Chapter Nineteen
Sam opened her email and noted Avery had sent the message from a personal account, rather than his official FBI address.
Interesting. She clicked on the attached PDF and opened what she quickly realized was the dossier he had told them about yesterday, in which Armstrong had laid out the case against Piedmont.
He’d basically done the job of the SEC and FBI investigators for them, with every offense neatly documented.
She skimmed the twenty-page document that had served as a summary of the case against Piedmont.
Armstrong’s meticulous work, done while knowing it would spell professional ruination and the loss of the company he’d poured his heart and soul into, was admirable, to say the least.
Sam tried to put herself in his shoes, having learned something about his partner and friend that could ruin them all, and still doing the right thing. That said a lot about what kind of man Jameson Armstrong/ Beauclair had been.
Since the kids were still settled with Shelby, Sam kept moving forward, looking next at Cleo Dennis Armstrong/Beauclair, who came from a prominent Northern California family known for its connections to the wine industry.
Her parents owned a company that lobbied on behalf of the wine industry.
They worked between Napa, Sacramento and Washington.
Sam made a note of the parents’ names with the intention of speaking to them at some point today.
Prior to her tenure at APG, Cleo had worked on the staff of a hip blog in San Francisco that tracked fashion trends.
Sam went back to one of the earlier articles about APG from the good times.
She read Jameson’s account of meeting Cleo at a dinner party and being immediately attracted to her crackling intelligence and sparkling wit.
“I was in the process of beginning divorce proceedings from my first wife and in no position whatsoever to start something new, but the minute I met Cleo, I knew she would change my life,” he’d said in a Forbes article.
“Selfishly, I wanted to keep her close until I was ready for her, so I hired her to work in APG’s corporate communications department. ”
In a Los Angeles Times article that had followed the company’s implosion, ten inches was given to Armstrong’s ugly divorce from his first wife, Margaret, and the ensuing custody battle over Elijah, who’d been six at the time.
Margaret’s mental health challenges had become public during the case, which Jameson claimed to be horrified about.
“That never came from me or my attorneys,” he’d said adamantly.
The case had dragged on for two years, during which time Jameson was never seen in public with Cleo.
In the end, he’d been awarded primary custody of Elijah during the school year, with Margaret awarded liberal visitation, all holidays and school vacations, provided she underwent mental health evaluations four times a year.
That the terms had been made public at all said much about the level of interest in Armstrong and his family at the pinnacle of APG’s impressive run.
“My ex-husband is a powerful and influential man,” Margaret had said in a local TV interview after the case had been resolved.
“Powerful and influential people can get away with things the rest of us can’t, and this case is certainly proof of that.
” She’d paused before adding, “Having my personal medical condition made public has been a huge violation of my privacy, but that’s what happens when you’re David up against Goliath. ”
The woman’s heartbreak and outrage had come through loud and clear.
She was someone they needed to look at very closely.
Not only had Jameson fallen for Cleo while he was technically still married to Margaret, but her mental health challenges had been used against her in the custody battle.
Even though all of that had happened years ago, sometimes resentments festered for years before they boiled over.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the French doors to the dining room open. “I can feel you watching me,” she said, smiling but not looking up from what she was doing.
“You’re my favorite thing to watch. The story never gets old.”
“Someday, the story will get old and wrinkly.”
“And it’ll still be my favorite story ever. The story of my life.” He pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and came over to her, sitting next to her and putting his arm around her. “How’s it going?”
“Slow and steady wins the race—or so I hope. I want justice for those babies upstairs so damned badly.”
“So do I. If anyone can get it for them, you can. Are you leaning in any particular direction?”
“The ex-partner is the obvious choice. The guy has motive up the wazoo because he blames Armstrong for ratting him out to the Feds, although Armstrong had no choice. If he hadn’t, he could’ve been prosecuted himself.
What a catch-22. Report your ex–best friend and business partner, destroy the business you’ve spent your entire adult life building in the process, or run the risk of your own criminal trouble. ”
“He did the only thing he could.”
“Yeah. Then there’s his ex-wife, the schizophrenic, who he battled for custody of the older son.
Her mental health challenges were made public during the custody case, and she blamed him for that, even though he adamantly denied it.
The first wife, Margaret, was also convinced he was fooling around with Cleo while he was still married to her, even though he adamantly denied that, too. ”
“If she were going to come after him, wouldn’t it have happened a long time ago?”
“Sometimes these things simmer for years until one small thing causes an explosion. Their son, Elijah, is coming from New Jersey and will arrive later in the day. I hope to get the chance to speak with him some more about the dynamic between his parents.”
Nick rubbed her back, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the stolen moment with him. Even in a houseful of people, he made her feel like they were the only two people in the world.
“I have good news,” he said.
Sam opened her eyes and glanced at him. “What kind of good news?”
“The kind where I only have to go to Europe for one week instead of three.”
Sam let out a happy shout and hugged him. “That is the best news ever. How’d you pull that off?”
“I said I was willing to go for one week only, and they could decide how best to use the time. The secretary of state is stepping up to do some of the other stuff they had me doing. I told Terry I won’t travel for more than a week at a time. Ever.”
“God, I love you. Have I told you that lately?”
His low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I hope it’s obvious that I love you too, so much that I caused headaches for an entire administration, all so I don’t have to be away from my beautiful wife any longer than necessary.”
Sam breathed in the fresh clean scent of him, the scent of home. Even a week without him would be torture, but that was better than three weeks. “Did you create an international incident?”
“Quite possibly. Terry said some of the foreign dignitaries we were due to meet with will be crushed that I’m not coming.”
“You’re as popular over there as you are here.”
“I only care about being popular right here in this house.”
“You get the award for most popular man in the house and most likely to get laid tonight.”
His laughter made her smile. Everything about him made her smile.
“Um, Mr. Vice President?” Terry said from the dining room. “We need you in here.”
“Duty calls,” Nick said. “Kiss me—and make it a good one to hold me over until later.”
Sam didn’t care that there was a Secret Service agent minding the front door or Nick’s team in the dining room.
All she cared about was the chance to kiss her sexy husband in the middle of a workday.
She placed her hand on his face and went for broke, slipping him a hint of tongue as a preview of things to come later.
When she pulled back, he looked rather stunned and undone. “Get back to work, Mr. Vice President.”
He stole another kiss. “Mmmm. To be continued. I’m still hoping for a late-afternoon snuggle if you can get everyone out of here and the littles take a nap.”
“You’ll get my ultra-deluxe service for cutting that trip by two weeks.”
“What does ultra-deluxe service include, so I can look forward to it all day?”
She leaned in and whispered in his ear, pulling back in time to see his gorgeous eyes go wide with surprise.
“I thought I only got that on my birthday and anniversaries?”
Sam laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. “Go away. I have work to do and so do you.” She stood when he did. “And I need to go check on my babies.”
“Sam.”
“Figure of speech. I know they’re not mine.” But I wish they were. The thought came over her so suddenly, she staggered slightly under the weight of the realization.
“Babe? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Stood up too fast, and I’m hungry.”
“Take it easy, will you? We don’t need you getting sick on top of everything else.”
“It’s all good,” she said on her way up the stairs. “Don’t worry about me.”
“May as well tell me not to breathe.”
Working from home had many perks, not the least of which was time with Nick in the middle of the day.
She found Shelby and the kids in Scotty’s room.
They were on his bed, with Shelby in the middle, Noah asleep in her arms and one little blond child on either side of her, resting their heads on her as they watched Minions.
Aubrey perked up when Sam appeared in the doorway. “Is Mommy here?”
“No, honey.”
“Where is she? She never leaves us this long. Is she worried about us?”
Though Alden didn’t say anything, he watched Sam with wise, knowing eyes. She wondered if he already understood something his sister had yet to fathom.