Mirror Image

by Sandra Brown

  “And stayed until after they’d left.” She offered no apology or denial. “You didn’t like them, did you?”

  “Since you asked, no. I’m surprised you do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re usurping your position.”

  “They work for us, not the other way around.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like to me,” she said. “They were autocratic and mandatory. I don’t respond to that kind of high-handedness, and I’ll be amazed if Tate tolerates it for any significant length of time.”

  Jack laughed. “Feeling as you do about them and their high-handed advice, you’re going to have a tough time stomaching this.” He gestured down at the folder.

  Curious, Avery approached the bed and picked up the folder. She opened it and scanned the first several sheets of paper. “A list of dos and don’ts for the candidate’s wife.”

  “That’s right, Mrs. Rutledge.”

  She slapped shut the folder’s cover and dropped it back onto the bed.

  Again Jack laughed. “I’m glad I’m just the errand boy. Eddy’s going to be pissed if you don’t read and digest everything in there.”

  “Eddy can go to hell. And so can you. And so can anybody who wants to make Tate a baby-kissing, handshaking, plastic automaton who can turn a glib phrase but says absolutely nothing worth listening to.”

  “You’ve become quite a crusader for him, haven’t you? All of a sudden you’re his staunchest ally.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Carole?”

  “I’m his wife. And the next time you want to see me, Jack, knock louder.”

  He took a belligerent step toward her, his face congested with anger. “Playact all you want in front of everybody else, but when we’re alone—”

  “Mommy, I drew you a picture.” Mandy came bounding in, waving a sheet of construction paper.

  Jack glowered at Avery, then wheeled around and strode from the room. She congratulated herself on holding up remarkably well, but now her weak knees buckled and she sank onto the edge of the bed, gathering Mandy against her and holding on tight. She pressed her lips against the top of the child’s head. It would be difficult to tell who was drawing comfort from whom.

  “Mommy?”

  “What did you draw? Let me see.” Avery released her and studied the colorful slashes Mandy had made across the page. “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, smiling tremulously.

  In the weeks since her visit with Dr. Webster, Mandy had made tremendous progress. She was gradually emerging from the shell she had sequestered herself in. Her mind was fertile. Her sturdy little body seemed imbued with energy. Though her self-confidence was still fragile, it didn’t seem quite so breakable as before.

  “It’s Daddy. And here’s Shep,” she chirped, pointing to a dark blue blob on the paper.

  “I see.”

  “Can I have some chewing gum? Mona said to ask you.”

  “One piece. Don’t swallow it. Bring it to me when you don’t want it anymore.”

  Mandy kissed her moistly. “I love you, Mommy.”

  “I love you, too.” Avery gave her another tight hug, sustaining it until Mandy squirmed free and rushed off in quest of her chewing gum.

  Avery followed her to the door and closed it. She considered turning the lock. There were those in the house whom she wanted to shut out.

  But there were those she had to leave her door open for, just in case. Mandy, for one. And Tate.

  * * *

  Van opened a can of tuna and carried it with him back to his video console. His stomach had finally communicated to his brain that one had to have sustenance to stay alive. Otherwise, he would have been so engrossed in what he was doing, he would never have remembered to eat. He conveyed chunks of the oily fish from can to mouth via a reasonably clean spoon.

  Clamping the bowl of the spoon in his mouth, he used both hands at once to eject one tape from one machine and insert a new tape into another. In this capacity, he functioned like a well-coordinated octopus.

  He replaced the first tape in its labeled box and turned his attention to the one now playing. The color bars appeared on the screen, then the countdown.

  Van swallowed the food he’d been holding in his mouth, took a puff of his smoldering cigarette, a gulp of whiskey, then scooped up another bite of tuna as he leaned back in his desk chair and propped his feet on the edge of the console.

  He was watching a documentary he had shot several years earlier for a station in Des Moines. The subject was kiddie porn. This wasn’t the watered-down, edited version that had gone out over the air. This was his personal copy—the one containing all the footage he’d shot over a twelve-week period while following around a features producer, a reporter, a grip, and a sound man. It was only one tape of the hundreds in his extensive personal library.

  So far, none that he’d watched had justified the niggling notion that he’d seen someone in Rutledge’s entourage before, and it wasn’t the gray-haired man that had Avery so concerned. Van wasn’t even certain what he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. He wouldn’t stop until he found it—whatever “it” was. Until he went back on the campaign trail with Rutledge, he didn’t have anything better to do except get wasted.

  He could always do that later.

  * * *

  “Where’s Eddy?” Nelson asked from his place at the head of the dining table.

  “He had to stay late,” Tate replied. “He said not to wait dinner on him.”

  “It seems that we’re never all together at dinner anymore,” Nelson remarked with a frown. “Dorothy Rae, where’s Fancy?”

  “She’s… she’s…” Dorothy Rae was at a loss as to the whereabouts of her daughter.

  “She was still at headquarters when I left,” Tate said, coming to his sister-in-law’s rescue.

  Jack smiled at his parents. “She’s been putting in a lot of long hours there, right, Mom?”

  Zee gave him a tepid smile. “She’s been more dedicated than I expected.”

  “The work’s been good for her.”

  “It’s a start,” Nelson grumbled.

  Avery, sitting across from Jack, held her peace. She doubted Fancy was working during all the hours she spent at campaign headquarters. She seemed the only one to attach any significance to Fancy and Eddy often coming in late together.

  Mandy asked for help buttering her roll. When Avery finished and raised her head, she caught Jack watching her. He smiled, as though they shared a naughty secret. Avery quickly looked away and concentrated on her plate while the conversation eddied around her.

  Fancy arrived several minutes later and flopped into her chair, her disposition as sour as her expression.

  “Haven’t you got a civil word for anybody, young lady?” Nelson asked sternly.

  “Jesus, cauliflower,” she mumbled, shoving the serving bowl to the other side of the table.

  “I will not abide that kind of language,” Nelson thundered.

  “I forgot,” she shouted with asperity.

  His face turned an angry red. “Nor will I put up with any of your sass.” He shot meaningful glances at Jack, who ducked his head, and Dorothy Rae, who reached for her wineglass. “Show some manners. Sit up properly and eat your dinner.”

  “There’s never anything decent to eat around here,” Fancy complained.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Francine.”

  “I know, I know, Grandpa. All those starving kids in Africa. Save the sermon, okay? I’m going to my room.”

  “You’ll stay where you are,” he barked. “You’re part of the family, and in this family, everyone has dinner together.”

  “There’s no need to shout, Nelson,” Zee said, touching his sleeve.

  Fancy’s face swelled up. She glared at her grandfather mutinously, at her parents contemptuously, but she remained seated.

  As though nothing had happened, Nelson picked up the co
nversation where it had left off when she had come in. “The Wakely and Foster team is setting up another trip for Tate.” He imparted this piece of information for the benefit of the women, who hadn’t heard it firsthand.

  Avery looked at Tate. “I just found out this afternoon,” he said defensively, “and didn’t have time to tell you before dinner. You’ll get a schedule.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just about every corner of the state.”

  Zee blotted her mouth. “How long will you be away?”

  “A little over a week.”

  “Don’t worry about Mandy, Carole,” Nelson said. “Grandpa’ll take care of her. Won’t he, Mandy?”

  She grinned at him and bobbed her head up and down. The child never minded being left with them. Ordinarily, Avery would have had no qualms about leaving her. However, Mandy had had another nightmare the night before—the second that week. If she were on the brink of a breakthrough, Avery hated to be away from her. Perhaps Mandy could go with them. It was something she needed to discuss with Tate before final plans were made.

  Eddy suddenly appeared in the arched opening of the dining room. Mona, who was clearing away the main course dishes, told him she had kept his dinner warm. “I’ll bring it right out.”

  “Never mind.” His eyes darted around the table, lighting briefly on everyone seated. “I’ll have to eat later.”

  Fancy’s mood brightened considerably. A light came on behind her sullen eyes. Her sulky pout lifted into a smile. She sat up straight in her chair and looked at him with admiration and lust.

  “I hate to ruin everyone’s dinner,” he began.

  Nelson waved his hand dismissively. “You seem upset.”

  That was a gross understatement, Avery thought. Eddy was bristling with rage.

  “What’s the matter? Did we slip in the polls?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Eddy said, choosing Zee’s question to respond to. “Ralph and Dirk are with me, but I told them to wait in the living room until I’d had a chance to speak with the family privately.”

  Ralph and Dirk were the two men from Wakely and Foster who were assigned to Tate’s campaign. Their names frequently cropped up in conversation. Avery always dreaded hearing them referred to, because she usually had a negative reaction to whatever was subsequently said.

  “Well?” Nelson prompted impatiently. “Best to get bad news over with.”

  “It concerns Carole.” Every eye in the room moved to where she sat between Tate and Mandy. “Her abortionist is about to tell all.”

  Thirty-Five

  A quality necessary to bomber pilots is the ability not to crack under pressure. Nelson didn’t. Avery reflected on his aplomb later when she reviewed those heart-stopping moments following Eddy’s appalling announcement.

  His lack of response was remarkable to her, because she had felt like she might very well shatter. She’d been rendered speechless, motionless, unable to think. Her brain shut down operation. It seemed the planet had been yanked from beneath her, and she floated without the security of gravity in an airless, black void.

  Nelson, with admirable resilience, scooted back his dining chair and stood up. “I believe we should move this discussion to the living room.”

  Eddy nodded his head once, glanced at Tate with a mix of pity and exasperation, then left the room.

  Zee, drastically pale but almost as composed as her husband, stood also. “Mona, we’ll skip dessert tonight. Please entertain Mandy. We might be occupied for some time.”

  Dorothy Rae reached for her wineglass. Jack took it away from her and returned it to the table. He caught her beneath the arm, lifted her from her chair, and pushed her toward the hall. Fancy went after them. She was fairly bubbling now.

  When they reached the archway, Jack said to his daughter, “You stay out of this.”

  “No way. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened,” she said with a giggle.

  “It’s none of your concern, Fancy.”

  “I’m part of this family, too. Grandpa just said so. Besides that, I’m a campaign worker. I have every right to sit in on the discussion. Even more right than her,” she said, gesturing toward her mother.

  Jack dug a fifty-dollar bill out of his pants pocket and pressed it into Fancy’s hand. “Find something else to do.”

  “Son of a bitch,” she mouthed before stamping off.

  Tate’s face was white with wrath. His movements were carefully controlled as he folded his napkin and laid it next to his plate. “Carole?”

  Avery’s head snapped up. Denials were poised and ready to be spoken, but the sheer fury burning in his eyes silenced them. Under his firmly guiding hand, she left the dining room and walked across the hall toward the large living room.

  It was still twilight. The living room afforded a spectacular view of the western sky, streaked with the vivid shades of sunset. The vista was breathtaking, one Avery often sat and enjoyed. This evening, however, the endless horizon made her feel exposed and alone.

  There wasn’t a single friendly face to greet her when she entered the room. The men representing the public relations firm were particularly hostile.

  Dirk was tall, thin, saturnine, and had a perpetual, blue-black five o’clock shadow. He looked the stereotype of a hit man from a gangster movie. It appeared that his face would crack if he even tried to smile.

  Ralph was Dirk’s antithesis. He was round, stout, and jolly. He was always cracking jokes, more to everyone’s annoyance than amusement. When nervous, he jangled change. The coins in his pocket were getting a workout now. They rang as noisily as sleigh bells.

  Neither of these men, to her knowledge, had ever professed to having a last name. She sensed that omission was to promote a friendly working relationship between them and their clients. As far as she was concerned, the gimmick didn’t work.

  Nelson took charge. “Eddy, please clarify what you just told us in the dining room.”

  Eddy went straight to the heart of the matter and turned to Avery. “Did you have an abortion?”

  Her lips parted, but she couldn’t utter a sound. Tate answered for her. “Yes, she did.”

  Zee jumped as if her slender body had just been struck with an arrow. Nelson’s brows pulled together into a steep frown. Jack and Dorothy Rae only stared at Avery in stunned disbelief.

  “You knew about it?” Eddy demanded of Tate.

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell anybody?”

  “It wasn’t anybody’s business, was it?” Tate snapped furiously.

  “When did this happen?” Nelson wanted to know. “Recently?”

  “No, before the plane crash. Just before.”

  “Great,” Eddy muttered. “This is just fuckin’ great.”

  “Mind your language in front of my wife, Mr. Paschal!” Nelson roared.

  “I’m sorry, Nelson,” the younger man shouted back, “but do you have any idea what this will do to the Rutledge campaign if it gets out?”

  “Of course I do. But we have to guard against responding in a knee-jerk fashion. What good will flying tempers do us now?” After tempers had cooled, Nelson asked, “How did you find out about this… this abomination?”

  “The doctor’s nurse called headquarters this afternoon and asked to speak to Tate,” Eddy told them. “He had already left, so I took the call. She said Carole had come to them six weeks pregnant and asked for a D and C to terminate pregnancy.”

  Avery sank down onto the padded arm of the sofa and folded her arms across her middle. “Do we have to talk about this with them in here?” She nodded toward the public relations duo.

  “Beat it.” Tate nodded them toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” Eddy objected. “They have to know everything that’s going on.”

  “Not about our personal lives.”

  “Everything, Tate,” Dirk said. “Right down to the deodorant you use. No surprises, remember?
Especially not unpleasant ones. We told you that from the beginning.”

  Tate looked ready to explode. “What did this nurse threaten to do?”

  “Tell the media.”

  “Or?”

  “Or we could pay her to keep quiet.”

  “Blackmail,” Ralph said, playing a tune with the change in his pocket. “Not very original.”

  “But effective,” Eddy said curtly. “She got my attention, all right. You might have ruined everything, you know,” he shot at Avery.

  Trapped in her own lie, Avery had no choice now but to bear their scorn. She didn’t care what any of the others thought of her, but she wanted to die when she thought of how betrayed Tate must feel.

  Eddy strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a straight scotch. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “What about the doctor?” Dirk asked him.

  “The nurse doesn’t work for him anymore.”

  “Oh?” Ralph stopped jingling coins. “How come?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Find out.”

  Avery, who had given the sharp command, came to her feet. She saw only one way to redeem herself in Tate’s eyes and that was to help get him out of this mess. “Find out why she no longer works for the doctor, Eddy. Maybe he fired her for incompetency.”

  “He? It’s a woman doctor. Jesus, don’t you even remember?”

  “Do you want my help with this or not?” she fired back, bluffing her way through a dreadful error. “If the nurse has been fired, she wouldn’t be a very believable extortionist, would she?”

  “Carole’s got something there,” Ralph said, glancing around the circle of grave faces.

  “You got us into this jam,” Eddy said, advancing on Avery. “What do you plan to do, brazen it out?”

  “Yes,” she said defiantly.

  She could almost hear the wheels of rumination turning throughout the room. They were giving it serious consideration.

  Zee broke the silence. “What if she has your medical records?”

  “Records can be falsified, especially copied ones. It would still be my word against hers.”

  “We can’t lie about it,” Tate said.

  “Why the hell not?” Dirk demanded.