by Lee Winter
“Oh!” Lauren sat up. “Breaking news. ‘FBI Director on Leave Pending Investigation.’”
“That explains the three missed calls from Diane.” Catherine paused, looking guilty. “Neil’s emailed, asking how much I knew about the story and why his paper doesn’t have a piece of it.” She began tapping out a reply to her editor. “I’m going to say that I knew you were writing it, but it’s entirely your story.”
“Will he believe that? I mean, everyone just assumes…” She trailed off.
Catherine stopped typing. She studied Lauren. “I’m not totally oblivious, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of it when I originally outed us both, but later I realized what it would mean for you. That your colleagues would assume I’d done most of the work on the SmartPay scoop, not you. Even though you never said anything about it, I figured…”
Lauren swallowed. “You knew?”
“I know newsrooms. So with this story, you got to show them how good you are.”
“Is that why you gave me the story?” Confusion lit her eyes.
“No. I was honest about my reasons. But this is a nice side effect, don’t you think? Your story is brilliant, Lauren.”
“Catherine, you got the Lionel quotes. You got Lesser to spill by figuring out what would get him to turn on his associates.”
“Both sources were not strong enough without someone official giving it credibility. Lauren, somehow you got a sitting US senator to admit to being part of a planned FBI operation to fake a terrorism arrest in order to prove the worth of a data chip they want to exploit. Do you understand how big that is?” Her expression became suddenly curious. “How did you do that, anyway?”
“I learned from you with Lesser and figured out what mattered to Hickory. I appealed to him, one Iowan to another. Explained how bad the whole state would look if those slick big-city weasels pinned this on him. We know how you DC types look down on us.” She poked Catherine in the ribs. “We’re always the butt of elitist jokes. He knew exactly what I was talking about. Eventually, he agreed he should get ahead of the story, put his version out first before he got thrown to the wolves by Lionel. It helped that Hickory was so damned outraged at being used. And he decided he wanted to be on the same side as you this time, since last time you did such a thorough job of shredding him.”
“He deserved that. Quantitative easing for Iowa? Please.” Catherine’s phone beeped. “Ah. Diane’s telling me the stood-down FBI director’s just told staff he’s resigning. He’s doing it rather than be investigated and is refusing to comment on anything.”
“Confirmation in itself,” Lauren said. “I’d say all the cockroaches are trying to scuttle into the dark corners now.”
“On that note, did you see Ansom’s media release? They have outed Lesser as a racist right-winger responsible for My Evil Twin. Ansom asks how can anyone trust anything a racist says, let alone believe a word he says against Ansom? Oh…unbelievable…the company’s including a link at the bottom of the statement to my Evil Twin piece!”
“Who said your dad never appreciated your writing?” Lauren joked.
“Lesser won’t like that one bit. He was fine with being a racist. Not fine with all of America knowing and judging him.”
“Why do I suspect a doxing is in your dad’s future?” Lauren asked.
“I’d say the odds are high.”
“And somehow, I don’t think Lionel will appreciate a ton of garlic, pineapple, and anchovy pizzas landing on his doorstep as much as my brothers did.”
“I think it might get a lot worse for him than just pizza. Let’s just say my father has a lot of secrets he’ll want to stay buried. And Lesser has the ability to dig them up.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Oh, sorry. I know he’s still your dad.”
Catherine eyed her. “You heard the tape. He’s done with me. It’s mutual.” She shifted closer. “Now, let’s put our devices away. Toss work on the back burner. We’ve done our duty. Saved the world.” Her lips curled. “How about we congratulate ourselves a bit more?”
A few hours later, there was a soft knock at the door. Lauren was snoozing on the bed. Catherine, wearing a robe and nothing else, was amusing herself, finishing off reading the media mogul’s biography. She padded to the door. “Who is it?”
“Phoebe.”
Lauren rolled over and cracked an eyelid. “Tell her it’s damned rude to crash someone’s honeymoon,” she grumbled.
Catherine couldn’t disagree. Her eyes fell to the expanse of skin along Lauren’s back and decided the view was almost too attractive to open the door. A sheet barely covered the swell of her ass. The play of muscles was calling for Catherine to trace them.
“Want me to take the meeting in the hall? Spare your blushes?”
“Why should you be put out? She’s interrupting a honeymoon—she deserves whatever she gets.” Lauren’s eyes had a mischievous gleam. She stretched, the sheet dropping lower. She pulled it up, but only a little.
Catherine cracked the door.
“Phoebe.” She tilted her head. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
“I know. I’m sorry. That crazy grandmother, Mrs. Haverson, told me that about fifty times when I turned up and asked where you were. I need to talk to you.” She eyed the door pointedly.
“We’re not exactly set up for guests.” Catherine gestured at her robe.
“But it’s urgent. Please can I come in? Just for a minute.”
Catherine sighed. She stepped back, letting in the younger woman who, in many ways, looked a lot like her—except for her constant nervous energy. She was always moving. Her dyed blonde hair was impeccably curled into a style Catherine always thought of as “primetime newsreader.” Earrings, pearl. Dress, designer. Heels, ridiculously high, ridiculously expensive. She was more their mother’s clone with every passing day.
Phoebe entered, shoulders rigid, her gaze darting about.
Catherine stepped quickly past her, blocking most of Lauren’s sprawled body from her sister. Lauren rolled over and sat up, shifting the sheet to fully cover everything but her bare shoulders. She ran a hand through her chaotic bed hair.
“Oh!” Phoebe caught a glimpse of her and blushed.
Well, what was she expecting? Catherine rolled her eyes.
“I am so sorry to intrude,” Phoebe babbled. “Hi, you’re obviously Lauren. It’s nice to meet you at last.”
Lauren rubbed sleep out of her eyes and her natural politeness seemed to return, because she said, “Hey, Phoebe. Same here.”
Catherine closed the door and leaned against it. “So. You missed the wedding.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Miles needed me at work. I do some secretarial stuff there now.”
“You didn’t call or text.”
A silence fell. The tension felt thick as a fog.
“I’m sorry. I was really busy.”
“So you took the job? The one Dad’s always been trying to foist on me for decades?”
“Only part time.” She folded her arms. “I go in when things get busy. Like now.”
“Mm. Coffee?” Catherine led her into the kitchenette, in a nook out of sight of the bed area. From behind her, she could hear the rustle of sheets as Lauren doubtlessly got up to dress.
“How are things?” Phoebe asked.
“Seriously, Phoebe? Things?”
“All right, how was your wedding?”
Catherine spooned granules into two cups, knowing Lauren wouldn’t want any at this time of day. She put the coffee pot on. “It was beautiful. It would have been better if your son wasn’t the only member of my entire family in attendance.”
“I know.” Phoebe’s voice took on a pleading quality. “I’m sorry.”
“So Dad suggested you not come?”
&
nbsp; Phoebe licked her lips.
Catherine glared. “Since when does filing paperwork take precedence over your only sister’s wedding?”
“I feel really bad about that, truly. But it was a crisis situation. You have no idea. Dad said you were maybe about to run a big story on us, and it’d be bad. Miles is so stressed. He’s starting to suspect that…” She ran a shaky hand down her dress. “He thinks Dad might shift the blame on him for MediCache’s software. Because Miles was on the committee that approved Douglas Lesser being chosen to design it. But Miles had no idea what it really did. None. And Dad’s suddenly saying he must have. Dad’s starting to… I mean, he’s as bad as I’ve ever seen him.”
“I’m sorry about your husband. But our father deserves whatever’s coming to him.”
“I know.”
“What?” Catherine thought she must be hearing things. Phoebe’s Stockholm syndrome had been tedious for years. Their parents could never do any wrong in her eyes.
“Better late than never, right?” Phoebe said, giving her a wry look. “This chip business has gone too far. I’m now expected to choose Dad over my own husband? That’s… It’s too much. So for once in my life, I’ve picked a side.”
“Which side is that, exactly?” Catherine passed a coffee to Phoebe and gathered her own.
They made their way back to the open-plan living/bedroom area.
Lauren was dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts, sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing the living area. Catherine sighed inwardly that she was being kept from her beautiful wife right now by this invidious topic.
On the other hand, it was earth-shattering news if Phoebe had actually grown a backbone for once in her life. A faint seed of hope blossomed inside her. She directed her sister to the pair of armchairs facing each other, a coffee table between them.
“Well, I’m on Miles’s side, of course,” Phoebe said. “But yours, too. I’ve brought something for you.”
Phoebe reached into her shoulder bag and then slid a manila folder onto the table. “This is what Dad’s so afraid of. It’s the minutes of the meeting between Dad, Lesser, the FBI director, and a few others in various security agencies, about the data-sharing idea.”
“Data stealing, you mean.” Catherine eyed the folder. “It’s not some friendly information exchange. It’s taking personal, private, health, and biometric information from people without their permission and putting it in a criminal database. A database that’s so unsecure, even Lesser was cavalierly milking its contents for his racist little app.”
“I know.”
“How did you get this?” She pointed at the unopened folder.
“Miles. He took it as an insurance policy.”
“And your husband—who is one of the most risk-averse men in existence—has suddenly decided his house is on fire?’
“Actually, it was my idea. I told him he had to use it now. I was afraid Miles would just sit back and allow Dad to use him as a sacrificial lamb. He always sees the good in people, and he hoped Dad would do the right thing and protect those loyal to him.”
Catherine gave a faint snort.
“I know what you think of Miles, Catherine. That he’s dull and safe and a bit too trusting. But he’s a good man. He’s decent, he’s been kind to me, and he doesn’t deserve to be blamed for this.”
“Did he take much convincing?”
Phoebe shook her head. “He can see the writing on the wall. And you and I both know when Dad decides you’re not on his side, you’re gone. Look, this wasn’t easy for him to get, but here. Take it. Do what you have to.” Phoebe pushed the folder closer to her. “Use it.”
Catherine regarded the folder for a moment as she sipped her coffee. Her gaze flicked back to her sister. Phoebe tilted her head to one side, looking pensive. The familiarity of the movement struck her. It really was odd, sometimes, how similar they both were most of the time.
Except for now.
“Do you remember when we were young,” Catherine said, “and you sneaked into Nanny Michaels’ bedroom and took her ring? The opal one you loved. You liked to look at it in the light outside. And she found it missing and was going to go to Mom.”
“I remember.”
“And I was the one who convinced her not to. I explained it’s just how you are, drawn to colorful things, and you don’t think things through. You never meant any harm. You weren’t stealing it.”
Phoebe looked at her in confusion and nodded.
“Do you remember your first boyfriend? Rick something? I passed along those notes for you and kept them hidden from Mom.”
“You did.”
“Who protected you when she found one? Who asked her why it wasn’t all right for you to have a boyfriend? Who got a hard slap across the face in response?”
Phoebe swallowed. “You were always so brave. I always felt useless next to you.”
Catherine studied her hands then balled them. She looked up. “Do you remember when that scandal brought me down? I thought my career was over. Remember how humiliated I was? How shell-shocked? How…broken, given I’d been betrayed personally as well as professionally?”
For a moment, Phoebe didn’t reply. And then her voice was a harsh whisper. “Yes.”
Catherine’s anger rose. “You know what I went through with that. You know how I protected you when we were children. And this is how you pay me back? This is what you do to me?”
“What?” Phoebe blinked, horror spreading across her face.
“You think I’d be so stupid as to trust another document from anyone without corroborating evidence?”
“Catherine.” Phoebe’s face was pure shock. “You think this is faked?”
“Oh, I know it is!”
“If you’d just open it…”
“I don’t have to. I’ve known when you were lying since you were four years old. Tell Dad, thanks for the setup, but I never make the same mistake twice.”
“Cather—”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” She regarded her. “You know, your son has a hell of a lot more spine than you do.”
“Leave Thadeus out of this.”
“I have a simpler solution. I’ll leave you out of it. Out of everything. What you’ve done today is so low that we’re done. You can go. Tell Dad you failed.”
“Catherine!” The plea was heartbreaking.
“What?” She tilted her head. “Catherine, what?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry you got caught, you mean? Leave.”
Phoebe rose and without another word, snatched up her bag. At the door she turned. “By the way, you’re wrong about him. About Dad.”
“What?”
“The reasons he hired the Fixers on you. I heard him talking to Mom. Something about stopping you before someone else stopped you in a worse way.” She shook her head. “You know who his allies are. How high up they go. And if they wanted to, they could have really messed you up. Physically, not just professionally. It just means… Well, Dad’s not as bad as you think. He must care if…you know…”
Catherine gaped at her. “Not as bad? You’re saying he ruined me back then in case someone got it into their head to hurt me? And I should feel grateful that all I got was nationally humiliated and played for a fool? Should I send him a thank-you card?”
“Catherine, he does care about you, underneath everything.”
“Really? Is that why he’s using one daughter to set up the other? You know what? I don’t care how he spins the things he does just so he can sleep at night. I do care about the fact that you—after everything we went through together—went along with this plot.” She slammed her hand on the folder. “My own sister.”
“I…”
“Get out of my sight.”
Phoebe hesitated, then finally left, closing the do
or quietly.
Rage, frustration, and nausea flooded Catherine. She felt Lauren’s presence as Catherine tried to control her breathing. Warm fingers slid around her shoulders, offering comfort.
“Oh, Catherine. I’m really sorry.”
The voice was soft and sad, and Catherine didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. She had no wish to start unraveling, like some ball of string without end. Over what, anyway? Her scheming family that always put her last?
“Did you believe her?” Lauren asked. “About his reasons for betraying you the first time?”
“I know my sister believes it, but that doesn’t mean much. She always believes him. I no longer care. They’ve shown what I am to them—something to be used and discarded. The reasons why are irrelevant.” Catherine flipped open the manila folder and scanned its contents. “Juicy. Just the way he knew I’d like it. Do you know what’s pathetic? This time, my ex-girlfriend was telling the truth, and it was my own sister who was setting me up.”
She glanced up at Lauren’s paling features. Catherine handed her the folder. “Do me a favor? Take some photos of this on the iPad, then email a copy to Lesser. Explain where we got it and how. Since he was at this meeting he’ll know which parts have been messed with. And, somehow, I have no doubt he’ll know exactly what to do with it. Let him.” She was surprised how calm her voice sounded. The nausea threatened to rise again.
“Lesser? But he’s….”
“Right now, he’s the enemy of our enemy.”
“Your father’s officially the enemy now?”
Catherine exhaled. “Not just him.” The horror of what had just happened hit her again. “Now it’s my… It’s all of them. Phoebe, too.”
“Catherine.” Lauren wrapped her in a sideways hug. “I wish I could make this better.”
“So do I. Phoebe never did have much of a backbone, but I never thought she’d stoop to this.” Her jaw clenched. “Well, if I was on the fence before about my father’s fate, I have no pity for whatever happens to him now.”
“How did you know? About Phoebe lying? You sounded so certain.”
“She’d never defy anyone. Her story was ludicrous. The moment she talked about convincing that stubborn husband of hers he had to do things, I knew. Saddest thing is, she knew that I’d know. She tried it anyway. That is the weakest sort of human there is. I cannot believe we’re related.”
