Someone To Believe In (23 page)

“I see. We’ll have to put some spin on
that.”

“Christ, Thorn, I’m breaking up with a woman,
not making decisions about strategic arms. Who the hell’s business
is that?”

Thorn sipped his coffee and his cool gray
eyes regarded Clay thoughtfully.

Clay ducked his head. “I guess I can see what
you mean about getting the short straw.” He sighed. “All right. I’m
breaking it off. What do I have to do so it doesn’t bite me in the
ass?”

“Are you sure there’s no one else?”

He pictured Bailey, cuddling into him and
telling him she was hurt by his relationship with Jane. Then he
pictured her saying that final good-bye. “No, there’s no one
else.”

“HOLD ON. KIDDO, I can’t keep up.” Aidan bent
at the knees and gulped the fresh September air. “Hell, I had no
idea you were in such good shape.”

Good shape, oh, yeah, that’ll be the day.
Bailey stopped jogging. “You used to be able to outrun me,”

Finally her brother straightened. “Methinks
you’re outrunning something else, Sis.”

Bailey stretched her calf muscles beneath a
tree; the leaves were on it and September was still sunny, so she
appreciated the shade. Aidan had worn gray sweats today, but Bailey
only had on spandex biking shorts and a white T-shirt. “I have no
idea what you mean’“

Aidan stretched too. “Okay, lie to your
favorite brother.”

“You’ll just get mad.”

“I knew it was about him. What did the good
senator do now?”

“The senator is history.”

“I thought you said you believed him about
Lady Jane.”

“I do. Something else happened.”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t rail on me, too?”

“I promise.”

“A kid I’m working with is suspected of a
crime. She came on the network and talked about it in vague terms.
Said she was being framed.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“When Clay found out I knew about it, he told
me not to meet with her again.”

“He can’t...you met with her?”

“Uh-huh.” She pushed off from the tree. “Come
on, let’s run.” They picked up a leisurely pace. “A while back. He
found out about it.”

“You told me Face-to-Faces were safe.”

“They are. It wasn’t a Face-to-Face. I met
her alone.”

Aidan halted on a dime and plopped his hands
on his hips. “You’re kidding, right?”

Bailey kept going for a few paces but then
stopped, too. “At a public place with a lot of people around.”

“I don’t care if it was Grand Central
Station. What’s the matter with you? You got a kid who depends on
you. A family who loves you. If something happens to you, we’d be
devastated.”

“I know.”

“We all almost lost our minds when you went
to prison. B., you’re overstepping now. Even I can see that.”

“That’s what Clay said.”

“I knew he had some sense. Maybe
he
is
good for
you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She felt tears prick her
eyes. Damn it. “It’s over. We had a huge fight and he went back to
Washington when summer recess ended. I haven’t heard from
him.”

“And you haven’t called him.”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

“You think I should?”

“I think you should join a convent.”

She rolled her eyes. They started running
again.

After a while, Aidan spoke. “For what it’s
worth, I think he’s a good man, Bailey.”

She threw her brother a sideways glance. “You
punched him in the face just a little over a week ago.”

“I know, but I thought he was using you.”

“He wasn’t.”

“I figured that out. When he refused to leave
and was gonna face the wrath of all your brothers, I decided he was
the real deal. Then he did that with Rory.”

“Did what?”

“When you were on my back tryin’ to keep me
from Clay, Ror came out. Clay jumped up and comforted him. It was
like when he tried to protect you on the street that day.
Basically, he’s a good guy.”

Bailey stopped. She closed her eyes. “I like
him a lot. But the whole thing seems impossible: our families, our
public animosity.”

Aidan touched her shoulder. “When did little
things like that ever stop you?”

Bailey was still thinking about Aidan’s words
when she entered ESCAPE an hour later. Suze was coming off the
night shift. “Your girl was on the network,” she said without
preamble.

“Taz? Really?”

“Yep. She wouldn’t talk to me. I said you’d
be here this morning.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“She’s still wanted for questioning.”

“No, she’s not.” Joe Natale, the ex-cop with
current connections at police stations, stood in the doorway.

“What happened?” Suze asked.

“The witness in the shelter ran away. The
other girls confessed that she attacked Marion and they lied about
Taz—they were out to get her.”

“Damn.” Bailey sighed. “If she comes on
today, I’m going to set up a Face-to-Face.”

“Good. Let Rob and me know.”

Suze said, “Bailey, don’t meet with her
alone.”

Joe scowled. “Of course she won’t do that.
She’s not stupid.”

Silence. He shifted. “You haven’t, have
you?”

“Just once.”

“Son of a bitch, Bailey. That’s against the
rules. What’s wrong with you?”

Because she was beginning to think there was
a conspiracy, she said, “I got it, okay. You’re the third man to
rail on me about it.”

“I’d kill you if you were my girl.”

If you were mine, I’d tie you to the bed.

Hell, nothing was going right.

The computer chimed. Bailey bolted to it.

Hey, Angel, you on?

Bailey dropped down at the
computer.
Yes, Taz, I’m here. Are you all
right?

What do you think?

I’m sorry about the accusation at the
shelter

It don’t matter.

Yes, it does.
She typed in what she’d just found out.
You don’t have to hide now.

From the 5-0 maybe.

Who else would you be hiding from?

No answer.
Taz,
did something happen with your father?

Still no answer.

Taz? Please answer me.

I gotta book.

No, please, don’t. Meet with me and some of
my staff. We’ll show you your options.

Maybe I’d meet. Just with you again,
though.

No, Taz. With all of us. I can’t meet alone
with you anymore.

Thought you didn’t play by no rules.

This one I have to.

Oh, I get it. You got in trouble for
that.

Not trouble exactly. Meet with us,
please.

No can do.

And then she clicked off.

Bailey sat back in her chair.

Joe put his hands on her shoulders. He and
Suze had been reading the exchange over her shoulder. “You did the
right thing, girl. Now stick to it. Promise me.”

“I promise.” He was right of course. But she
wanted to help this girl. What if she couldn’t do it within the
system?

WHEN CLAY GOT back to his office, there was a
delivery waiting for him. He opened the envelope. Inside was
something he’d asked his assistant to arrange weeks ago. He stared
at the glossy program and tickets. He should just dump them in the
garbage. But he recalled the face of a little boy he’d come to care
about and he quelled his temper. Quickly he wrote a note, addressed
the envelope, sealed it, and left it with Joanie on his way out of
the officer to meet with Stewart.

“How’s it going, Clay?” Chuck asked when they
were settled. A tall slim man, he was mild-mannered; Clay liked
him.

“It’s been better.”

The other senator’s face showed surprise.
People in Washington usually played things close to the vest.
“Personal or professional?”

Clay laughed. “Both, but I was referring to
the trouble on this task force.” He filled Chuck in on the
difference of opinions, the attack on the nun, Ned’s quitting.

“Did you contact Price about coming
back?”

“Yeah, I’m having lunch with him when I go to
New York next week.”

“How about the Street Angel? Hell, she sounds
like a real ball buster.”

That made him bristle. “She’s headstrong and
stubborn and totally unconcerned about her safety. But she’s
good-hearted, too.”

“So you’re making headway with her.”

“I was. This last thing with the nun was a
pitfall.”

“She staying on the committee?”

Clay glanced away. “I don’t know.”

Stewart waited a bit, then said, “Check it
out. We need her cooperation.”

After they batted around some other ideas,
Clay rose.

Chuck did, too. “Before you go, I want to
tell you something.”

“What?”

“I’m not throwing my hat in the ring for the
VP slot next time around.”

“No? You’re a favorite.”

“My wife just found out she has breast
cancer. It’s in the early stages, so there’s a good prognosis. But
it put things in perspective. I’d rather be with her and the kids
than go on a campaign trail.”

“I’m sorry about your wife.” He asked after
her and they talked briefly about treatments and her state of mind.
Then, after a time, Clay said, “This is big news about the VP.”

“I’ll make it known soon but I wanted to tell
you. There’s been talk of you for that job. For what it’s worth, I
think you’d represent the party well.”

“Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate it.”

“You’re not married, are you?”

“No, divorced.”

“Maybe the campaign would be easier on you
then.”

For some reason, that made Clay feel bad. He
left Stewart’s office thinking about the emptiness of his life.

THE PUB WAS decorated in Yankee motif. Big
NYs were suspended from the ceiling. Blue and gray streamers
floated in the air. Posters of the team adorned the wall. The
O’Neils celebrated their birthdays in style.

Her son sat in the middle of his cousins,
friends, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, ripping paper off a
stockpile of presents. Some adult chatter, soft Irish music, and
squeals of delight filled the room. Bailey stood back, sipping beer
from a bottle, watching him.

“Hey, girl.” Paddy came up behind her and
slid his arm around her shoulders. “You look like you lost your
best friend.”

Immediately, she thought of Clay. She leaned
into her oldest brother. “Nah, got all my best friends here.”

“Not all.” He squeezed her tight.

She examined Pat’s face. “Brie isn’t
coming?”

“No. She had a business appointment.”

“Wanting a career and pursuing it
isn’t
wrong
,
Paddy.”

“Shea and Sinead are grown up enough. But she
should be home with Kathleen.”

“Your daughter is fine,” Bailey said pointing
across the room to where Kathleen sat with Rory. “She doesn’t need
her mother twenty-four seven. And she has you and the rest of us to
fill in any gaps, just like we do for Liam since they lost Kitty.
Give Brie some space.”

“Spoken like a true feminist.”

“Spoken like a sister who loves you.”

He sipped his own beer. “Relationships are
tough.”

Bailey didn’t answer. God knew that was true
about her and Clay.

“Still seein’ that guy?”

“What guy?”

He snorted. “The guy whose clothes were all
over the stairs.”

“No. Like you said, relationships are
tough.”

“Mommy, look.” Rory held up something in his
hands.

Glad for an excuse to end the conversation
with Pat, she crossed to her son. He held a manila envelope that
had come in the mail with other birthday cards. Out of it slid
something colorful and another envelope. “What is it, honey?”

“Seussical
.”

“The musical?” She got a good look at the
thing. It wasn’t a Playbill, but one of the larger, glossier
programs sold at Broadway theaters.

“Yeah.”

Aidan, who was standing over him, said, “See
what’s in the other envelope.”

Rory tore it open. “What are these,
Mommy?”

She took them. “They’re tickets to the show.
They’re for this weekend.” She glanced around at her family. “Who
did this?”

Everybody’s expression was blank.

“Come on, guys, it’s so nice. But too
expensive.”

Aidan came closer. “We didn’t do it, B.”

“What?”

“Is there a card?”

Rory held one up. “Read it to me, Mommy.”

Her hands shaking—she had a feeling about
this—she opened the Yankee motif card. “Dear Rory, Happy fifth
birthday. I know you wanted to see this show. Enjoy it. Clay
Wainwright.”

A gasp went through the room.

“What the hell...” Paddy said.

“Holy Mother of Christ.” This from her
mom.

“That had to cost a couple a bucks,” Dylan
put in.

Her father glared at her.

She said, “Don’t look at me. I couldn’t be
any more surprised.”

Later, after the party was over, and she was
tucking Rory into bed, Bailey tried to keep her mind off Clay. “We
need to write thank-yous for the presents.”

“ ’
Kay. We gonna see
Seussical
, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Uncle Dylan says that costs lots of
money.”

“It was very generous of Clay.”

“Wanna call him. Say thank you.”

“What?”

“On the phone.” He sat up. “Now.”

“No, honey, you’re just trying to find an
excuse to stay up.”

“Wanna call him.”

“Baby, go to sleep.”

“No.”

“Rory, I’m not kidding. It’s time for
bed.”

He pointed to the phone. “After.”

Ten minutes later, when he was still
demanding, and getting crankier and crankier, Bailey gave in. In
truth, had it been anyone else but Clay, she would have thought
Rory’s was a great idea. “He may not answer. If he doesn’t you’ve
got to go to sleep.”