Van said, “No.”
“He was in every single city we were,” Avery mused out loud. “Always lurking in the background.”
“Not ‘lurking.’ Standing,” Irish corrected.
“Standing and staring intently at Tate.”
“So were you, most of the time,” Van quipped. “You’re not going to ice him.”
She shot him a baleful look. “Don’t you think it’s a little odd that a man would follow a senatorial candidate around the state if he weren’t actually part of the
election committee?”
They glanced at each other and shrugged warily. “It’s odd,” Irish conceded, “but we don’t have any pictures of him with his finger on a trigger.”
“Did you see him at the GM plant?” Van wanted to know.
“No.”
“That was one of the largest, most hostile crowds Tate addressed,” Irish said. “Wouldn’t that have been a likely spot for the guy to make his move?”
“Maybe the bottle thrower beat him to it.”
“But you said you didn’t see Gray Hair there,” Van pointed out.
Avery gnawed her lip in consternation. That eventful day was a blur in her memory, punctuated by vivid recollections, like Tate sitting in the emergency
room, his shirt stained with his blood. The wound had healed in a matter of days; the small scar was faint and hidden by his hair. She shuddered to think
how much worse it could have been if Gray Hair
“Wait! I just remembered,” she exclaimed. “I read that day’s agenda before we left the hotel,” she recalled excitedly. “The trip to the GM plant wasn’t
printed on the schedule because it was squeezed in later. Nobody except Eddy, Jack, and the union bosses at the plant knew we were going to be there.
So even if Gray Hair had intercepted a schedule, he couldn’t have known that Tate was going to be in Arlington.”
“You two sound like you’re talking about a goddamn Indian,” Irish said cantankerously. “Look, Avery, this thing is getting too dangerous. Tell Rutledge who
you are, what you suspect, and get the hell out.”
“I can’t.” She drew in a catchy breath and repeated with soft emphasis, “I can’t.”
They argued with her for another half hour, but got nowhere. She enumerated the reasons why she couldn’t give up now and rebuked their arguments that
she was just doing it for the notoriety it would bring her when it was over.
“Don’t you understand? Tate needs me. So does Mandy. I’m not deserting them until I know they’re safe, and that’s final.”
As she prepared to leave, rushing because time had gotten away from her, she hugged them both. “It’ll be a comfort to know you’re around,” she told Van.
Irish had assured her that he would assign Van to the Rutledge campaign permanently until after the election. “Be the eyes in the back of my head. Scan
the crowds. Let me know immediately if you see Gray Hair.”
“Not with the Indian names again,” Irish groaned. He pulled her into a bear hug. “You’ve given me the worst bellyache of my life,” he said gruffly. “But I still
don’t want to lose you again.”
She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “You won’t.”
Van said, “Cover your ass, Avery.”
“I will, I promise.”
She left quickly and sped home. But she wasn’t speedy enough.
THIRTY-FOUR
“This is becoming an all-too-familiar scene.” Tate angrily confronted Avery the moment she cleared Mandy’s bedroom door. “I’m pacing the floor, not
knowing where the hell you are.”
Breathless, she rushed across the room and gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the bed. Mandy was sleeping, but there were tear tracks on her
cheeks. “I’m sorry. Zee told me she had another nightmare.” Tate’s mother had been waiting for her in the hall when she came in.
Tate appeared even more agitated than Zee had been. His face was drawn and haggard, his hair uncombed. “It happened about an hour ago, shortly
after she’d fallen asleep.”
“Did she remember anything?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.
“No,” he replied in a clipped voice. “Her own screams woke her up.”
Avery smoothed back Mandy’s hair and murmured, “I should have been here.”
“You damn sure should have. She cried for you. Where. were you?”
“I had errands to run.” His imperative tone of voice grated on her, but she was presently more interested in the child than in arguing with Tate. “I’ll stay with
her now.”
“You can’t. The men from Wakely and Foster are here.”
“Who?”
“The consultants we hired to oversee the campaign. Our meeting was interrupted by Mandy’s nightmare, and their time is expensive. We’ve kept them
waiting long enough.”
He propelled her from Mandy’s bedroom and toward on of the doors that opened onto the central courtyard. Avery dug in her heels. “What are you most
upset over, Tate your daughter’s nightmare, or keeping the bigwigs waiting?”
“Don’t test my temper now, Carole,” he said, straining the words through clenched teeth. “I was here to comfort her, not you.”
She conceded him the argument by guiltily glancing away. “I thought you were against using professional consultants for your campaign.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Eddy and Jack changed it for you.”
“They had their input, but I made the final decision. Anyway, they’re here, waiting to talk strategy with us.”
“Tate, wait a minute,” she said, laying a restraining hand on his chest when he made to move past her. “If you don’t feel right about this, just say no to
them. Up till now, your campaign has been based on you who you are and what you stand for. What if these so-called experts try to change you? Won’t you
feel diluted? Homogenized? Even the best advisers can be wrong. Please don’t be pressured into doing something you don’t want to do.”
He removed her hand from the front of his shirt. “If I could be pressured into doing something, Carole, I would have divorced you a long time ago. That’s
what I was advised to do.”
The following morning she stepped out of her tub and loosely wrapped a bath sheet around herself. As she stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying her
hair, she thought she saw movement in the bedroom through the partially opened door. Her first thought was that it might be Fancy. She flung open the
door, but rapidly recoiled.
“Jack!”
“I’m sorry, Carole. I thought you heard my knock.”
He was standing well beyond the door to her room. If he had knocked, she certainly wouldn’t have given him permission to come in. He was lying. He
hadn’t knocked. More angry than embarrassed, she drew the bath sheet tighter around her.
“What do you want, Jack?”
“Uh, the guys left this for you.”
Without taking his eyes off her, he tossed a plastic binder on her bed. His intense gaze made her very uncomfortable. It was prurient, but it was also
incisive. The bath sheet left her legs and shoulders bare. Could he detect the difference in her body from Carole’s? Did he know what Carole’s body had
looked like?
“What guys?” she asked, trying not to let her discomfort show.
“From Wakely and Foster. They didn’t have a chance to give it to you last night before you stormed out of the meeting.”
“I didn’t storm out of the meeting. I came inside to check on Mandy.”
“And stayed until after they’d left.” She offered no apology or denial. “You didn’t like them, did you?”
Since you asked, no. I’m surprised you do.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re usurping your position.”
“They work for us, not the other way around.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” she said. “They were autocratic and mandatory. I don’t respond to that kind of high-handedness, and I’ll be
amazed if Tate tolerates it for any significant length of time.”
Jack laughed. “Feeling as you do about them and their high-handed advice, you’re going to have a tough time stomaching this.” He gestured down at the
folder.
Curious, Avery approached the bed and picked up the folder. She opened it and scanned the first several sheets of paper. “A list of dos and don’ts for the
candidate’s wife.”
“That’s right, Mrs. Rutledge.”
She slapped shut the folder’s cover and dropped it back onto the bed.
Again Jack laughed. “I’m glad I’m just the errand boy. Eddy’s going to be pissed if you don’t read and digest everything in there.”
“Eddy can go to hell. And so can you. And so can anybody who wants to make Tate a baby-kissing, handshaking, plastic automaton who can turn a glib
phrase but says absolutely nothing worth listening to.”
“You’ve become quite a crusader for him, haven’t you? All of a sudden you’re his staunchest ally.”
“Damn right.”
“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Carole?”
“I’m his wife. And the next time you want to see me, Jack, knock louder.”
He took a belligerent step toward her, his face congested with anger. “Playact all you want in front of everybody else, but when we’re alone ”
“Mommy, I drew you a picture.” Mandy came bounding in, waving a sheet of construction paper.
Jack glowered at Avery, then wheeled around and strode from the room. She congratulated herself on holding up remarkably well, but now her weak
knees buckled and she sank onto the edge of the bed, gathering Mandy against her and holding on tight. She pressed her lips against the top of the
child’s head. It would be difficult to tell who was drawing comfort from whom.
“Mommy?”
“What did you draw? Let me see.” Avery released her and studied the colorful slashes Mandy had made across the page. “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed,
smiling tremulously.
In the weeks since her visit with Dr. Webster, Mandy had made tremendous progress. She was gradually emerging from the shell she had sequestered
herself in. Her mind was fertile. Her sturdy little body seemed imbued with energy. Though her self-confidence was still fragile, it didn’t seem quite so
breakable as before.
“It’s Daddy. And here’s Shep,” she chirped, pointing to a dark blue blob on the paper.
“I see.”
“Can I have some chewing gum? Mona said to ask you.”
“One piece. Don’t swallow it. Bring it to me when you don’t want it anymore.”
Mandy kissed her moistly. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too.” Avery gave her another tight hug, sustaining it until Mandy squirmed free and rushed off in quest of her chewing gum.
Avery followed her to the door and closed it. She considered turning the lock. There were those in the house whom she wanted to shut out.
But there were those she had to leave her door open for, just in case. Mandy, for one. And Tate.
Van opened a can of tuna and carried it with him back to his video console. His stomach had finally communicated to his brain that one had to have
sustenance to stay alive. Otherwise, he would have been so engrossed in what he was doing, he would never have remembered to eat. He conveyed
chunks of the oily fish from can to mouth via a reasonably clean spoon.
Clamping the bowl of the spoon in his mouth, he used both hands at once to eject one tape from one machine and insert a new tape into another. In this
capacity, he functioned like a well-coordinated octopus.
He replaced the first tape in its labeled box and turned his attention to the one now playing. The color bars appeared on the screen, then the countdown.
Van swallowed the food he’d been holding in his mouth, took a puff of his smoldering cigarette, a gulp of whiskey, then scooped up another bite of tuna as
he leaned back in his desk chair and propped his feet on the edge of the console.
He was watching a documentary he had shot several years earlier for a station in Des Moines. The subject was kiddie porn. This wasn’t the watereddown,
edited version that had gone out over the air. This was his personal copy the one containing all the footage he’d shot over a twelve-week period
while following around a features producer, a reporter, a grip, and a sound man. It was only one tape of the hundreds in his extensive personal library.
So far, none that he’d watched had justified the niggling notion that he’d seen someone in Rutledge’s entourage before, and it wasn’t the gray-haired man
that had Avery so concerned. Van wasn’t even certain what he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. He wouldn’t stop until he found it whatever
“it” was. Until he went back on the campaign trail with Rutledge, he didn’t have anything better to do except get wasted.
He could always do that later.
“Where’s Eddy?” Nelson asked from his place at the head of the dining table.
“He had to stay late,” Tate replied. “He said not to wait dinner on him.”
“It seems that we’re never all together at dinner anymore,” Nelson remarked with a frown. “Dorothy Rae, where’s Fancy?”
“She’s… she’s…” Dorothy Rae was at a loss as to the whereabouts of her daughter.
“She was still at headquarters when I left,” Tate said, coming to his sister-in-law’s rescue.
Jack smiled at his parents. “She’s been putting in a lot of long hours there, right, Mom?”
Zee gave him a tepid smile. “She’s been more dedicated than I expected.”
“The work’s been good for her.”
“It’s a start,” Nelson grumbled.
Avery, sitting across from Jack, held her peace. She doubted Fancy was working during all the hours she spent at campaign headquarters. She seemed
the only one to attach any significance to Fancy and Eddy often coming in late together.
Mandy asked for help buttering her roll. When Avery finished and raised her head, she caught Jack watching her. He smiled, as though they shared a
naughty secret. Avery quickly looked away and concentrated on her plate while the conversation eddied around her.
Fancy arrived several minutes later and flopped into her chair, her disposition as sour as her expression.
“Haven’t you got a civil word for anybody, young lady?” Nelson asked sternly.
“Jesus, cauliflower,” she mumbled, shoving the serving bowl to the other side of the table.
“I will not abide that kind of language,” Nelson thundered.
“I forgot,” she shouted with asperity.
His face turned an angry red. “Nor will I put up with any of your sass.” He shot meaningful glances at Jack, who ducked his head, and Dorothy Rae, who
reached for her wineglass. “Show some manners. Sit up properly and eat your dinner.”
“There’s never anything decent to eat around here,” Fancy complained.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Francine.”
“I know, I know, Grandpa. All those starving kids in Africa. Save the sermon, okay? I’m going to my room.”
“You’ll stay where you are,” he barked. “You’re part of the family, and in this family, everyone has dinner together.”
“There’s no need to shout, Nelson,” Zee said, touching his sleeve.
Fancy’s face swelled up. She glared at her grandfather mutinously, at her parents contemptuously, but she remained seated.
As though nothing had happened, Nelson picked up the conversation where it had left off when she had come in. “The Wakely and Foster team is setting
up another trip for Tate.” He imparted this piece of information for the benefit of the women, who hadn’t heard it firsthand.
Avery looked at Tate. “I just found out this afternoon,” he said defensively, “and didn’t have time to tell you before dinner. You’ll get a schedule.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just about every corner of the state.”
Zee blotted her mouth. “How long will you be away?”
“A little over a week.”
“Don’t worry about Mandy, Carole,” Nelson said. “Grandpa’ll take care of her. Won’t he, Mandy?”
She grinned at him and bobbed her head up and down. The child never minded being left with them. Ordinarily, Avery would have had no qualms about
leaving her. However, Mandy had had another nightmare the night before the second that week. If she were on the brink of a breakthrough, Avery hated to
be away from her. Perhaps Mandy could go with them. It was something she needed to discuss with Tate before final plans were made.
Eddy suddenly appeared in the arched opening of the dining room. Mona, who was clearing away the main course dishes, told him she had kept his
dinner warm. “I’ll bring it right out.”
“Never mind.” His eyes darted around the table, lighting briefly on everyone seated. “I’ll have to eat later.”
Fancy’s mood brightened considerably. A light came on behind her sullen eyes. Her sulky pout lifted into a smile. She sat up straight in her chair and
looked at him with admiration and lust.
“I hate to ruin everyone’s dinner,” he began.
Nelson waved his hand dismissively. “You seem upset.”
That was a gross understatement, Avery thought. Eddy was bristling with rage.
“What’s the matter? Did we slip in the polls?”
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so,” Eddy said, choosing Zee’s question to respond to. “Ralph and Dirk are with me, but I told them to wait in the living room until I’d had a
chance to speak with the family privately.”
Ralph and Dirk were the two men from Wakely and Foster who were assigned to Tate’s campaign. Their names frequently cropped up in conversation.
Avery always dreaded hearing them referred to, because she usually had a negative reaction to whatever was subsequently said.
“Well?” Nelson prompted impatiently. “Best to get bad news over with.”
“It concerns Carole.” Every eye in the room moved to where she sat between Tate and Mandy. “Her abortionist is about to tell all.”
THIRTY-FIVE
A quality necessary to bomber pilots is the ability not to crack under pressure. Nelson didn’t. Avery reflected on his aplomb later when she reviewed those
heart-stopping moments following Eddy’s appalling announcement.
His lack of response was remarkable to her, because she had felt like she might very well shatter. She’d been rendered speechless, motionless, unable
to think. Her brain shut down operation. It seemed the planet had been yanked from beneath her, and she floated without the security of gravity in an
airless, black void.
Nelson, with admirable resilience, scooted back his dining chair and stood up. “I believe we should move this discussion to the living room.”
Eddy nodded his head once, glanced at Tate with a mix of pity and exasperation, then left the room.
Zee, drastically pale but almost as composed as her husband, stood also. “Mona, we’ll skip dessert tonight. Please entertain Mandy. We might be
occupied for some time.”
Dorothy Rae reached for her wineglass. Jack took it away from her and returned it to the table. He caught her beneath the arm, lifted her from her chair,
and pushed her toward the hall. Fancy went after them. She was fairly bubbling now.
When they reached the archway, Jack said to his daughter, “You stay out of this.”
“No way. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened,” she said with a giggle.
“It’s none of your concern, Fancy.”
“I’m part of this family, too. Grandpa just said so. Besides that, I’m a campaign worker. I have every right to sit in on the discussion. Even more right than
her,” she said, gesturing toward her mother.
Jack dug a fifty-dollar bill out of his pants pocket and pressed it into Fancy’s hand. “Find something else to do.”
“Son of a bitch,” she mouthed before stamping off.
Tate’s face was white with wrath. His movements were carefully controlled as he folded his napkin and laid it next to his plate. “Carole?”
Avery’s head snapped up. Denials were poised and ready to be spoken, but the sheer fury burning in his eyes silenced them. Under his firmly guiding
hand, she left the dining room and walked across the hall toward the large living room.
It was still twilight. The living room afforded a spectacular view of the western sky, streaked with the vivid shades of sunset. The vista was breathtaking,
one Avery often sat and enjoyed. This evening, however, the endless horizon made her feel exposed and alone.
There wasn’t a single friendly face to greet her when she entered the room. The men representing the public relations firm were particularly hostile. -..
Dirk was tall, thin, saturnine, and had a perpetual, blue-black five o’clock shadow. He looked the stereotype of a hit man from a gangster movie. It
appeared that his face would crack if he even tried to smile.
Ralph was Dirk’s antithesis. He was round, stout, and jolly. He was always cracking jokes, more to everyone’s annoyance than amusement. When
nervous, he jangled change. The coins in his pocket were getting a workout now. They rang as noisily as sleigh bells.
Neither of these men, to her knowledge, had ever professed to having a last name. She sensed that omission was to promote a friendly working
relationship between them and their clients. As far as she was concerned, the gimmick didn’t work.
Nelson took charge. “Eddy, please clarify what you just told us in the dining room.”
Eddy went straight to the heart of the matter and turned to Avery. “Did you have an abortion?”
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t utter a sound. Tate answered for her. “Yes, she did.”
Zee jumped as if her slender body had just been struck with an arrow. Nelson’s brows pulled together into a steep frown. Jack and Dorothy Rae only
stared at Avery in stunned disbelief.
“You knew about it?” Eddy demanded of Tate.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell anybody?”
“It wasn’t anybody’s business, was it?” Tate snapped furiously.
“When did this happen?” Nelson wanted to know. “Recently?”
“No, before the plane crash. Just before.”
“Great,” Eddy muttered. “This is just fuckin’ great.”
“Mind your language in front of my wife, Mr. Paschal!” Nelson roared.
“I’m sorry, Nelson,” the younger man shouted back, “but do you have any idea what this will do to the Rutledge campaign if it gets out?”
“Of course I do. But we have to guard against responding in a knee-jerk fashion. What good will flying tempers do us now?” After tempers had cooled,
Nelson asked, “How did you find out about this… this abomination?”
“The doctor’s nurse called headquarters this afternoon and asked to speak to Tate,” Eddy told them. “He had already left, so I took the call. She said
Carole had come to them six weeks pregnant and asked for a D and C to terminate pregnancy.”
Avery sank down onto the padded arm of the sofa and folded her arms across her middle. “Do we have to talk about this with them in here?” She nodded
toward the public relations duo.
“Beat it.” Tate nodded them toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” Eddy objected. “They have to know everything that’s going on.”
“Not about our personal lives.”
“Everything, Tate,” Dirk said. “Right down to the deodorant you use. No surprises, remember? Especially not unpleasant ones. We told you that from the
beginning.”
Tate looked ready to explode. “What did this nurse threaten to do?”
“Tell the media.”
“Or?”
“Or we could pay her to keep quiet.”
“Blackmail,” Ralph said, playing a tune with the change in his pocket. “Not very original.”
“But effective,” Eddy said curtly. “She got my attention, all right. You might have rained everything, you know,” he shot at Avery.
Trapped in her own lie, Avery had no choice now but to bear their scorn. She didn’t care what any of the others thought of her, but she wanted to die when
she thought of how betrayed Tate must feel.
Eddy strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a straight scotch. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“What about the doctor?” Dirk asked him.
“The nurse doesn’t work for him anymore.”
“Oh?” Ralph stopped jingling coins. “How come?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Avery, who had given the sharp command, came to her feet. She saw only one way to redeem herself in Tate’s eyes and that was to help get him out of
this mess. “Find out why she no longer works for the doctor, Eddy. Maybe he fired her for incompetency.”
“He? It’s a woman doctor. Jesus, don’t you even remember?”
“Do you want my help with this or not?” she fired back, bluffing her way through a dreadful error. “If the nurse has been fired, she wouldn’t be a very
believable extortionist, would she?”
“Carole’s got something there,” Ralph said, glancing around the circle of grave faces.
“You got us into this jam,” Eddy said, advancing on Avery. “What do you plan to do, brazen it out?”
“Yes,” she said defiantly.
She could almost hear the wheels of rumination turning throughout the room. They were giving it serious consideration.
Zee broke the silence. “What if she has your medical records?”
“Records can be falsified, especially copied ones. It would still be my word against hers.”
“We can’t lie about it,” Tate said.
“Why the hell not?” Dirk demanded.
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