“I’d have thought a murder attempt would have knocked some sense into you and made you realize why I quit.” The brass ball on top of Ramsey’s cane hit the bed’s footboard harder with each new word. The sharp sounds sent jabs of pain between her eyes and the room seemed to shrink.
“Stop that!” Her shriek throbbed in her temples worse than his bellow. Kelsey placed her fingers against her aching scalp. She hadn’t shouted in years, obviously the accident had scared her more than she'd acknowledged. She swallowed. “Loud noises hurt worse than these stitches.” She fingered her temple.
“Apologies.” He actually looked appropriately contrite.
“Only cowards quit." She didn’t realize she’d said it aloud, until he blanched. "Rams, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He looked at his feet for several heartbeats, then raised his head. His hazel eyes shimmered with tears. “Don’t apologize. It’s true.” He sadness etched his face and beneath the shimmering pools, his eyes looked like bottomless tombs. “I don’t have the energy for politics. Not any more. Not without Abby. My love. My life.” He heaved a miserable sigh. “And Jenny, my wonderful, beautiful baby girl.” He leaned heavily on his cane.
“Abby is half the reason why you must run. Jen is the other half.”
“I. Do. Not. Want. To. Run.” His cane-top hit the frame so hard the brass bent and thunderbolts of pain split her head. “How can you even suggest that I continue with this damned election, now that you've had a brush with death?” He stared at her. She tried to glare back, but suspected her bandages merely made her look disgruntled. “Is it worth your life to pursue this campaign?"
She inclined her head. “But I still don’t believe either of our accidents was about your election.”
He looked ready to explode into a rage. "Well they were, and I quit.” She shook her head. Ramsey wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his tweed sport coat. “I can’t bear for anyone else to be hurt because of me.”
“My accident was not about you or politics, it was caused by bad brakes.”
“If you’re so determined to act naïve, then you run for the damned senate.”
“Maybe I will,” she said. He scoffed.
Voters in their part of the South rarely elected women. Worse, every male MacLennan would disown her if she invaded their arena and the females in her family would never be able to show their support. Rams was as bigoted as the rest, too. She’d already been unbelievably brazen when she tried to hold the campaign together for him. The fact that she had and he’d continued to rise in the polls probably was one reason why he seemed so furious. God forbid that any male MacLennan owe an election victory to a woman.
Tears blurring her eyes, Kelsey looked down at the shapeless yellow gown, which hid bruises and any hint that she was female. Temptation to take him up on his challenge coiled within her. It’d be worth it, just to show him that a woman could differentiate between poor vehicular maintenance and politics and then win the senate seat. Even if her car really had been sabotaged, it would be worth running for office. If she won, perhaps she could do something to dampen the horrible effects of NAFTA, which had shipped so many jobs overseas and made it more difficult to protect their country. It would be worth winning to change building codes, so buildings and the environment could co-exist in harmony. It would be worth winning just to prove she was not a coward.
Ramsey began drumming his cane on the foot rail. Her teeth clamped together so hard, she thought they’d shatter. If she hadn’t been tethered to the I.V., Kelsey would have jumped out of bed and throttled him … at least she would have, if she could find the energy. “Noise hurts,” she gasped.
He grasped the cane to his chest, as if he’d just realized he had it in his hand. For a long moment, he just stood there, then he looked her in the eye. “Chet looked over your car.” Ramsey limped around to the side of her bed and gently grasped her hand. “There were holes in your brake lines. Not the rusted kind. They’d been drilled, just like mine were.” He enunciated each soft word carefully. “You were supposed to die." He gave her a look that normally swayed juries about his confidence in the truth.
She had been immune to that look since grade school, but what really bothered her was the conviction that he was being honest and her brakes really had been tampered with. Kelsey tried to breath despite the lump blocking her throat. “So that’s why you’re so convinced someone tried to murder me,” she whispered. Perhaps it was political, after all. But why? She held her breath as fear clutched her heart as a horrible sense of vulnerability grew.
"The sabotage won’t come out in the police report, though.” Ramsey looked very tired and old. “Botts will cover it up, just like he did in my accident report.”
Why would Sheriff Botts do that? “What do you mean?” It was difficult to breath.
“Figure it out.” Ramsey's expression twisted with disdain, but at least he didn't bang his cane against the bed to emphasize his statement. She put up her hands in a helpless gesture. "It’s damned convenient to be a criminal when you're the sheriff," he said.
She wanted to protest the ludicrous idea, but Sheriff Botts always stood at Marvin Frederickson’s side during political rallies. Could he be involved with Marvin’s more nefarious business? Kelsey licked her lips. “If he has corrupted Botts, he can do just about anything he wants in this area.”
Ramsey nodded. “Now you’re starting to see the whole picture.” He gestured to the hospital room. “Too bad you had to get hurt to figure it out.”
Tears of frustration at such a hopeless situation burned her eyes. No wonder Ramsey was so determined to quit. If he was right, instead of just paranoid, anything else was suicidal. “Is Jake Botts really one of Frederickson’s puppets?” Ramsey glared at her. “What if he was just getting back at you for insinuating that he’s incompetent in that interview?” She referred to the article, which her brother had given the previous year. In it, he’d implied that he’d lost a murder case due to police incompetence.
“He is an inept cop.” Ramsey’s tone sent shivers of dread up and down her spine. “And I’d bet my trust fund that he’s also one of Marv’s most skilled lackeys. For a long time, I've noticed that he seems to work hard to ignore certain bits of evidence.” A chill rippled over Kelsey. Her brother’s expression turned grim and she suspected this might not simply be due to losing any court cases. “Jake mislabeled certain crucial pieces of evidence prior to that court case and he certainly tampered with details from my accident. Fact is, I can think of several situations, which seemed shady, but I could never figure out why.”
“Why haven’t you said or done something?”
“Who should I talk to - another reporter?” He scowled. “That comment was supposed to have been off the record.”
“Obviously not her, but someone.”
“What should I say?” He ran his hand through his curly auburn hair. “I don’t have any evidence, just a gut feeling and lots of suspicions.”
“For how long?” she asked.
“Since Sam Reynolds suicide.” Kelsey blinked, as she tried to recall why that name sounded familiar. “He was Marv’s tax accountant a few years ago,” Ramsey added. She nodded, finally able to place the name with a person. Her brother gave her a sober look. “I saw Sam at the country club a few weeks before his death and he mentioned that he’d given Marv three months notice to find new representation.” Ramsey wet his lips. “Accountants don’t dump their high-prestige clients without a good reason and the best one I can think of is that they don’t want to become an accomplice to something illegal.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but maybe he was just depressed. After all, he did commit suicide.”
A tiny muscle jumped in his temple. “Did he? Should someone who falls through a window and cuts their jugular vein in the process be labeled suicide? … No one every found the glass shard that supposedly cut him... I could buy accidental death, but... Would you label it suicide?”
She stared at him, as
he willed her to respond, then she remembered to shake her head. If her brother’s information was correct, Mr. Reynold’s death didn’t sound like suicide, but it didn’t necessarily mean Marvin had murdered him, either. And with Frederickson in D.C. so much, it could have been as simple as Mr. Reynolds disliking the geographical problems associated with working for someone so far away. Or disliking the man and his ‘for me’ politics, as much as she did. Just because Ramsey knew of one person who might have wanted him dead, that did not mean there were not others. Others who could have had the opportunity to kill him, if he had been killed...
"Having Botts as a partner would be perfect,” Ramsey ranted on, “particularly when you’re trying to kill off the competition and establish a billion dollar empire for illicit activities.”
“You think he was the one who-“ Ramsey nodded. She gulped down a gasp.
“Botts tells his deputies what to write, then files their reports.” His expression hardened. “Want to bet that the report about your accident states that you were at fault?”
“But I was,” she said.
“Jake will probably tell reporters that you were either high or drunk.” Again, the tic, next to Ramsey’s eye, jumped.
“Sit down. Relax.” If he didn’t, he could have a stroke.
He ignored her. “It'll be in confidence, of course and he'll only be listed as 'a reliable source'.” Ramsey’s mouth flattened. “Botts started the rumors that I was drunk and that I had an extensive criminal history as a juvenile.”
"Prom night?" She frowned. The railroad track of stitches across her scalp pulled, making it feel like she was being scalped. “If he’s making a mountain out of that mail box, that’s all the more reason for you to run for Senate.”
“I’ve already told the Party that I quit for health reasons.”
“Rams, you have to take it back.” He shook his head. Kelsey stared at him. “You’d let someone get away with murdering the two people you loved most?”
“He’s already has gotten away with it.” Ramsey swallowed then continued, “But what’s important now is protecting you. If you hadn’t started doing the speeches for me, you wouldn’t be in that bed.”
He couldn’t know that. At least not for certain. “I want justice,” Kelsey said. “Now. This year. Not at some unspecified point in the future when divine intervention finally miraculously delivers it.” He shook his head. Unbelievable. “How can you wait and hope that maybe some day, some year things will come out right if you aren’t willing to fight for fairness, now?”
Tears glittered in his eyes. “I laid in a bed just like this for two weeks." His cane pinged against the foot rail; he snatched it back. "I didn’t know if I’d ever walk again, but I knew I’d never see Abby and Jenny again. Ever. Every morning, when I wake, I still wish I’d died." The knuckles holding his cane whitened. "If I’d had the chance to kill Marvin when I first found out that Abby and Jenny were dead, I would have strangled him.” Sobs wracked him.
“But not now,” she whispered. He shook his head. Kelsey heaved a tired sigh. “Fine, we'll do it your way.” She swallowed. “I’ll run.”
The door to the room banged open. Ramsey whirled around, tripped on his cane and stumbled backward against the bed.
Zoë Lancaster burst into the room. “You can’t run,” Zoë exclaimed. Kelsey glared at her. How typical of their illegitimate half sister to eavesdrop, then burst in, as if she had a right to be part of a discussion, which didn’t concern her.
Her brother wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “She’s right,” Ramsey said. For the first time in their lives, her brother and illegitimate sister were allies.
“Someone has to try to beat him," Kelsey said.
“Not you,” Ramsey said.
"You said-" Kelsey began.
"It was sarcasm."
Zoë grabbed Kelsey's hand. She winced as the I.V. jabbed deeper into her flesh. "Marv is your uncle, don't-"
"Step uncle," she corrected through gritted teeth. With her free hand, Kelsey grabbed Zoë’s garishly bejeweled fingers and tried to loosen her grip before she screamed with pain from the pressure on the I.V.
"-do this." Zoë's chest heaved, emphasizing the too-tight sequin-covered maroon shirt covering her huge silicon breasts. Ramsey looked at the ceiling. "You’re tearing up our family."
"Running is ridiculous," Ramsey said.
“You’re hurting my hand,” Kelsey gasped. When Zoë ignored her, Kelsey pinched Zoë’s finger. She jerked back, in surprise. Finally free, Kelsey heaved a sigh of relief.
"Mother knows Marvin for the dishonest crook he has always been,” Ramsey told Zoë. “Furthermore, the only family the accident tore apart was mine. And I'd bet my last dollar that dear Uncle Marvin arranged it."
Zoë leaned toward Ramsey, virtually thrusting her artificially enhanced bosom in his face. “You are wrong. Your decision to run hurt everyone.” Her skin-tight V-neck dark red shirt's sequins flashed pulsated with each breath.
Ramsey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at the phony cleavage.
"Why did Winston and Jacqueline leave town?” Zoë glared at Ramsey as if he should know why his father and stepmother did anything. “Why aren't they coming back until after the election?" With every syllable, her ludicrous chest inched toward Ramsey.
Kelsey stared, fascinated to watch Zoë use her artificial attributes to quell her brother. She glanced down at her own modest bosom and wondered if Zoë understood how effective her ridiculous melon-sized breasts were against males. Of course she did, just like she knew certain men would do anything for phony blonds, which was why she bleached her hair to near white. Manipulative as she was, it was probably why she spent so much money to look fake.
Ramsey shuffled back to the visitor’s chair. He sat down heavily on the mustard colored vinyl, then turned his head and stared through a crack in the vinyl blinds.
Without anyone to argue with or a male to enthrall with her phony breasts, Zoë sat on the bed, next to her and leaned close. The heavy scent of her sickeningly sweet perfume made the air seem suffocating. “You can’t do this.” From years of experience, Zoë obviously knew her artificial enhancements wouldn’t distract her half sister, so she used a soft, compelling tone. “Marv has to win.”
Kelsey stared at Zoë, amazed that she’d take the jerk’s side. “I’m sure Marvin has to win to save his hide. However, voters need him out of office so-"
"Quit saying that," Zoë interrupted.
Kelsey closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she noticed the clock on her nightstand. "I have to give a speech at the Masons in an hour.”
“It’s been canceled,” Ramsey said tiredly from the chair. “Just like the entire campaign." He rose, shuffled to the end of the bed, then gave her a commanding look. "Stay in that bed until the doctor says you’re well enough to go home. And pray that you're here long enough for Frederickson and his cronies to get the message that I quit and that he has won by default.”
Kelsey glared at him. “I will run and you can not stop me.”
“You can't,” Zoë shrieked.
Ramsey looked at Zoë, his expression speculative, as if trying to understand how he and his illegitimate half sister could possibly be on the same side of any issue.
Too bad they couldn’t have agreed on something that favored revenge for Abby and Jen’s deaths or team up on some other useful issue, instead of fight her when she was bedridden. Kelsey shoved the self-pitying thought aside. "I am exhausted.” Kelsey enunciated each syllable clearly, then gave them an innocent smile. “Maybe if you two quit arguing with me and let me get some sleep, I’ll change my mind."
Ramsey nodded and walked toward the door, his pace hurried, but Zoë studied her as if looking for deception. Her eyes narrowed. “I guess you really don’t look so good. No wonder you’re saying such stupid stuff.”
Kelsey allowed her eyelids to flutter, as if she was completely exhausted. “I need rest.”
“Fine, I’ll be back tom
orrow.”
“That won’t be necessary, I’ll get out and be home.”
“Then, I’ll drive you.” Zoë looked pleased with that thought. “Until then.”
After the door whispered shut behind her, Kelsey listened to the departing tap of her stiletto heels. Then, she sat up in bed, grabbed the phone and dialed campaign headquarters.
Chapter Four
Mandy popped into the hospital room, baby Merry secure on her hip. Her three boys trooped silently behind her.
“It’s great to see you, but I’ll be home later, today,” Kelsey said.
“That’s good to hear,” Mandy said. Mark, Mattie and Mike nodded vigorously; even little Merry seemed to smile. “The boys were convinced you’d been abducted by aliens.”
“They certainly have great imaginations.”
“But we saw it,” Mark, the eight-year-old, blurted out. Mandy shot him a ‘look’. “I’m sorry, Ma, but we did.” Mattie and Mike nodded vigorously.
Mandy sighed. “I warned them that kids weren’t supposed to visit people in hospitals and that I’d have to sneak them in.” She, again, gave them ‘the look’.
“It’s okay. If anyone asks, I’ll introduce you as relatives.” She smiled at the boys. They grinned back. “So, tell me about this alien.”
“We was up in our tree house,” Mike said. She loved to listen to them play in the old magnolia. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever have children and if she did, if she would be half as great a mom as Mandy.
When Merry got older, would the tree house turn into a fort, as Ramsey’s secret hideout had, or would these three boys be accept a tiny girl and her playmates into their lair?
“Sleeping,” Mattie added. Kelsey tore her thoughts from what might be to the present and tried to pay attention.
“We was wide awake,” Mike corrected. “And then we saw that black thing sneaking from shadow to shadow.”
“Yeah, sneaking,” Mark said, “but it didn’t move like Smigel or nothing; it was more like Princess Leia when she dressed up in that bounty hunter getup.”
Deadly Rumors Page 5
