.
She wasn’t one for mingling.
She was still thinking of Zoe. Had she been too hard on her? But Zoe was involved somehow in whatever was going on with the president as well as the Robin Hood case.
She and Zoe hadn’t spoken today.
The door opened, and she started to rise, expecting President Whitney Fairchild. Instead, Kyle Madison entered, wearing her customary tailored black pantsuit and crisp white shirt, an outfit that cost more than Jade’s monthly rent. Kyle’s medium-length shampoo-commercial hair shimmered as her green eyes found Jade’s. Jade froze momentarily midrise and then stood to greet Kyle, who smiled. Jade started to respond in kind until she realized Kyle wasn’t alone.
Following close behind Kyle was Brittney Summers, with her sandy complexion and long blond braids. She sort of looked like Prince in her purple women’s tux.
“I’m surprised you’re here, Agent Harrington.” Kyle held out her hand, squeezing Jade’s hand firmly before letting go.
There was a diamond on the ring finger of her other hand.
“Same here, Ms. Madison,” Jade said.
“Being one of her minor donors has its privileges,” she said, smiling. “I believe you’ve met Brittney.”
Jade locked eyes with Summers, the tension between the baller and former baller on display like a scene from a bad teen movie.
Jade shook Summers’s hand. “How’s it going?” she said.
Summers raised her chin. “What’s up?”
This had been the extent of their conversations when they played against each other.
As the mature adult, Jade broke eye contact first.
“I love the symphony,” Kyle said, seeming to enjoy the tension. “Don’t you?”
Jade wouldn’t know. This w
as her first time. Before she could respond, an older woman made an entrance. And it was an entrance. Jade recognized her from television. She wore a black fitted dress, her neck wrapped in gold. Her bracelets tinkled as she made a beeline for Jade.
“Hello, I’m Senator Maureen McAllister, but you may call me Mo.” The tiny woman hugged Jade, and Jade awkwardly hugged her back. The senator pulled away. “I don’t believe in highfalutin titles. Do you? You’re that famous agent I’ve read so much about. What a pleasure to meet you. You’re prettier in person. Where’s your family from?”
Slightly off-balance in the wake of the senator’s staccato delivery, Jade responded, “Uh… I’m an army brat, so… everywhere.”
“Well, thank you and your family for your service. This here is my husband, Jimmy.” Mo patted his chest. “We call him Nub. He doesn’t want to be here, but he knows who wears the dresses in the family.” She winked at Jade.
Jimmy’s eyes sparkled—he was a man who liked a good time. The way he looked at his wife reminded Jade of how her father used to look at her mother.
“How’re you doing, darlin’?”
Jade pointed at the small Mississippi State pin on his collar. “Basketball or football?”
He grinned. “All sports. But women’s basketball is my favorite.”
“Good man,” she said.
Mo and her husband moved on to introduce themselves to Kyle and her fiancée and the others in the box.
Next to enter was an attractive middle-aged black woman also wearing a black dress. She, too, came straight over to Jade.
Jade was anxious to meet her as well.
“Vice President Bates,” Jade said. “Truly an honor.”
“Oh, put your hand down and give me a hug. I’m a fan of yours. Please call me Jo. All my friends do.”
Jade glanced over at Mo and back at her. “The three of you are the real deal. You, the senator, and the president are as close as it appears on TV.”
“If we were younger, the press would call us Charlie’s Angels, but at our age, they’ll probably call us the Golden Girls. And we’re just getting started. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“I bet,” Jade said.
A man stepped into the box. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America.”
Everyone turned to face the door. Entering alone, Fairchild wore a gorgeous blue evening gown with a diamond necklace and earrings. She was followed closely by Secret Service Agent Josh McPherson.
Fairchild shook hands with the other guests in the box before approaching Jade. After exchanging pleasantries, she asked quietly, “Any progress on the Shakespeare Killer?”
“Not yet. I hope to have something to report soon.”
Hopefully tomorrow.
As the president asked to be kept informed, Jade gazed over Fairchild’s shoulder; there was movement by the door.
Another secret service agent had entered.
Jade stared open-mouthed at the agent.
The president followed Jade’s gaze.
“Remember me?”
The agent wasn’t speaking to Jade, but to Fairchild, who appeared confused.
The agent whipped a gun from behind her back and pointed it at the president.
For Jade, everything slowed down.
“What are you doing here?” someone yelled. It sounded like Kyle.
Jade wondered the same thing. She had a brief vision of a woman coming up to her table at the jazz club on Capitol Hill, and another of eyes meeting hers across the pillows.
Jade pushed the president to the floor. Josh dove to cover Fairchild as Jade lunged for the gun.
Don’t be afraid, the president had said at CJ’s funeral.
A loud boom filled the enclosed space.
Something pinged into Jade’s chest.
A grunt, sounding as if it came from her, preceded a burning sensation that radiated to other parts of her body. She slammed into the floor where the agent had stood.
Why would Brook be dressed up like a secret service agent?
Why would she try to kill the president?
Kill me?
Screaming. Footsteps. Someone shouting Jade’s name. Sounded like Kyle again.
Suddenly she felt tired. So tired.
Touching her chest, she gazed at the dark liquid on her fingers.
She needed to stay awake.
The pain was unbearable.
I need to close my eyes. Just for a little while.
She saw her parents’ faces.
I can’t wait to see you.
Then she felt nothing.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
The White House, Washington, DC
“How’s our friend?”
“The same.”
“I hope she makes it,” he said.
“Me too.” Whitney spun in her chair to look out the window at the Rose Garden. “What’s on your mind, Cole?”
He never called to chat.
“Wanted to tell you something before you heard it from one of those busybodies in Washington.”
Whitney’s heart dropped. Was it about Cameron?
Keeping her voice light, she said, “Present company excluded?”
“Ashley’s pregnant.”
“Oh… that’s wonderful news.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m too old to have another kid.”
“You have some control over that, you know.”
He laughed. “That I do. By the time this kid graduates from college, I’ll be seventy-eight years old. They’ll be wheeling me in on a gurney to his graduation ceremony. If I make it that long.”
“Age gives us perspective,” she said.
“Tell that to my body.”
“You’re a good dad.”
His breathing heavy, he said, “I miss my boy. CJ. I should’ve been more understanding, but I didn’t understand him. He was different from the boys I hung out with growing up. From me. I won’t make the same mistakes this time.”
“All parents make mistakes, Cole. No one provided us with a manual. You can only do your best.”
“I don’t feel like I did my best with CJ.”
He sniffed. She gave him a moment.
“But that’s not the only reason I called.”
She braced herself. “Oh?”
“We’ve selected a name, regardless of sex.”
Whitney was perplexed. Perhaps he did just want to chat. “Okay…”
“Reagan Fairchild Brennan, after our two favorite presidents. You’re Ashley’s, by the way, so don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure what you said to her when she came to visit you at the White House. Girl power stuff, I bet.”
Caught off guard, Whitney teared up. This time, she needed a moment. “I’m speechless. Honored. And it’s women power, Cole.”
“Oh brother,” he said. “We’re not going to let the kid tell anyone his middle name. It’ll be one of those old embarrassing family names that no one ever talks about.”
She smiled. “Even so.”
“And that’s not all. You know how every time there’s a mass shooting, and we conservatives say we need to put money toward mental health, but we never do it?”
She didn’t bother to answer.
“Let’s do something about it. For real this time. In honor of my son. What do you say?”
“I say yes.”
He clapped. “Hot dog! I’ll start twisting some arms on my side of the aisle. Have a good evening, Madam President.”
“You too. And thank you, Cole. Give Ashley my best.”
*
Whitney packed her briefcase. Grayson, Chandler, and Emma were upstairs in the Residence. After the assassination attempt, the Secret Service had located each of them and brought them back to the White House as a precaution.
Josh McPherson waited for her just outside the door to the Oval Office. He opened it for her as she approached.
He held an envelope.
She stepped outside. “Is that
what I think it is?”
He tried to hand it to her.
She gripped her briefcase handle in front of her with both hands, not taking it.
“It’s my fault. She was one of ours.”
“Any news on her whereabouts?”
“Not yet.”
“As I’ve told you every day since the… attempt, I won’t accept your resignation. So put that away.”
He held it out for a second longer, then slid the letter into a pocket inside his suit jacket.
“And I don’t want to see it again,” she said, holding his gaze, “until the next time you allow one of my children to bring home a date I haven’t met.”
He grinned. “Your daughter can be persuasive.”
“So can I,” she said. “Walk with me.”
Whitney and Josh strolled along the West Wing Colonnade. The evening was balmy. Summer was coming.
“How are your children, Josh?”
His brown eyes lit up. “They’re fine, ma’am. Ava and Mia are almost two.”
“Ah… the terrible twos.”
“I’m ready.”
She shook her head at the muscular agent. “No, you’re not.”
They shared a smile.
She stopped walking. “Jade Harrington risked her life for me. For all of us. Without hesitation. Without a thought to her own well-being. She… reacted.”
“It was her duty.”
She looked at him. “Would you do the same for me?”
“Without a thought.”
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Washington, DC
Kurt McClaine, Iyanna Adey, and Kyle Madison stood in the hallway of the Seattle courthouse. Jade couldn’t hear their conversation from the other end of the hall. She crept closer, as she used to do as a kid when she spied on her parents.
Kyle did nearly all the talking. She was giving instructions, not being interviewed as Adey had told her. McClaine and Adey eventually left.
After a time, Zoe joined Kyle.
What is she doing here?
By now, Jade hovered next to them, but for some reason, they couldn’t see her.
“She’s getting close,” Zoe said. “I’m not sure how long I can hold out.”
