King Series Box Set

by Kandle, Tawdra

  “Well, that’s fine.” Rubbing his hands together, Congressman Remington beamed. “I think I’ll just sit down and join you here for a minute, if you don’t mind.” He sank into a chair, and I heard his sigh of relief.

  He struck up small talk with the others around us, and I used the opportunity to sink deeper into his mind. It was calm and quiet place, and he was easy to read.

  Good kids...God, am I tired...keep the eyes open, be interested, listen to them, hear them. Conference call at six. . meet with Ben at dinner...pay attention. Engage them...

  “So where are you all from? Right around here?” He fastened those brown eyes on me. “You’ve been quiet down there, Miss...I’m sorry, what was your name? I’m so dang tired, I’m forgetting everything.”

  “It’s Tasmyn Vaughan,” I said. “That’s okay, I can’t believe you can remember all the names you do.”

  He laughed. “Politics, you know. You practically have to be a mind reader!”

  I forced an answering smile, but my stomach lurched. It was just a chance comment; he couldn’t know anything. “I guess so.”

  “Where did you say you were from, Miss Vaughan?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I wasn’t sure what I should say. Given John Remington’s history with Nick Massler, my hometown would not be unfamiliar to him. But I couldn’t very well lie. I’d already told others where I lived. And it didn’t escape me that this might be just the push the good congressman needed to think about his former friend...and maybe even murder.

  “I moved around quite a bit growing up, but my family settled in King a few years ago. That’s home now.”

  And there it was. That flash, that recognition and a flare of uneasiness. It showed on his face as only the slightest twitch near his eye, but the peace of his thoughts was shattered.

  King, that damned place. Why is she here? What does it mean? Nick...no connection. Coincidence.

  “King...really. Well, I haven’t been down that way in years. I had a friend who lived there for a time.” All the while that he spoke, the smile stayed firmly in place.

  “It’s a fascinating place,” I answered. Our eyes held level, and to his credit, Remington didn’t look away.

  “That it is,” he agreed. “Quite a history.” He finally glanced back at Chelle. “Have you been there?”

  She shook her head, looking slightly mystified at the conversation’s turn. Remington nodded. Standing, he clapped her on the shoulder.

  “You should try to go down there one day, check it out. Intriguing town.” He stifled a yawn and checked his watch. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a tiring few days, and I have full evening ahead. I’m going to pick up the wife and head home.”

  There was a buzz in the office for an hour after the Congressman left. The other volunteers were almost giddy in their admiration. I forced a smile and played along. As much as I liked him, I couldn’t help but think the Honorable John Remington was hiding something. I hoped it wasn’t murder.

  The biggest issue I faced in the first few weeks of working at the Remington campaign headquarters was boredom. The only minds I heard were Chelle’s and the other workers, occasional volunteers and sometimes, Ben Ryan. I didn’t like it when he came in; whether it was a component of his thought process or his personality, the confusion and noise gave me a headache.

  The congressman popped his head now and then, but I noticed he gave me a wide berth. I reminded him of King, and of Nick Massler, and the association was not pleasant.

  I dashed into the headquarters on one rainy Wednesday afternoon, shaking drops off the hood of my jacket. As soon as I set foot inside, I heard both Ben and the congressman. They were back in the office, so I couldn’t see them, but they were having an intense discussion that was broadcasting loudly.

  Emma caught my eye as I hung up my slicker. Good, I thought you’d never get here, she messaged me mentally. Remington and Ryan both on the premises. Might be a good time to hear something.

  I nodded slightly and sat down at my normal spot. Chelle was on the computer, but I could tell from her thoughts that she was distracted too, worried about what was going on in the office. I smiled as I called over to her.

  “Anything particular you have for me today, Chelle?”

  She glanced at me, frowning, as though she couldn’t quite place me. “Oh, Tasmyn. Um, just keep working on that email database, okay? Confirm addresses, make sure you’re linking the phone numbers. Thanks.”

  I turned on the computer and began the mindless task. It was perfect work for keeping my ear on the conversation in the other room.

  If Nick gets into the race, I’m screwed. Got to keep him out of it. What I did...do I owe it to him...

  That was the congressman; I recognized the calm that was his mind. My eyes glued unseeing to the screen in front of me, I probed deeper into that calm so that I could hear both sides of the conversation.

  John, you got to be ruthless. If Nick Massler runs for senate, you’re going to have an uphill battle. That was Ben.

  But his past...won’t that be enough to keep him down?

  Not anymore. It’s far enough behind him that now he has the sympathy vote. People will only remember he raised his daughter on his own, when his wife got sick. They won’t remember any of the gory details.

  A mix of angst and guilt sputtered through Remington’s mind. I focused more...was I about to hear a confession?

  You leave it me, John. I can take care of things with Massler. You keep your nose clean.

  Remington didn’t answer, but I heard him thinking. Too late for that. What I did to Nick...it’s too late to be clean. I’m guilty...more than you know, Ben.

  My heart pounded. Those were damning words. I glanced up at Emma, who raised a questioning eyebrow. Did you hear something?

  I closed my eyes slowly, one verifying blink. Emma sucked in a breath and nodded so slightly that it was the merest of head bobs.

  The door to the back office flew open, making me jump. Ben strode out and left the building without looking at or talking to any of us. John trailed in his wake. He attempted a smile and cleared his throat.

  “Sorry to interrupt, I know you’re all working. But the wife will have my head if I don’t make this announcement. We’re having a little social evening Friday, just cocktails for those old enough to partake--” he grinned in the general direction of the volunteer table—“and all those fun little finger foods the ladies like to make. We hope you’ll join us. Just a thank you for the time you’ve already given and the work we know you’re going to do!” He laughed, and nearly everyone joined him.

  “Chelle has our address, for those of you who need it. Seven o’clock, and it’s not black tie, of course, but try to dress up a little. Y’all clean up nice, so I’m not concerned.” He gazed around at all of us, and I knew I wasn’t the only one in the room who noticed the worry lines etched deeply around his eyes. He gave us a parting wave, grabbed an overcoat from the hooks near the door and slipped out.

  I wasn’t a huge fan of the social evening—read: boring cocktail party—but I knew in this instance, it might be vital to my mission.

  So when my hours were over, I drove right to Michael’s dorm. The rain had stopped, but a light mist still hung in the air. I shivered as I ran to the building and up the stairs.

  Charlie was sitting on the sofa watching television when I knocked and then used my key to open the door.

  “Hey, Tasmyn.” His eyes never left the screen. “Michael’s in his room.”

  “Thanks.” I slipped out of my jacket and laid it over a kitchen chair.

  Charlie looked up. “Are you cooking tonight?” The eagerness in his voice was really pathetic, and I laughed.

  “Do you have anything for me to cook with?” I teased. I had a made a few meals for the three of us in their tiny suite kitchen, and Charlie lived in constant hope that it would become a regular habit, in spite of the fact—or maybe because--there was never anythi
ng beyond milk, soda and candy in their fridge.

  His face fell. “Orange juice.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! Michael bought eggs this week.”

  I shook my head. “Let me talk with him a little bit, and then I’ll see what I can do.”

  Michael was stretched out on his bed, books spread around him. He smiled up at me as I came in.

  “Hey, beautiful. Did I hear Charlie trying to con you into cooking?”

  I flopped down next to him, careful to avoid the books. “Yeah. He must think I’m a miracle worker. Eggs and orange juice...transformed into a gourmet meal.”

  Michael snagged my hand and tugged me closer. “Well, you do have special gifts.”

  I kissed his jaw. “Trust me, this isn’t one of them.”

  He grabbed my chin for better access to my mouth. “Want to work on some of your other talents? You know, the not-bursting-into-flames when I kiss you gift?”

  Giggling against his mouth, I shifted away just enough to see his face. “In a little bit. I wanted to ask you about something first.”

  “Mmm-hmmm...” Michael wasn’t easily distracted.

  “Remember that botany party I went to with you a few months back? The one where I just had to show up and look pretty?”

  “Oh, the one where you smashed the candy dish?”

  I made a face. “Well, if that’s all you remember from that night...”

  Michael laughed. “You always make an impression. Yes, I remember it. What’s the point?”

  I needed to handle this delicately. Telling him that I was volunteering for Remington wasn’t breaking my vow of silence about this mission, and it was necessary. I told myself I’d deal with Cathryn later and plunged ahead.

  “Part of my assignment for Carruthers right now is working for the John Remington election campaign. He invited all of us to a cocktail party on Friday, and I want you to go with me.”

  Michael frowned. “John Remington? That name sounds familiar.”

  I hurried to subvert that line of thought. I didn’t want him to connect Remington to Nick Massler. “Well, yeah, he’s the congressman from this district. His commercials are on TV all the time. So will you go with me?”

  He stretched out. “I guess so. I might need a little motivation, though...” His eyes invited me closer and his thoughts became louder and clearer.

  “What about dinner?” I murmured into his ear as his hands played over my back.

  “Take out,” he said, and then neither of us spoke for a long time.

  Down time was quickly becoming a rare luxury in my life. I dashed from classes to campaign headquarters, with occasional stops at Harper Creek to make reports.

  On Thursday before the Congressman’s party, I made a special trip up there to check in with Zoe and type in a quick report on the computer that was approved for this mission. I wanted to make sure I explained why Michael would be accompanying me the next night. The last thing I needed was Cathryn harassing me.

  Fee was just coming in as I was getting ready to leave. I didn’t see much of her these days, and I gave her a quick hug in greeting.

  “You’ve been scarce around here lately,” she observed. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure. Just a long-term assignment. I can’t say anything.” I grimaced.

  “Oh, I get it. It’s okay.” Her forehead wrinkled and she frowned at me. “I don’t know anything about this one, Tas, but do me a favor, okay? Be careful. Things looks murky in your future.”

  My heart sped up. “Murky? What do you mean?”

  Fee shrugged. “Just generally, when I try to get a read on what you’re doing here. Nothing with Michael or any other part of your life. I can’t see anything with clarity, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” I decided it might be a secrecy spell that was keeping the outcome of this mission from Fiona’s view. I couldn’t worry about it at the moment, but running into her did make me think of something else she might be able to predict with more accuracy.

  “Fee.” I lowered my voice. “Remember my first job with Carruthers? The lawyer’s office, the farmer?”

  Her lips tightened slightly. “Yes, I remember.”

  “You said you got a read on that, right? What the nephew was going to do?”

  Fee nodded again.

  “Did you know that the sale went through? Mr. Cummings sold the farm to his nephew.”

  She looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I didn’t see that, specifically, at the time. But...” She heaved a sigh. “Yes, I know he sold it.”

  “Why did he do it? Can you see that?”

  “No, I don’t see the whys and wherefores, Tas. Just outcomes. Some possible, some more definite.” She paused, and I sensed that she was struggling with sharing something else.

  “Fee, I promise, I’m not going to tell anyone. I just need to know for my own peace of mind. Did the lawyer tell his client what we reported?”

  She shook her head. “No. And you’re not going to like this, Tasmyn, but I’ll tell you anyway, because you’d find out eventually. That piece of land is really valuable, and it’s eventually going to be developed by a corporation whose owners include the nephew, that lawyer...and Carruthers.”

  I closed my eyes. “So I helped them get a jump on what was going to happen so that Carruthers could get in on the action, too?”

  Fee looked miserable. “I don’t know if that was the intent or if it was just a happy accident. But really, Tas, it’s okay. Mr. Cummings and his wife are going to have a nice retirement with the money from the sale. I only see happiness for them.”

  I pondered that all the way back to campus. I’d signed on with Carruthers for two reasons: to use my abilities to help others, and to learn how to control my more mercurial powers. I was well on my way to accomplishing the second goal, but the first one still felt vague.

  My parents were happy with how everything was progressing, They still gushed about Cathryn and Harley in our weekly phone calls, and they frequently told me that joining Carruthers was the best decision I’d ever made.

  But I wondered.

  On Friday night, I donned my hot little black dress once again, did up my hair and waited for Michael to pick me up. Sophie looked at me in amusement.

  “Look at you, hitting the big time! Party at the Congressman’s house.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Oh, please.” I flapped a hand at her. “It’s just a volunteer thing.”

  Michael’s knock saved me from further questions. We made a quick escape and were soon in the Mustang heading out of town.

  “So,” Michael said as we drove off campus. “What’s my name? And my cover story?”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Your name is Michael Sawyer, and you are a sophomore botany major at Perriman College. You come from King, Florida. And you have a sweet and wonderful girlfriend.”

  “Aw.” He shook his head. “That sounds really boring.”

  I slipped my hand over his on the gearshift. “Not if you know the back story.”

  I read from Chelle’s directions, and we easily found the Remington estate. We pulled up to tall wrought iron gates, gave our names and were given admittance. Valets met us in front of the house, sweeping us both from the car and up the steps as they handled the parking.

  Soft music filled the foyer. The two rooms adjacent had doors thrown wide open, and people stood in small groups, eating, drinking and chatting.

  “Tasmyn!” Chelle, clad in a very short red dress, dashed up to us. “I’m so glad you made it. My directions worked?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Chelle, this is my boyfriend, Michael. Michael, Chelle is kind of my boss at the campaign headquarters.”

  “Oh, no.” Chelle waved a deprecating hand. “We’re all just working for the same goal! Come in, have some food and mingle.”

  We trailed behind her and found a table with hors d’oevres. Michael snagged a couple of drinks from the corner bar—soda for him, a sweet tea for me—and I glanced around.

&
nbsp; “That’s the congressman over there,” I said in a low voice. “Standing by the fireplace.”

  “Very distinguished,” Michael remarked.

  “Yes, he is. Oh, and that’s Emma sitting on the loveseat over there. Ben Ryan is sitting next to her. He’s Remington’s campaign manager.”

  Michael frowned as he looked down at me. “Emma...?”

  I shook my head slightly. “Shh.” I heard him deliberately change the direction of his thoughts and hid a smile. He had many talents, but I didn’t think intrigue was one of them.

  I introduced Michael to a few of the other volunteers. We mingled, as Chelle had ordered, until I sensed the approach of Congressman Remington.

  “Ah, Ms. Vaughan. Glad you could make it. Have you met my wife?” He put his arm around the lovely redhead who stood next to us. “Mariana, this is one of our hard-working volunteers, Tasmyn Vaughan. She’s a student at Perriman.”

  Mrs. Remington smiled warmly. Her mind was as calm as her husband’s, and I couldn’t sense any dissembling at all.

  “Thank you for coming tonight!” She took my hand and shook it gently. “And who is this handsome young man with you?”

  I made the introductions once again. We chatted for a few minutes about Perriman, about Michael’s botany major and my pretended interest in politics. I turned to the congressman’s wife. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Remington.”

  She beamed. “Thank you. It’s quite historical, you know. There is a legend that General Stonewall Jackson stayed here at one point when he was stationed in these parts.” She paused and tilted her head, considering. “Of course, he wasn’t a general then. I don’t know what his rank would have been. But it makes a good story, don’t you think?”

  “Very,” I agreed.

  “Tasmyn loves history,” Michael said, squeezing my hand. “She can tell you more about the Civil War than most college professors.”

  “Is that so?” Mariana turned and laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “John, you should show her your great-grandfather’s sword and journal. He was in the war, too. The family lived in Virginia then.”