Deadly Politics

by LynDee Walker

  I felt my eyes start to roll back and managed to stop them, patting his shoulder as he turned for the bedroom. I couldn’t be upset with him for worrying. It wasn’t like I didn’t worry about him plenty.

  Kyle bent and retrieved his newspaper from the daisy-yellow linoleum floor, tucking it back in his hip pocket. He settled in one of the chairs, drinking his coffee and staring at me, but not offering a smile or a word of any sort.

  Quiet closed in from every corner of the room, dense and accusing. The air felt thicker. Harder to breathe.

  I picked up my coffee cup and refilled it, then changed the pod in the machine and made Joey some. It didn’t distract from the silence.

  But I wasn’t sorry. Lakshmi was the focus here. She was the important one. I knew what I’d done would piss people off when I did it, but I had a reason. What I believed was a good one. Kyle would understand.

  I hoped.

  Breathing in the almost magical scent of the only pumpkin spice anything I cared for, I pulled Joey’s cup from under the spout and added a splash of heavy cream.

  He walked back in as I closed the fridge, his dark eyes stormy and concerned—but not angry. He took the cup with a smile and a thank-you kiss on my forehead before he sipped the coffee and turned to Kyle.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation. Especially not in present company.” Kyle flicked his eyes my way.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I can find out ten times what you know with three phone calls.” Joey’s voice was the kind of dangerous calm that meant he was reining in his temper. “I’m asking you why you’re so out the ass about Nichelle’s story.”

  “I think she knows.”

  I put one hand on Joey’s bandaged arm before he lost hold of those reins.

  “I told you yesterday that Kyle told me about Lakshmi on background,” I said. “But I figured something out last night. Something that made me see that printing her name was necessary. And so I wrote a story and sent it to Les, and he put it on this morning’s front page.”

  “But you said you didn’t use his name,” Joey began at the same time Kyle said, “Please share this urgent epiphany.”

  I reached for Joey’s uninjured hand, lacing my fingers through his and picking up my coffee mug before I put it back on the counter without taking a sip. I pointed to my homemade crime chart, still lying across the chair opposite Kyle.

  “I didn’t use anyone’s name except Lakshmi’s. Making a decision to write the story is one thing, but betraying a source is a bridge I will not cross, even when I feel this strongly about something. It was never an option I considered.” I kept my eyes locked with Kyle’s, wanting him to realize I meant every syllable. I left out the part where Aaron and Mike and the governor himself had confirmed Lakshmi’s identity the day before, because I wasn’t ready to tell anyone I was in on that conversation.

  He nodded. “I appreciate that. I didn’t come here because I’m worried about me.”

  I crossed the room, picking up the chart.

  “The last thirty-six hours have been extraordinary by any local news standard. I’ve covered several people’s share of shitstorms, but I’ve never even seen anything like this. Before I can process one crazy thing, another chases right along behind it. I thought my weekend was about to be better than finding Jimmy Choos at a flea market when Trudy invited me to cover the president’s breakfast Monday morning and her husband’s speech Monday night, and since then I haven’t even had time to wonder why the Secret Service guy hasn’t called about my background check yet.”

  I was talking as fast as words came into my head, but I really ought to check in with Trudy on that.

  “So you made lists,” Joey said.

  “And they made it clear that I was right. This is a whole lot of weird for a short span of time. It’s like shock fatigue.” I turned to Kyle. “If I haven’t had time to look at one crazy thing twice before another pops up, you guys haven’t either, right?”

  He shrugged. “It’s been busy.”

  Lord, he could pout better than a runway model staring down a Snickers bar.

  “But the central thing, the craziest thing, the only thing I can imagine moving my attention from the fact that I’m supposed to be in a room with the president of the United States in just a couple of days . . . that was Lakshmi’s murder. And I’ve written about a lot of murders. The story is always, always about the victim, not about how they died. That’s how I always win the headline wars.”

  “Except none of your stories have been about Lakshmi,” Joey said.

  I snapped my fingers, pointing at the chart. “Because nobody was allowed to know she was dead. Which started me thinking that maybe there was a reason she was found where she was. It’s like a master class in hiding in plain sight. If you want to make the discovery of the body the biggest story of the season, while simultaneously guaranteeing that nobody will know a thing about the person who was killed, at least for a while . . .”

  Kyle sat up straighter in the chair. “You put a call girl on the governor’s desk.”

  “Ding ding ding. You’ve won a one-way ticket to a mountain of bullshit, Agent Miller,” I said. “Because even when the truth gets out, her background makes the chances that anything important gets lost in a political firestorm pretty damned good. So then I started thinking about all her social media accounts disappearing, and I looked online again, and there’s nothing but amateur porn videos. The difficult-to-stomach kind. They didn’t just kill Lakshmi, y’all. They assassinated her character for good measure.”

  Kyle’s chin dropped back to his chest, his hand going through his hair.

  “They who?” Joey asked.

  I shrugged. “That’s the part we still need. But it got me thinking that if whoever did this planned it out this far, it’s because they wanted her name to drop after they’d had a chance to eliminate the respectable parts of her life from the internet. When the only thing people would see would lead practically everyone to dismiss her. Forget her. And I was playing right the hell into their hands by not printing her name or her photo. So I changed that.”

  “But in doing so, you put a big fat target on your back.” Kyle was talking to me, but looking at Joey. “If someone who has the kind of brains to pull off what I saw Friday morning really wanted this girl gone and forgotten, they’re not the sort of person you want to intentionally play games with, Nichelle.”

  Joey nodded, putting a hand on my arm, his gaze locked with Kyle’s and his jaw doing the twitching thing again.

  “Some things are bigger than making sure my ass is covered, gentlemen. Lakshmi was brilliant and funny and kind, and people loved her. She deserves to have her story told.” I nodded to Kyle. “And maybe this will bring whoever killed her out from under his rock, besides.”

  “Out from under his rock and after you?” Joey asked. “No, thanks.”

  Kyle sighed. “Dammit, Nichelle. You should’ve called me first.”

  “Why? What do you know that you’re not telling me?” I asked.

  He shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. “This case is complicated. I don’t like you putting yourself in the middle of it.”

  “Look,” I began before Kyle’s phone went bonkers, flashing and buzzing itself clean out of his pocket. He held it up, blocking most of his face, his eyebrows drawing down as he shook his head at the screen.

  “What?” I asked.

  He stood, starting for the foyer. “I don’t fucking know. Apparently we’ve just moved to DEFCON 4.” He threw a warning look over his shoulder at me. “I hope you’re not why. I’ll call you when I can.” His eyes flicked to Joey. “Keep her out of trouble?”

  I opened my mouth to object, but Joey laid his injured arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “She’s tough. But I do what I can,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine, Kyle. You go get whoever did this.”

  He opened the door and jogged down
the steps without another word or a backward glance. I swung it shut and flipped the deadbolt home, letting my head drop to the wood with a dull thunk.

  Joey traced the line of my jaw with one fingertip. “I don’t want you getting yourself hurt.”

  “Me either.” I closed my eyes, inhaling through my nose for a ten count. “What I did last night was either brilliant or idiotic. I honestly couldn’t tell you which right now. All I know for sure is that I felt strongly enough about the story to send it.” I raised my head and met his eyes. “She was somebody. I couldn’t let them make her disposable.”

  “Why would anyone want to?”

  I shook my head. “There are too many possibilities for me to venture a guess, honestly. But politics is all about the end game. And I think I have an idea on who. I just don’t know how.”

  He lifted one eyebrow.

  “The videos I saw online. I’m highly suspicious, given some things I’ve heard, that they were made by Ted Grayson.”

  Joey’s eyes popped wide, his head shaking. “What does he have to gain? He’s locked up.”

  I shook my head. “He’s been out for nearly three weeks. Good behavior, the official line says, but this reeks of too much coincidence. I haven’t been able to find any trace of him, though.”

  He folded his arms over his broad chest, a smile playing around the corners of his lips as he brushed a wayward strand of dark, wavy hair from my face. “I don’t like you rushing into trouble,” he said. “But . . . it’s sexy that you’re so smart.”

  I laughed. “Brains not really your thing before, huh?”

  He shook his head. “It’s one of many reasons I’m so damned infatuated with you, Miss Clarke.”

  I smiled at the formality, a throwback to when we first met, electricity skating up my arm ahead of his trailing fingers. “You’re not exactly stupid yourself there, sir,” I whispered before his lips closed over mine.

  Losing myself in Joey’s kisses was easy—he was unmatched in skill, closing his injured arm around my waist while his good hand rested on the door next to my head and his lips brushed lightly across mine, whispering about love and cliffs and things he never thought he’d do. I ran both hands up his chest and over his shoulders, parting my lips under his. He pulled his head back, shaking it the barest bit, keeping the pressure light and sweet and utterly crazy-making. Twisting my fingers into his hair, I tried to pull him closer. He held his position easily, a chuckle rumbling deep in his throat. “My, my,” he said. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  My Sunday morning was getting a whole different kind of interesting when my phone blared “The Second Star to the Right” from the kitchen table.

  “You should get that.” Joey’s lips went to my neck as he whispered, moving my hair back with quick fingers as I sank into the heavy mahogany door.

  “Voicemail. This is what voicemail was invented for,” I huffed between quick breaths, the morning stubble on his chin abrading my skin in the most delicious, tingly way.

  He lifted his head and met my eyes. “Kind of a lousy day for you to ignore your phone.”

  I shook my head and ducked under his arm with a growl, loping back to the kitchen.

  Les.

  “This is not worth interrupting for,” I hissed, clicking the green circle and putting the phone to my ear.

  “I’m good at remembering where we leave off.” Joey winked.

  “Clarke,” I said, swallowing a giggle.

  “Turn on your TV.” Les sounded pissed. But Les usually sounded at least annoyed when he talked to me, so I wasn’t too bothered by that.

  “Good morning to you, too, Les.” I shrugged at Joey and walked to the living room, picking up the remote and clicking the set on. “What exactly am I looking for? I’m guessing you’re not calling me about the Redskins pregame show this early.”

  “They’re probably going to lose anyway. But I’ll be too busy looking for a new job to care. Try Channel Four. Where the governor and his security detail are sitting down with Charlie Lewis. Calling you a liar.”

  18

  I dropped the phone, stabbing a panicked finger at the remote, trying to suck air through lungs that didn’t want to work.

  Joey’s footsteps sounded far away. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, my eyes locked on Charlie’s burnished-gold highlights as her back filled my TV screen. “Governor Baine, do you know how the Telegraph came by this faulty information?” She practically singsonged the words, glee floating around every one.

  “Oh.” Joey’s fingers closed over my shoulder.

  “I do not. I can promise you it came from no one here. I’ve never met Miss Clarke, and I’ve been assured that no member of my security detail has spoken with her, on the record or off.”

  “Bullshit.” I didn’t really mean to say it out loud, shaking my head. I stepped closer to the TV, studying his face. The bloodshot eyes were gone, the scruff replaced by perfect makeup, hair trimmed, teeth even and white.

  His eyes looked straight into Charlie’s camera and out of my TV, for all the world the tortured political victim of a reporter run amok.

  But he was lying. I knew it. He knew I knew it, and he knew Aaron and Landers and Mike knew it.

  So what the hell did he think his end game could possibly be?

  I put a hand to my temple, rage pounding a heavy beat on the inside of my skull. What could he have to gain by lying to the whole city on live TV?

  Time was the only answer I could muster.

  But time for what? And what, exactly, had he said before I turned my set on? That she wasn’t on his desk? That he didn’t know her? Of all the cards I’d been prepared for anyone to play when I sent that story in, denial wasn’t in the deck. I knew what I’d written was true. I hadn’t used an attribution, but I trusted Kyle with my life. Literally. I’d spoken with Lakshmi’s mother. I’d even talked to Governor Baine. He was brim-full of shit, but who would believe me if I told them that?

  The way I’d run my story, it was my word against his. For now. But I had the truth on my side. The truth, and a better-than-average track record at proving it.

  Every person I’d talked to all weekend had told me Baine was the real deal. And idealists only lie for one reason: fear. Which meant I needed to figure out what the hell he was afraid of, and right quick.

  I sank back onto the sofa as the camera flipped back to Charlie. The couch dipped under Joey’s weight as he dropped next to me, the fingertips of his banged-up hand going lightly to my jaw, trying to turn my eyes to meet his. I couldn’t look away from the TV.

  “This has been a News Four special report, live from the Virginia governor’s mansion.” I could just hear Charlie over the blood rushing in my ears. “Thank you for watching, and stay with us throughout the day for updates.”

  I slumped back into the soft pillows, my head swiveling back and forth like someone else had control of it. I spotted my phone on the floor and jumped to my feet. Bent to snatch it up just in time to hear Les’s tinny little voice howling from the speaker. “Clarke!” He drew out the A so long I had to give him points for sheer lung capacity.

  I waited until I was sure he needed to catch his breath before I put the phone back to my ear. “Yes?”

  “Where the hell did you—you know what? Never mind. Andrews is on his way up here. He wants us both in Bob’s office in twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks, Les.” I clicked the “End” button and opened the browser, touching the bookmark link for Channel Four. Politics is all about nuance, and playing at Baine’s level took downright wicked skills. Before I made another move, I needed to hear his actual words.

  The video flashed up on my screen just as the phone started vibrating in my palm. Aaron.

  Thank God.

  I slid the bar across the bottom of the screen and raised it to my ear. “What the hell was that?”

  “You owe me a day on my boat, Nichelle,” he growled by way of hello. “A quiet one. Where nobo
dy yells at me. And if you have an explanation of any sort for the phone call I just got from Tom Baine, let’s have it.”

  “I was hoping you could help me with that,” I said. “You heard him say all the same stuff I did yesterday. Didn’t you?”

  “I heard a group of people who trusted a friend let her into a meeting she’d have never been allowed in as a journalist,” Aaron said. Paper rustled in the background. “And then this morning, I get up, I make my coffee, and I open my paper to see that we might’ve misread how much our trust meant to said friend.”

  He got quieter, tighter, with each word. I knew Aaron. Quiet wasn’t what I wanted here.

  “I wouldn’t betray your trust. You know that. I didn’t use anyone’s name in the article.” And I wasn’t telling him about Kyle any more than I was telling Kyle about him.

  “You are in a world of shit here, Nichelle. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. But I owe you. Everything. And I don’t forget the people I owe.”

  “I had a reason, Aaron.”

  “I’d love to know what the hell it could possibly be.”

  I glanced at Joey. “It’s kind of a long story. Can I come see you?”

  “Something tells me you won’t be the most popular person around my office today.”

  “Coffee?”

  He sighed. “Sure. Meet you at Thompson’s in twenty minutes?” Yep. I had no intention of answering Andrews’s summons. He’d fire me in a blink, no matter how thin Baine’s denial might prove to be. I wasn’t keen on the idea of losing my job today on top of my reputation. If I could save one, the other would follow suit. I hoped.

  “Thanks, Aar—” I didn’t get it all the way out before the doorbell rang.

  “Jesus, what now?” I muttered.

  Joey moved to the foyer, lifting up on the balls of his feet to look out the glass lining the top of the door.

  “There’s someone at the door. I’ll see you in a few,” I said to Aaron before I killed the phone call and hurried to the doorway. “What’s going on?” I asked Joey, noting the lines creasing his forehead as he moved into the guest room and peered out the window.