“Where’s Andrea?” Stride asked. “I need to talk to her.”
Denise sat down at the table again, as if it was too much effort to stand. Her whole body was trembling now. “She went to the DECC. She’s going public. She’s planning to confront Devin at the town hall.”
Devin Card studied the camera feed from inside the convention center. Early attendees had begun to wander into the ballroom, and in two hours, when the town hall began, more than a thousand people would be squeezed inside, with hundreds more in the overflow space. There were a few chairs for disabled guests, but otherwise, the venue was standing room only. The people coming in now were the party faithful, invited to provide him with a cheering section. They’d be crowded near the front. But others would be there, too; the protesters always showed up, waving signs and jeering. The same posters drew his eyes at every event, paid for and distributed by his political opponents.
Rapist!
Resign!
A wide stage had been assembled at the front of the ballroom, adjacent to the arc of windows that overlooked the bay and the city’s lift bridge. The microphone was there, where Card would face the crowd, with staff and security pushed out of sight to either side of the stage. It would be just him alone under the hot glow of the overhead lights. Cameras would be recording everything, taking note of every question and answer, every reaction, every word.
“This is going to be ugly,” Peter Stanhope murmured as he stood next to him.
“Politics is always ugly.”
“This is worse. It’s politics and rape. That’s a volatile combination. I was outside earlier, and it’s getting pretty hot on the street. I’d feel better if we were screening people for weapons.”
Card shrugged. “No. If I look scared, I lose.”
“If someone shoots you, you lose, too.”
“I’m not worried about that. Right now, I’m more worried about the woman. The media are all saying she’s going to be there. Do you think it’s true? Or is it a hoax?”
“I can’t be sure. No one is releasing her name yet. This may just be a strategy to unnerve you before the event.”
“Have your contacts inside the police told you anything?”
Peter shook his head. “They’re playing it close to the vest.”
“I know we said it would be better if she came forward, but not this way.”
“Well, I’m sure she realizes that, too. If we know who she is in advance, we can dig up information and get it out to the press. If she stands up and starts accusing you here, she gets the first news cycle all to herself.”
“Who the hell is she?” Card asked, shaking his head.
“She could be anyone. A girl with a grudge against you? We weren’t exactly choir boys back then.”
“No. We weren’t.” Card turned away from the cameras. “You know, you should have told me about Ned Baer seven years ago, Peter. About meeting him. About him looking for a bribe.”
“You were better off not knowing,” Peter replied. “If anything went wrong, I needed you to be able to say honestly that I hadn’t told you a word about it.”
Card put a strong hand on Peter’s shoulder, which he did whenever he wanted to remind Peter who held the real power between the two of them. “We said we weren’t going to talk about this, but I have to know. Were you involved in his death? Did you kill him? Or did you have him killed?”
“Is that really the kind of person you think I am, Devin?”
“I think you’re loyal. I think you’re the most loyal friend I’ve ever had.”
“I am,” Peter replied, “but I wouldn’t take loyalty that far. Not even for you. I had nothing to do with his murder.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
Peter said nothing else, and the Congressman waited with curious anticipation on his face. “You’re not going to ask me the same thing?” Card asked finally.
“No. I’m not.”
“Because you’re afraid of the answer?”
“Because I don’t want to make you lie to me,” Peter said.
“Well, I’m not lying. I didn’t kill him, either. I had nothing to do with it.”
“I never thought you did, but I’ve always been willing to let you have your secrets, Devin.”
Card glanced at the video feed again. “Secrets like this woman?”
“You tell me. We’ve already admitted who we were back then. Sometimes things went too far at the parties.”
“I have no recollection of doing anything like what she said,” Card told him. “I truly don’t believe I would have been capable of that.”
Peter heard the subtle change in his story, the lack of an actual denial. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that out there.”
“I know.”
“We can try to block her, you know. We can screen questions, try to figure out who she is.”
Card shook his head. “You know that will never work.”
“This is an ambush, Devin. You won’t see it coming until it hits you. What are you going to do?”
“There’s only one thing I can do,” Card replied. “I have to let her talk.”
28
Serena found Alice Frye where she always was, in the garden behind her house on Morgan Street in the flat lands above the city. Birches and maples made a ring around the yard, creating a private nook where Alice tended to her herbs and flowers. She had a small cottage behind her house, where Serena had seen her every other month for the last few years.
Alice was a therapist, well into her seventies. She was a pixie-sized widow with short dark hair and an endless supply of adrenaline. She had a deep reservoir of sexual anecdotes that always sounded shocking coming out of her sweet elderly mouth. Serena had heard more slang words for male genitalia in Alice’s cottage than on the streets of Las Vegas. For all that, Alice was also smart, sensitive, and not shy about pointing out uncomfortable truths. Serena liked her.
She had tried therapy several times in her past, mostly with bad results. She didn’t like to trust anyone with her secrets. However, after she and Jonny had broken up in the wake of his affair with Maggie, she’d tried again, at the suggestion of a woman she was living with in Grand Rapids at the time. The woman had recommended Alice, and Alice had kicked off their first session in the little cottage by asking flatly, “Okay, my dear, who put whose cock where?”
Right then, Serena knew the two of them were going to get along.
She’d told Jonny very little about her time in therapy. She’d never suggested that he join her. The sessions were for her and her alone. She’d talked a lot about him in the early days, but very quickly, she’d gone on to other parts of her life. Alice had taken her through her teenage years in Phoenix. They’d talked about Maggie. They’d talked about Cat and Serena’s new role as a mother. With Alice, Serena had found a way to confront many of her demons. Even though she felt more in control of her problems, she still liked the validation of coming to Alice’s place every other month, even if all they did was share stories about their sex lives.
Alice looked up with surprise as Serena came around the back of the house. She was on her knees in her flower garden, talking to the purple hydrangeas that had won ribbons at the state fair.
“Serena,” Alice said, looking apologetic. “Did we have an appointment? I don’t have anything on my calendar.”
Serena smiled and shook her head. “No, I just stopped by.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, things are fine. I was hoping to get your opinion about something. It’s related to a case I’m working on.”