Chapter Twenty-Four
I almost laugh at the accusation against Kane. “My husband pulled that man off me on the beach, Father. If Kane decides you’re dead, you’re dead. And why hire him for security if you thought any differently.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of reality.
“Maybe he just wants to ruin me and I foolishly handed him the golden ticket to do it. He yanked all of his men off of my detail last night. That’s part of why I decided to come here. I need the extra security this place was supposed to represent.”
Wait, I think. What? Kane halted the security detail he was offering my father and did so right before a dead body showed up?
There are no coincidences, I repeat yet again in my head.
The timing clearly indicates, something is going on here I don’t know about, but Kane must. Considering what he was dealing with last night and how tired he was when I left, I doubt anything to do with my father’s backup security detail felt important.
Or, perhaps too important to take on while I was leaving.
He did ask me to stay. “His father paid me a visit last night,” I finally say.
His eyes widen. “What happened?”
As if I share anything with him. “I didn’t kill him is what happened,” I say.
“Occasionally, if I dig deep, I find Mom’s restraint, but ever since that night on the beach, I favor your deviant behavior.
” I move on, changing the subject. “It’s highly unusual for a governor not sworn into office to claim residency. Who knew you were coming here?”
“A handful of people. No more.”
“When did they know?”
“Last night about midnight when I made the decision.”
“Text me that list.”
“You think someone inside my operation tried to set me up?”
“I have no clue at this point and you know it. You’re a former sheriff, after all.”
“Smartass.”
“You say smartass. I say truth teller. This could easily be related to the present governor. Or the political party. Or one hundred other things. Say, the battle for power between you and Pocher.”
His chin lifts, the muscles down his neck tight bands. “What am I going to tell the press?”
Evidently, he does not want to talk about Pocher.
“You’re not,” I reply. “The FBI will. Defer to us. And you need to move back to your house.” I look skyward, and ask the good Lord above, why I’m about to help him, but I know why.
Because it’s not for him. It’s for the victim who will get lost in the insanity of the governor-elect if this isn’t managed.
I meet my father’s stare. “The mansion is vacant. You were never here. You’ll leave now, with an escort and guards, but no one else leaves until processed. Not even Pocher.”
I glance up to find my brother headed our direction and since he seems to prefer Dad over the dead guy in the house, I make my decision, glancing at my father.
“Andrew will take you home. Have your security waiting on you when you get there. Don’t count on anyone who’s here now.
They’ll have to be processed to leave.” I start to walk away.
He catches my arm. “You think Pocher did this to control me?”
“You’re arrogant and obvious, Father. Your puppet master is not pleased. And you let him bring in his own deputy governor. He doesn’t even need you anymore.”
“He’d have to survive a special election and he wouldn’t. Pocher knows that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Right now, you need to focus on you. If that body was left to rattle you and your future, it could have DNA planted on it or be tied to something shady about your past.”
He pales. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” I say. “Fuck.”
Andrew joins us. “What’s going on?”
“Take Dad home. He was never here. And he’s on lockdown. You’re his personal guard.” That’s right when the swarm of vehicles charges toward the house, and I glance at my father. “Is there a backway out?”
“Are we actually hiding him from the FBI?” Andrew asks.
“I am the FBI, Andrew. And I have a plan and a reason.”
“There are too many people here who’ve seen him here,” he argues.
“My people,” my father says. “I can handle them.”
“Someone will leak.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I can handle it,” he repeats.
“You better,” I say and glance at Andrew. “If they leak then you pivot. He swung by to look at potential décor changes before he moves in and found a nightmare. The end.”
“I don’t like it,” Andrew grumbles.
“You never do,” I say dryly. I eye my father, still reeling with the idea that he will soon hold the power of the governor’s office. “I’m not doing this to help you. I’m only getting you out of here to calm the press chaos that might be exactly what our killer wanted.”
His expression pinches and as if I haven’t spoken at all, he says, “There’s a back way out, but we need to go now.”
I motion for them to go already and they take off, tracking toward escape. Now that they’re out of my hair, I dial Adams who picks up on the first ring. “Agent?”
“Meet me on the lawn beyond the steps. Before you let the cavalry inside.”
“On my way,” he says and I disconnect.
Adams exits the house in the not-so-distant distance and is quick to meet me halfway. “Where’s the governor?”
“Governor-elect,” I remind him, “and he’s gone. He was never here.”
His brow shoots up. “And if someone leaks he was here?”
I feed him the cover story.
“Political discretion at its finest,” he approves.
“You mean deception?” I ask. “And for the record, I don’t approve, but any other story disrupts rather than supports the investigation. The last thing I need is to navigate my father and the present governor blaming each other in the press and for all we know that’s what the killer is hoping for.”
“Distraction,” he says. “Yes. I can see that.”
He studies me several beats. “Our current governor needs to be informed and questioned and protocol dictates my presence. Are you going with me?”
“I need to question him, but in an educated way, which requires time with the victim. If you go without me, you give him time to dodge and weave, and potentially even arm him to do so.”
He gives an incline of agreement. “Very well. I’ll lock him down, let you do your thing, and then we’ll go together. And now, I need to go greet our team.”
He walks toward the vehicles now halting in the driveway.
I need to talk to Kane, but right now, I need to find out if Special Agent Damian Leonard is going to be a special pain in my ass or is that job reserved strictly for Jack.
I head toward the tall, fit man with dark wavy hair Adams is now talking with, and I already don’t like Leonard.
I guess him to be mid-thirties, and extremely proud of his good looks.
Arrogance literally oozes from the man, which in my experience means he can’t see beyond himself in the mirror.
I near the two men and Adams angles my direction. “Special Agent Damian Leonard,” Adams says. “Meet Special Agent Lilah Love-Mendez. She’ll be your lead on this case.”
When his eyes meet mine, there’s contempt in their depth. “If it isn’t the FBI agent married to a drug lord.”
I laugh. “Ah. Is that what they call him?”
“That’s what he is,” he replies.
“And in what I can only call priceless timing,” I say, I lift a finger a motion to the man who just exited the SUV at the rear of the caravan. “Kane just arrived. Why don’t you say that to his face? Director Adams can protect you, I’m sure.”
The scowl on Leonard’s face is so deep he has tunnels, but there’s a hint of fear in his eyes, as he’s presently worried about how deep the hole will be when he’s buried. “Don’t worry,” I say softly. “He’s nicer than I am.”