52. Puppet Master
Pulling on my suit jacket, I check myself thoroughly in the floor-length mirror. Every article of clothing lays just so, my hair is neatly combed, and my accessories highlight my wealth and position. There is no question as to which side of the line I belong on, even if it’s all smoke and mirrors.
Checking my watch, I adjust my cuffs and turn from the mirror, the time counting down steadily as I exit my bathroom and then my bedroom. Soon. The thought has a smile teasing the corners of my mouth.
Soon, the next phase will start, and the dominos will fall as they may. The Council thinks they have me beat? That I’ve been in hiding because I’m afraid? No. I’m playing the long game, much as I have been since the very beginning…
The car ride to my destination gives me enough time to finalize my plan, and anticipation thrums through me in a way I’ve never felt before.
Normally, the facade I put on is stifling.
The masks forced onto people like me—those who live dual lives—are suffocating.
But now? Tonight? I get to reconcile with all the pieces of myself.
The car comes to a stop, and I wait impatiently for my driver to open the door.
“Have a good night, Senator,” he says as I exit the vehicle.
I grin as I do up the button on my suit jacket. “Oh, I will.”
Striding up the expansive front porch, my feet have barely hit the top step before the door is pulled open.
“Welcome to the Wescott home, Senator. Mr. and Mrs. Wescott are in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.”
I follow the butler through the house, taking in the obvious wealth of my surroundings. The house is as cold and devoid of life as my own childhood home. The similarities are so startling that I have to admire the taste of my hosts. Too bad that won’t save them.
“Senator Dowing,” the butler announces, as he steps into the drawing room.
“Thank you. Please, don’t disturb us. Let the chef know to hold dinner for now,” Madeline Wescott says.
I grin as I step into the room. This is almost too easy.
The butler bows his head and leaves, and both of my hosts stand as I walk further into the room.
“Your staff are well trained and discreet?” I ask.
“Of course, Senator,” Madeline replies. “We only hire the best. They know better than to interfere.”
“Good.” Reaching into my suit jacket, I pull out my gun.
Madeline gasps, and Arthur exclaims, “What’s the meaning of this?”
I give them a genuine smile. “I’d say it’s not personal, but…it really is.” I fire, loving the way the red blood spreads across the stark white of Arthur’s dress shirt.
“Ma’am?” The butler’s voice can barely be heard over Madeline’s screaming. I turn enough to shoot the man in the head.
He’s barely hit the ground before I turn back to the scene in front of me. I tsk. “I suggest you warn your other staff,” I say calmly, as Madeline fusses over a bleeding, but still-alive—for now—Arthur. “I have plenty of ammunition…and connections within the police department.
Taking aim, I shoot Arthur again, this time in his other shoulder. Madeline screams again, and I stare blankly in her direction.
“If you want your husband to live… I suggest you call your doctor son. Now.”
She nods, crying harder as she fumbles in Arthur’s pockets for his phone.
I barely listen, paying just enough attention to be sure she doesn’t give away exactly what happened, but…Madeline isn’t stupid, she can guess what’s at stake should she give away the game.
Taking a seat on the couch opposite where Arthur lays on the ground, I cross my ankles and place the gun on my thigh, settling in to wait.
Checkmate.
To be continued…