The Candidate, page 9
“It’s good to see you, Janey. Let me look at you.” She pulled back and studied Jane with a careful eye. “You need to eat. Have you been eating properly?”
Jane didn’t know how her mother could possibly tell anything about her weight through her heavy overcoat. It was that Italian heritage of her mother that placed so much emphasis on food. “Yes, I’ve been eating. But you—” Jane noticed for the first time the bandaged wrist peeking out of her mother’s sleeve. “So you really did hurt yourself. Or is this just for show?”
“Your mother would never lie about such a thing, dear.”
“Is it sprained or broken?” Jane asked, instantly in doctor mode.
“Just sprained, dear. I’ll be good as new in a few weeks, the doctor tells me.”
Jane was instantly relieved. “Mom, I don’t like you spending the winter here. It’s dangerous, all this ice and snow.”
“Oh, shush, dear. What’s a little ice and snow? Anyone could take a tumble down these steps, even you. Now,” Maria Kincaid turned to Alex, and raised a finely shaped silver eyebrow. “Who is this good-looking young woman you’ve brought? I’ve already met Harry. And yes, Harry, you’re good-looking, too.” She winked at the commander in jest, before casting curious dark eyes back to Alex.
Jane did the introductions, explaining that Alex would be staying in the house with them. She assumed Harry and the other two agents, who’d already taken the other carriage to the back of the house, would set up shop nearby.
“Yes, I already figured that,” her mother replied hastily, still checking Alex out with a thoroughness that was almost embarrassing. “All the other agents are staying in the guest house over the stable. It’ll be just us girls in the big house.”
“All the other agents? I thought this was going to be a low-key thing?” She glared at Harry and Alex, not as surprised as she sounded. “There’s more I don’t know about?”
“We threw in a couple more for the hell of it. I needed the extra help just to handle all your luggage,” Harry joked.
Hands on her hips, Jane’s indulgence had run out. The gloves were off. “Okay. I want some answers, because something is going on. Mom.” She stared sternly at her mother, then softened just a touch. “I know a sprained wrist isn’t exactly a family emergency that requires my presence. Though it is nice to be here,” she added grudgingly before turning her sights on Alex and Harry. “You two have managed to spirit me away up here with a truckload of agents, apparently, while my staff have all conveniently stayed in Washington. I’m getting the distinct feeling this isn’t a little vacation after all.” Jane crossed her arms over her chest for effect. “Now, is someone going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to make some phone calls? Or I could just beat it out of the two of you.”
The two agents exchanged wary glances before Jane’s mother intervened. “How about the four of us go inside and chat over some hot chocolate, shall we?”
Maria Kincaid was already heading for the door, the three of them having no choice but to follow.
“Well?” Jane impatiently prompted over the hot mugs.
Harry loosened his tie, then clasped his hands in front of him on the kitchen table. “There’s been a threat against you, Jane.”
Jane waved a dismissive hand. “Is that all? I’m sure there are threats against me every day. What’s the big deal about this one?”
“A thirty-year-old man from Alabama just escaped from jail,” Harry said. “He phoned your campaign office twice in the past week from prison and said he would kill you before you ever got to be president. There was other stuff too, of course. More detailed stuff. But suffice it to say that we had reasonable grounds to believe your life was in danger.”
“What was he in jail for?”
Alex answered this time, her tone official. “For bombing an abortion clinic. He also has a long criminal record for assaulting women.”
“Anybody killed in the bombing?”
“Fortunately, no. But a clinic worker lost a leg.”
“And so you think squirreling me away up here is a good idea?”
“We have reason to believe the perp is in Washington right now, which is why you’re not,” Harry interjected. “And we can’t assume he’s working alone, either. Your staff is back in Washington as part of a decoy plan. They’re making it look like business as usual.”
Jane thought it sounded like something out of a bad movie. “This is all sounding rather complicated and cryptic. He’s supposed to think I’m there when I’m actually here? Will it even work?”
Alex looked a lot more calm than Jane felt. “The media will be told that you’re suffering from the flu and are holed up in your Georgetown residence. We’re hoping it will help flush this guy out. Police, the FBI and the Secret Service are combing the city for him as we speak.”
Jane looked pointedly at both agents. “Tell me something. Are you truly worried or are you just following protocol?” Jane needed the truth, because if she were going to stay here under guard, the threat had to be credible in her mind, too. More than credible. She’d need to be downright scared.
Alex and Harry shared an indecipherable look.
“Yes,” the commander answered after a moment. “We feel it is a serious threat, Dr. Kincaid.”
Jane felt a mild headache coming on as anger began a slow and steady burn. Great. Just great. I’m stuck here at the whim of some asshole while the race for the nomination goes on without me! And I’m going to look like a wimp who’s run away.
She slumped back in her chair, needing to settle her voice and her emotions. She summoned what shred of patience she still had. “So why bring me here and bring my mother into this? I mean, isn’t her safety in jeopardy now?”
“No,” Alex said evenly. “Your mother is actually safer here with a half dozen Secret Service agents around her. And you’re safer out of Washington. As you know, in winter the airport is the only way to get to the island. And the population is so sparse, we’ll know exactly who’s coming and going.”
“What if the press finds out I’m here instead of Washington?”
“We hope that doesn’t happen,” Harry answered. “But if it does, your staff will tell them that a family emergency required your sudden presence here. And that you wanted it to be private.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jane said quietly, still trying to grasp what was happening to her. It was such a helpless feeling. This lunatic was already victimizing her, even if he never came near her. “Just how long, exactly, am I supposed to be here?”
Harry looked almost as miserable as Jane felt. “Until this guy is caught.”
Jane held up a palm, though she felt like smashing something. “Goddammit, no! I will not be held hostage here indefinitely. No way! We’ve got to have a better plan than that.”
“Jane,” Maria Kincaid lightly scolded. “This is not a prison! For God’s sake, it’s your home. Our home.”
Jane rubbed her aching forehead. Shit. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, I can’t hide here like some kind of . . . of hunted prey or something while everyone else goes on campaigning.” She stood up, signaling that the discussion was over. She’d made up her mind. “All right. I will give the authorities twenty-four hours to find this nut. Either way, I’m heading back to Washington tomorrow afternoon, even if I have to take an air taxi. I will not stop this campaign any longer than that.”
Alex was blown away by the charm and character of the Kincaid “cottage.” Gleaming oak hardwood floors throughout were covered with intermittent, colorful area rugs that Alex figured were worth a small fortune. Elegant light fixtures hung from the vaulted ceilings, and stained glass wall sconces cast ambient light along every hallway. Elaborate wood-burning fireplaces graced the dining room, living room, the library and at least two of the upstairs bedrooms. The main staircase curved through the center of the house, its balustrade made of black walnut and hand-carved in ornate detail—like something straight out of Gone With The Wind. The furniture was all antique, much of it made from black walnut or oak and polished to within an inch of its life.
It was poles apart from the pre-fab, post-war bungalow in North Carolina she grew up in. In full admiration, Alex caressed the smooth wood of the stairway’s banister, a vague yearning in her deepest recesses. The place was warm and homey in a way Alex had little experience with. She had no close family to speak of anymore, and her own Washington townhouse was functional and tidy and nice. But home was mostly an abstract idea for her.
Maria Kincaid called Alex’s name from somewhere distant, pulling her reluctantly from her thoughts, and beckoned her to join mother and daughter in the library for an after-dinner drink.
Each woman was quietly sipping a glass of brandy, seated in high, blood-red, leather wingback chairs flanking a roaring fire. Maria gestured to a matching loveseat across from them and offered Alex a drink, which she politely refused.
“We’re discussing Janey’s campaign, and I’d really like your opinion, Alex.”
Oh, boy. She’d been warned by other agents never to engage in political talk with or about candidates. And here she was, put on the spot by a lovely woman who had just fed her the best roast beef she’d ever tasted.
Alex cast a covert glance at Jane and felt a distinct frostiness. Great. She’s still pissed off at me over deceiving her with this whole mess. The decision to trick Jane into coming to the island was none of Alex’s doing, yet she’d gone along with it because she was confident it was the right thing to do. Jane’s safety had to trump everything else. Getting her out of Washington was the prudent thing to do.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s really not my place to offer opinions about your daughter’s or anyone else’s campaign.” Alex quietly held her breath, knowing and hating how mechanical her words sounded. She felt sweat beading on the back of her neck.
“But you’re in the perfect position to offer an opinion,” Maria pressed, her smile pinning Alex. “You’ve heard every speech over the last month; you’ve seen Jane with the crowds.” She nodded proudly at Jane, who sat stone-faced, silently sipping her brandy as the flames threw dancing orange light across her face. She looked ridiculously beautiful in spite of her unhappiness, Alex thought with a mild start.
“She has a wonderful, special rapport with people, don’t you think?” Maria was leaning forward in earnestness.
Alex tried not to grin like a fool as she thought of Jane’s magnetic pull on crowds, how she could mesmerize them with a few poignant words, or with her voice, her gestures, her smile, or even just a playful twinkle in her eye. Alex had followed Jane in a rope line just last week in Cleveland, and they had come across a family whose younger child was a paraplegic. Jane had spoken to them all, touched them all with a pat or a warm handshake, but it was her words to the older, healthy child that had nearly choked Alex up. Jane told him never to forget that his parents loved him equally too. That sometimes it seemed parents played favorites, but that in their hearts, it wasn’t true.
“Yes,” Alex finally answered in a voice thick with the emotion of the memory. She did not—could not—look at Jane right now for fear of becoming a blubbering idiot. “She has a wonderful relationship with the crowds.”
“Ah-ha!” Maria exclaimed triumphantly, turning to Jane. “You see, dear, you’re a natural at that, and I’m not just saying it because you’re my daughter.” Maria shot a wink at Alex. “I’ve been around a politician or two in my life.”
“Mother, please—”
“Listen, dear, because I’m going to tell you this anyway.”
From her periphery, Alex could see Jane clench her jaw in reluctant resignation.
“What you’re not a natural at is working with television,” Jane’s mother continued. “You need to embrace more opportunities, do some live interviews, like Larry King Live, or Oprah. You come through so well on television.”
“Mom—”
“I know, dear, you don’t like being a media slut.”
Alex stifled a laugh and risked a quick glance at Jane, whose face had softened into a suppressed chortle.
“The people who get the chance to see you and hear you in person already love you. It’s everyone else that needs to fall in love with you, too. And to reach them, you’ve got to go through the mass media. Mass media equal mass audiences.” Maria looked directly at Alex. “Alex, don’t you agree that Jane is easy to fall in love with once you know her?”
Alex thought the ground had just literally shifted under her. Goddamn, I could use that drink right now. She was at a loss as to how she was supposed to answer a question like that. What was she supposed to do, say no and risk having to come up with some elaborate explanation? Or worse yet, say yes and watch them laugh at her as she got all hot and flustered and embarrassed? But Maria was still looking at her, waiting. “I, ah, ah, y-yes, of course she is, ma’am,” Alex stammered. She felt their curious stares and prayed for the floor to somehow open up and swallow her.
“You see, Jane? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. It’s time to think nationally, instead of one or two states at a time, or a few thousand people at a time. You need to think of yourself as running for the presidency now, not just for the Democratic nomination.”
But Jane was clearly preoccupied, staring sightlessly into her empty snifter. “Christ, I wish they’d hurry up and find that nutcase so I can get back to work. I hate this.” She looked up at Alex, impatience creasing her forehead.
Maria stood awkwardly. “They’re doing all they can, dear. Right, Alex?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are.”
“Now, if you two will excuse me, brandy and pain pills really don’t mix very well. Alex, dear, will you help me navigate the stairs to my room?”
Maria leaned on Alex as they slowly climbed the stairs. “My daughter speaks very highly of you, you know.”
Alex was shocked. “She does?”
“She says you’re a very good agent. She trusts you.”
Alex smiled. “I’m glad she thinks so.”
“She says she can talk to you. That you listen.”
They stopped outside Maria Kincaid’s bedroom door.
“I don’t think she has too much to say to me right now, not after today.” Alex hoped she didn’t sound as dreadful about it as she felt.
Maria snickered. “She’ll get over it. She’s just frustrated. But listen.” She squeezed Alex’s arm with her good hand. “I don’t mind telling you that she does need someone she can talk to every now and then . . . someone whose fortunes are not so tied to the success of her campaign. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so, ma’am.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Oh, Alex. Always the polite but evasive southerner.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. What I’m trying to say, Alex, is this. Be there for my daughter if she needs to talk. Just listen, offer your best advice, or even just your shoulder. I know it’s not part of your duties, but will you do this for me?”
“I—I’m not sure what to say, Mrs. Kincaid. I would surely like to say yes, but I reckon I may not be the best one to—”
“Oh, please, Alex.” Maria’s jaw was set uncompromisingly— the same look Alex had seen so many times on Jane when she’d set her mind to something. “Jane says you’re a very bright woman. You’re grounded and unflappable, and I think she relies on you. Maybe more than you think.” She shrugged. “Maybe more than she thinks.”
“Your daughter seems to have quite a lot to say about me. More than she’s ever told me.” She felt an odd sense of relief. Perhaps the intimate talk they’d had in Philadelphia hadn’t been just a fluke. She hoped it wasn’t. She hoped Jane really did think of her as more than just a bodyguard.
“Alex, there’s chemistry between the two of you. When you walked into the room earlier, I felt a change in my daughter. A kind of calmness, but electricity, too.” She looked a little perplexed. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve asked you to look out for her. I want you to be her friend.”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am. And, for the record, I think your daughter . . .” is the most incredible, wonderful woman I’ve ever met! “ . . . is a tremendous person.”
“Well, you’re right about that. She just needs to be reminded now and again.” Maria’s hand rested on the doorknob. “There is one more thing. You will keep my daughter safe, won’t you, Alex?”
Alex had no trouble with that question. “If it’s the last thing I do, ma’am.”
Alex jogged down the stairs, planning on a quick goodnight, since Jane wasn’t really talking to her anyway. But when she got to the library, Jane was pouring brandy into two snifters. Her look was both appraising and summoning, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She silently walked over to Alex and held out a glass, as if it were a routine they’d done many times. “I know you’re on duty, but one drink won’t kill you . . . I mean us.” She laughed hollowly at her own joke, and Alex guessed Jane was a little drunk.
“You’re not angry with me?” Alex ventured before hesitantly accepting the glass. A few sips couldn’t hurt.
“Yes, I am,” Jane said matter-of-factly from behind the rim of her glass. “Pissed as hell at you and Harry for manipulating me and bringing my mother into this.”
“But we feel we didn’t have any other—”
Jane held up a hand. “Relax. I know you’re just doing your job and following orders. It’s not your fault. So have a drink with me and consider yourself absolved.”
Alex raised her glass in mock salute and took a quick sip. “You Catholic women always know just the thing to say to a girl.”
Jane laughed so hard, Alex had to reach over and steady her.
“Alex.” Jane’s eyes glistened with tears of laughter. “I don’t think I could ever truly stay angry at you.”
“Can I have that notarized for future reference?”
Jane scolded Alex with her eyes, but she didn’t mean it. “Do you see a judge around here?”
