“Are you goddamn kidding me?” The force behind the words seemed to launch Landers from his chair, pushing it hard enough to send it careening into the table with a clatter. “Who invites the fucking news media into a case we’re trying to keep quiet? I had to leave my son’s baseball game to sneak Governor Baine into the building, White says we aren’t even supposed to talk to other cops about this, and you’re just going to trust a reporter with it? Just like that?”
I kept my mouth shut. I’d spent a lot of years, and earned more than a few trips to the ER, chasing the truth around this town—and this building. But there are times to stand up for yourself, and times to let someone else fight that battle. This was the latter.
Mike didn’t move. Maybe being a big boss had mellowed him out.
“I suggest you return to your seat and check your tone, Detective.” Or maybe not: nobody in the room missed the deadly edge to his words.
Landers pulled in a breath so deep the buttons on his starched blue shirt strained across his chest. “But, sir,” he began.
Aaron put one hand on Landers’s forearm. “Chris. Sit.” Quiet, but firm.
My fingers wrapped the arms of my chair so tight that I couldn’t feel them.
“I don’t believe in coincidences, son,” Mike said, his eyes on Landers, who was retrieving his runaway chair.
I didn’t either. This line of work will do that to a person.
“Nichelle called up from the lobby as you guys were on your way up,” Mike went on when Landers was seated again. “And the fact of the matter is, we might be able to use her to get to the bottom of this.”
“And we trust her,” Aaron interjected, his eyes meeting mine, holding.
He knew I appreciated that. He also knew I took it seriously. It sounds great, in theory, being the reporter the cops trust. In practice, it’s akin to walking a high wire backward in Louboutins. My first responsibility is to my readers. But how much I share, the effect it has on public consciousness and opinion—and my relationship with the cops who let me in on the information in the first place—that’s where balancing can become a blind circus act.
I eyed the governor, my gut twisting with the feeling that throwing politics into the mix was about to add a hungry wolf to one end of my high wire. Or maybe to both.
Governor Baine stared at his hands, twisting together between his knees. I was sure nobody else in the room knew he wasn’t blood related to Hamilton. Watching him, I was just as sure it didn’t matter a bit.
“For now, our involvement in this is need to know, and nobody but the people in this room needs to know,” Mike said. “Tom, you said you told Hamilton’s detail you sent him out of town to his grandparents to grieve. How long can you make that fly?”
The governor shrugged. “A couple of days? Nobody was happy about it, but I told them he was inconsolable and needed to be with family.”
Lakshmi’s mother’s teary, blank face flashed through my thoughts. “So maybe it was them who went to the Drakes’ house,” I said.
Aaron turned to me, waving a Come out with it.
“I talked with Lakshmi’s mother this morning, and she said people kept asking about Hamilton, not about Lakshmi. Maybe his guards went looking for him there? Was Hamilton close with Lakshmi’s parents, sir?”
The governor shrugged. “Not that I knew of, but that wasn’t anyone from my detail. Yesterday was all hands on deck, and the whole team was in the house all day.”
“Appears you haven’t lost your instincts,” Mike said to me. “Any theories on who it might’ve been?”
I pulled my phone out of my bag. “She pointed out these guys sitting outside. Nondescript sedan, dark suits, gross gray-brown ties they must buy in bulk online. I tried to get a picture as I was putting my phone away, but all I got were blurry blobs.” I clicked up the recent photos and passed my phone across the desk.
Mike scrolled through, handed it back. “Tom, any idea who else might be looking for your boy?”
The governor shook his head. “I can’t figure out a bit of this. I mean, Hamilton is grown. He was adjusting, I thought, though he never wanted to be the governor’s son. He’d be happy stuck in a lab somewhere by himself all day. He likes helping people. But through science, where he doesn’t actually have to talk to them. Especially women. Almost painfully awkward. That’s why Lakshmi was such a godsend—he was comfortable with her. In control. A magician, that girl—no matter how hard I try, I’ve never been able to get the boy past his people issues.”
That explained the devotion Mrs. Powers told me about. But it was the “in a lab somewhere by himself all day” that leapt out of that comment and danced.
“Governor, what kind of science was your son studying? Is. Is he studying.” I stammered slightly over the quick correction, nearly biting my tongue.
“Nuclear energy alternatives.” He didn’t acknowledge my slip.
“Like for electricity?” Like coal, maybe?
Landers’s teeth clicked together, his whole lanky form tensing in his chair every time I talked. I ignored it.
Baine’s hand went to his temple, his index and middle fingers massaging. “I think? He doesn’t like to talk about what he’s doing, and I learned long ago that a smart father picks his battles.”
My eyes slid to Aaron, whose brow was furrowing. He had two daughters in college and could probably tell you their schedules down to the minute. But he was also a cop. Seeing the worst of society at work every day lends itself to bubble-wrapping kids.
My fingers itched for a pen, but I couldn’t pick it up without making the rest of the room uncomfortable. There wasn’t much danger of me forgetting that Hamilton’s work could be at least adjacent to Dr. Drake’s, though. I didn’t believe in coincidences any more than Mike did, so there was something to that. I just had to find out what, exactly.
“Where is he working, Tom?” Mike had a pen.
“Daltec.” The governor didn’t look up. “We have a . . .” He paused for so long Mike reached across the desk with a water bottle.
He took it. Cleared his throat. Twisted the cap off the bottle and sipped. “Sorry. We have a friend who got him an internship there. He’s working on his PhD at Madison. Chemistry and physics. It’s a special program. Hamilton is special. A brilliant kid.”
Daltec, Daltec, Daltec, I repeated silently. Like Dallas, with technology. When I was sure I had it, I raised my hand.
Mike chuckled. “Yes, Nichelle?”
“Maybe we’re going at this from the wrong side,” I said. “Governor, could you tell us how well you knew Lakshmi? She was interested in politics—did she ever ask you for a job?”
“I think we’re pretty well versed in how to question a witness,” Landers said. “I’d like to continue talking about Hamilton, if you don’t mind.”
Mike nodded. “I appreciate your affinity for being thorough, Chris, but let’s follow this for just a second and see what’s there.”
Baine sat up. “She’s been on my staff since Hamilton first brought her to dinner during the campaign. I never saw a mind for strategy like Lakshmi’s. She can dig truths out of numbers that men twice her age wouldn’t find with a dozen supercomputers and weeks to work. I am so damned sorry about what happened to her . . .”
I watched him closely. His entire manner changed when he talked about Lakshmi. Stiff. Professional. Distant.
Aaron and Mike’s faces said they saw it, too.
Landers continued to fume, so pissed I was there, he wasn’t paying attention.
Mike toyed with his pen.
Aaron drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.
Chickens.
I cleared my throat and let the words out in a rush. “Sir, I’m sorry for having to ask, but someone needs to. Were you involved with Lakshmi? Sexually speaking?”
You have to be blunt—and specific—with politicians. Years of listening to Trudy’s war stories had taught me that vague questions about uncomfortable topics would give them window
s to slip half-truths through, and then I wouldn’t even be able to say they’d lied to me.
Mike and Aaron both suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
Landers’s breath hissed in, but he stayed still, side-eyeing the governor and waiting for an answer.
Governor Baine blinked. “You’re asking me if I’ve been fucking a campaign strategist half my age, who happened to be dating my son?”
Not an answer. I closed my fingers around the arm of my chair and met his gaze, not blinking for so long my eyes dried out.
“Yes, sir, I am.”
He shook his head, turning to Mike. “Do you think that’s what I was doing? Do you guys think I—” He didn’t finish the second question, shaking his head.
Mike sighed, running one big hand through his thick, graying-at-the-temples hair. “I don’t want to, Tom, but she was on your desk, for Christ’s sake. That indicates a level of intimacy with the room. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t ask.”
“We didn’t ask. Nichelle did.” I flinched when the words came from Landers, turning my head. He offered an olive branch half smile. “We should’ve, though.”
I returned the smile. Turned back to the governor.
“I thought you guys knew me better than that,” he said, his head swiveling between Mike and Aaron.
Their faces told me they were thinking the same thing I was. He still hadn’t answered the question.
That was a whole other level of not good.
Mike’s lips disappeared into a thin, pale line.
“No. I have never slept with her,” Baine said finally.
My teeth clamped down on the inside of my cheek. Aaron nodded. “Thank you.”
I kept my eyes on the governor, his words playing in my head on a loop. He said he’d never slept with her, not that he’d never had sex with her.
Pretty fine hairsplitting. And I couldn’t address it right then because they had accepted his statement and moved on. But I knew what Trudy would say about that if I asked her.
Window.
“Governor, do you know much about Lakshmi’s background?” The words slid out quietly, because Kyle knew and I knew and Joey knew, but I had no idea what these guys knew.
Every eyeball in the room swiveled to fix on me.
Baine shook his head. “Brilliant young woman, degree from RAU, grew up near DC . . .” The governor spread his hands. “What exactly should I know?”
The room fell so silent I would’ve heard an ant sneeze.
I looked at Aaron. “You remember Angela Baker?”
His eyes popped wide. “No.”
Landers shook his head when I just nodded.
“You going to tell us who she is, Clarke?” he asked.
Aaron sighed. “The madam from the RAU solicitation ring case.”
“Wait. A prostitute? How? Why?” Baine slumped back in his chair. Shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He turned to Mike. “Just find Hamilton.”
“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt him?” Mike asked. “Had he said anything about being uncomfortable lately? Anything weird going on?”
Baine started to shake his head. Stopped. “The car,” he half whispered. “Oh shit.”
“What about it?” Aaron asked.
“I guess it was a month or so ago now. My security chief mentioned in the morning rundown that Hamilton had complained to his detail about his car being broken into. Outside his lab.”
“Was anything missing?” Aaron asked.
Baine shook his head. “They said they went over the whole car with a microscope and couldn’t find any evidence he was right, but it was almost like he was paranoid, insisting. That’s why they mentioned it to me. He never did, though, and I figured they took care of it.”
Landers leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sir, does your son have a history of paranoid behavior?”
Baine shook his head. “He’s very exacting about his studies and his work, but his mother tells me that’s the scientist in him.” Baine hammered a fist down on the edge of Mike’s desk. “I should’ve asked him about it. Why didn’t I ask him about it?”
Aaron’s face creased into sympathetic dad mode. “You’ve been a little busy, Tom.”
“Why does that take precedence over my family?” Baine’s voice caught. “What if I missed something that might’ve prevented this? What if I let this hap—” He didn’t finish that, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. “Jesus. I don’t care what Lakshmi had done, nobody deserves that.”
“You didn’t let anything happen,” Aaron said. “If there’s one thing more years in this place than I care to account for has taught me, it’s that people never want to think the worst until it hammers right through their front door.”
I nodded. True story. Real-life horrors are something average folks see on TV, read about in the paper. They make it through their days by believing it always happens to someone else.
Landers pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to Mike. “So can we talk to the head of Hamilton’s detail? See if there’s a recording of what he told them, or a report on the car?”
Mike tapped the pen on his desk blotter, twisting his lips and his mustache to one side. “Not right now, but let’s note that for later. I don’t want them knowing we’re nosing around in this just yet.” He nodded to the governor. “I think it’s better all the way around if we keep it as quiet as we can for as long as we can. There are plenty of still-warm leads to follow here.”
Landers’s jaw tightened as he nodded, and I knew what he was thinking, because I was already there: just because Hamilton didn’t want to tell them what was missing from the car didn’t mean nothing was.
But he didn’t want to press it just yet.
Baine stood and smoothed at the lines in the front of his slacks. “Speaking of security, I have to get back, gentlemen. This has been a hell of a long shower.”
Aaron followed, guiding the governor toward the door and waving when Landers started to go with them. “I’ve got this,” he said. “See what you can come up with on Hamilton and the girl.”
The door closed behind them and Landers and Mike rounded on me. “What do you know about Hamilton Baine and Lakshmi Drake?” I couldn’t even tell who the words came from.
Before I got my mouth open to answer, my phone erupted, ringing and buzzing a text arrival at the same time. I looked at the screen.
Les.
“I’m off today, you prick,” I muttered, clicking the power button to silence it and tucking it away.
“All evidence to the contrary,” Mike said.
I rolled my eyes. “Bob is out of town. Les Simpson seems to still hate me even though he’s not sleeping with Shelby anymore. I don’t think, anyway.”
They nodded in unison.
“So?” Landers asked.
“I would advise y’all to start with putting cyber on who deleted Lakshmi’s Instagram yesterday,” I said. “That’s about what I know right now. I found photos of her with Hamilton Baine on a beach, draped all over each other, yesterday morning. Ten minutes later they were gone.”
Mike scribbled on his pad. Landers shot to his feet and started pacing. “What the fuck is going on here?”
He didn’t expect an answer, because if any of us knew, we wouldn’t have been sitting there.
“Thanks for coming up today, Nichelle.” Mike pushed his chair back.
“Always good to see you, Mike. Good luck with this,” I said.
“Let me know if you come across anything you think might help us,” he said, opening the door for me.
“Of course.” I didn’t feel guilty for not spilling about Angela, because I knew nothing for sure yet except that Lakshmi’s social media was gone, and I’d told him that.
I didn’t check my phone until I got back to my car, expecting that Les had called when I didn’t reply to his text right away.
Not Les.
Kyle.
The ATF has no official comme
nt on yesterday’s incident at the Virginia capitol, in accordance with our policy of not discussing ongoing investigations with the news media. Please direct all further inquiries to the office of public information.
I threw my phone across the car, watching it bounce off the passenger window and the dash before it clattered into the floorboard.
Like hell I would. Everyone I knew had lost their mind in the last twenty-four hours, but Kyle blowing me off like that wasn’t . . . Kyle.
I worked my car out of the space and pointed it toward Byrd Park. When I stopped in front of the fountain, I retrieved the phone and replied with Understood. And a white dove emoji.
I pulled a notebook and pen out and started scribbling notes from my meeting at the PD as fast as my fingers could move, checking the parking lot entrance every three minutes until I saw Kyle’s blue Explorer turn in. He parked at the other end of the lot and strolled toward the boathouse.
I put my notebook down and followed.
14
Kyle hadn’t slept. At least all night. Maybe all week.
His icy baby blues were downright creepy, more blood red than white surrounding his irises, puffy pink eyelids rimming the whole picture for good measure. He’d looked harried and tired at the courthouse yesterday, but I’d blown it off, assuming he’d been at work in the wee hours because of the crime scene.
This was more than a dozen hours of lost sleep, though. My heart picked up speed, hammering against my ribs so hard I had to be visibly shaking. Nothing ever got to Kyle. That’s why he made such a good cop. Practically un-ruffle-able.
I took in his scruffy face and rolled-up, rumpled shirtsleeves. Locking eyes with him, I laid one hand on his arm.
“Are you okay?” Story be damned, I was worried about my friend.
He shook his head, and the arm, sending my hand back to my side. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.
I glanced around. “There are five people here and none of them are within twenty paces of us.” I fought to keep my tone normal, but tinges of high panic crept in around the words anyway.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, locking his fingers behind my waist and poking his nose so far into my face a sheet of paper wouldn’t fit between us. “If anyone’s watching us, they’ll think we’re kids making out.”
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