A Primary Decision

by Dr. Kevin Leman

  © 2016 by Dr. Kevin Leman and Jeff Nesbit

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-0409-4

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  “To those who are given much, much is required” is a paraphrase of Luke 12:48.

  Edited by Ramona Cramer Tucker

  To all those curious enough to seek, question, and forge their own path in life.

  And to those who choose to do the right thing, no matter the consequences.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Glossary

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  64

  Epilogue

  Bonus Feature: Birth Order Secrets

  Acknowledgments

  About Dr. Kevin Leman

  About Jeff Nesbit

  Resources by Dr. Kevin Leman

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Glossary

  AF: American Frontier

  AG: Attorney General

  DA: District Attorney

  DHS: Department of Homeland Security

  DOJ: Department of Justice

  FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation

  GOP: Grand Old Party (Republican Party)

  JC: Judiciary Committee

  NGO: Non-governmental organization

  NYPD: New York Police Department

  RNC: Republican National Convention

  1

  RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Tension crackled in the air.

  All eyes in the room swiveled toward attorney general nominee Sarah Worthington.

  “You don’t think it’s an issue?” The dark eyes of Senate Judiciary Committee Chair Phelps pierced Sarah with an accusatory glare. “That, should you be confirmed as the head of the Department of Justice, that same department will be prosecuting American Frontier? The very company for which your brother is CEO? In one of the biggest oil disasters our country has ever faced?”

  It wasn’t the first targeted barb she’d faced from the 18-member committee during the all-day vetting session. Arrows had flown from both majority and minority members inside the dark wood–paneled room of the Russell Senate Office Building.

  Sarah didn’t flinch. Steely gaze met steely gaze. “I believe I have already answered that question from multiple venues in the past eight hours, Mr. Chairman. But let me be even clearer. I will do the right thing always, no matter the cost to me personally.” She lifted her chin. “Just like every member in my family has done in every venture they’ve been involved with. And that includes my brother Will at American Frontier.”

  She could have said much more. Her natural instinct was to defend her family from completely off-the-mark comments. But long ago she’d learned from Will that staying calm under fire and using fewer words was better. People had less ammunition for their arguments. From her other brother, Sean, she’d assimilated the masterful art of negotiation—seeing both sides of any situation. The members of the JC were merely doing their job. She’d already gone rounds with their questions not only about her work on past cases with the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division, but also about her two brothers’ recently aborted political runs—Will’s for the Senate seat in New York, and Sean’s for governor of New York.

  But the intensity of questioning and the flash of cameras in the press gallery had built into what now threatened to be a migraine. Sarah was tired of sitting behind the same nine-by-twelve black-cloth table.

  Tired of being grilled by senators who had to sit in the same room but didn’t like each other. It was like watching adolescent boys trying to one-up each other on the playground by flexing their muscles.

  Tired of the lukewarm water in the plastic pitchers next to her, since the ice had long ago melted.

  The chairman gave a short, dismissive nod. “That concludes our business here today. Voting will proceed at the next session. We thank you for your time, Ms. Worthington.”

  Sarah swiftly gathered her papers and stashed them in her briefcase. She was glad for the previous meetings with the legislative affairs staff at the White House to prepare her for the vetting process. The White House staff had warned her that the JC process would be ugly—that she’d likely receive vengeful challenges from surprise quarters. Her nomination by President Rich, whose tirades earned him increasingly wide enemies and fair-weather friends even within his Republican camp, and the fact she’d somehow vaulted over several rungs of Department of Justice leaders had raised suspicions in both Democrat and Republican wings. That she was a woman didn’t help with the male old-timers on the JC, especially when only two of the previous 80-plus US attorney generals had been women. That she was from a well-known blue-blood family headlined often by the media notched up the controversy further.

  The White House staff had assumed the threat of any weaknesses being exposed would scare Sarah. Instead that threat made her more determined to face down any bullies. She would not cave in. America needed strong, dependable leaders with courage, expertise, and long-range discernment. She had determined long ago to be in those ranks. The only questions had been exactly where and when.

  From the earliest moment she could remember, her father, Bill Worthington, had drilled into her mind the mantra that continually drove her: “To those who are given much, much is required.”

  So, at the end of those prior meetings with the legislative affairs staff, she’d only said, “Let’s get to work then. I do not intend to lose this.”

  Now the vetting session she’d prepared for was over. The Senate Judiciary Committee would call a vote at a later date. If that vote was in her favor, the matter would go to the Senate floor next. Then the full Senate vote would likely ta
ke a few weeks, even a month.

  The long and short of it was, if she was confirmed, she’d be the new head of the Department of Justice and serve on the president’s cabinet. She intended to use that power for good, no matter who she’d have to face off with.

  Now, though, after the intensity of the grilling she’d just gone through with the JC, she knew the road ahead would likely be harder than she’d ever dreamed.

  NEW YORK CITY

  Will Worthington had felt conflicted all morning and into the afternoon during his high-powered Worthington Shares meetings. Sarah was taking a big step today. He was worried, and not only about her. Her being vetted as attorney general meant a lot of people would be digging deeply into the secrets of the Worthington family. Less than a year ago, that wouldn’t have concerned him in the least. Now, well . . .

  He checked the time. Hopefully she’d be out of the Judiciary Committee vetting session. He speed-dialed her cell and asked without preamble, “So, how did it go?”

  She laughed. “Typical big brother, cutting to the chase.” Then her voice sobered. “It was intense. Very intense.”

  Anxiety flickered again. “Anything in particular?”

  There was a pause. “Nearly everything. I haven’t had a chance to filter through any of it. I left the room only minutes ago. I’m not even in the limo yet.”

  He took a breath. It was now or never. He had to ask, even though he was certain what her response would be. “Sure you want to do this?”

  “Why—you think I’m not up to it?” Her tone turned testy.

  So, he gathered, it had been a much harder day than even his unconquerable sister had imagined.

  “No, that’s not it,” he replied gently. “I learned the hard way never to underestimate my little sister.”

  “What is it then?” He didn’t have to be standing next to her to picture her scowl and narrowed eyes.

  He steeled himself to stay calm. It was something he’d learned well from their father. “Stay calm and you stay in control,” Bill Worthington always said. “As soon as you lose your cool, you lose control and the other person gains it.”

  “This isn’t just about you, you know,” Will said. “They’ll be digging a lot into our family too.”

  “You mean that crazy rumor that floats around about where Worthington money originally came from?” Her short laugh was sarcastic. “Seriously, Will.”

  “But they could care about the photos of Sean.” He didn’t need to say which photos.

  “As far as public sentiment is concerned, that case is as dead and buried as the bomber,” she said in the hushed but meaning-business tone she’d perfected when in a crowd. “Sandstrom’s in jail. Nobody cares that some no-name blew a chunk out of a corporate building anymore.”

  “But you care, or you wouldn’t still be digging,” he shot back. “And it’s still Sean’s face on those photos. They could pop up anywhere, anytime. You know that. I know that. And Mom and Dad have no idea.”

  At that minute Drew, Will’s right-hand man and mentor, caught Will’s eye and pointed to his watch. Will nodded. They were already a couple of minutes late for a potential acquisitions meeting.

  “We can talk later.” He ended the call.

  Apprehension prickled down his back. Trying to shake it off so he could focus on the coming meeting, he walked briskly toward Drew. But the feeling of trouble on the horizon remained.

  She has no idea just how deep and far this could go.

  MAPUTO, MOZAMBIQUE

  Sean Worthington had been in Maputo for several days checking out multiple potential NGOs. Since Mozambique had one of Africa’s fastest-growing economies, small businesses were booming, especially in the medical and engineering fields. One of those businesses, Sean felt strongly, was poised on the edge of what could become phenomenal growth in caring for the medical needs of remote tribes in Africa.

  He’d just spent the day going over the company’s financials when he received a text from his New York Times reporter friend Jon Gillibrand.

  Heard from your sis?

  After two decades of reporting at the environment desk and then the science desk for the Times, Jon was a master at remembering details. More than that, he genuinely cared about people in every strata of society. Jon didn’t care a whit that Sean was a Worthington or that he had more cash stashed in his closet for emergencies than Jon had in his entire savings account. Jon wasn’t impressed by wealth or position. He was real and honorable. Such people were difficult to come by in the Worthingtons’ complicated world.

  Sean

  Not yet. Probably still in the middle of the lions’ den. I’ll call her late tonight her time.

  Jon

  Ah, the traditional late-night wake-up call by Sean Worthington.

  Sean laughed. It had become a joke among his circle of friends.

  Of course. Would it be any other way?

  This time you might want to let her sleep. I’ve covered the vetting process. It’s intense.

  Sean lifted an eyebrow. Jon was giving him advice about his sister? That was a new one.

  Jon, Sarah, and DHS field agent Darcy Wiggins were still working together on the Polar Bear bombing case. Once those three had their teeth into an unsolved case, they didn’t let go.

  Many reporters were only after the hottest story of the day. But Jon had built a career not only on tracking details and evidence but also on the human element behind the news. Because his stories had the largest readership at the Times, they got the biggest hits digitally, and he’d been there for so many years his editors cut him some slack to work on the stories he wanted to write.

  The Polar Bear Bomber had done a nosedive off a 30-story building in New York City, leaving a suicide note that succinctly explained his actions. The NYPD, Department of Homeland Security, FBI, and Department of Justice had heaved a sigh of relief at having one high-profile case officially off the books.

  But Jon, Sarah, and Darcy remained convinced there was more to the bombing than met the eye, especially after they’d met a close friend of the bomber. They had continued to dig, meeting on their own time, usually at Sarah’s penthouse in Greenwich Village.

  Even though Sean himself had been implicated in the bombing through a shady setup, he had walked away mentally from any desire for revenge. But he knew his sister, whose strong sense of justice was ingrained in her DNA, would never give up until everyone involved was revealed and had received their due.

  Sean grinned, remembering how the once-closed investigation had been hastily reopened after Eric Sandstrom’s arrest. A simple hint in Jon’s Times article that the DOJ might be looking again into the bombing had pressured Sarah’s disgruntled boss, John Barnhill, to reopen the case within the hour. When the media frenzy again died down, the investigation quietly moved back to the dusty archives of the DOJ. But not for Sarah, Jon, and Darcy.

  A thought struck Sean. Why was this particular bombing so important for Jon, who’d been entrenched in the news as a career? Was it merely his desire that justice be done for his friends the Worthingtons, who had been pawns in a high-level power struggle? And for the bomber, an emotionally unstable young man who needed help but instead had been used?

  Sean pondered for a minute. He and Jon had just weathered the first major test of their friendship, when both became interested in Elizabeth, the third of their best-friends trio. In Sean’s large circle of friends and acquaintances, the brilliant scientist, passionate in her views, was the only woman Sean had ever wanted to compete for. After a tense period between the friends, Jon had backed off, saying Elizabeth wasn’t for him. He admitted Sean would be better for her.

  Sean had been puzzled. Jon never backed off while pursuing anything he’d set his sights on. Then again, the straightforward Jon would never say something he didn’t mean. So Sean had accepted him at his word.

  But had Jon also backed off for another reason?

  Another text flashed.

  Jon

  You still th
ere?

  Sean

  Yup.

  He had to say it.

  So what’s the sudden interest in my sister’s well-being?

  There was a full minute of text silence, then:

  She’s a good person. I care about her and what happens to her.

  Sean snorted at such lame comments from the master of words. They could mean only one thing—Jon was in cover-up mode. Sean’s instinct was confirmed a second later when Jon added:

  I care about all of you Ws. Even you, when you’re a pain in the neck. Which has been a lot lately.

  Jon and my sister? Sean’s stomach rumbled. He tucked away the question for future pondering—after he’d found the best local fare in Maputo.

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Light drizzle cooled Sarah’s cheeks as she strode out the double doors of Washington’s oldest United States Senate office building. The dampness and gray sky in the capital didn’t bother her as much as the call from Will.

  “This isn’t just about you, you know,” he’d said in his trademark tone that drove her crazy. It was the big-brother voice he’d used all his life to bend his siblings—and anyone else—to the way he wanted them to go. “They’ll be digging a lot into our family too.”

  So he does think his baby sister can’t do it—that such a big job is too big. Sarah rolled her eyes. Likely she’d get a call from their father soon too, questioning whether she was up to the challenge.

  Sarah exhaled in annoyance. She was in her midthirties, for heaven’s sake. Yet her family couldn’t let her move on from her baby-of-the-family status, even with all she’d accomplished in her career. She had held her own for years in the tough world of the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division. Still, all they could see was the little girl who used to twirl in pink princess garb, waving a bejeweled-star wand and singing off-key at the top of her lungs.

  Sometimes she still felt like the puppy of the family. The one patted on the head and told “Good job” for being a cute decoration in the room. She chafed against their non-expectations, their belief that her major accomplishment in life would be finding a suitable marriage match so she could step into a role similar to her mother’s.

  Will was clearly the star of their family—even if his two most recent decisions had tarnished his brilliance a bit. His abrupt announcement that he was stepping away from the Senate race had stunned her family, derailing his straight-ahead trajectory. Then he’d chosen to take over the CEO position of American Frontier at its worst moment in history. Yet even with those startling decisions, her father hadn’t been all over Will’s case. In fact, Bill Worthington had been strangely reticent to step in—a character quality completely opposite of his usual behavior in his children’s lives.