Exposed in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  “Hmm. He does love me. Sometimes that’s suffocating.”

  He tilted his glass into mine. “Ready for the most delightful hour of the day?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  He leaned in and touched his lips to mine, not caring who was watching. Everyone was. “Thank you for being here for me.”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. This had all happened so fast. But he was so happy. He was proud of Aidan and his stable of horses. He was also genuinely excited to have me there.

  So I was surprised when he frowned and grabbed my hand. “Tell me you won’t leave before Monday. Give me more time.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “Just promise me. Give me one week to convince you to stay in Kentucky.”

  “Mr. O’Roark, we need to go.” Kensington’s security had come to escort Declan to the barn where On Liam’s Watch would be checked for any last-minute issues, readied for the “Riders Up” call, and showered with attention by more than one hundred thousand adoring fans.

  “I’ll be right there,” Declan said to the Kensington employee, then turned back to me. “You told the governor and the new lieutenant governor that you weren’t sure of your plans. Stay. Hear them out. Hear me out.”

  I reached up and touched his face. “I’m here for you. Today and tomorrow. We’ll talk before I make any decisions beyond that.”

  He stared hard into my eyes. Kissed me again. “That will do for now.”

  We followed the security escort to a special back elevator. On the ride down, my phone buzzed with a text. I shielded it from Declan, who was speaking with the Kensington employee about how the next fifty minutes would go down.

  It’s not over yet. But don’t worry, I’ve got your back.

  The text was accompanied by a photograph: a picture of me with my father and Declan, standing in Declan’s corporate suite. The governor and the new lieutenant governor were in the background. Each of us was either lifting a summer julep to toast the day or in the process of throwing back the bourbon.

  I immediately copied and sent the text and photo to Mike, my heart jackhammering in my chest. How did he get so close to us?

  When the elevator doors opened, the Kensington staff whisked us through the crowd and into the paddock area. Aidan was already with the groom and hot walker for On Liam’s Watch, and the farrier was checking the Derby contender’s shoes. Declan jumped right into the mix. I stood back and tried to stay in his sight the whole time. Any time he looked at me, I forced a smile.

  But I also called Mike. As soon as the call went through, I heard his voice behind me instead of through the phone. “We’re right here.” He and Carlos stood on either side of me; I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  “We have a problem,” Mike said.

  “Ya think?” I asked sarcastically. I let my fingertips graze my gun at my thigh.

  “The lab just called. They had Fritz Hahn come in this morning to look at the chemicals we gathered from Jenna’s fridge last night. It didn’t match the inventory from Declan’s lab—it was several vials short. Some of that was undoubtedly used in the fog machines last night, but according to Hahn’s analysis of the fog juice, they couldn’t have used all of the vials that are missing.”

  “So you’re saying there’s more tacin unaccounted for?” I asked and immediately remembered how Romeo had claimed that the thumb drive was payment for what he took. As if sensing how rapidly my pulse sped up, Declan turned toward me and frowned. “Smile and wave,” I ordered Mike and Carlos. They did, and Declan turned back to the horse.

  “What do you think Romeo meant?” Mike asked. “How would he have your back?”

  “It could mean anything. But the picture—” I looked at the picture again. “There must be something significant about the picture, but I have no idea what it would be. Unless he just wanted me to know he was watching me.” That he was here.

  “Who’s that?” Carlos asked, pointing to McCauley Kale.

  “Mac Kale. Truman’s pick for lieutenant governor. He’ll be sworn in Monday.”

  Mike spoke up. “Maybe it’s significant that he’s photographing you with the director—your father—and Declan, someone you’re… you know.”

  I whipped my head in Mike’s direction. “You think this is a power play? That he’s jealous, or somehow wants me to know that he’s in the know about my personal life?”

  Mike shrugged.

  I called Ty.

  “Hey,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be drinking summer juleps and cheering for horses?”

  “Are you at the cottage?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got my own julep, and I’m kicking back—”

  “Ty, listen. I need you to look up everything you can on McCauley Kale. See if media is excited about him. Try to figure out why Truman picked him. I don’t care what computer you have to break into.” I told him what I knew about Mac, then hung up.

  “It’s not over yet,” I said to Mike. “This clearly could mean that the governor’s life is not out of danger. Someone could easily have gotten in here with one of those vials—they’re tiny, like a perfume bottle, could mix right in with a small cosmetic bag. If the X-ray tech wasn’t paying attention…”

  “Riders up!” an announcer called from somewhere, signifying that jockeys should mount their horses. Declan moved in and gave On Liam’s Watch’s jockey a leg up, the same way he had for me that first day I worked in Aidan’s stable. And from there it was a parade of jockeys on their thoroughbreds, track ponies leading them along the path to the track, and owners, trainers, and the rest of the team that went with each equine athlete.

  “Look,” I said, “you guys stay close. There are so many state police officers around the governor. But be ready. We’ll get him out of here as soon after as possible.”

  Declan turned, looking for me. I hurried to catch up to him in my high heels. Slipping his fingers into mine and squeezing, he leaned in. “What’s wrong? Something’s happened.”

  “It’s nothing. Mike and Carlos are on it. I’m off-duty, remember?”

  He angled his head at me while we walked.

  “Now smile. And enjoy,” I ordered. Photographers and journalists crowded around us. Owners and trainers of thoroughbred racehorses didn’t always get multiple shots at the greatest two minutes in sports, so anytime they got one, they deserved to enjoy every last second of it. I, too, smiled and leaned into Declan as I walked.

  As we neared the track with the horses, we were quickly ushered to special box seating where we could watch the race—and where the media could video and photograph every second of Declan’s and Aidan’s reactions. A bugler in a red blazer and black riding cap played the Call to the Post as the horses began entering the track one by one with their lead ponies.

  “Please rise as the United States Army Marching Band plays ‘My Old Kentucky Home,’” said the announcer, a woman in a fitted, floral dress and wide-rimmed black hat. Beside her, on a platform just inside the infield and directly across from where we were seated, was Truman, present for the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Derby.

  The most beautiful state song of all the fifty states played as twenty thoroughbreds paraded in front of the grandstand and prepared to enter the starting gate. Video boards throughout the track showed lyrics of the song along with a slow pan of every horse in the field. The record crowd sang along—joyfully, and largely drunkenly among those in the track’s infield—nearly drowning out the band.

  “Look at him,” Declan said, a smile in his voice. “He’s the most laid-back thoroughbred I’ve ever owned. He walks like he’s just out for a little stroll.”

  “He won’t look like that in about six minutes,” Aidan fired back, laughing.

  When the song was over and the horses had reached the starting gate, they were loaded into position. Across the track, I watched as Truman saluted the Army band, then climbed down off the platform, crossed the track, and made his
way over to our box.

  Declan turned and grinned at me. “This is it, baby. He’s going to win. I can feel it.”

  “And they’re off for the 147th running of the Bluegrass Derby!” the announcer said as twenty horses broke from the metal starting gate and began the biggest race of their lives. From there, the horses’ silks became flashes of color as they sprinted around the track, and the announcer’s calling of the names turned into a blur of words as the athletes leapfrogged each other in the standings.

  Except for one: On Liam’s Watch got out front, and he stayed there. Unusual, but not unprecedented.

  I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. While others cheered, I read a text from Ty:

  The governor is living a lie. See attached.

  Chapter 40

  Declan pumped his fist in the air and yelled as On Liam’s Watch sped down the stretch and became the winner of the 147th running of the Bluegrass Derby, finishing four lengths ahead of the second-place horse.

  The second he crossed the finish line, Declan turned to me. “We did it, baby!” He picked me up and twirled me in a circle. When I was back on my feet, he and Aidan embraced in a fierce hug. Cameras were clicking even more than they had prior to the race, capturing the moment. And despite everything going on, I couldn’t help but join in the excitement.

  But I also couldn’t stop the horrible feeling in my gut that something was about to go terribly wrong. What had Ty meant by “The governor is living a lie”? What was in that attachment? I needed to find some privacy before I opened it.

  As everyone was caught up in the fanfare of the moment, I mentally ran through what I knew about Truman. He and his brother weren’t close. They talked some, and Teddy was protective of him, but they weren’t so close that Teddy felt the need to include him in our plans to elope.

  Before I could come up with any answers, state police and track officials swept us off to the winner’s circle, where On Liam’s Watch was covered with a blanket of black tulips. I smiled for the cameras, then watched as Truman shook hands with Declan, Aidan, and the jockey, all for the camera.

  Finally the cameras stopped, and they removed the blanket of tulips in order to preserve the flowers and deliver the horse back to his barn for the best bath of his life. I took the opportunity to fade away from the crowd and read the attachment Ty had sent me.

  It was an email conversation between the governor and his lieutenant governor, dated the week before her poisoning. In it, the governor threatened, in no uncertain terms, to veto the Kentucky Heritage Economic Development Act. He charged that the party had gone back on its promise to back his proposal to raise Kentucky’s minimum wage once he was elected. Instead, party leaders were forcing a bill down his throat that did the exact opposite—helping the rich get richer while the working poor continued to struggle.

  The lieutenant governor’s response, tersely worded, reminded Truman that he wouldn’t even be the governor if it hadn’t been for the backing of party leadership. “Quit acting like a petulant child,” the lieutenant governor chided. “All your talk about raising the minimum wage made for great campaign fodder, but you know damn well that bill would never make it through the legislature. Quit whining, grow up, and start acting like a leader.” She continued by threatening Truman to “get in line, or we’ll make sure you never see a second term, if you’re lucky enough to finish this one.”

  Looking up from my phone, I stared at the governor. Had the lieutenant governor been threatening Truman? And what was this about Truman wanting to veto the Kentucky Heritage Economic Development Act? I had thought he was in favor of it.

  He must have sensed my gaze, because he turned to me just as a man in a dark suit—one of his police detail—whispered something in his ear. His smile faded, but quickly recovered.

  I thought about all the conversations I’d had with him since arriving in Kentucky. He had initially theorized that the threat on his life—if that’s what it was—was due to the Economic Development bill—that activists had demanded he stop it. But if this email was true, Truman didn’t even support the bill in the first place. In fact, he opposed it so strongly that his lieutenant governor had threatened him over it.

  What was his game?

  I moved closer to Truman. I wanted to question him about the conflicting information, and about his disagreement with Centers. But there were too many people around.

  My phone buzzed with a phone call from Ty. “Hey,” I answered. “Talk quickly—and loudly.” It would be difficult to hear him with all the celebrating going on.

  “He was there,” Ty said.

  “Who was where?” I asked.

  “Truman. He was at O’Roark’s office the same day Darren was taken in for questioning. The FBI shrugged it off because Truman was friends with O’Roark, and because O’Roark claimed the governor dropped by his office occasionally. We can’t place him in Darren’s office, but he was there. And he entered with a briefcase.”

  Three Kensington officials approached Truman. “Governor, come with us. We need to get you ready to present the winners their trophies.”

  The governor made eye contact with me one more time as he passed, angling his head when I narrowed my eyes, studying him.

  “Ty, I have to go.” I hung up, sliding my phone into my pocket.

  I wanted to talk to Truman to clear up the conflicting information we’d received—information that cast a shadow over him—but just then Truman was whisked away in one direction, while a police detail led Aidan, Declan, Kate, and me in another.

  As I walked, I quickly texted Mike: Question Jenna, Ben, and Danny about Governor Spencer’s involvement with the Garrison.

  “Ma’am,” a state policeman said behind me. “This way, ma’am.”

  “But—” I looked up from my phone. Somehow I had gotten separated from Declan and the others.

  “Wait,” I said to the policeman. “I—”

  But the policeman squeezed my arm and forced me into an elevator with at least twenty others. I heard Declan call my name as the elevator doors closed.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked.

  “I’m just following orders, ma’am.”

  When the elevator doors opened again, I was ushered out with the crowd. People were cheering everywhere. Some were making their way toward exits to beat the traffic leaving the track, but most were continuing to celebrate.

  “This way, ma’am. The governor would like a word with you.”

  I was lightly shoved into a room. I didn’t know where I was. The crowd had been so thick, and Kensington was so big, that I had lost my bearings. I wasn’t even sure what floor I was on.

  But now I was in a small room overlooking the track—a luxury box on the third level, if I had to guess. Truman faced me when I entered.

  “Hello, Brooke.”

  “Truman, what’s going on?” I glanced back as the door was closed behind me. “We need to get to the awards ceremony.” My phone was vibrating in my pocket.

  “Oh, we will. But you and I need to talk first.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Can’t this wait?” I still wanted to ask him about the email conversation, but by the way the tiny hairs on the back of my neck were standing at full attention, I no longer wanted to be alone with Truman when we talked.

  “Teddy always told me you were good at what you did—that you were a better analyst and special agent than he was. He was so proud of you.” He paced in front of me.

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly. I let my fingers graze the edge of my firearm. I could pull the Glock and aim it at Truman’s throat in less than two seconds. I had practiced that morning to make sure. “Why are we talking about this now?”

  “He said he was lucky that you had his back both on the job and off.”

  “Truman, whatever this is about, we—”

  “I just got a call from a member of my security team saying that someone had accessed my personal emails.” He stopped pacing and faced me. “That wasn’t you. You
would have covered your tracks better.”

  Ty. He’d been in a hurry to get me the information I’d requested on Mac Kale, but instead he’d found the email he’d sent me.

  “What does this have to do with me?” I asked.

  “Don’t play coy. It’s not attractive on you.”

  “Look, Truman, I don’t know what’s got you upset. Whatever this is, I—”

  “Why is Ty searching through my emails?” he demanded.

  Sweat formed on my palms, and I resisted the urge to wipe them on my skirt. “We’re just trying to find out who’s threatening the people of Kentucky. I wanted Ty to tell me more about Mac Kale, and why he was chosen to succeed Melissa Centers. This was the quickest way to get information. We’re just trying to protect you.”

  “Bullshit.” His voice boomed. “Not even the FBI can go into someone’s email without a warrant.”

  I wanted to remind him that Ty wasn’t actually FBI and that he had no way of proving Ty’s activity, but I figured that wasn’t the point. Nor would it help.

  “I will speak to Ty about his activity. Now, can we go?”

  “Sure. I just wanted to warn you that I will have Ty prosecuted if he hacks into my computer system again.”

  “Okay.”

  He started to move past me and toward the door.

  I angled my head, studied him as I pictured him saluting the Army band. “Teddy never told me you served in the military.”

  “What?” He paused next to me.

  “You were in the military. What branch?”

  “Army.” Lines formed across his forehead.

  “The tacin used to kill Centers—and used in the hundreds of drinks the night of your party—was made by the military. Did you know about tacin prior to these incidents?”

  Truman laughed. “Of course not. Why would I know anything about tacin?”

  I shrugged. “You’re right. You would have told us if you had.” I gave my head a shake. I wanted to turn toward the door, lead Truman out of that room and toward the award ceremony, but something stopped me.

  “Something wrong, Brooke?”