Hard Love

by Meredith Wild

  “Right. Congratulations.”

  “Can we cut the shit? Why are you here?”

  Evans casually tucked his hands into his pockets. “Is there a reason why you’re being so contentious, Mr. Landon? I’m simply here to ask questions.”

  “I haven’t had overwhelmingly positive experiences with the FBI.”

  “I’m aware.” Evans’s tone was low and full of meaning.

  Blake cocked his head. “Are you?”

  “I wouldn’t be here otherwise, and I think you know that.”

  Blake exhaled. “So much for sealing the records.”

  “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “All I know is that you’re in my house, and you still haven’t given me a good reason why.”

  “Do you mind if I sit?”

  Again, Blake didn’t reply, and Evans made his way to the couch. I brought him his coffee and perched at the edge of the adjacent chair.

  He took a sip from his cup and looked over at me. “I understand you just returned from your honeymoon. I assume you are aware of the election results?”

  “Fitzgerald won… by a landslide,” I said.

  “That’s true.”

  “What’s so curious about the results?” I asked.

  “Well… up until a few hours before the polling places closed, he was falling behind.”

  “That’s not especially unusual,” Blake said.

  “It is when his votes in several districts exceeded the number of registered voters in those areas and pushed the election in his favor.”

  “Why would he do that?” The words fell out of my mouth, my disbelief obliterating any filter I should have had around this man who clearly wasn’t here to make friends.

  Evans shifted his stony stare from Blake to me, warming slightly. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. What’s clear is that if Fitzgerald is behind this, he most certainly had help. Expert help.”

  He glanced up at Blake, the look in his eye communicating something that perhaps only he and Blake knew now. No doubt it had to do with Blake’s rumored history as a computer hacker. He’d gotten into hot water years ago. But why would Evans be bringing this to him? Did he think Blake helped Daniel pull off election fraud?

  My stomach roiled. I gripped the edge of the couch cushion as the blood drained from my face.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Landon? You don’t look well.”

  I stood weakly. “I’m fine.”

  “You should go.” Blake took a quick step toward Evans.

  Evans rose on cue. “Sure. But you’ll be coming with me. Mrs. Landon, you as well.”

  “Like hell. You can leave her out of this,” Blake shot back, anger brewing behind his eyes.

  Evans took a step toward him. “Mr. Landon, you’re suspected of rigging the governor’s election to tip in the favor of your wife’s estranged father. We have questions, and we’d appreciate your cooperation.”

  Oh my God, no. I couldn’t breathe. Bile rose in my throat. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t possibly be happening…

  “On what grounds?”

  “You have motive. You have the resources to pull this off. And last, but certainly not least, you have the skills to do so.”

  Blake folded his arms across his chest. “You’re going to need more than that to bring me in.”

  “And chances are we’ll find it. We have a search warrant for your office downtown. They’re confiscating your machines this morning.”

  “What the—” Blake took a menacing step toward Evans.

  Evans brought his hand under his blazer to where his firearm was holstered. I moved quickly, standing between the two men.

  “Blake, please. Let’s just go talk to them and clear this up.”

  I rested my hand on Blake’s chest. His heart thundered under my touch. An intense energy rolled off him.

  Evans sidestepped us and moved toward the door. “Let’s do this the easy way. It’s just questions. Let’s get on with it.”

  * * *

  ERICA

  I waited for a long time in the interrogation room, staring down at the cold brushed metal of the table. I was cold too. From my fingers down to my toes, but that wasn’t why I felt so numb. The initial panic had worn off on the drive into the city, and now a fog had settled over my thoughts, making everything slow and surreal. How could this be happening?

  A sick feeling brewed in me. If the feds linked Blake to the voting fraud… I couldn’t even fathom it. This wasn’t a brush with the law like when he had pummeled the hell out of Max. He could be facing real time behind bars, for something he didn’t do. My head fell into my hands.

  The door opened, and through it walked Detective Carmody, a man whose face I wished I didn’t know. He closed the door, shutting out the noisy office outside. He wasn’t striking, but he wasn’t a bad-looking man either. His eyes were tired.

  He folded his thin frame into the chair across from me. “Erica. We meet again.”

  The first time we’d spoken, he’d asked about Mark’s death. The case was closed now, but he was one of the first people to learn that I was Daniel’s illegitimate daughter—a fact I’d failed to volunteer at the time. He already knew far more about me than I wanted him to.

  “You know why we’re here?”

  “Blake didn’t do this.” As I said it, I was willing it to be true. I knew Blake. He wouldn’t do this to me.

  Carmody responded with an almost sympathetic smile. “How can you know that?”

  “I just know. He’d never do anything to hurt me, and ruining Daniel’s chances of winning would hurt me.”

  “By that measure, ensuring that Daniel won the race would be doing a service to you.”

  “It was obviously rigged. How does that serve anyone?”

  Carmody sat back in his chair and paused. “How well do you know your husband, Erica?”

  “A lot better than you do.”

  He nodded, a ghost of smile on his lips. “He has a past, you know.”

  “Are you saying that you’re singling him out because of something he did when he was a kid?”

  He leaned in. “Has Landon ever spoken to you about accessing information illegally?”

  Before I could tell him to shove it, a middle-aged man pushed open the door and strode into the room. His nearly black hair was slicked back neatly and matched a simple black suit. His skin was pale, almost translucent, in stark contrast to his suit and hair. He regarded me with an impassive look before shifting his focus to Carmody.

  “I’m Dean Gove, Blake’s attorney. You were supposed to wait until I arrived to question her.”

  “We were just chatting,” Carmody replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He rose. “I’m Detective Carmody.”

  The two men shook hands.

  Gove frowned. “You’re with the Boston police? I understood this was an FBI matter.”

  “There seems to be some question as to whose jurisdiction this falls under. Clearly state laws have been broken, so for now, we’re all looking for answers.”

  So much for presenting a united front. I could only hope that any rift between his department and Evans worked in our favor.

  Not bothering with introductions beyond a brief nod, Gove sat down beside me and pulled out a notebook and an expensive-looking pen. “All right. Tell us why we’re here.”

  Carmody kept his attention on me.

  “Let’s start with Daniel Fitzgerald’s campaign. His campaign manager confirmed that you were involved intermittently over the past several months. Is that correct?”

  That sick feeling swept over me again. Goddamn Daniel. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Can you elaborate on that?”

  “I’ve been running my own startup, so I didn’t really have time to invest all my efforts into his campaign when he asked me to. I agreed to consult as needed with his marketing team to increase his social reach.”

  “You were previously estranged until this year, correct?”

  I
closed my eyes a moment. “Yes.”

  “Why would you participate in his campaign if you barely knew him?”

  Good question. Blake would want to know that answer too.

  “He’s my father. When I found that out, I wanted to help.”

  He glanced down at his notes, scribbling something. “Okay. So you helped with marketing. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “What about Blake? He has even more resources than you do. How was he involved?”

  I sent a tired look in his direction. I knew what he was doing, and I was sick over it. “He wasn’t involved at all. He didn’t even want me involved.”

  Carmody lifted an eyebrow. “Really. Why is that?”

  Gove cleared his throat. “I think we’re getting off topic here. Let’s stick to the facts. Mr. Landon’s feelings toward her involvement in the campaign have no bearing in this meeting.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Then you can take it up with him. Erica, you don’t need to answer that. Move on, Detective.”

  Carmody scribbled more in his notebook. “Were you involved with the campaign work leading up to election day?”

  “I just got back from my honeymoon. We’ve been out of the country for a month, so no.”

  “What about Blake? What was he working on?”

  Nothing was the answer on the tip of my tongue. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this to me.

  “Nothing that I know of. We agreed to unplug and pick up with work when we got back home.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  Was I certain? No.

  “I’m certain,” I lied. “We were together all day every day. If he was working on something, I would have known it.”

  Carmody stared at me. His eyes were an odd color. Dark blue with amber around the irises. My heartbeat quickened. I didn’t know what any of this could mean, but at least to the FBI, it pointed to Blake’s suspected guilt. Something inside told me that Carmody knew I was lying. But I’d lie all day long for Blake, if it kept him out of harm’s way. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him now.

  “When was the last time you spoke with your father?”

  “It’s been a couple months.”

  “Any reason for the gap in communications?”

  I released a heavy sigh. I’d never feel comfortable discussing my relationship with Daniel with the authorities after what he’d done. This situation was no different.

  “He didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  “Why is that?”

  I closed my eyes, remembering the last time we’d spoken.

  You’re my daughter. My only child. I love you, but it’s time for me to go now.

  My heart broke when he’d said the words. The same empty kind of pain seared through me now as it had then. Pain that I’d kept under the surface, believing it didn’t deserve oxygen. But everything about his rejection still hurt.

  “After I was shot… he thought it would be better if he kept a distance.”

  “He shot the man who tried to kill you.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  Gove cleared his throat. “Is this all you have, Carmody? We didn’t come here to discuss Erica’s feelings about her father.”

  Carmody finally turned to acknowledge Gove. “Seems relevant to me.”

  “It might be, if you had any evidence against my clients, which you apparently don’t.” Gove tucked his notebook away and stood. “Where’s Mr. Landon now?”

  “He’s speaking with Agent Evans.”

  Gove pointed at him with a glare. “If this was a ploy to get him alone with the FBI, I’m going to have your ass.”

  Carmody winced. “I’m not working with Evans.”

  Gove cursed under his breath. “What a fucking circus. Show me to Landon, and let’s move on.”

  The detective’s jaw tightened and he rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Fine. You’re free to go, Erica.”

  I stood, no less numb than I’d been moments ago. The fog had only thickened. I was sinking under the weight of everything being said. Gove caught my elbow and led me out of the room, through a few hallways, until we were in the busy lobby of the police station.

  “I can wait here,” I said.

  “You should go home. Blake let me know Clay would take you. I’ll swing Blake back home as soon as we’re done here.”

  I glanced past him, as if I’d see Blake at any moment. I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t want to leave him here either. “I’d rather wait.”

  Gove’s eyes softened. “This could be a while, Erica. He wants you to go home.”

  My heart fell. “You take orders from him too, huh?”

  He laughed softly. “For what he pays me, you’re absolutely right.”

  “It’ll be a small price if you can get him out of this mess.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Don’t worry, all right? We’re taking care of this.” He nodded toward the automatic doors opening and closing in front of me, bringing gusts of crisp air into the lobby.

  “Fine, but please have him call me as soon as he can.”

  “I’ll give him the message. We won’t be here a minute longer than we need to be. I need to get back there before they try to pull any stunts with him though.”

  Reluctantly I made for the doors. I caught sight of the black Escalade at the end of the block. Clay would take me back home, where I’d wait and wonder. I wanted more answers than I had, and I wouldn’t know any more until they let Blake leave.

  I pulled out my phone, went to my contacts, and pulled up Daniel’s number. We hadn’t spoken in ages, but if anyone could shine some light on this shit storm it might be him. After a minute, the ringing switched over to his voicemail. I hung up and sent off a short text, hoping somehow he’d help me get closer to the truth.

  E: We need to talk. Please call me.

  If Daniel had made arrangements to tip the votes in his favor, after everything he’d done to try to win, I wouldn’t be surprised. If the loss of his stepson had once made him sympathetic to voters, an advantage he’d been well aware of when he’d put the hit out on Mark, I’d put nothing past him now.

  But if Daniel didn’t rig it… who did? The police clearly thought they had their man.

  A few seconds later my phone chimed with a text.

  D: Don’t call. Don’t text. Stay far away from all of this.

  I cursed under my breath. He’d seen my call and ignored it. Bastard.

  E: The FBI is talking to Blake. I need answers.

  When he didn’t respond, a truly hopeless feeling washed over me. Suddenly, more than anything, I needed Blake’s reassurance that we were going to find our way out of this, but he was at the center of it, and I had no idea how long they’d keep him.

  I’d started toward Clay when I heard my name. Something about the male voice that uttered it sent a shiver down my spine. I turned and my heart seized.

  We were face-to-face, inches apart. Not yards, which is what the restraining order had dictated after he’d attacked me. This close, Max looked haggard. His usually cropped blond hair was unkempt and stubble lined his jaw. Always clean-cut, he was as worn down as I’d ever seen him.

  A sickening mix of panic and revulsion spread through me. What was he doing here? The question caught in my throat but never passed my lips. I swallowed hard and took an unsteady step back.

  “You’re supposed to be—”

  “The judge gave me some time to get my business affairs in order. I’m being processed today.” He shook his head, and his lips drew back in a bitter smile. “Can you imagine it, Erica? Having your freedom ticking down by the minute?”

  My adrenaline surged. We were in public, but it didn’t make me feel any safer. My lips trembled as I found my voice. “I have a restraining order. You can’t be here,” I insisted, praying he’d turn around and leave.

  He took a step toward me, regaining the
distance between us. “Won’t matter soon.”

  I took another step back, blood thundering in my ears. “I have to go.” I had to get the hell out of here, and fast.

  “Wait.” He caught my arm, keeping me from fleeing.

  I struggled for air, fear shooting through my veins. “Let me go!”

  He grimaced and tightened his hold, painfully pinching my skin. “He’ll ruin you. All of you.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth.

  I twisted away and stumbled backward, nearly falling to the pavement. I caught myself when he let me go. As I put a few steps between us, he stood stock-still, his eyes devoid of emotion.

  “He’ll ruin you… the same way he ruined me.” There was something final and hopeless in his tone.

  In a flash, Clay was between us, obscuring Max’s figure with his broad frame. “Sir, back away.”

  “We were just talking.”

  “I’m not going to have any choice but to physically move you if you don’t start walking in the other direction right now.”

  “She’ll never see me again. Trust me.”

  Clay stood his ground and Max turned. Hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes cast to the ground, he climbed the stairs to the police station and disappeared into the building I’d just left.

  “Are you okay?” Clay turned to me.

  “I’m fine… I’m fine.” But other than the violent tremors coursing through me, somehow I was frozen in place, unable to take the next steps toward the car that would take me home.

  “Mrs. Landon?”

  Worry filled Clay’s eyes. My own brimmed with a rush of tears that spilled down my cheeks. Without thinking, I reached for him. I felt like a child hugging an oversize stuffed animal. Clay’s enormous arms enveloped me with an embrace that seemed too gentle for his strength. I buried my face in his T-shirt and sobbed. He hushed me, and after several moments, I caught my breath.

  “I’m sorry.” I wiped at my tears feebly.

  “It’s okay. You’re upset.”

  “I… I guess I wasn’t expecting to come home to all of this.”

  “I understand.”

  I released an uneven breath. If anyone understood, maybe Clay did. He was paid to be on alert, to protect us from all those who would try to hurt us. Maybe he could fathom a fraction of what I now felt. “Thank you, Clay. For everything.”