“Parker’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Did you do that—have her killed?”
“Of course not, you fool. Parker was Breathwaite’s obsession.”
“Then—”
The chairman fixed Vendetti with an incredulous stare. “Please tell me you’re not naïve enough to think that could have been an accident.”
“No,” Vendetti replied defensively, “of course not.”
“Thank God,” Hawthorne muttered under his breath.
“Jesus, Breathwaite did that from prison?”
“Apparently. Revenge suits him.” Hawthorne waited a beat. “Let me ask you something, Michael. Why would I want to take a chance on a meaningless hit like that at this point? We’ve got what we want—
Charlie’s in the White House.”
“I know that’s not all you wanted out of this. How could it be?
What’s ‘Part B?’”
“Part B, Michael? Really. I said all along what I wanted was to make Charlie president. I succeeded. What more could I want?”
Vendetti shrugged. He’d been asking himself that very question ever since Hawthorne had approached him in New York with his scheme two years earlier. He still had no plausible answer. Hawthorne said he wanted them all to gain power and status by taking over the White House with Governor Charles Hyland as the unwitting front man. Since the former senator had failed in his own bid to become president, getting Vendetti’s boss elected seemed the only way for Hawthorne to regain a position of influence. Still it felt like he’d wanted more than that—Michael just couldn’t figure out what the “more” was.
It was plain to him what the rest of the members of the group had wanted: David Breathwaite, one-time spokesman for the New York state prison system, had been exiled to a meaningless backroom position—he
The Value of Valor
had wanted his old job back. William Redfield, executive deputy commissioner of the prison system, had wanted to be commissioner.
Michael, the governor’s press secretary, had coveted the big chair—
spokesperson for the president of the United States. But Hawthorne…
“I don’t know, Mr. Chairman, but I know you’re up to something.”
His temper obviously close to the boiling point, Hawthorne growled,
“Be careful, Michael. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”
Taken aback by Hawthorne’s tone, Vendetti changed directions. “I was supposed to be the president’s press secretary. That was part of the deal.” Bitterly, he added, “Now that ‘Amazonian bitch,’ as you call her, is sitting where I should be.”
“Ah, ah, ah…careful, Michael. If you keep talking like that, people might wonder if you weren’t the one to bump off Ms. Kyle’s lover.
Overcome with grief, she would step aside and make way for you.”
Vendetti visibly reddened with rage. “Are you threatening to set me up? That job was earmarked for me; that’s how you got me to join your little cabal. You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong. I did everything I said I would. You can blame Breathwaite for getting passed over, Michael. It was his hare-brained scheme to take Kyle hostage and kill her in that asinine prison riot. If it hadn’t backfired, the governor wouldn’t have appointed her spokesperson for his presidential campaign, and she wouldn’t be press secretary right now.”
As much as he wanted to argue further, Vendetti couldn’t dispute the truth or the logic of Hawthorne’s words. Still… “It was your idea to include Breathwaite on the team and get him his job back in the first place.” Vendetti pointed his finger at Hawthorne accusingly. “You were the one who insisted Kyle had too much sway over the governor and needed to be neutralized.”
Hawthorne laughed. “Next thing I know you’ll be telling me it’s my fault Breathwaite and Redfield got convicted and sent to jail.” He looked at Vendetti, his face a cold mask. “Now get out, Michael, and don’t contact me again. If I need you, I’ll find you. Do you understand?”
Vendetti slammed the door forcefully on his way out.
“Hmm,” Hawthorne tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk. With Breathwaite and Redfield safely behind bars, Vendetti was the only loose end.
“I sincerely hope you’re not going to be a problem, Michael, or I might be forced to do something about that.” Hawthorne contemplated for a moment, then sat down and picked up the phone.
Lynn Ames
“No.”
“C’mon, Derek. You and I go back a long way. You owe me,” Peter said.
The beefy man’s slightly bulging belly pushed up against the desk as he leaned across it to make his point. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, Peter? Is it the part where I can’t manufacture evidence that isn’t there?”
Peter stood ramrod straight, his eyes boring into the deputy director of the FBI.
LaPointe blinked. “Look, old friend. If there was some reason, any reason to presume foul play, you know I’d have my boys turn that scene inside out.”
“You should be turning the scene inside out anyway.”
“Why, because you have a hunch?”
“Derek, you don’t need me to point out the obvious. Jay’s partner is the press secretary to the president. Two days before the accident, two heavy hitters involved in a plot to kill her were sentenced to life in prison. Doesn’t the timing strike you as a little odd?”
“Of course it does.”
“Okay, then.”
“But that isn’t enough, Peter. There’s just no smoking gun, you know what I’m saying? Not even a water pistol. My guys spent three days at the scene and found nothing. I can’t justify assigning any more manpower to the case.”
Peter stalked to the window, trying to rein in his anger. “Very well.
Will you at least stay out of my way while I investigate?”
The deputy director shook his head resignedly. “You’re tilting at windmills.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay. If you find anything, I’ll consider reopening the investigation.
How’s that?”
“Big of you.”
“Look, I know I owe you. I wouldn’t have made it out of that POW
camp in Nam without your help. I’d love to tell you we’ve got evidence to support your theory, but right now it’s just not there.”
“It’s there—you just haven’t found it.”
“Whatever you say. I’ll be here if you come up with anything tangible, okay?”
“Affirmative. Bye, Derek.”
“Good hunting, my friend.”
The Value of Valor
Kate stood on the patio breathing in the chilled winter air. Her head throbbed painfully and her heart was heavy. Visitors—friends and acquaintances—had been stopping by throughout the day to pay their respects. All Kate really wanted was to be alone.
Every time someone expressed sorrow at her loss, it made Jay’s death more real. Kate didn’t want that. It wasn’t real. She refused to believe it.
This was just a bad nightmare. In the morning, she would wake up to Jay’s gentle snoring, her disheveled blonde hair sticking out in all directions. If only she could make it through this day.
“Kate?” Barbara watched her friend’s tall silhouette in the moonlight, her shoulders obviously sagging.
“Yeah?” Kate answered wearily.
“Trish is here.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Patricia Stanton was Jay’s editor at
Time
magazine and one of her closest friends. As soon as Kate had been able to compose herself after the phone call from Arizona, she had made three calls of her own—one to Peter, one to Barbara, and one to Trish.
In some ways, telling Trish had been the hardest. She had known Jay for years—had hired her right out of college as a reporter for the magazine.
“Hello, Trish.”
“Hi.” The petite woman reached up on tiptoe to hug Kate. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. She turned away. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay, Trish.”
“I’ve been over it dozens of times in my mind.” Trish pounded her fist into her palm. “If I hadn’t let Jay talk me into doing the story out there, this never would have happened.”
“No. Don’t do that to yourself, Trish. Jay wanted to do the story; she was really excited about it.”
“Still—”
“Stop it,” Kate said softly. “We all have regrets about what happened, but we can’t play ‘what if.’ If Jay was here,” her voice faltered, “she’d make the same choice all over again. She was fascinated by the Native American traditions.”
Trish sobbed, “I’d change her stubborn mind if I could.”
Kate enveloped her in another hug. “So would I, Trish. So would I.”
The two women stood like that for some time, sharing the rawness of their pain.
Lynn Ames
As she pulled away, Kate said, “By the way, I don’t think I ever really thanked you properly for standing by Jay when the rest of the world was criticizing her ethics.”
Trish waved her hand dismissively. “Ancient history. Kate, when Jay came to me after writing that cover story on you and told me that you two had a personal relationship, I questioned her closely. Not only that, but I reread the story several times. The truth was that you
were
a hero—
you saved lives after the capitol bombing even though it wasn’t your job as a reporter to do so. You deserved that cover. And I believed then, as I do now, that Jay wrote a fair and balanced piece.”
“You and I may be the only ones who think that.”
“No. Vander Standislau thinks so, too. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kept Jay on staff at
Time
.”
“You know, it’s been what, almost two years, and they still haven’t figured out who was responsible. Amazing.”
“I know. Someone bombs the New York state capitol, you’d think it’d be a top priority to figure out whodunit,” Trish said.
“I’m not sure it’s not a top priority—just difficult to solve.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Trish shrugged. “I wonder if they ever will.”
When Trish left, Kate collapsed on the sofa in the living room. She tried to focus on a movie, with little success. She was dimly aware of the ringing phone but ignored it. Barbara had been screening her calls all day.
“No, you most certainly may not!”
It was the tone of Barbara’s voice that captured Kate’s attention. She jumped up and hurried to the kitchen, where Barbara was pacing.
“What’s up?” she mouthed.
Barbara turned her back.
“And I’m telling you—”
Kate grabbed the phone out of Barbara’s trembling hand and barked,
“Who is this?”
“This is Ted Parker. Who is this?” His gravelly voice boomed over the line.
Kate straightened up automatically. The fact that the man would dare to call her home, would presume even to dial the number, made her blood boil. “This is Katherine Kyle, Mr. Parker, you know, your daughter’s perverted lover.”
He made a disgusted sound.
“What do you want?”
“As Jamison’s next of kin, I want answers.”
Kate stiffened.
The Value of Valor
“Why wasn’t I called and informed of her death? Why did I have to find out from the news? Her mother is distraught. I want her personal effects sent home immediately.”
“First of all, you are not Jay’s next of kin,” she ground out.
“The hell I’m not.”
“Second of all,” Kate ignored his interruption, “Jay’s things will stay exactly where they belong—in
our
home, with me, her grieving spouse.”
“Listen to me, you freak, no daughter of mine was married to any woman.” He spat the word as if it was a curse. “It’s illegal.”
“It’s unfortunate you missed the commitment ceremony last year—it was beautiful. Jay looked radiant.” She knew she was baiting him, but she couldn’t help herself.
“You are an abomination,” he thundered.
“And you are—well, don’t get me started. I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Parker.”
“Very well. I’ll get a court order to force you to turn over my daughter’s possessions and any money you might have stolen from her accounts.”
“You can go ahead and try, Mr. Parker, but Jay’s will is crystal clear.
It leaves everything to me. Shall I mail you a copy?” Kate was pretty sure she heard him growl.
“Don’t bother to come to the funeral, Ms. Kyle. You’re not welcome.”
“Funer—” Kate held the phone and its angry dial tone away from her ear.
Kate looked up at Barbara with a bewildered expression on her face.
“He’s having a funeral for Jay.”
“I know, I could hear his end of the conversation from here.” Barbara put a comforting hand on Kate’s arm. Both she and Peter had tried earlier to get Kate to think about a service for Jay, but she adamantly refused, saying it would mean that she accepted that Jay was really dead.
“He can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes he can, Kate.”
“I won’t let him.”
“You can’t stop him, honey.”
Hot, anguished tears streamed down Kate’s face. “It’s not right. That bastard made Jay’s life a living hell. He destroyed her childhood. He was a sexually abusive, domineering, bullying asshole. All she ever wanted was his love and affection. He never gave her either.”
“You’re right, Kate. But he was still her father, and despite everything, she still clung to the hope that she could have her parents in her life in a positive way.”
“I never understood why,” she sniffed.
Lynn Ames
Barbara shrugged. “Because as she once told me, they were her parents. The fact that she wanted a relationship with them didn’t mean she was okay with what her father did to her as a child.”
“Hrmph.”
“She said she hoped one day she’d be able to introduce you to them so you could see they weren’t monsters—just flawed people.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes,” Barbara nodded.
“She never told me.”
“She was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
Kate accepted the truth of that. “Oh, Jay, I’m so sorry I made things more difficult for you.” She looked at Barbara. “I wouldn’t even entertain it. Remember the huge argument Jay and I had just before Christmas last year, when she wanted us to spend the holiday with her folks?”
Barbara smiled wistfully. “It’d be kind of hard to forget that. She was pretty torn up about it, and so were you, as I recall.”
“It all seems so pointless now.”
“Death has a way of making a lot of things seem unimportant.”