by Radclyffe
“That’s why I’m calling. I want you to look into military records. Augustus Graves has to be ex-military, and he’s in the Armed Forces database somewhere. We’ve got a face, we’ve got a general locale. My guess is Idaho is his home territory. Men like him always go back to their roots, where they have connections within the local population and know the terrain. He might have purchased the land for his camp decades ago under another name. Track the land purchases back as far as they go, search facial ID in all the military and civilian databases, and filter for men of his age in special-ops units. Vietnam and the Gulf Wars.”
“You think he’s the key?”
“I think he’s one of them. Someone else was providing the money, but he was providing the soldiers.”
“We’ve already started some of those checks, but you know what the military’s like. Even for us, getting redacted records is tough and slow-going.”
“Then use my name and squeeze.”
She laughed again, this time sounding truly happy. “I’m on it.”
“And, Renée, when you find something, call me anytime. Just me.”
“Understood. How’s everybody handling the train ride?”
Cam glanced across the car. Stark had gone back to flipping cards onto her solitaire game. “We’re loving it.”
*
Jane pulled into a Motel 6 outside Colorado Springs a little before two a.m. The snow had thickened into a solid wall of white as she’d been driving, and a subzero wind sent swirls of flakes blowing against the windows like mini-tornadoes. She cut the engine and looked at Hooker. “I’ll get rooms.”
“We could share.”
“If for some reason there’s only one, you can sleep in the Jeep.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “It’d be smarter for the two of us to be in the same place. Maybe nobody’s looking for you, but maybe they are. Maybe they got a photo by now. Maybe your ID’s out on the airwaves. We can sleep in shifts. And if we have to clear out quickly, it’ll be better if we were together.”
She thought it over. He was right. The Homeland Security and FBI agents had seen her face. If one or both were still alive, they could be circulating sketches to local law enforcement. Some of the weaker militia who’d been captured might even have given her up in exchange for a lighter sentence. They wouldn’t know her true identity, but they might have photos. And they’d know whose daughter she was. She hated being forced into accepting Hooker as a partner, but he’d done nothing threatening. Her father had worked with him, which meant he trusted him to some degree, at least as far as anyone could trust a mercenary who owed no allegiance to anyone or anything. She didn’t for a second think he would risk himself for her, but they both wanted to stay alive and out of custody. “All right.”
She climbed out of the truck, pulled her collar up against the icy blast, and tramped through foot-deep snow to the only light she could see in any of the rows of rooms. The lighted sign announcing Office over the door flickered valiantly against the snowy dark. Inside, a skinny clerk in his twenties wearing a T-shirt with a band logo she didn’t recognize regarded her with flat, bored eyes. “Help you?”
“I need a room.”
“Eighty-nine dollars.”
She counted out the cash and pushed it over to him.
“Sign here.” He handed her a clipboard with a form to fill out. She made up a name for herself and fabricated the model and license number for her vehicle. She left Hooker out completely. The clerk would never check in this weather. She passed the form back to him, and he gave her a plastic key. “Ice machine’s outside.” He laughed sharply. “Course, it’s probably frozen and won’t work.”
“Is there a convenience store somewhere nearby?”
“Gas and snacks a quarter mile out the driveway to the right.” He looked at the plain-faced, dirt-streaked clock on the wall. “They won’t open until six, though.”
“Thanks.”
She’d just reached the door when he called, “There’s a vending machine down the other end of the building. You get to it from the hall outside your room.”
She nodded and went out without answering. Hunched against the snow, she rapped on the front of the Jeep to signal Hooker to follow and let them into a twelve-by-twelve room that smelled of cleaning disinfectant, old smoke, and stale food. Two twin beds with worn gold covers stood on a stained gray carpet along with a dresser and a fifties-style yellow vinyl chair with cigarette burns on the arms. A closet standing open with a few hangers dangling at odd angles and a bathroom tucked into one corner with a shower stall, a minuscule sink, and a toilet completed the picture. Only one door in and out. One window with drapes and blinds, closed. Warm and dry. It would do.
She took off her jacket and put it on the chair by the door. She transferred her gun from the pocket to the waistband of her pants. She turned, saw Hooker watching her. “When do we meet your contact?”
“I’ll call in the morning, set something up. What’s your timetable?”
She smiled. From here she had another three-hundred-mile drive. But first, she needed to go to the FedEx office and pick up a package due in the morning delivery. Hooker didn’t need to know any of that. “I want to be on the road tomorrow night.”
“I can’t guarantee that.”
“I’ve got thirty thousand reasons that say you should.”
“I might be more inclined to be helpful with a little more incentive.”
She shook her head. “I promised you the rest on delivery. And you’ll get it. I keep my word.”
“I’m going with you when you leave here.”
“I don’t think so.”
Hooker shed his jacket and tossed it on the end of the bed nearest the door, somehow knowing she’d want the one against the wall with the best sightline to the door if anyone were to come through. He sat on the side and started unlacing his boots. “Let’s face it, whatever you’re planning, you’ll need a little help. Like you said, I’m for hire.”
“Don’t you mean you’re for sale?”
Hooker grinned. “Is there a difference?”
“That’s why you’re not coming with me.” Jane stretched out on the bed with all her clothes on. She didn’t expect to sleep. They’d never turned the lights on and the dense snow outside blocked the weak glow from the parking lot and office lights. In the dark she could hear Hooker’s faint, raspy laughter.
Chapter Eighteen
Close to dawn, Blair lay alone in the berth after Cam quietly left the room while it was still dark. She’d gotten used to the rhythm of the train, kind of like swinging in a hammock as she used to do light-years ago when her mother was still alive and they’d escaped the big house—the governor’s mansion—for her mother’s family home in the Adirondacks every July. The log-cabin-style lodge overlooked Lake George north of the village, with a rolling lawn that ended in a dock where they’d kept an outboard motorboat and a canoe. She’d been eleven, she remembered, that last July, and she spent hours in the hammock strung between two pines reading, swimming when the heat finally drove her from her nest, and still believing life was an endless summer.
She hadn’t yet realized freedom was an illusion and life was often far shorter than she imagined. Her mother hadn’t been sick then, or if she had been, it’d been a secret. There’d still been guards around, but they were always in her father’s shadow and only distantly in hers. She wasn’t bothered by their presence when she went to school, and she only realized years later how much her mother had shielded her from the press and the public scrutiny that even a governor and his family attracted. Especially a young, handsome, dynamic governor from a political dynasty, who everyone assumed would soon be headed to the White House. That last, long summer might have been the happiest time of her life, until now.
She smoothed the sheets in the spot where Cam had slept, imagining she could still feel her warmth. Heat lingered, but that might be more the connection she felt in her heart than anything real. But then, the warmth and ce
rtainty Cam stirred in her heart was perhaps the realest thing in her life.
With a sigh, she swung her legs from beneath the covers. She wasn’t going to go back to sleep, and Cam would be gone for the briefing with Stark and Tom Turner for hours. They might be on a train, but the work continued.
She pulled on sweats, scuffed into her UGGs, and dragged on an old woolen sweater. Having some of her favorite clothes around when traveling helped dispel the feeling she was a bit of a performing seal. And on that cranky note, she decided coffee was definitely in order.
Luce was alone in the staff lounge, dressed as always for the day’s work in a crisp emerald green suit with a champagne-colored shirt, a gold necklace with a few discreet dark green stones, and earrings and bracelet to match. A cup of coffee sat by her right hand and half a muffin by her left. She glanced over at Blair and smiled. “Good morning.”
“I’ll grant you the good part,” Blair muttered, “but morning it isn’t.”
Lucinda laughed. “You never were much of a morning person.”
“That’s not true.” Blair poured herself a cup of steaming black coffee and shook her head when a steward appeared and offered her a menu. She snagged a bagel, scooped peanut butter onto a china plate, and carried everything over to Luce’s table. “I’m very good in the morning, as long as morning starts at nine a.m.”
“Fair enough.” Lucinda fixed her with that piercing blue-eyed stare of hers that never failed to make Blair squirm just a little.
“What?” Blair asked.
“Tom Turner filled your father and me in on the follow-up to the incident yesterday morning. Everyone agrees it was a one-off. It won’t be repeated.”
Blair carefully divided her bagel and spread a layer of peanut butter over one half. “You don’t know that. None of us do.”
“Well, let’s put it this way,” Lucinda said. “If it does, someone’s ass will be in the fire around here.”
“I’m not angry at any of our people. You know as well as I do it’s not possible to predict everything.” Blair took a bite of bagel and tried the coffee. “But I am supremely pissed.”
“Is that all?” Lucinda’s query held an undercurrent of concern and a subtler invitation to talk.
“I’m fine, Luce. Really. That was nothing compared to Cam practically being killed a week ago.”
“Neither is a situation I want to see repeated,” Lucinda said.
“So,” Blair said, injecting a light note into her voice. “Are we still on for the dual appearances this morning?”
Lucinda nodded. “You’ll be at the hospital while your father is at the luncheon. If the snow doesn’t delay local transport, the entire thing should take four hours.”
“And then the dinner engagement and we’re done?”
“That should be it for the day.”
“All except for the unscheduled stops between here and Trinidad.”
Lucinda smiled wryly. “I’m working on him.”
“Well, you’re the only one who seems to be able to curtail his enthusiasm.” Blair grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had some secret hold over him.” Astonishingly, Lucinda blushed. Blair didn’t think she’d ever seen her do that before. “You know, I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“You’re his daughter,” Lucinda said. “I’m certainly not going to discuss…” She frowned. “Such things with you.”
Blair laughed, the melancholy of the predawn moments sliding away. Childhood was a miraculous time for many, and it had been for her. Idyllic, safe, innocent. But she’d been wrong a few moments ago when she’d recalled those times. The happiest moments of her life were now, knowing she was loved, loving in return. Luce was a big part of that picture. And her father. And Cam, above all, Cam. “You really want another five years of all of this?”
“Of course,” Lucinda said without the slightest hesitation. “Your father is the right man for the office. And the office is right for him.”
“And you?” Blair knew she was pushing, but she remembered what it was like to want something and not be able to have it, to long for things she couldn’t speak of. She hated the idea that Lucinda might feel that way.
“Me too,” Lucinda said. “I know you think on some level I’ve sacrificed, but I don’t feel that way. I wouldn’t want your father’s seat, but I very much like the one I have.”
“You know, you’re right and I apologize. What you do is amazing. You are the president’s chief of staff, and I shouldn’t forget that.” Blair sighed. “I have trouble separating my worry from my pride sometimes. And I am proud of both of you.”
Lucinda’s smile was soft. “Blair, you don’t think of your father as the president, and it doesn’t bother me that you don’t think of me in terms of my office. But I do enjoy my job very much.”
“The two of you remind me of Cam. Driven. Needing to be part of something bigger.”
“And you don’t think you are?”
“By default, maybe.”
Lucinda shook her head. “I’m not talking about being the first daughter, and in most senses, the first lady. I’m talking about your art. You think the lives you touch with that aren’t bigger than you?”
“Sometimes that part of me seems very far away.”
“Then you need to get further away from all of this.”
“About that”—Blair took another bite of bagel—“when we get back, I’m taking Cam away somewhere secret and private.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.” Lucinda got up to pour herself another cup of coffee. “Assuming the timing is…right.”
Blair narrowed her eyes, hearing the big unspoken but. She was very used to the nuances of Lucinda’s voice and posture. “What? You know something I don’t know?”
Lucinda returned and sat across from her. “No. I wish I did. But once we get back from this trip, your father will be in Washington for at least a few weeks. Once I thought that was where he was as protected as he could possibly be. That may no longer be true.”
“You know Cam won’t leave if there’s any question of a threat to Dad.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t let her,” Lucinda said. “I’m sorry that puts us at odds sometimes.”
“No,” Blair said. “The things you ask of Cam sometimes put her in danger, and I hate that. But I don’t hate you for asking and I don’t hate her for needing to do it. That’s my issue to deal with.”
Lucinda reached across the table and took her hand, a gesture made all the more significant for its rarity. “If I could spare you any of this, I would.”
“I’m fine,” Blair said, meaning it. Part of loving Cam, and her father and Lucinda too, was loving who they were and what they needed to do. She couldn’t resent that without resenting loving them, and that was as impossible for her as to stop her own heart.
*
Viv showered in the tiny stall in her cabin and dressed in clothes suitable for the weather and a day of running after the Secret Service agents and the president. She prayed the black wool trousers would cut down some on the biting wind and paired them with a charcoal cashmere sweater over a gray open-collared shirt, and boots that came up to midcalf. With luck she’d be able to keep snow out of these as she waded through the ever-present drifts around the train. She checked her bag to make sure she had the extra battery for her phone, the little portable charger, and her recorder. With all the photographs she was taking, she couldn’t afford to have a dead phone by dinner, and she had no idea when she’d get back to her cabin. She slipped on her watch, something she’d noticed most people had given up wearing. For her it was an item of jewelry as much as functional. The gold watch with the antique ivory face had been her grandmother’s, and she cherished it along with the memories. As a final touch, she applied a little light makeup, enough to cover the circles under her eyes. She hadn’t slept much. Her mind had been racing and her body right along with it.
She’d finally gotten back to her own cabin around one with Dusty’s
kisses still alive on her skin. She had Dusty’s schedule for the article and knew she had the morning shift. She had a packed day ahead too. All the same, neither of them had wanted to part the night before. Thank heavens, reason had finally gotten the better of her, and she’d reluctantly said good night. Dusty had been gallant, of course, and offered to walk her back to her cabin. As if she needed protection for a trek through a few cars on the presidential train. She’d smiled all the way back to her cabin thinking about it. And then she’d collapsed into her berth and thought about everything some more.
The amazing intensity of her feelings, the way her body hummed, more alive than she’d ever felt in her life, left her aching for more of Dusty’s kisses. More of all that Dusty’s kisses promised. God. Dusty was like a force of nature, blowing into her world like a hurricane, bending her will like saplings in a gale force. She’d never in her life been overpowered by anything or anyone, until now. And somehow Dusty managed it with tenderness and the gentlest of touches. She couldn’t wait to see her again, and even though she was early, she headed for the K9 crew car, telling herself she could get in some early morning interviews. Maybe, if she was lucky, a little conversation would take her mind off the insane desire to be in bed with Dusty. Every time her mind skipped back to the two of them on that skinny little bunk, kissing for hours with all their clothes on, her insides heated and threatened to burst into flame. She needed to be very, very careful or she was going to find herself in way over her head. As if she wasn’t already. The problem was, she didn’t want to be very, very careful. She wanted to burn.
She pulled open her cabin door and barely caught it before it slammed into the wall and woke the whole car. She had an hour before the daily press briefing, and she needed to get her head back in the game before then. There was a reason she didn’t have much of a love life—who had time with a few dozen competitors breathing down her neck?
