Bishop (Political Royalty Book 3) (3 page)

Dade County was one of the densest population centers in the state and if the numbers were right, Walker was winning it, which threw the forgone Collins win into jeopardy. Just like that, with one set of numbers, everything changed. Holding her breath, she watched the screen and waited for it to shift to match Owen’s prediction. Volusia’s results came in and then Seminole, and Walker’s slight edge held.

“Look at this for a minute, will you?” She nudged Owen with the corner of the notebook until he turned to face her.

“What?” he snapped.

She was going to have to find someone else who wasn’t afraid to talk to him or she’d end up murdering the tech guy when they needed him the most.

“The numbers from Dade County.”

He glanced at the screen she held out for him and then turned back to what he’d been working on. “The numbers are wrong.”

“I thought you said your numbers were right,” she said, feeling more triumphant than the situation warranted, but honestly, the guy was a pain in the ass.

“Not my numbers. Theirs.”

“The State Board of Elections? You’re telling me your projections are more accurate than the actual SBE vote counts?”

“Yep.”

“But they’re the votes. The actual recorded votes.” Not strictly speaking the truth. Until the counts were certified, nothing was official but still, it was the SBE.

“They’re wrong.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world and she felt her eyebrows head for her hairline.

“Can you get me the detailed projections for Arizona, Utah, and Wisconsin? The internal polling guys should have the latest round of results by now. And I need a way to parse the data so we can match the voter ID lists with the volunteer captains in vulnerable areas. They need to know what you know.”

For the first time, he looked up and actually gave her what she was pretty sure was his full attention.

“I don’t want anyone bugging me for information. The guys and I will take care of building the programs and connecting the databases but I don’t want to talk to your
captains
about anything.” He said the word with the same inflection she imagined he’d use when he said stormtroopers or Taskmaster.

“No shit, Owen. I never would have guessed.” She debated telling him no one wanted to talk to him either but she doubted he cared all that much and it wasn’t going to get her any closer to the result she wanted. “Just put the information together in a way the people who need it can use it. You don’t have to leave your cave.”

“They’re gonna want to ask questions,” he said, sounding like the volunteers were planning on drinking out of his cup. “Even if I explain exactly what to do, they’re gonna screw it up and need help.”

“I have an idea,” she said, using every last ounce of patience she could muster. “Why don’t you hire someone to act as a go-between. Find someone you’re comfortable talking to who can explain things to everyone else. That way you only have to talk to one person. You actually might not have to even
talk
to them. You could do it all online.”

“I don’t know anyone who could do that.” He looked panicked and any tolerance she had left evaporated.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Owen. I’ll find you someone.” She’d ask the new HR person helping coordinate the volunteers or better yet, Abby. She might have an idea of who could fit comfortably into the spot.
Or at least as comfortably as possible
, she thought, looking at Owen’s bent head. “Send me the projections. I’m going to go watch them call Florida for Walker.”

“The SBE numbers are wrong.”

“Jesus, Owen.”

“I’m just trying to keep you from showing your ass.”

––––––––

M
ATT WATCHED THE Walker girls pose in their Hogwarts robes for the photographer his editor sent. She’d gone nuts over the exclusive and lined everything up while they were on the way to Arizona. He secretly thought she was worried Sandra Walker would change her mind, but getting to it sooner rather than later suited him. He’d covered Walker’s win in Florida on the night of the primaries and then covered his loss a couple days later when the votes were certified and the state went to Collins.

The Walker campaign filed a formal dispute and asked for a recount but Matt was over it. He’d learned more than he ever wanted to know about voting machines and the way counts were tallied and spent much too much time trapped in an office with the clerk of elections for Miami-Dade County. It was reminiscent of the hanging chads of his childhood. Interviewing the Walker girls was a nice change. Doing it while they were headed to Arizona also meant Becca could be there with him. She had three more days before she was supposed to head back to school. He still had no idea how he was going to handle that. For the most part, they’d avoided talking about it, but it wasn’t a sustainable plan.

The girls loved his sister and having her around made his job easier. It also made Mrs. Walker relax a bit, which helped, considering she’d been wound as tight as a spring lately. If he were inclined to believe Jess, he would have said something was going on between the senator and his wife. Since Florida, Mrs. Walker had become an almost constant figure on the trail and the wear and tear of being together so much showed on both the Walkers.

He didn’t understand why people bothered to get married. It seemed like for the most part, after a certain number of years, people who promised they’d love each other could barely stand each other anymore. He doubted people at the rallies could tell. In public, the Walkers seemed like the perfect family. Matt didn’t think voters had a clue, but the tension on the bus was palpable. It was only a matter of time before the press started to let talks of discord slip into their coverage.

That was another good thing about his piece on the girls. It kept him from having to follow the trend. The more time he spent with them, the more he liked both of the Walkers, independent of each other. He’d rather not speculate in print about their relationship if he didn’t have to.

“Are you sure the robes are a good idea?” asked Mrs. Walker for the sixth or seventh time.

They’d already taken the obligatory posed pictures with the girls sitting like perfect angels in their perfect dresses, but Matt wanted something that showed the fun little kids he and Becca spent the day with. Those were the girls America would fall in love with.

“Let’s try it,” he said, with as much diplomacy as he could muster. “If it doesn’t work, we don’t have to use it.” So far he’d managed to avoid the editorial approval thing with both his editor and Mrs. Walker, but he could only put it off for so long. He didn’t want to add photographs to the list.

“Beautiful,” said the photographer as Sarah started to spin. “Stop and smile for me.”

“Remember when we saw the dragon shoot fire the first time,” said Becca.

The little girls smiled, their eyes going wide with wonder at the memory.

“That’s it,” said the photographer. “Perfect.”

Matt walked over to stand next to Mrs. Walker while the photographer finished up. “Thanks again for trusting me with this.”

She smiled, and he was caught again by her beauty. He’d gotten so used to seeing her in terms of the campaign, he sometimes forgot to look at her. She was an incredibly striking woman. She wore a pale-blue silk blouse that brought out the blue in her eyes and a tan skirt that fit the curve of her narrow hip like a glove and somehow still managed to look appropriate. If the senator was getting something on the side, there must be something going on under the covers in his marriage because it sure as hell couldn’t be because he didn’t find his wife attractive. And when she watched their girls, her face softened and any of the iciness Matt felt from her disappeared.

“Can we try one more thing?” he asked on a whim. It would be a hard sell but if it worked, it would make the feature even better.

“What are you thinking?” asked the photographer, straightening.

“I’d like to try one with Mrs. Walker and the girls.”

“This was just supposed to be the girls. I hadn’t planned on being photographed. I’m not ready.” She straightened, pulling in on herself, and he had a moment to wonder if he went too far. The senator’s wife traveled with her own hair and makeup people. She was unlikely to consent to get her picture taken without half a day’s prep work. But if he could catch her laughing and playing with her girls, it would paint the possible future first lady in a completely different light. If he was right, it would give the country a chance to see her the way he saw her and maybe fall in love.

“You look beautiful,” said Becca, turning to face Mrs. Walker. “You always look beautiful.”

Sandra watched his sister for a moment as if she was trying to puzzle something out. “Thank you,” she finally said. “But you’re just being generous. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I haven’t had my hair or makeup done.”

She said exactly what he’d expected but he heard something else in her voice—interest. If he was lucky, enough to convince her to say yes.

“If you hate the photos, we don’t have to use them. They never have to see the light of day.” He glanced at the photographer, who nodded. “If nothing else, it could make a nice present for the senator. His three girls together.” Matt saw her eyes widen and knew he had her.

“Okay,” she said. “But without the robes.”

“Done.” Matt grinned at her and she smiled back, interest and determination lighting up her face.

Mrs. Walker pulled out a compact and made surprisingly quick work of touching up her hair and makeup. The photographer positioned her with the girls around her in front of the white drape they were using as a backdrop. She looked so stiff at first; Matt wondered if he’d made a mistake pushing her. After a few moments, the girls’ natural playfulness rubbed off on their mother and the three of them giggled and teased one another.

Mrs. Walker caught Sarah up in her arms and Matt glanced over to see Becca watching the mother and daughter with something like longing. When Becca was Sarah’s age, she and their mother had been close. Things didn’t go bad until later. It seemed to him, it must be worse to have been close like that and lost it than to never have had it in the first place. His sister knew what she was missing.

The vibration of the phone in his pocket pulled him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t a road he wanted to spend any time on anyway. He glanced down at the screen and saw Steve’s number. His stomach tightened, and he moved to the edge of the room, trying to gain as much privacy as he could without bailing and calling attention to his absence. Steve was the tech guy from the
Tribune
Matt asked to look out for pictures or anything else that showed up on the web connecting Becca to the frat house or the bastard who raped her. If Steve was calling, it might mean he’d found something and the last thing Matt wanted was for Becca to overhear and have everything dragged to the surface again. He’d figure out a way to take care of it—whatever it was—without her ever having to know.

“What do you have?” he answered, bracing himself for what he really didn’t want to hear.

“I’ve got some pictures and a name,” said Steve.

“Send them.” Matt’s stomach was on fire and he barely managed to force the words out.

“Are you sure? I found them in the guy’s Instagram account, but when I went back to scrub them, he’d already taken them down. You don’t want to see them.”

No, he didn’t want to see them. Visible proof would tear away any barrier he’d been able to erect between his everyday life and what happened to his sister. But ignoring it wasn’t an option. “Send them.”

“Okay,” said Steve, sounding like he’d rather have a root canal without anesthesia. He paused for a few seconds. “You should have them.”

Matt felt the phone vibrate in his hand, and resisted the urge to open the file. He couldn’t look at the pictures with Becca and the senator’s wife and daughters in the same room, not and keep his shit together.

“I’ll keep an eye out in case anything else shows up,” said Steve.

“Thanks.” Matt ground out the word between clenched teeth and disconnected the call.

He glanced over to see Becca, laughing with the Walker girls and looking like a girl herself. The urge to take care of her hit him in a fierce, protective wave. Thumbing open the email, he stared down at the screen, careful not to open the attachment. Steve had been blessedly brief, sending nothing more than a name and a single word.
Sorry
.

He could work with a name.

A
NY PATIENCE SANDRA POSSESSED HAD been exhausted by two days spent crammed like sardines into the campaign bus. She understood why they had to do it. She remembered her daddy laughing at John Edward’s thousand-dollar haircuts over the dinner table when she came home from college. Shep couldn’t afford to be seen as too elite. The Walkers’ wealth made that a challenge to begin with, but honestly, what was wrong with being rich?
Isn’t that what most people wanted for themselves?

She wasn’t advocating a Marie Antoinette
let them eat cake
kind of attitude, but what was so bad about enjoying the perks of being successful? Both her family and her husband’s had amassed a considerable fortune and the trappings that went along with it, but they were also part of the class that built the railroads, created industries and international commerce, and started libraries and foundations to the benefit of everyone. Of course, none of that would play with the voters, which meant if she intended to travel with the campaign then she was stuck riding the bus and staying at the same mediocre hotels as the rest of the staff.