Diligence (Determination Trilogy 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  “That’s why Mom had Susa be her intern.” It’s not a question.

  He sadly smiles. “When you graduated from high school, I was so damned proud of you I wanted to scream I loved you, that you were mine. Graduated early. Then again for college and law school. I went to all three of your ceremonies and sat in the back. Only way Marlene would let me go, because she didn’t want to raise any questions with you about why I was there when you really hadn’t been close to us for a while.” He shakes his head. “No way in hell was I missing those. I wanted to be able to stand up and say, ‘That’s my little girl.’”

  His blue eyes meet mine again. “But I couldn’t. Because your mom was right—it would have broken Michelle’s heart to know what we did. I’ve spent the rest of my life making something up to her that she doesn’t even know I did. I swear on my life, I have never even kissed another woman besides her, other than what I did with your mom. I’m not an angel. There is stuff in my past that some might say makes me evil. But Carl would’ve killed your Momma. He put his ex-wife in the hospital years before. We didn’t know about that then, until after he was dead. I was able to keep that out of the papers for Marlene, thank god. And he didn’t have any kids or close family.”

  I have to…process this.

  The most obvious and important question—do I report this?

  It’s the easiest one to answer.

  No. I will never turn Benchley in, even though I’m an attorney and an officer of the court—and fucking hell, I’m head of the Executive-fucking-Branch of the goddamned US government. DOJ and FBI.

  There is no statute of limitation on premeditated murder in Florida.

  Still, no.

  If word got out I knew about this crime, this conspiracy, and didn’t tell anyone, it could lead to my impeachment if I’m still in office, or my prosecution once I’m a civilian again.

  This is a fifty-one-year-old secret that has lain dormant since before my birth.

  I owe my very life to this same secret.

  Now I understand why my mother diligently drilled certain truths into my head about trust and secrets and weakness.

  No greater good is served by telling anyone, and only pain would be left in the wake.

  And, yeah, I’m in a reelection battle. This revelation would completely derail my campaign.

  Even without the knowledge that he’s my father…

  I still wouldn’t tell. It’s selfish of me, but no way in hell will I hurt Michelle Evans. I wouldn’t want to hurt Susa, or Carter, or their sons. Or Owen, who’d be harmed, as well, when the insane press coverage would no doubt kick up ant hills that should remain undisturbed.

  This secret is about far more than myself and Benchley.

  This secret’s revelation would destroy innocent lives.

  “Momma never told me that about him,” I whisper, barely able to say it. “She said the reason she never remarried was she loved him.”

  He sadly shakes his head. “No, sweetie. She never remarried because she felt guilty as hell. I don’t mean about killing him, either. She blamed herself for what I did with her so she could have you. She was older than me by a lot, seventeen years. I maintained that if it took doing that to get her away from that bastard…well, that’s guilt I can handle. It wasn’t like she was in love with me. She was desperate to have a baby, because of her age, and I wanted to help her. Back then, a single mom, even an attorney, wouldn’t have been able to keep a good-paying job, much less get elected. But a new mom who’s a widow? Who supposedly struggled for years to have a baby, and then loses her husband after getting pregnant?”

  “That’s political gold,” I whisper, once again chilled to my core.

  He slowly nods. “Yeah. But she loved you. She wanted you, honey. I’m not going to lie, Michelle and I had been together about ten years, at that point, and trying to have a baby. We were starting to talk about adoption.” He shakes his head. “I’m not proud of it, but I wanted to father a baby, even one I couldn’t claim. I knew I couldn’t claim you—that your mother wouldn’t have let me—but it was something I needed.”

  He meets my gaze again. “Everything I’ve ever done,” he quietly says, “has always been to try to help people. Maybe I didn’t go about things in the right way. I look back at political positions I’ve held, and in retrospect, SusieJo is right about some things. I’ll admit that. About why she left the GOP. There are ways I could’ve done a lot better.

  “Marlene always called me out when she thought I was wrong. I miss our debates. I miss working with her. She was a good woman, and she was an amazing mom. She loved you so much, and I love you. I always have, even when I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always loved you, and I’m so damned proud of you. I wish I could say, ‘That’s my girl,’ but I know I can’t. Because I won’t hurt you like that, and I can’t hurt Michelle or Susa or Susa’s babies.

  “I’ll never forget getting to hold you after you were born. I was in Tallahassee, and Michelle was at work. It was me, and your momma, and you. I held you and promised you I’d always love you, that I would do whatever I could for you, and that I was sorry I couldn’t tell the world who I really was to you.”

  Somewhere in my photo albums is a picture of me as a newborn, cradled in a much younger Benchley Evans’ arms, his eyes closed and forehead touching mine and almost looking like he was crying.

  Mom used to joke he actually sneezed in my face. For some reason, that never…felt right, but I had no reason not to believe her.

  Now, I know the truth.

  Life is short. Ascending to the presidency means sometimes embracing moral ambiguity, or even greater-good positions.

  I am alive because of this man.

  He wrote letters of recommendation for me when I applied to college and law school, and now I understand why his letters always felt different from the others, even though by then I wasn’t as close to him and Michelle as Momma was.

  Why his letters of recommendation felt more personal.

  More loving, without saying as much.

  I reach over and lay my hand on his. “Love you, too, Dad.”

  Words I’ve always longed to say to someone and never could. As a kid, there were times I wished I could call someone that.

  Before I can stop myself, I look into his eyes and say it. “She made me promise to kill her,” I whisper. “When she got so bad. She made me promise, and I did it.”

  He sadly smiles and reaches up to cradle my cheek. “I know, baby. She told me. Because she made me promise to do it if you couldn’t. I was about a week from it, too. I was trying to get hold of some morphine I could put into her feeding tube and OD her when you finally did it. I was almost hoping you wouldn’t, so you wouldn’t have that guilt. But I couldn’t tell you that I knew, or that I promised, too.

  “But after we lost her, I went to the nursing home, talked to all her caretakers, and gave them ‘thank you’ payments I said were from her family for the care they provided her. I’d been giving them holiday payments anyway as bonuses. That’s why she always had the best care in there. I also made them sign NDAs after she was first admitted, and told them it was because she was a politician, and it would be better for all involved if no one ever broke confidentiality, because we didn’t know if she’d reveal ‘sensitive information’ with her dementia. She didn’t know I was going to do that. I wanted to make sure you were protected, even though I knew I couldn’t tell you that, either.”

  Stunned, I stare at him, at the playful smile he wears. I feel a weight slip from my shoulders, which leaves in its wake pure, unadulterated relief that drives me to renewed tears.

  My dad and I hold each other as we cry.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Benchley and I spend the rest of the ride to the White House crying, and then trying to pull ourselves together before we arrive.

  There’s nothing else to talk about.

  Thank god we’ve come from a tragic double funeral for my in-laws, because it means I don’t need to expl
ain why I look like hell when we arrive.

  I want Kevin, but I’m not about to call or text and interrupt him right now. Chris needs him.

  The kids need him.

  Besides…this isn’t exactly something for a text thread.

  When we roll up to the White House, I try to get Benchley to get out first, but he smiles. “I follow the president, honey. You go first.”

  So I do, but I help him out, me and the Secret Service agent who steps in. I once again have Benchley hold my arm and I keep my steps slow as I lead him inside.

  Leo hurries up. “Welcome back, Madam President.”

  “Leo, you remember State Senator Benchley Evans.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I—”

  “Benchley,” he grumbles, back to his old self. “Just call me Benchley, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The wily old political wolf pats my arm.

  We make our way down to the Oval Office, and we stand outside the door for a moment as he studies it.

  “Never thought I’d ever be here,” he softly says, awestruck.

  I wave Leo over and ask him to get the photographer. I want official pics of this day, ones I can frame and hang in the residence. This man isn’t only literally responsible for me being here. Even before the news that rocked my world, I felt this man was one of the key reasons I was here, for the help and advice he gave us in the very beginning of my campaign.

  Now I understand why he so eagerly helped when, even being Momma’s friend and my godfather, I thought I’d need to sweet-talk him into giving me any crumbs of advice because of our political differences.

  In retrospect, it makes sense that he’d produce two driven, intense daughters who are even more politically thirsty than he was. That can’t be a coincidence.

  After the official pictures—including some of him sitting in my chair behind the Resolute Desk—the photographer and Leo leave us alone in the office, where we sit on one of the two sofas to talk.

  I hold his hand, because I don’t want to let go.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Not right now. I’m…processing.”

  “I’m sorry to drop it on you like this. But I needed to tell you in person. I didn’t want to do this over the phone.”

  “Were you really tired back at the funeral?”

  He smiles. “Well, I was.” His smile fades. “But I knew we’d be alone.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Never change, Dad. Please.”

  The tears hit us both at the same time.

  I hug him. “Let’s go upstairs to the residence,” I say.

  “Can I ask a favor?” He wears a playful smile I’ve known all my life without even knowing it.

  It’s my smile.

  “Sure.”

  “When Carter gets here…can you bring him down here, too? SusieJo and Owen would get a real kick out of a picture of him in here.”

  I don’t miss how he lists Owen. “Only if I can ask you something, just between us.”

  “Okay.”

  “I…know. About them. We talked to them early on for…advice. Not just political advice. And we’re friends.”

  I can tell he doesn’t want to say too much from the way he slowly nods.

  I continue. “We have something…similar going on.”

  The playful smile returns. “Guess my instincts are right, then.”

  “What instincts?”

  He shrugs. “I suspected the day I married you and Chris, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. I had a feeling maybe you guys had done something before I got there. I saw the rings. Today, you were focused on Christopher and the kids. Kevin was focused on you, and not just because he’s your chief of staff. Chris is his best friend, but I could see they’re more. From the way Kevin would lay a hand on Chris’ shoulder and leave it there for a long moment, more than just a friend. Like Carter and Owen. But even before, when we had our talks, I could see it in him. He loves Christopher, too, doesn’t he?”

  I nod. “It’s a long story, but they were together briefly a long time ago, then didn’t see each other for twenty years.”

  “And you and Christopher were a thing by then?”

  “Sort of.” I realize who I’m talking to. “We were, but it was a secret.”

  “Well, if SusieJo and her boys can manage the juggling act since college, I don’t see why you three can’t. What’s your question, though?”

  “Oh. Right.” I meet his gaze. “I don’t want to lose either of them.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “How do I protect them? Especially Kevin? Now that we have kids.”

  “I think Kevin protects you, am I right?”

  For the first time in a long time, I blush.

  “Let him,” Benchley continues. “Let him do his job as your chief of staff and your…partner. There’s a reason Carter was Owen’s chief, and there might not be a better one ever known than him, with Kevin a close second. Carter’s loyal, driven, and focused on one thing—protect his loved ones at all cost. Even at the expense of himself. And that’s what he wants to do. So let Kevin be that for you. What SusieJo and the boys have works because they let the bromance shine, as she says it. Focus on the friendship. How does your press secretary play into that? Kev’s ex?”

  “She’s a friend. She knows about Chris and Kev, but not about me and Kev, and that has to stay a secret for his reasons. It’s a long story, but I agree with those reasons.”

  “By the way, you did damn good with Lauren. Hiring her was a stroke of genius.”

  I smile. “That was all Kev. He wanted control of staffing that position and making her head of Communications.”

  He laughs. “See? He’s already been protecting you.”

  * * * *

  Benchley and I are up in the living room when everyone returns a couple of hours later. We’ve already eaten dinner. There was a full buffet at the wake and Kev texted me to not wait to eat. The kids are exhausted, so after I give them hugs and kisses, Chris and Kev put them to bed while Carter joins me and Benchley. We’ve told people Kev is spending the next several nights here in the residence. Under the circumstances, fuck what anyone says about it.

  Carter’s loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, and I can see what Susa loves about him. As always, I’m struck by his very bearing, his quiet confidence. The man’s a Dom, for sure. I know he’s also former military, and he also saluted during the funeral.

  Benchley waves Carter toward me. “Go downstairs with her, Carter,” he says. “Get a picture of you behind her desk.”

  “No, I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not? I did!” He cackles, cracking me up.

  Even our laughter is the same.

  “It’s fine,” I assure Carter. “Come on.”

  Together, we head downstairs and to the West Wing. I have Leo summon the photographer again, and after Carter fixes his tie and collar, we take more pictures. Alone once more, Carter seems to have an uncanny…accuracy.

  “Something you need to talk about?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” Except…he is Benchley’s son-in-law. Maybe he’s not the best person to talk to.

  I study him for a moment, long enough he speaks again. “Look, Shae, this is us. You know about our secrets. We trust you. I don’t want to know the nuclear codes or anything, but if you need to talk, I’m here.”

  That’s true. It’d be mutually assured destruction if he betrayed me, and he knows it. I also remember what Benchley said about Carter protecting his loved ones at any cost. That means he wouldn’t hurt Susa or Owen or their children by revealing this information.

  I take the letter out of my desk, where I’d stashed it earlier when I was here with Benchley, and hand it to him. He sits on one of the sofas to read, his face transforming into an inpenetrable mask as he does.

  I don’t have to connect the dots for him.

  “Holy shit,” he whispers, the mask shattering as he processes it.
>
  “Yeah.” I sit across from him. “I guess that makes you my brother-in-law.”

  He carefully folds the letter and returns it to the envelope before handing it back to me. I wait for him to speak.

  “Are you going to tell your men?” he asks.

  “Kev probably. Chris…I don’t know. I think I’m going to have Kev bring me down here later tonight for a little…stress relief.”

  He sits back and studies me for a moment. “Do you want me to tell Susa and Owen?” He sounds like that’s not his preference.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I hate that I have a sister I can’t claim, and a dad I can’t publicly acknowledge. And I hate that revealing it would hurt Michelle, so I don’t think we can tell them.” I also hate that I’m close to crying again. “I always wanted a dad, and now I’ve got one, and no one can find out. Not to mention, there’s an old…liability I don’t want uncovered or questioned.”

  He chuckles, and in that moment, I know. He knows something, maybe not about this, but there’s something else.

  “What?” I ask. “We’re in the weeds now, Carter. We’ll keep it in the trust box.”

  He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “Let’s just say that Benchley’s morals are incredibly strong and praiseworthy. But, as you’ve seen, his ethics are, in some very rare and very extreme cases—where a vulnerable person’s safety is at risk—extremely…flexible.”

  “Flexible?”

  “Think jumprope.”

  “I don’t want Michelle to know,” I repeat. “Because this would hurt her.”

  “Then we probably shouldn’t tell Susa. Not right now.”

  I’m torn between wanting to spill everything to Carter and holding my cards close. “He told me Momma was the only time he was ever unfaithful to Michelle.”

  He nods. “As far as I know, that’s accurate.” He slyly smiles. “And, believe me, I spent countless hours in the past looking for dirt on that man to use against him and keep him in line when I was helping Owen run for office.”

  “What kind of dirt?” I ask.