home.”
“Leaving might make me look guilty, don’t you think?” Evan rebutted.
“If the situation there gets iffy, I don’t care how it looks.”
Which brought them right back to the nub of the only dispute they had as father and son: J. D.‘s need to make sure nothing ever hurt his son, and Evan’s need to assert his independence—a divide not easily bridged. Evan, in a quiet voice, chose to return to an earlier subject.
“You were gone before Alvy McCray had his accident, right?”
J. D. was taken by surprise again, but not nearly as much as the first time.
“For about a month,” he replied evenly.
“Well, that ought to take the edge off the pistol-whipping you gave him. I mean, if the cops ever ask me about Cade-McCray confrontations.”
“Evan, I know you’re a man now, but you’re a young man. You may not
believe it, but there are situations you’re really not prepared to handle. If you think you’re in trouble with the police or anyone else, you come home. We’ll work things out from here.”
There was a lengthy pause, then Evan agreed. Somewhat.
“If I need an escape hatch, that’s what I’ll do. But where’s home these days? Santa Barbara?
Or this new place in L.A.?”
J. D. gave him the cloned PCR number.
“Just call me. I’ll let you know where to go.”
After J. D. said goodbye and clicked off, he heard a tapping at the kitchen door. Pickpocket was there. He waved him in.
“Saw you were talking. Didn’t want to interrupt,” the little thief said. After a moment’s pause he added, “We’ve got a meeting for the PostMaster Plus password. Pan Pacific Park.”
“When?” J. D. asked.
“Tonight,” Pickpocket replied with a grin.
“That fast enough for you?”
J. D. nodded and said, “I’ll go get the twenty thousand from the bank right now.
Jenny’s plane landed in Denver that morning. It was the last day of Del’s campaign swing through the Rocky Mountain states before heading to California.
But she couldn’t afford to wait twenty-four hours for him to come to L.A. The smear that Don had alerted her to might be headline news by then.
The warning was a tremendous break for the campaign, and they had to do everything they could to hit back as hard and fast as possible. Damage had to be kept to a minimum and, if possible, redirected at their opponent.
When they got all that sorted through, Jenny wanted to hear if the FBI had anything new about the marksman’s notebook… and talk to Del about Special Agent DeVito running amok.
Except for dozing fitfully on the plane, she hadn’t slept since receiving Don’s call. She fell asleep in the cab she took from the airport, and the driver woke her up by rapping on his security-shield when they reached the campaign’s new hotel, the Brown Palace.
“We’re here, lady.”
She paid the cabbie, went into the hotel, and found a ladies’ room off the lobby. She splashed her face with cold water, shook herself to bring her circulation up to speed, and raked her hair into place with her fingers. She was still exhausted, but she knew she’d have to be mentally sharp until the campaign’s brain trust decided on a plan of action. Or Del decided it for them.
She looked at her watch. Coming up on eight. Jenny had called Baxter Brown to notify him that she’d be joining them for breakfast and not to
let Del make any appearances before she arrived. She deeply hoped her candidate hadn’t overruled that decision.
Del was staying in the penthouse suite, and there were two Secret Service agents on guard outside the lobby entrance to the private elevator. Another pair of agents rode up with her. More were waiting when the elevator doors opened. Del’s press secretary, Alita Colon, pulled open the door to the suite as she approached it.
“The fellas called up to let us know you were on the way,” she said.
“Come on in. I’ve got juice, coffee, and rolls waiting.”
“You just earned a place in heaven,” Jenny
“Leaving might make me look guilty, don’t you think?” Evan rebutted.
“If the situation there gets iffy, I don’t care how it looks.”
Which brought them right back to the nub of the only dispute they had as father and son: J. D.‘s need to make sure nothing ever hurt his son, and Evan’s need to assert his independence—a divide not easily bridged. Evan, in a quiet voice, chose to return to an earlier subject.
“You were gone before Alvy McCray had his accident, right?”
J. D. was taken by surprise again, but not nearly as much as the first time.
“For about a month,” he replied evenly.
“Well, that ought to take the edge off the pistol-whipping you gave him. I mean, if the cops ever ask me about Cade-McCray confrontations.”
“Evan, I know you’re a man now, but you’re a young man. You may not
believe it, but there are situations you’re really not prepared to handle. If you think you’re in trouble with the police or anyone else, you come home. We’ll work things out from here.”
There was a lengthy pause, then Evan agreed. Somewhat.
“If I need an escape hatch, that’s what I’ll do. But where’s home these days? Santa Barbara?
Or this new place in L.A.?”
J. D. gave him the cloned PCR number.
“Just call me. I’ll let you know where to go.”
After J. D. said goodbye and clicked off, he heard a tapping at the kitchen door. Pickpocket was there. He waved him in.
“Saw you were talking. Didn’t want to interrupt,” the little thief said. After a moment’s pause he added, “We’ve got a meeting for the PostMaster Plus password. Pan Pacific Park.”
“When?” J. D. asked.
“Tonight,” Pickpocket replied with a grin.
“That fast enough for you?”
J. D. nodded and said, “I’ll go get the twenty thousand from the bank right now.
Jenny’s plane landed in Denver that morning. It was the last day of Del’s campaign swing through the Rocky Mountain states before heading to California.
But she couldn’t afford to wait twenty-four hours for him to come to L.A. The smear that Don had alerted her to might be headline news by then.
The warning was a tremendous break for the campaign, and they had to do everything they could to hit back as hard and fast as possible. Damage had to be kept to a minimum and, if possible, redirected at their opponent.
When they got all that sorted through, Jenny wanted to hear if the FBI had anything new about the marksman’s notebook… and talk to Del about Special Agent DeVito running amok.
Except for dozing fitfully on the plane, she hadn’t slept since receiving Don’s call. She fell asleep in the cab she took from the airport, and the driver woke her up by rapping on his security-shield when they reached the campaign’s new hotel, the Brown Palace.
“We’re here, lady.”
She paid the cabbie, went into the hotel, and found a ladies’ room off the lobby. She splashed her face with cold water, shook herself to bring her circulation up to speed, and raked her hair into place with her fingers. She was still exhausted, but she knew she’d have to be mentally sharp until the campaign’s brain trust decided on a plan of action. Or Del decided it for them.
She looked at her watch. Coming up on eight. Jenny had called Baxter Brown to notify him that she’d be joining them for breakfast and not to
let Del make any appearances before she arrived. She deeply hoped her candidate hadn’t overruled that decision.
Del was staying in the penthouse suite, and there were two Secret Service agents on guard outside the lobby entrance to the private elevator. Another pair of agents rode up with her. More were waiting when the elevator doors opened. Del’s press secretary, Alita Colon, pulled open the door to the suite as she approached it.
“The fellas called up to let us know you were on the way,” she said.
“Come on in. I’ve got juice, coffee, and rolls waiting.”
“You just earned a place in heaven,” Jenny
Similar Books
