Chapter 9 #3
Dylan chuckled. "What? He was a badass vigilante who tried to right wrongs."
Claire snorted.
"And he wore leather," Dylan added, mostly for effect.
Claire looked down at her business attire and groaned. "There was a time," she mumbled.
Dylan's phone interrupted them.
He lifted it. "Hey, Steph."
A beat.
"What do you mean you don't know where she is? No. I haven't talked to her in a few weeks."
Claire looked up again.
"Did you talk to Alex? No, not my mom. Our sister."
Claire moved some files and sat on the edge of the desk.
"I don't know. No. I agree. It's not like her. Maybe she's just?—"
Claire's brow furrowed.
"Steph. No. I know. Listen, I'll call my mom, okay?"
Claire traced her lips with a fingertip as she listened.
"I'll call her now. No. I'm still in Connecticut. I'll see what I can find out. Just try not to panic."
Dylan hung up and looked at Claire.
"I am positive I'm not going to like this," Claire said.
"Steph can't get Jane on the phone, and she's not at the house in Fairfax or the townhouse."
"Call your mom," Claire said, hopping off the desk.
"Where are you going?" he called after her.
"To call my father."
The White House
The last thing Alex expected when she stepped off the plane was to find a stream of messages from Dylan.
She heard the concern in his voice. Palpable.
Raw. She tried to reassure him that Jane was likely taking some time to sort through things—to accept that her father had betrayed her trust in the cruelest way.
Alex assured him she would get back to him after she spoke to Joshua.
Claire was already talking to Jim. Between them, Alex was hopeful they would reach Jane quickly.
That's what she told Dylan.
She had argued with Jane for more than a year about staying under Secret Service protection.
Jane was entitled to it unless she remarried, but she kept pushing for private security instead, refusing government protection and reminding Alex that, in their world, government protection could sometimes be more dangerous than going it alone.
Everything inside Alex whispered that something was off.
It was a familiar feeling. Not the kind anyone invited back. The kind you hoped never returned.
She had intended to stop home, shower, and make her way to Mackenzie's school. That wasn't feasible. Not now. She needed to find Joshua and learn what—if anything—he knew.
Alex rounded the corner toward her office and saw Joshua engaged in conversation with Grant Hill.
She picked up her pace. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough to ensure Joshua did.
His eyes met hers.
Alex caught him by the sleeve. "A word?"
She pulled him into her office and closed the door.
"Alex?"
"Where's Jane?"
Joshua shook his head.
"Joshua," Alex said. "She's off the grid. Where is she?"
He sighed. "I don't know, Alex. That's the truth."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"She asked for some space. She needs time?—"
"Where did she go?"
"I told you. I don't know. She said something about Switzerland."
"Switzerland?"
"She used to ski there when she was young."
Alex took a breath, then nodded. "She's not answering calls."
"I told you. She asked for space."
"She's not answering the girls."
His expression shifted immediately, somewhere between panic and disbelief.
Alex shook her head. "Did she go looking for her father?"
"I don't—I don't think so."
"You don't think so, or you know she didn't?"
Joshua's jaw tightened. "I don't think so."
Alex pinched her temples. Hard.
"Jane can handle herself," he said.
Alex dropped her hands and stared at him.
"She can," Joshua said.
"Can she?" Alex asked. "Maybe. But she's not acting like the Jane I know."
"Would you be?"
"Probably not. But I have some experience with people coming back from the dead, Tate."
He looked away.
"This isn't like her," Alex said. "Not this."
"No." He sighed. "It's not like her to avoid the girls."
There it was.
The small, familiar current down her spine.
Danger.
Alex took a breath and exhaled slowly. "Let's hope that's all this is—avoidance."
She opened the door.
"Toles—"
"I need to make some calls," Alex said. "See if you can reach her."
Joshua nodded.
Alex stepped into the hall, already reaching for her phone.
Her stomach dropped.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Alex picked up her pace to catch up with Jameson.
"Hey," Jameson said. "You're home early, too."
"Assembly duty, like you."
Jameson nodded. "Want to share a ride?"
"Yeah. I hoped you might offer."
Jameson's gaze narrowed. "Something's wrong. What's up?"
"Let's wait until we're in the car," Alex said.
A few more steps and Alex slid into the back seat of the Suburban next to Jameson.
"Alex?"
"Take a breath," Alex said. "It's not about Candace's safety or yours."
Jameson exhaled.
"I need your help, JD."
"My help?"
"Yeah. In fact, I think you're the only person who can help me."
"Don't tell me you need another false fire alarm."
"Not exactly."
"Alex?"
Alex sighed. "Look. No one can reach Jane."
"Jane? Jane Merrow?"
Alex nodded.
"Do you think?—"
"I don't know what to think," Alex confessed. "Avoiding Joshua and me is problematic. I'd understand that. But there's no way she wouldn't accept a call from the kids."
Jameson's stomach tightened.
"There's more," Alex said.
"Great."
Alex chuckled despite the situation. "Cassidy's father agreed to help bring Nika Kapralov in."
"In? In where?"
"Funny you should ask."
"Alex, nothing about this conversation feels funny."
"Fair."
"How can I help?"
"There's a facility here in D.C."
"The one Merrow built?" Jameson asked.
"Yes. Candace told you?"
"Not all the details. Enough. Go on."
"I want to bring Kapralov there."
"Uh-huh."
"But it needs some alterations," Alex said. "I can't bring an architect or a construction team in."
Jameson nodded. "Alex, you know I'll help. But depending on what you need and how fast you need it done?—"
"Nothing outrageous. Yet. Just a space that he can—well, a place he can stay that doesn't feel like a prison or a data center. That, and a way to ensure it's adequately hidden from what's above."
"How fast?"
"Yesterday."
Jameson laughed, then sobered. "I'm pretty good with a hammer and saw, Alex. I'm not a miracle worker. Without seeing it, I know it will take more than one set of hands and one set of tools to accomplish."
"I figured. I can provide help, as long as you provide direction."
"You're serious."
"Deadly."
"Can I ask how this relates to Jane?"
"I don't know, JD. I do know a former First Lady—this former First Lady—cannot be missing for long without someone noticing."
"You're worried."
Alex nodded. "Yeah. I am. I need to make this happen, JD. If Jim can help get him here, I can keep him safe for a short time. Not long. And I can't use official facilities."
Jameson felt the car slow. She looked back at Alex.
"I'll do whatever I can. You know that," she said. "Candace?—"
"I'll talk to her when we get back."
"No. I think we should both do that."
Alex nodded.
The car rolled to a stop.
Jameson looked back at her.
"What?" Alex asked.
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Move from missing people and secret facilities to school assemblies without missing a beat?"
Alex shrugged. "Everybody's got their normal."
They stepped out of the car.
Jameson shook her head. "Normal, huh?"
Alex shrugged again. "It's a relative term. Relative being the operative word."
Jameson chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this. Any of it."
Alex nodded. "Want my advice?"
"Yes."
"Don't."
The White House
Later
It had been a long day for Candace, or at least, it felt that way.
Thankfully, it had also been productive. She’d committed herself to strengthening partnerships in South Asia, not only for America’s economic interests but also for its national security.
Most Americans paid little attention to the ramifications of foreign policy.
They viewed it through a grossly oversimplified lens: allies and enemies.
They groaned about investments in foreign aid, calling them handouts, complained that America cared more about people living on distant continents than about its own citizens, and raged about how much the country imported.
There was truth buried inside many of those frustrations. Candace knew it. She would never deny that America’s budget and its legislative priorities were often out of balance.
In many ways, governing was all about cutting spending in one place so you could invest it somewhere else.
She had learned that as a teenager, listening to her grandfather gripe at the kitchen table or lecture one of his aides on the phone.
And she’d lived it as a congresswoman, senator, and governor.
The public narratives about unfair tax policy, funding so-called entitlements, and the need for spending reductions had merit.
But the realities of providing necessary services for a country where nearly four hundred million people lived were complicated, even when people believed they should be simple.
People wanted to visit the beautiful national parks in Washington, Wyoming, and Maine.
They expected assistance when hurricanes, floods, and fires destroyed property and infrastructure.
They demanded, rightfully so, that America care for its veterans and its aging population.
And amid the real and present everyday needs of the people who lived in the United States, they often forgot that the country also depended on the assistance of its neighbors to keep its economic engines running and its security posture solid.
The most confounding part of being an elected leader, at least for Candace, wasn’t that people who lived their lives outside government misunderstood, were misinformed, or felt disenfranchised by those they elected.
It was the painful reality that too many elected officials and party diehards on both sides of the aisle sought to leverage those misunderstandings, promote disinformation, and foster disenfranchisement to gain political power.