by Lynn Ames
“I’d like to start by having those of you who are so inclined say one word you’d use to describe Jay.” Her eyes settled on the president. “Mr.
President, sir, I believe I’d like you to start.”
All eyes turned to the charismatic man in the front row. Charles Hyland rose to his full 6’2” height. “Delightful.”
There were murmurs of assent.
Barbara stood next. “Engaging.”
Peter followed. “Sweet.”
It was Trish’s turn. “Talented.”
Words started to flow in such rapid-fire succession that it became difficult for Kate to keep track of the source for each descriptor.
“Intelligent.”
“Dedicated.”
“Loyal.”
“Witty.”
“Dependable.”
“Vivacious.”
“Tireless.”
“Relentless.”
“Thorough.”
“Friendly.”
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“Outgoing.”
“Funny.”
“Sneaky.”
That comment caused a ripple of laughter and a round of hearty agreements. When the words had died down and quiet resumed, Kate smiled at the group. “My word for Jay is perfect, although I know she’d argue with me about that.” She looked at the faces around the room. “I see so many of you here who have known Jay as long, or longer, than I have. I think one of the best ways to honor and celebrate someone is to share her stories. I’ll start with the first time I laid eyes on Jay—which is not, ironically, the first time I met her; that didn’t come until later.
“It was a little more than seven years ago, and I was a senior in college. There I was, locked in a tennis duel to the death with my arch nemesis in the final match of my college career. I was about to serve a pivotal point when something on the hillside overlooking the court caught my eye. I looked up, and there she was—this gorgeous girl in a Middlebury lacrosse sweatshirt. She smiled at me. I knew I’d better win the point and the match or I’d feel like a chump.”
The room exploded in laughter.
“Hey, that was a lot of pressure!” Kate waited a beat.
Someone yelled out, “Well? What happened? Did you win the match or not?”
“You bet your sweet bippy I did. Unfortunately, it was another five years before I won the girl. Although, we both agreed we fell in love at first sight that day.”
“Hopeless romantics.”
“Something wrong with that?” Kate shot back in the general direction of the comment.
More laughter. “Not a thing, Kate.”
“Good. Who wants to go next?” Kate was glad that her story seemed to have the intended effect—the group was looser and much less somber.
“I guess I’ll go,” Barbara said, standing up. “The first time I met Jay, she was pulling Kate by the ear into my office. It was the middle of the night, the New York state capitol building had been bombed, Kate had been the only reporter on the air for more hours than seemed humanly possible…” Barbara paused for effect. “And she looked like hell.”
“Hey!”
The group laughed again.
“Well, there’s no denying, toots, I’ve seen you look better.”
Kate grumbled good-naturedly.
“Anyway, into my office strides this pint-size dynamo, the Amazon here,” she pointed at Kate, “trailing meekly behind. It was clear right from the start who wore the pants in that relationship.”
The Value of Valor
Kate made a show of looking down at her knee-length skirt.
The president stood up. “I suppose, chronologically speaking, I should go next since the first time I met Jay was the next day. She had been scheduled to interview me the day of the bombing. Obviously, that had to be postponed. She agreed to meet me in my New York City office the following morning. You know, I’m fairly used to reporters trying to wheedle information out of me.” He winked at the members of the press present in the room. “Jamison Parker, though,” he continued, “she had a very special skill. I swear she could talk a snake into giving up its skin.”
Heads nodded.
“Before I knew it, she had me talking about all kinds of things that would give my staff hives. She did it all with a smile and a genuineness that was impossible to resist. I think she was Time’s secret weapon.”
“No argument there,” Trish mumbled. “I guess that’s my cue.” Trish cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter, as if ready for battle.
“Jay was the kind of reporter every editor dreams of. She had more talent in her little finger than most writers with decades more experience and more integrity than anyone I’ve ever met.” She hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with fellow members of the media in the room. Then she looked directly at her boss, the man who had reluctantly suspended Jay when the heat was on to satisfy the media’s quest to see the reporter punished for her ethical lapse.
“I remember well the story she wrote about Kate—it was called The New Breed of Journalist. I assigned Jay to that story because I knew it would take a special kind of writer to come back with something riveting—something that would really make readers want to read about some medium-market television broadcaster.” Trish looked around the room, then pointedly at a few of the newsmakers present. “I know it will come as a shock to some of you, but reporters aren’t always held in the highest esteem.”
A chorus of groans greeted the comment.
“What Jay captured in that piece was nothing short of magic—a vivid picture of Kate as a dedicated professional, going above and beyond any obligation to get the story with blatant disregard for her own safety. The truth is, Kate became a savior to some of those trapped in the rubble. But the thing that made it the most skillful piece of writing I’ve ever read is this: Jay didn’t tell the story. She let the bombing victims, Kate’s colleagues, and others paint the portrait. Brilliant.” Trish’s voice held awe. “Whether or not she knew, or was involved with, Kate before the story ran is completely irrelevant. In a way, Jay actually recused herself from the story and let it tell itself. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, takes talent.”
Lynn Ames
Wendy Ashton stood up next. “Jay epitomized the phrase ‘Grace under fire.’ The first time I met her was the morning she introduced herself to the world as Kate’s mysterious blonde lover. Despite the tenseness of the situation, she was genial, direct, and unapologetic. I remember thinking to myself how rare that kind of poise and presence is in this world.”
Wendy paused and swallowed hard. “The next time I saw Jay, I had just come from Attica.” She wiped suddenly damp palms on her slacks and looked up at the woman at the podium.
Kate nodded at her to continue, even as her fingers gripped the podium with enough force that it turned her knuckles white.
“Unbeknownst to the kidnappers, when Kate stumbled and fell on me, she managed to slip me a message for Jay. Again, despite the dire nature of what was happening, Jay was nothing but gracious when I saw her. She was completely undone by the whole mess but still took the time to thank me and try to make me feel better about having to interview the kidnappers. I think that was probably typical of Jay—always more worried about others than she was about herself.”
“The day Kate was released from the hospital was Christmas Eve,”
Peter jumped in. “After the events at Attica, Jay decided she didn’t want to wait until May, when she and Kate had planned to have their commitment ceremony. Typical Jay,” he shook his head, “she never was any good at delaying gratification.”
Kate laughed, grateful for the comic relief, and mumbled, “That’s an understatement.”
“Anyway,” Peter continued, “Jay wanted to have the celebration right away.” He looked up again. “As any of us who know Jay well can attest, when she wants something, she gets it.”
Next to him, he heard Trish chuckle. “Mmm hmm.”
It was not lost on Kate th
at of everyone who had spoken, Peter was the only one to use the present tense when speaking of Jay. As Peter never made mistakes of that sort, the significance of his words caused Kate’s heart to skip a beat.
“On Christmas Day,” Peter went on, “I had the privilege of walking Jay down the aisle. She was positively radiant and so obviously in love.
She had everything she wanted in life waiting for her at the end of that stroll. I’ll always remember the beautiful smile she wore that day. It lit up the room.”
The president chimed in, “I had the assignment of a lifetime that day—joining together two soul mates. For all the lousy aspects of my job, performing Kate and Jay’s ceremony was an honor and a privilege I’ll always treasure.”
The Value of Valor
“Thank you, sir,” Kate said quietly. “It was a thrill for us to have you officiate.” She took a deep breath. “I want to thank you all personally for coming today. Celebrating Jay’s life, hearing what she meant to all of you and how you felt about her—it means the world to me, and I know it would to her, too.
“Now knowing most of this crowd as I do, I’ve managed to have some food prepared. I’ve never seen any of you turn down a free meal.”
She winked at the reporters, and they laughed.
As the group headed for the adjoining room, where a cadre of waiters had set up a buffet, Kate grabbed Peter by the elbow. “Come with me.”
She dragged him into what had been General Burgoyne’s library.
“What is it? How are you doing, Kate?”
“Never mind that. You said ‘anyone who knows Jay.’ Not ‘knew,’
‘knows.’ You think she’s alive.” She was practically vibrating.
Peter put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Kate, there is nothing out there to indicate that she’s not dead. In fact, all indications are clearly that she is.”
Kate rounded on him. “You used the present tense. That was no accident.”
“I think there’s a very, very remote possibility that she could be alive.”
She started to move toward the door. “I’m going back out there.”
Peter restrained her. “No.”
A storm brewed in Kate’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you thought it was possible?”
“First of all, I don’t want to give you false hope.”
She started to interrupt, but he stopped her.
“Second of all, think about it. If she is out there somewhere, it means whoever tried to kill her failed. If you go charging out there, they’re going to think they didn’t succeed. You’ll further endanger her.”
“You’re fighting dirty,” she accused Peter.
“He’s right, Kate.”
Kate looked back over her shoulder. She hadn’t heard the president come in.
“You know about this, sir?”
President Hyland laughed shortly. “One of the benefits of being the big cheese—when I ask questions, folks are compelled to answer. I brought in the head of the investigation to give me a progress report. I listened to what he had to say, then summoned Peter and asked for his assessment. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the FBI’s conclusions. He asked me for permission to poke around on his own.”
Kate looked at Peter, the gratitude clearly evident in her expression.
Lynn Ames
“I can’t do anything officially, of course,” the president said, “but I’ve made sure that Peter has access to whatever resources he needs.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He smiled at Kate kindly. “Anything for you, Kate. You know that, right?”
“You’re too kind, Mr. President.”
“Kate,” the smile disappeared from his face. “The FBI is releasing a report today stating that the investigation determined that Jay is dead.”
Kate sucked in a surprised breath. She moved away from both of them then, walking over to the window to stare vacantly out at the snow-covered rolling hills leading down to the river. She needed some physical distance, some way to separate herself from the pain. She watched small chunks of ice flowing downstream and said nothing. What could she say?
Her heart felt as though it had been cut open; her mind rebelled at the idea of an official document declaring her lover dead.
“I didn’t want you to see that on the news or hear about it through the grapevine and have it come as a shock. I wanted to tell you myself.”
Quietly, without turning around, she said, “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, sir.”
“Kate,” Peter said gently, “every indication is that it’s the truth.
Besides, it’s in her best interest, if she is alive, for whoever did this to believe they succeeded.”
“I understand that, Peter.” Her fingers played over the rough surface of the wood around the glass. “It’s just not easy to hear, regardless of the reasons.”
“Understood.”
“Kate, I wish I had more time, but I have to get back to Washington. I want you to take all the time you need. Call me if you need anything—
anything at all—and come back whenever you’re ready. We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll call in regularly, sir, don’t worry.”
“It’s you who shouldn’t worry, Kate. Take your time.”
“Sir, if you need anything, I hope you’ll call. I’d like to stay in the loop.”
“Of course,” he squeezed her shoulder. “Stay in touch.”
When Kate and Peter were alone, she said, “You’ll keep me posted while you’re in Arizona?” There was a touch of uncertainty in her voice.
“You know I will, but, Kate, I’m going out there to prove that this was murder. I’ll search for any signs of Jay at the same time, but I don’t hold out much hope and neither should you.”
Her answer was a single raised eyebrow. Peter almost never spoke to her in that tone.
“What do you want me to say, Kate? I’m in a tough spot here. I’m worried that you’re getting your hopes up too high. It almost makes me The Value of Valor
wish I was capable of lying to you—that I could just tell you without reservation that she’s gone. But I can’t, and I’m afraid that because I can’t, it will just prolong your agony.”
“Peter, I need to know that you’ll tell me whatever you know, when you know it.” She poked him in the chest hard with her index finger. “I don’t want to be sitting here wondering what the hell you’re filtering out.
Get it?” Her voice had risen steadily until she was practically shouting at him.
“Okay, Kate.”
“Okay what, smart boy?”
Peter scowled. “Okay, Katherine, I promise that I will tell you everything I know, when I know it.”
“That’s better.”
Peter stopped just short of the door, turning back to look at his best friend. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to bring Jay back to you, right?”
“I know,” she agreed.
“But there are no guarantees that she’s aliv—”
“Don’t say it,” she interrupted quickly. “I know that, Peter. But I won’t give up as long as there’s a chance. I just can’t.”
He nodded, praying to himself that if for any reason he couldn’t find Jay alive, he could at least find the irrefutable evidence of her death that would allow Kate to move on.
Lynn Ames
CHAPTER THREE
obert Hawthorne waited on the curb, a thick winter overcoat R pulled tight around his ample midsection, the collar turned up to protect against the chill wind blowing on Constitution Avenue in the nation’s capital. He had known this day was coming for a long time, and still it terrified him.
When a secretive and shadowy consortium of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world had approached him nearly a decade earlier offering to bankroll his candidacy for president, he thought he was about to realize his life’s ambition. In exchange for his election, they told him, they expected to help him rule the most powerful nation in the world—t
o change the global paradigm to suit their own purposes. Despite the fact that he knew the price was exorbitantly high, he had agreed. Without the backing of the “Commission,” as they called themselves, Hawthorne knew he’d never stand a chance of being elected. As it turned out, even their help hadn’t been enough.
“You’ve lost the election, Robert. You know what that means?”
Hawthorne shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You remember how we squashed that nasty story about your addict daughter holing up in a flophouse with her heroin-dealing boyfriend?
Remember how we made him disappear and sent her away to get clean and sober?”
Hawthorne swallowed hard. He’d nearly lost his precious Emily and his political career in a single stroke. The Commission had saved both as a sign of good faith and to prove their power to him.
“We have someone standing by right this very minute, ready to offer your daughter the high of a lifetime.”
Hawthorne’s fury and anguish were barely contained. “You bastard!”
“You be careful with that mouth or I might lose my temper with you,”
the man across from Hawthorne warned. “You have one chance to buy your daughter’s worthless life back, Senator.”
Hawthorne ground his teeth together, knowing he had no choice.
“What do you want from me?”
The Value of Valor
“Get us a candidate who can win and find a way to convince him to support our world view, and we’ll consider sparing you and your family.”
“But it will take years to rebuild the party.”
“That’s because you failed!” The man lowered his voice dangerously. “We’re in a generous mood, Robert. We’ll give you two election cycles to get it done.”
Hawthorne had immediately positioned himself to become chairman of the Democratic National Committee. He developed an eight-year plan, targeting Charles Hyland, the newly elected governor of New York and a rising star in the party, as the only man who could save his family. The only problem was Charlie had morals and principles; he could never be bought—not even by an organization as powerful as the Commission. It was unfortunate, to be sure, but not an insurmountable obstacle.
