“What things?”
She glanced to the skating floor when her sister called out her name, then waved as the young girl glided past. “I’m really not comfortable discussing this here.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, then paused to smile for a photographer. “Sydney. I read that investigation. I spoke with the investigators back when it all happened. He’s guilty. That’s precisely one of the reasons I’ve decided to run again. Keeping a man like Wheeler alive for twenty years does nothing but torture him as well as the families of the victims. I’m going to do something about this.”
“Something I’m sure your constituents will appreciate.”
“Something I was hoping you’d appreciate.”
“It’s not going to bring my father back. And what if that man is innocent?” she asked, crossing her arms, clearly disturbed by whatever it was she’d found.
Marla Gnoble reached out, placed her well-manicured hand on Sydney’s arm. “Then you need to come forth with whatever it is, dear,” she said, her voice soothing and low. “They’re going to execute him in ten days, and if you have something that will exonerate him, my husband needs to know. This affects too many people. You, your mother
…”
“I’d rather she didn’t know all the details just yet-”
“-and,” Gnoble interjected, “not to sound crass, but it affects my campaign.”
“For God’s sake, Donovan,” his wife said. “Pretend you’re not a politician for once. Can’t you see what this is doing to her head? My God, Sydney. Have you talked to anyone about it? Anyone besides my idiot husband, that is?”
“No.” And then, as if coming to some sort of internal decision, Sydney looked Gnoble in the eye, her expression cold, hard. “Do me a favor. Leave my family and especially my father out of your campaigning.”
“Sydney.” He grasped her arm, and she stopped, looked at him. “You have to believe me. That article was not my idea. I’ve known you since you were born. You know I’m not like that.”
“I don’t know what to believe right now.”
“Then believe me when I say I’ll help you in any way I can. If you think he’s innocent, I will stand by you. But I have to know what proof you have, and it’s got to be something more than his word. There are police reports and physical evidence showing otherwise. I’ve just come out publicly staking my reputation on his guilt, for God’s sake,” he said, trying to keep his voice low.
“This isn’t politics. It’s my father’s life.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I can call someone, the best investigator, have him look into it. Come talk to me. At my office, away from the cameras.”
“I’ll think about it.” She walked off.
Prescott thought Gnoble looked as though he’d go after her, but then his shoulders sagged, and he turned away, stared out to the kids skating round and round. His wife gave him an exasperated look. “For such a smart man, sometimes you’re an absolute idiot,” she said.
Prescott cleared his throat. “Sir?”
Gnoble ignored him, but his wife said, “Prescott, a few moments, please…”
“Of course. I have a couple calls to make anyway.” Prescott took out his cell phone, stepped away where he wouldn’t be overheard, hit the speed dial. “It’s Prescott,” he said, when the man on the other end answered. “What have you heard on the Wheeler case?”
“The Innocence Project is turning him down, and the governor’s a Republican, so I’d say he’s toast.”
“They’re turning him down?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“It’s confirmed. Sydney Fitzpatrick went out to the prison. She’s pretty upset, and I don’t-”
Prescott glanced up, realized he was being watched. By Sydney Fitzpatrick’s young half sister.
He laughed into the phone as though whatever they were talking about was some big joke. “Hold on,” he said to his caller, keeping his tone jovial. He wondered how much the kid had overheard, and looked right at her, gave his best disarming smile. “Shouldn’t you be skating, young lady?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be out there making sure the senator’s shaking hands?”
He decided she was too young to figure things out. “You’re absolutely right. And I’m going to start now.”
“Is my sister upset with your boss?”
“No. Of course not. It’s just this thing with her father. The time of year. She’s worried.”
The girl glanced back at her sister, before pinning her shrewd and annoying gaze on him. “I think she’s upset about that article in the paper, so if you don’t mind, I don’t think I want to take any pictures with you guys.”
“Your mother really wants you all to pose for a get-together photo. It’ll make her happy. And think what it’ll do for your future, to be seen with a senator.”
“You do realize that by the time I’m old enough to vote, Senator Gnoble so won’t even be a blip on my radar screen?”
“Prescott?” his caller said.
“One second.” He looked at the girl again, tried to think of what he should tell her, but in the end, figured it was best just to let it be. “Smile for the camera, eh?” The kid rolled her eyes, skated off, and he returned his attention to the phone, making sure his expression read friendly and fun, as he lifted his hand to cover his mouth on the off chance someone there could read lips. “I need the senator reelected. If he’s not, then not only do I lose my job, you lose yours and something much, much bigger than that measly salary he pays us. We don’t have much time to make this go away. The sooner, the better.”
“Here’s the thing. I can’t do something unless you tell me what it is you want done.”
Prescott hated depending on other people. His glance strayed across the rink to where Sydney Fitzpatrick stood off to the side, avoiding her mother, avoiding pretty much everyone. “I’ll get back to you on that. Shortly.”
7
Any chance Sydney had of sneaking out of the skat- ing rink was thwarted when her half sister, Angie, insisted she skate a few rounds with her. It was hard to resist anything Angie requested. She’d been a surprise midlife baby, born eight years into her mother and Jake’s marriage. And while neither had expected or wanted any children when they were married the year after Sydney’s father had been killed, no one would guess it now. They were devoted parents. As for how Sydney felt about Angie, her heart had belonged to her baby sister the very moment she grasped Sydney’s finger in her tiny little fist. Sydney knew right then and there that she’d give her life to protect her sister’s. Not that she needed to worry about Angie. Jake was easily the most overprotective father on the face of the earth, though at the moment conspicuously absent, which surprised her.
At the skate desk, Sydney checked out a pair, then carried them well away from the senator and his groupies. She sat, removed her shoes, wondering about Donovan’s interest in learning anything that might exonerate Wheeler. Because he was truly concerned? Or because of his real agenda, doing what he thought was right to keep his numbers up in the polls? He certainly didn’t need help in that regard, but she supposed it was the nature of the beast, none of which had anything to do with why she didn’t come out and tell him exactly what she’d learned from talking to Wheeler. Out of context it would sound completely ridiculous, she told herself as she tied her skates, then sought out Angie in the rink, somehow managing to skate without falling on her face. She tried to remember the last time she’d even worn skates. Probably when she was Angie’s age, she realized, eyeing her sister.
Sydney had always thought Angie resembled Jake much more than their mother, with Angie’s blond hair, dimples, a dusting of freckles across her nose, a smile that lit up the room, and a sharp eye that missed nothing. As in now.
“Are you upset with Uncle Don?” Angie asked. “Not just him. Politicians in general.”
“I’d rather be a cop than a politician.” She grasped Sydney’s hand, helping her to get her balance.
“A very wise decision. The not being a politician part.” Sydney lurched, wobbled, but remained upright with considerable effort. “Didn’t think I could skate, did you?”