“Their toxicology reports did confirm that she had a lethal combination of excessive alcohol consumption and pain killers that her doctor had prescribed for her a week before her death, but they don’t think that was the cause of death in and of itself.”
“She slipped and fell while attempting to leave the bathroom in the hotel suite where her body was discovered,” Dutch read from the report.
“There was blunt trauma to the head just as they said,” Crader said, “but not inflicted by anybody but Fate. Which exonerates you and me and anybody else her money-grubbing parents were trying to pin this on.”
“Don’t judge her parents so harshly,” Dutch said. “I’d be just as crazy if it had been Little Walt or Jade.”
“Yeah,” Crader said. “You’ve got a point. I’m just glad it’s over.”
Dutch, however, wasn’t so quick to move on. He exhaled.
“What’s the matter?” Crader asked.
“She may have been calling for me.”
“Calling for you?”
“I was sleeping right in the next room, while she was crying for help. That’s why she probably called 911, because I didn’t hear her.”
Crader stared at his old friend. “You were asleep. There’s nothing more you could have done. You were sleep.”
“I know,” Dutch said, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just very . . . disconcerting.”
Crader couldn’t disagree with that. Everything about Liz Sinclair, it seemed to him, was disconcerting.
“Anyway, I think, no, I know I have some great news.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” Dutch asked. He could use some great news right about now.
Crader swallowed hard. Even he was still trying to believe it. “I asked LaLa to marry me,” he said. “And she accepted, Dutch.”
Dutch was extremely hesitant. “Did she?”
“Yes, she did,” Crader said with a big grin on his easily handsome face. “It was one of the happiest days of my life when she said yes.”
Dutch leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Crader’s. “And you’re sure you want to do this, to get married?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Look at me. Don’t I look sure to you?”
Dutch didn’t respond to that.
Crader found his reaction inexplicable. “What’s wrong?” he asked the president. “I thought you’d be thrilled for me.”
“This is Loretta we’re talking about, Cray,” he said.
“I know that.”
“She’s a very sweet, fragile young lady.”
Crader nodded his agreement. “I know that, too.”
“I don’t want any of your bullshit with her.”
Crader frowned. “What bullshit?”
Dutch stared at him.
“What bullshit?” he asked again.
“I don’t want any of your bed-hopping bullshit because I’ll tell you right now, Crader, I will kick your ass if you do something like that to Loretta.”
“And I would appreciate that ass kicking if I do something like that to her. Because I’m not going to do anything like that to her.”
“She deserves some happiness now.”
“I agree.”
Then Dutch exhaled. “Just like Gina does,” he said with a frown.
Crader looked at him. “Why would you say something like that? Gina’s happy.” Then he continued to stare at Dutch, his certainty waning. “Isn’t she?”
Dutch tossed his glasses on the desk, stood up, and walked over to the window. He looked out, although he didn’t focus on anything in particular. “She’s been through so much,” he said.
“But it wasn’t like you put her through it.”
“Well who else do you think did it?” Dutch asked, turning toward Crader.
“The media. These fools in Washington.”
“And me,” Dutch said. “I gave the media all the fodder they needed to keep this story alive. Do you realize it’s been two weeks and they still have roundtable discussions about it?” Then he shook his head. “Taking Liz up to my hotel room. What the hell was I thinking?”
“She was in a bad way, Dutch. I saw what bad shape she was in. It wasn’t like you just went over to her, tapped her on the shoulder, and invited her up for drinks. She needed you.”
“And Gina doesn’t?” Dutch asked snidely when he already knew the answer. “Gina needs me most of all. But she has to get what’s left after every interest group, every powerful politician, every deep pocket donor has gotten their pound of my flesh. And it’s not fair.”
Then he looked at Crader with a fierce determination. “That’s why I don’t want any bullshit from you, Cray. Not where Loretta is concerned. She deserves the best. Gina is stuck with me, but you’ve got a choice. You can cut and run before you break that young lady’s heart again. Or you can fully commit to her.”
Crader nodded. He’d never known a better friend. “I’m committed, Dutch. I did a lot of soul searching after how I treated her. I won’t hurt her again.”
Dutch smiled. “Well, all right,” he said. “Congratulations!”
And both friends met the other half way, and hugged vigorously.
Later that night, in the West Sitting Room inside the White House Residence, Gina led a toast to the newly engaged couple. LaLa and Crader stood, thanked the First Lady and the president for all of their support, and then both couples drank heartily after a long day. Dutch, who was seated in the chair, crossed his legs as he drained down his drink. Gina, who sat alone on one of the sofas, wanted all the juicy details about how they finally decided to jump the broom, as she put it. And LaLa and Crader, who sat side by side on the sofa facing Gina’s, were more than happy to recite every detail. It seemed as if life around the White House was finally calming back down.
Until Dutch mentioned his Asian-Pacific summit in Japan, and Gina reminded him of her trip to Montreal.
Dutch frowned. “What trip to Montreal?”
“I told you, Dutch. For the Rand Foundation.”
Then he immediately remembered. They both had such tight schedules they often forgot from day to day what the other had planned. “Right, right,” he said. “You’re going to speak at their annual dinner.”
“And then join you afterwards in Japan, that’s the trip.”
“But it’s this weekend? The same weekend as the summit?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But like I told you it’s no big deal. I’ll give my little speech and then get back on the plane.”
Dutch, however, remembered something else. He also remembered that he wasn’t listening too closely at that time because he was too busy fucking her. His penis throbbed at just the thought. “You had mentioned something else, too, didn’t you?”
Gina swallowed hard. This was it. He wouldn’t like it, she already knew that much, but she was certain he would understand why she had to do it. “That’s right,” she said. “I told you about Governor Feingold. While I’m there, Robert has arranged for me to meet with him,” she said.
“Feingold?” Dutch asked. “The Governor of Texas? Why would you need to meet with him?”
LaLa glanced at Gina. “I told you, Dutch,” she said nervously, although she knew he wasn’t exactly listening when she told him. But she had to get this right. This wasn’t about her, this was about Marcus. “I want to discuss my brother’s case with him.”
Dutch hesitated. Oh, no, he thought. Please don’t let it be something new about that damn case. “What’s there to discuss?” he asked.
Gina didn’t immediately respond.
“Gina?”
She decided to stop her efforts to finesse it, and just say it. “I’m going to try and convince the governor that Marcus is innocent.”
This made little sense to Dutch. “Why?”
“Because he very well may issue a pardon.”
Dutch frowned. “A pardon?”
“That’s what I’ve been told, yes.”
“And why on
earth would the Governor of Texas issue Marcus Rance a pardon?”
“Because he’ll be convinced, as I am, of Marcus’s innocence.”
“Oh, Gina, that’s nonsense! Feingold has some good qualities, but altruism isn’t one of them. He commuted Marcus’s sentence from death to life thinking there was a cabinet post in it for him, which I wouldn’t have allowed if he was the only human being available to fill it. What’s in it for him now? Or at least what does he think is in it for him now?”
“Robert’s promised to compensate him for his efforts.”
“You mean bribe him?”
“That’s not what I mean at all. He’s agreed to help him financially, that’s all, after his governorship ends. He won’t even be in office when he sees that money.”
Dutch stared at his wife. “Gina, I know you don’t expect me to go along with this.”
“Go along with what? I’m just going to Montreal to speak at a foundation dinner. While I’m there I’m going to meet with Governor Feingold. End of story.”
“Like hell!” Dutch shouted so strongly that both Crader and LaLa began to feel uneasy. “By meeting with this man you’re setting in motion the beginning of a major league bribe! And you’re out of your natural mind if you think I’m going to allow that to happen.”
“You don’t have to allow anything, Dutch. I’m just going to meet---”
“No, you are not,” Dutch said firmly and LaLa and Crader looked at each other. They both knew that Dutch rarely lost his temper, but when he did it was a sight to behold.
Gina looked at her husband. “What do you mean I’m not?”
“What do you think I mean, Gina? I am not about to let you go anywhere to meet with anybody about pardoning that brother of yours. There are channels through which pardons go through and meeting some governor in some back room isn’t one of them! You are not going.”
Gina expected him to be against the idea, at least initially, but she never dreamed he’d be this dead set against it. “Dutch, it’s not like you think. You think I’m going to go there and discuss the pardon, but I’m not. That word isn’t even going to come up. All I’m going to do is tell him why I’m convinced Marcus is innocent. That’s all I’m going to do.”
“You aren’t going,” Dutch said again.
“I have to go,” Gina said equally firmly.
“I said you aren’t going, Gina.”
“And I said I have to go, Dutch.”
“Don’t give me that. The last time you gave me that have to go bullshit you were caught up in some ambush that nearly killed you! You are not going and that is final.”
Gina didn’t like his tone. “I think I have a say in where I go or don’t go,” she reminded him. “And I say I am going to Montreal and I am meeting with Governor Feingold. That’s my brother we’re talking about and I’m going to do whatever I can to get him freed from that prison for a crime I believe he didn’t commit. And if you don’t like it then tough. But I’m going.”
Dutch angrily stood to his feet, as Crader knew he would. Normally he apologized, politely took Gina by the hand, and left. But not this time. There was nothing polite about him. He moved over to Gina, grabbed her, not by the hand but by the arm, slung her from the sofa and slung her out of the room.
“You’re hurting me,” LaLa could hear her saying, but Dutch kept walking. He didn’t go far, just to the small office next door, but he closed the door with such a slam that even Crader was surprised.
“Is she going to be all right?” LaLa asked him, concerned.
“He’s not going to kill her, if that’s what you mean. But that’s about all I can vouch for.”
Inside the small office, Dutch slung Gina away from him. She’d seen him angry before, but nothing like this. He flapped opened his suit coat, and began walking toward her.
“I said you aren’t going.”
“But I have to go, Dutch. This is likely to be Marcus’s last chance to gain his freedom.”
“And the only way he’ll ever be free is if my wife runs off to Canada and beg a fool like Feingold to pardon him? And you actually think he’s going to just issue that pardon just like that?”
“I know he wants something out of it, I get that. But I don’t see where that has anything to do with me.”
“And why would Robert Rand be so concerned about helping you and your brother, a brother you barely even know yourself? What‘s in it for him, Gina?”
“Maybe he just wants to help out his friend’s wife, you ever thought about that?”
“No, and you haven’t either. What’s in it for him?”
Gina exhaled. “He wants me to encourage you to sign the Helm Amendment so that some historic land in Atlantic City can become public land. He’ll then buy it and build a casino on it.”
That figures, Dutch thought. The asshole. “The idea that he would drag my wife into one of his little schemes---”
“He didn’t drag me into anything. What are you talking about? He’s giving my brother a chance. Maybe his last chance.”
“No, Gina.”
“I have to go, Dutch.”
“I said no.”
“Then what do you want me to do? You can’t grant him a presidential pardon because that requires a five year waiting period after his release from prison. That means he would have to serve his entire sentence, get out of prison, and then wait five years. Since his sentence was commuted to life without the possibility of parole, that’s an impossibility. And he didn’t commit a federal crime, so a presidential pardon is off the table anyway. The Governor granting him that pardon is all he has left. Don’t you see that?”
“Of course I see it. But I also see my wife . . . .” Dutch said this with such emotion that he had to wait before continuing. “I have to look out for your interest, Gina, not some gotdamn half-brother of yours who did everything he was big enough to do and then finally got caught.”
Gina nodded her head. “Yes, Marcus did a lot of terrible things, selling drugs and destroying his own community chief among them. But he didn’t do that drive-by shooting that killed those people. He didn’t do that, Dutch. He had gotten his life back on track---”
“So he says.”
“And so I believe.
“I have to look out for you, Gina, that’s the only issue here. You’ve done all you can do for that young man. You’ve visited him in prison. We hired Roman Wilkes, one of the best criminal defense attorneys in this country, to work on his appeal. You’ve attend the hearing yourself and spoke on his behalf. You’ve done all you can do.”
“But it wasn’t good enough, Dutch.” Gina was becoming emotional too.
“It was good enough! Maybe we looked at the evidence and because of our desires for your brother, we saw innocence. The authorities in Texas looked at that same evidence and they saw guilt.”
“Oh, give me a break! They saw another black man they could keep locked up for life. That’s what Texas saw!”
“And since you don’t truly know this young man’s character,” Dutch continued, “it’s possible he’s guilty.”
“He’s not guilty.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“He’s not guilty,” she said again.
“We can go on and on with this, all day and all night, but my answer remains no. You are not meeting with Feingold or anybody else regarding Marcus Rance. The answer is still no.”
“Well, you can say no all you want,” Gina said, heading for the exit, “but I’m going to the Rand Foundation dinner in Montreal, and I will be meeting with the governor and anybody else that can help my brother.”
“That’s not happening, Gina.”
“Watch me,” Gina said as she opened the door.
“And you watch me,” he said as he grabbed her by the arm and slammed the door back shut.
“Let me go!” Gina yelled, wrestling with him.
But he wouldn’t let her go. She was feisty, and determined to break free, inadvertently scratchi
ng the side of his face as she fought against his hold. It was teetering on violence now and he knew he had to take full control of this situation before they both got out of control. He therefore grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her with a hard shove against the side wall, where he could pin her there.
Back in the Sitting Room next door, the sound of Gina slamming against that wall caused LaLa to jump from her seat.
“What is he doing to her?” she asked anxiously as she and Crader, who was equally concerned, moved over to the adjacent wall where the sound of the slam was heard.
And back inside of that room next door, Gina kept fighting Dutch. She became so insistent on getting away from him that he grabbed both her arms, thereby negating her ability to strike him again.
“Let me go!” she said again, her arms lifting up and down against his hold, but this time her voice wasn’t as firm. She was losing that fight she had within her. And when she looked into Dutch’s eyes, and she saw the anger, yes, but the anguish too, she stopped all motion. What in the world was she doing?
Dutch, however, was even more determined. “You cannot go and meet some governor somewhere and have him backdoor your brother into a pardon. I’m not going to let you be a party to that, Gina. Not because I don’t want your brother to get whatever he can get, but because I love you. And you’re my responsibility, not that brother of yours. You’re mine, Gina. Do you hear me? You’re my responsibility.”
They were now staring into each other’s eyes. And something changed. Their fighting spirit was suddenly replaced by a jarring reality of what they were doing and who they were doing it too. And all Dutch could now see was the sincerity in Gina’s eyes. And the sweet smoothness of her dark skin. And the sensual curve of her full lips. And her long, dark neck. And the way his dick was pressed hard against her. He loved this woman. And his love was beginning to overpower his anger.
“Oh, Gina,” he said, now rubbing those arms he had just moments before grasped. And he leaned closer against her, his mouth a mere inch from hers. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
Gina fought back tears, too, as she placed her hands on the sides of his face. And that small gesture, her mere touch, undid him. He slammed his mouth down onto hers, capturing it in a searing kiss.
Dutch and Gina: The Power of Love Page 13
