Fatal Jeopardy Page 23

  “It’s a date, Senator. Or should I call you Mr. Vice President?”

  “Stop it,” he said with a groan.

  “I love you, and I’m so proud of you. To be wanted by the president to be his vice president is pretty damned cool no matter how it turns out.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so, and I’m always right.”

  “On that note, I’m outta here. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Oh and I love you too, and I’m very glad you’re okay. Thanks for calling to let me know.”

  “It’s just how I roll.”

  He was still laughing when she ended the call with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  A knock on her office door put Sam right back to work. “Enter.”

  Jeannie McBride came in to update Sam on what she’d been working on, but it seemed like she had something else on her mind.

  “Everything okay?” Sam asked her.

  “Yeah, it’s all good. I’ll see you at the meeting.” Jeannie turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway.

  “You may as well tell me why you really came in.”

  Wearing a small smile at Sam’s persistence, Jeannie turned back to face Sam. “The trial.”

  “Come sit. Shut the door.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re busy. We all are.”

  “Come in, shut the door and sit down. That’s an order.” This was said gently and with an affectionate grin for the woman who’d become a close friend after Jeannie’s horrific attack.

  Jeannie did as she was told, settling into Sam’s visitor chair. “I had a meeting with Faith and Tom today,” she said of the assistant U.S. attorney and her boss.

  “It’s coming up soon,” Sam said.

  “First week in January. It’s all I can think about...Having to see him again.” Jeannie shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “I have no doubt you can do it, but it won’t be easy. I feel sick when I think about having to face off with him in court, so I can only imagine how you must feel.” Her own confrontation with Mitch Sanborn had resulted in a miscarriage that had broken her heart—and Nick’s. “But the alternative...”

  “Is letting him get away with it. That can’t happen.”

  “No, it can’t.” Sam got up and went around the desk to sit in the other chair. She reached for Jeannie’s hand. It was icy cold, so Sam held it between both of hers. “You’re the toughest chick I know.”

  “Funny,” Jeannie said with a small laugh, “that’s what I say about you.”

  “Nah, I’ve got nothing on you. You make the rest of us look like wimps. Look what you endured and survived.”

  “Have I survived it? Truly?”

  “As horrifying as it was, you didn’t let it ruin your career or your relationship with Michael. You’re back to work. You’re planning a wedding. You’re going on with your life. You’re not letting him win. If that’s not survival, I don’t know what is.”

  “You and everyone here, the job... It gave me something to stay focused on when the darkness tried to tempt me. I wouldn’t have survived without this to come back to.”

  “I’ve felt that way myself a few times, but you survived because of you. The job couldn’t have saved you if you didn’t want to be saved, Jeannie. How about giving yourself a little credit? And Michael deserves some too.”

  “Yes, he certainly does.”

  “One more hurdle to get through, and then you can really put it behind you.”

  “You’re right. I know.”

  “I’ll be right there with you the entire time you’re in court. We’ll get you through it.”

  Jeannie leaned into Sam’s embrace. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all your support from the very beginning.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Sam said, like Archie had said to her. The amazing brotherhood—and sisterhood—she’d found within the police department was second only to the bond she shared with her own sisters.

  “We’ve got a meeting to get to,” Jeannie said.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  After Jeannie walked out, Sam took a moment to get herself together. Thinking about Jeannie having to testify against that animal Mitch Sanborn made her want to vomit. Testifying against the perps they arrested was a necessary evil in their line of work, so they were all seasoned witnesses. But this one was personal. Not just for Jeannie but for everyone who had worked on the case against the former Democratic National Committee chairman and his cronies who’d been behind a prostitution ring that had been one of the District’s best-kept secrets. Until the murders of two immigrant women unraveled the whole scheme.

  Sam still couldn’t think about the desperate day they’d spent looking for Jeannie in the midst of the murder investigation that had also brought down the Speaker of the House of Representatives, the senior senator from Virginia and Vice President Gooding’s chief of staff.

  Sam would rest a little easier when all four scumbags were put away for a good long time. But she’d never wanted vengeance quite the way she did in the case of Mitch Sanborn. When she thought about what that savage had done to Jeannie, all in the way of trying to intimidate the police that were hunting him down, she wanted his head on a platter so she could smash it with a sledgehammer. That would make her feel a lot better.

  She stood to gather her notes and file folders, ignoring the more insistent pounding that was coming from the base of her skull. Not a good sign, she thought, as she made her way to the conference room, trying to ignore the pings of light that were indicative of a migraine coming on.

  Hopefully, the pills would kick in soon before the headache ruined what was left of her day.

  * * *

  Nick took a cab to the West Wing entrance on Pennsylvania Avenue. Terry was waiting for him in the ground-floor lobby where they produced identification and went through security. The area was deserted late that Sunday, a day when the White House was closed to the public.

  Terry looked almost as nervous as Nick felt. “Derek didn’t say what this is about?” he asked in a low tone.

  “Well, I assume it’s about the president making a last-ditch effort to talk me into a job I don’t want, but no, Derek couldn’t say anything more than come at four.”

  A Secret Service agent escorted them to the West Wing Lobby. “Please have a seat, Senator. Mr. Kavanaugh will be right with you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nick and Terry sat on a sofa beneath a painting of George Washington crossing the Potomac.

  “That bookcase is from the seventeen hundreds,” Terry said. “It’s one of the oldest pieces in the White House collection.”

  “Where’d you get that random piece of trivia?”

  “I was an intern here when I was in college. I paid attention. I once had rather lofty aspirations.”

  “Whereas I still feel like an imposter every time I walk in here with business to conduct. I felt that way even when I was only a staffer, and now it’s even more surreal knowing what he wants to talk to me about.”

  “You’ve earned it, Senator. Look at what you’ve accomplished in the last year.”

  “What have I accomplished exactly? I stepped into a job that was handed to me when my best friend was murdered—”

  “And you won reelection. Resoundingly. That’s why they’re so interested in you—that and the fact that you have national name recognition due to your amazing convention speech. Not to mention your connection to my dad and your high-profile marriage.”

  “Neither of which have anything to do with the work.”

  “In politics, those things are everything. Come on, Nick,” he added softly. “You’ve been arou
nd this game long enough to know that.”

  Terry was right, but that didn’t make it any more palatable to Nick to be under consideration for the number-two job after only a year in the Senate. “It should be John.”

  Terry shook his head. “They wouldn’t have asked him. Even though he’d been in the Senate five years when he died, he was still immature as a politician, and as a man. The stuff we’ve learned about his womanizing since he died would’ve derailed any higher ambitions he might’ve had. Besides, he never wanted what he had, let alone anything more than that.”

  “I didn’t want it until it was thrust upon me,” Nick reminded him.

  “Despite his pedigree, you’re actually better at it than he was. You care more than he did, for one thing. Not to speak poorly of my brother, but he was what he was, and he made no excuses.”

  Nick couldn’t deny the accuracy of what Terry was saying about John. As much as Nick had loved him, as his top aide and best friend, he’d had a front-row seat to John’s failings as well as his successes.

  “I know you struggle with this issue,” Terry said. “And as John’s brother, I appreciate that you don’t take for granted how you came to be here. But he’s been gone a year, and you’ve more than stepped up to the plate in his absence. Anything that happens now is because you’ve earned it.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, and I appreciate you saying it, but...”

  Terry smiled. “I get it. Believe me. You’d give it all up to have him back, wouldn’t you?”

  “In a second.”

  “That, right there, is what the people love about you. You keep it real. They relate to that. You have every right to be sitting in the West Wing waiting for an audience with the president. He’s no fool, and neither are the DNC leaders. They know what they’ve got in you, and they want to groom you.”

  The idea of being “groomed” to run for president made Nick feel slightly nauseated. Never in his wildest dreams, and he’d had some rather wild dreams for his life and his career, had he ever imagined things playing out this way.

  Derek came into the room, wearing a navy sweater and khakis, which probably counted as dressing down on a Sunday in the West Wing. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Senator, Mr. O’Connor. The president will see you now.”

  Nick and Terry stood and shook hands with Derek.

  “Thanks for coming in on a Sunday,” Derek said as he led them through the corridors of the most powerful office space on earth.

  “No problem,” Nick said with a grimace for Terry that nearly made his friend laugh.

  “Sam and Scotty are well?” Derek asked.

  “Scotty’s great, but Sam has been sucked into the case on MacArthur.”

  Derek shook his head with dismay. “Nine kids dead. Horrifying.”

  “It really is. It’s always tougher on the cops when kids are involved.”

  “I don’t know how they do it day in and day out. I give them so much credit.”

  As Derek had one of the busiest jobs in Washington, that was saying something.

  Nick had been to many a meeting at the White House, but he’d never before stepped foot in the Oval Office. The closer they got to their destination, the more the butterflies stormed around in his belly and the more surreal this entire thing became. What was he doing here? He recognized the outer office from having seen it on TV.

  Derek approached the closed door, knocked and stepped inside, gesturing for them to follow him.

  Looking for something to do with his hands, Nick reached up to make sure his tie was straight.

  President Nelson was also casually dressed in jeans and a sweater. He was with White House Chief of Staff Tom Hanigan and Secret Service Director Ambrose Pierce in the sitting area in the middle of the Oval Office. All three men stood to greet the new arrivals.

  “Senator,” the president said, extending his hand. “Thanks so much for coming in on short notice.”

  “Of course,” Nick said. “No problem. I believe you know Terry O’Connor, my deputy chief of staff.”

  “Yes.” A longtime friend of Terry’s father’s, Nelson shook Terry’s hand. “Good to see you again, Terry.”

  “Likewise, Mr. President.”

  “I’m sure you both know Tom and Ambrose.”

  More handshakes, more small talk, more bullshit, Nick thought as they all took a seat. Nelson offered bourbon, and Nick gratefully accepted, hoping the liquor would calm his nerves. He also found it intriguing that Nelson recalled from their meeting on Air Force One that Nick enjoyed a good glass of bourbon. He couldn’t deny it was flattering to have the president of the United States remember such an insignificant detail.

  When everyone had drinks in hand, Nelson crossed his legs and looked extremely relaxed and comfortable. Nick figured anyone twice elected to the highest office in the land had the right to be comfortable and relaxed.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve summoned you today,” Nelson said.

  “I have a pretty good idea,” Nick said dryly, making the others laugh.

  “The last time we talked, you indicated this wasn’t a good time for you or your family to make a big change. I want you to know I truly respect that you put your family first. I honestly do. However, you’re the one I want, Senator. You’re the one the party wants. You’re the one the people want, if our polling is to be trusted.”

  “Is that how the press caught wind of your offer?” Nick asked. “Because you polled on it?”

  “Perhaps,” Hanigan said. “We apologize if the leaks have caused you any discomfort.”

  “My wife wasn’t too pleased to hear about it from a reporter.”

  Nelson winced. “Sorry about that.”

  “My own fault,” Nick said with a shrug. “Since I’d turned down your gracious offer, I hadn’t bothered to mention it to her.”

  “Ahh,” Nelson said with a wry smile. “A rookie error.”

  Nick laughed at the witty comment. “Indeed. I’ve been soundly schooled on the error of my ways. Chalk it up to my newlywed status.”

  “You’ll learn,” Ambrose said with a grin.

  Nelson propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to address Nick directly. “I like you, Senator. I like everything about you. I’d be deeply honored if you would reconsider my offer.”

  And there it was...

  “I heard your concerns about your wife the last time we spoke,” Nelson continued. “I appreciate and respect your desire not to disrupt her career or her life—or your son’s life. I’ve asked Ambrose to be here to address those concerns.” With a glance at the Secret Service director, Nelson passed the ball to him.

  “You may not be aware that only the president, vice president, president-elect and vice president-elect are required to have Secret Service protection. Spouses and family members can opt out of protection, although we don’t recommend it. I understand from the president you were concerned about your wife being required to have Secret Service protection, which would naturally impair her ability to perform her duties as a member of the Metropolitan Police Department. I’m here to tell you she can opt out of protection if she so chooses. We would recommend, however, that should you accept the president’s offer, you provide protection for your son.”

  Nick’s head was spinning as he absorbed what Ambrose was saying. Sam wouldn’t be required to have Secret Service protection. “Are you saying my wife would be permitted to keep her position with the MPD, go to work every day the way she does now and move freely around the city should I choose to accept the president’s offer?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Ambrose replied.

  To Nelson, Nick said, “And you’d be okay with that? You’re aware of what she does and how often she makes headlines of her own?”

  “I’m aware, and I’d
be fine with it.”

  “She lives in constant fear of her work causing political trouble for me. That’s always a possibility.”

  “I understand,” Nelson said. “And since I’m not running for anything ever again—thank you, Jesus—that’d be your problem, not mine.”

  Nick felt his resistance weakening. “Her dad is a quadriplegic. He lives three doors up the street from us. She wouldn’t want to move away from him, even if she was still in the District.”

  “We’re aware of that,” Ambrose said, “and we’re prepared to make allowances to keep you in your current home. With some adjustments for security, of course.”

  “Well,” Nick said, releasing the deep breath he’d been holding. “You’ve certainly given this a lot of thought and managed to allay my most pressing concerns.”

  “I’m still not hearing a ‘Yes, Mr. President, I’d be delighted to accept your offer,’” Nelson said.

  Nick felt the heat of all eyes on him. He wished now that he’d asked Graham O’Connor to come to the meeting too, although Graham would be jumping up and down by now, accepting on his behalf. The thought of that brought a smile to Nick’s lips.

  “You’ve given me a lot to consider,” Nick said tentatively. “I’d like a little time to think it over, to speak to my family and my team.”

  “I understand,” Nelson said. “However, time isn’t on our side. Vice President Gooding’s tumor is life threatening. He’s been given three to six months to live.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Nick liked the jovial vice president and was saddened to hear of his dire diagnosis.

  “We’re working with his office to keep his condition under wraps until we’re ready to announce his resignation and our choice for his replacement at the same time. As you can imagine, he’s anxious to resign so he can focus on his treatment and his family at this difficult time. In a best-case scenario, we’d like to make a move on Friday.”

  “Of this week?” Nick asked, incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  “And if I decline? You have someone else in mind?”

  “We have another candidate who’s a very distant second to you. You’re the one we want.”