Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (34 page)

There was no response, so she continued. They’d have to come in to shut her up sometime. And then there was no telling what she would do to them. Heinous crimes had to be avenged.

Jen draped her arms around Caroline. “Stop.” She wrestled Caroline to the floor, hugging her tightly. “If they come in here they might take me away from you.”

Caroline threw her arms around her and started weeping. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there with their arms around each other, choking out their sorrow. It didn’t matter. There was no bringing Kathleen back, no reconciling what had happened. That kind of heartbreak couldn’t be alleviated.

Jen let out a small sob. “I’m sorry. I promised you I’d keep her safe.”

She hadn’t had a whole lot of options when up against the vast resources of the government. The cards were stacked against all of them from the beginning. Caroline hadn’t wanted to admit that until now. “We promised each other. You tried, Jenny. You and Eric tried. So did Katie.”

Jen started crying again. “I want to go home.”

A pure and innocent desire, as simple as it was impossible. “I want to go home too.”

The two women were only a few years apart, but Jen sounded decades younger when she next spoke. “We’re not going home, are we?”

Caroline hated herself for even thinking what she was about to say out loud. She couldn’t deceive Jen. She had to be straight with her. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you think they’ll let me stay in here with you?”

Almost certainly not. Caroline was surprised they’d given the two of them what little time they’d already spent together. She leaned back against the wall with Jen in her arms and closed her eyes. “Don’t think about that. Let’s just appreciate what we have now.”

The Past

They were indeed invited to the president’s funeral, and spent most of a humid summer morning at the National Cathedral. After the services were over, Christine, Ellen, and their husbands met up with Jack and Caroline at their brownstone in Georgetown. The women were lounging in the upstairs sitting room with the men presumably doing the same thing downstairs. Caroline couldn’t explain the gender separation but suspected that Jack was keeping Daniel and Tom hidden away so that she could spend some time alone with Ellen and Christine.

“Hell of a reason to get together,” Ellen said, nodding at Caroline when she handed her a glass of scotch.

Christine settled into an easy chair with a drink of her own. “It was a lovely memorial, though.”

“The president’s brother gave a nice eulogy,” Caroline said. “Better than I expected. Very Kennedyesque.”

Ellen practically spit out her drink. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Caroline grinned. “Reaganesque?”

Christine nearly choked on her drink too. “Clearly not.”

Caroline sat down next to Ellen on the couch. “I’m glad you two are here. I’ve missed you.”

Ellen gave her a little hug. “You too, kid.”

Caroline stared down at her own glass of wine. Everyone was comfortable, which gave her the perfect opportunity to blow it all apart. “What’s your impression of Santos?”

Ellen took a sip of her drink. “I don’t like him. And I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“I talked to him at the convention,” Caroline said. “He rubbed me the wrong way.”

“In what sense?”

“Like, creepier than Murdock, more ambitious than Langlade, more dishonest than just about everyone I’ve ever met. I can’t really put it into words.”

Christine frowned at her. “Caroline, you spent about five minutes with the man.”

“It was more like thirty. And I had a couple of interactions with him on the Hill.”

“That was a long time ago. We all change.”

“He hasn’t. Oh, and he has really freaky looking eyes. It’s like he has no irises,” Caroline added.

“As if that has any bearing on anything,” Christine said. “One half-hour of total conversation and he’s a sinister charlatan with bizarre features. Fantastic analysis.”

“I spent less time than that with you and Ellen the first time I met you both. Was I wrong about you?”

Christine smiled. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

Ellen turned to her. “What do you think of him, Christine? You were on a couple of committees with him, weren’t you?”

Christine shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I wasn’t all that impressed.”

A swift turn. “What does that mean?” Caroline asked.

Christine took a big gulp of her drink, a sign that she didn’t want to pursue the subject further.

Caroline decided to push a little. “Seriously, Chrissy. What gives?”

“He’s said things. It may have just been my imagination.”

“You
are
naturally suspicious.” Caroline tried not to smile.

“It’s not funny,” Christine said.

“What did he do?”

Christine lifted her drink to her lips again, then placed the empty glass on the coffee table. “I think I heard him use an ethnic slur once.”

“Well,” Ellen said. “I guess that isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“He said it about you.”

“Oh.” She stared down at her scotch. “I see.”

“I could have been wrong,” Christine said hastily. “I might have misheard.”

Caroline glared at her. “You’re one of the most observant people I know. You didn’t mishear anything.”

“He’s a big supporter of Israel, Caroline. Maybe I did.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Caroline said. “He probably holds that position out of political expediency. Doesn’t mean he’s not a racist.”

Christine leaned back and folded her arms. “So now he’s creepy, dishonest, ambitious,
and
racist? Want to make him a misogynist just to be inclusive? Maybe throw in some homophobia?”

He
had
made a number of troubling comments about what he dubbed the gay agenda during the campaign. But anything involving sexual orientation tended to be a sore spot for Christine, so Caroline decided to let it alone. “Don’t dismiss my interpretations.”

“He’s a member of a minority group,” Christine pointed out. “What would he have to gain from bringing down fellow minorities?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Chrissy, I don’t mean to malign the Republican Party, but you’ve got some strange bedfellows in there. You really think he wouldn’t put his own ambitions and goals above those of other Senators, particularly those of different races or religions? Come on. You’re not that naïve.”

Ellen stared down at the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Christine gripped the armrest on the chair, barely able to conceal her discomfort. “I just – I wasn’t – we’re not that close, Ellen. I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, and it felt weird to even say it to you, and I-”

“That’s such bullshit, Chrissy,” Caroline interrupted.

Christine whirled on her. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? I don’t think the two of you realize how well-liked you are. People want to believe you. They hang on your every word because they trust you. I don’t have the same reputation.”

“We’re not talking about taking this to the press,” Caroline said. “You should have told Ellie.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Ellen gave Christine a small smile. “It’s okay.” She turned to Caroline. “Don’t get mad at her.”

“I’m not mad. I just wish she would have said something earlier.”

“What did he say?” Ellen asked.

“I can’t remember for certain.” Christine shifted in her chair again. “But I’m pretty sure the ‘k’ word was used.”

“That’s it?” Ellen could barely contain her amusement.

“It’s not an appropriate word to use,” Christine said. “Ever. I’ve never said it.”

“I’ve heard worse, Christine. Really. If that’s the worst thing he said, he wasn’t trying very hard to insult me.”

“It wasn’t just that. It was the
way
he said it. He must not have known I was within earshot. I can’t remember the specific words beyond that but…it was more than just unfriendly.”

“Who was he speaking with?”

Christine looked down at her drink.

Ellen’s frustration broke through. “Oh for pity’s sake, Christine. Just say it.”

“Senator Gunderson.”

Caroline had to steady herself before she spoke. “You mean, the man he just nominated to be his Vice President?”

“Yes.”

Senator Howard Gunderson was one of the most liberal members of Congress. Although he caucused with the Democrats, he identified as an independent and often endorsed economic policies that were far left of center. Two days after Hendricks died, President Santos announced his nomination of Senator Gunderson as his new vice president, hoping that Congress would act swiftly on the matter. He threw a lot of flowery words into his speech, mentioning that the time for reconciliation and healing was at hand. It was an unprecedented move, which meant it was gaining traction with the press. The public had responded well, giving Santos a healthy bump in his approval ratings. Gunderson seemed an unusual choice for such a starkly partisan man.

“Are they friends?” Caroline asked.

Ellen spoke up. “I’ve seen them together quite a bit over the years. I don’t know if they’re close, but they have a good enough rapport.”

Caroline felt like she’d been out of the loop. How had she missed that? She wasn’t hugely into following Beltway gossip, never had been, but still sometimes indulged. “An interesting relationship, don’t you think?”

Christine picked up her empty glass and rolled it between her palms. “Caroline, there are still people in Washington who get along with members of the opposition.”

Lorenzo Santos was incapable of genial behavior under any circumstance. “I don’t trust him,” Caroline said bluntly.

“We figured that much out, thanks.”

“I’m serious.”

“Bully for you,” Christine said. “What are you going to do with that opinion?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Caroline-”

“Ellen was supposed to be with the president that night,” Caroline said.

Christine almost dropped the glass. She spun to face Ellen, surprised. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Ellen rubbed her eyes. “Never thought I’d be so grateful for my grandson’s much too early arrival.”

“Are you…dealing with that okay?” Christine asked.

Ellen waved her hand. “It’s fine. It wasn’t my time.”

“Maybe Santos wanted it to be,” Caroline said quietly.

Both women stared at her. Shit. She’d meant to say
someone
, not
Santos
. Even though Santos was the
someone
she was thinking of.

“Caroline, are you insane?” Christine asked.

May as well go with it. “I’m dead serious,” she said. “Awful pun completely unintentional.”

Ellen scooted closer to her on the couch. “No, really. You can’t be serious.”

Caroline didn’t care if they thought she’d gone over the bend. “I am. It’s all too convenient.”

The other two women started to speak and she cut them off. “Think about it,” she said. “A moderate Republican, attending an event with a liberal Democrat in a plain demonstration of bipartisanship. And then, bam, tragedy strikes as these two symbols of compromise are struck down by an apparent right wing nutjob who hates cooperation, and, oh, also hates religious and ethnic minorities.”

Christine could barely conceal her acerbic tone. “Put down the crack pipe, Punky.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” Caroline said. “I know I’m right.”

Ellen put her arm around Caroline. “You can’t be right.”

“Because it’s too horrible to comprehend, or because it makes complete sense?”

Ellen rested her head on Caroline’s shoulder. “Don’t talk about things like that.”

Christine studied her closely. “Have you told Jack about this?”

“Not yet.”

“How did you come up with this theory? You’ve never been one to buy into anything that defies logic and reason. And this defies both.”

“It just makes sense. I can’t explain it. I get this jarring vibe from him. Then the assassination happens. Then Santos picks Gunderson as his VP. It’s too coincidental.”

“You think it was planned that way from the beginning?”

It wouldn’t surprise her, but she had nothing to go on. Not yet. And if she was going to believe in any conspiracy, she may as well rush into it at full speed. But she’d already said too much. “I don’t know.”

“You’re being absurd.” Christine turned to Ellen. “What do you think?”

Ellen laughed softly. “This has thrown me for a curve. I don’t know what to think.”

“You can’t repeat this to anyone,” Christine said. “I mean it.”

“Because I sound crazy?”

“That’s a consideration. But you also can’t go around making wild statements without proof.”

“I suspect Jack will say the same thing.”

Christine smiled slightly. “Every once in a while he’s right.”

“When he agrees with you.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t trust Santos, either.”

“No.” Rare candor from Senator Sullivan. “I don’t. But I don’t think he’d arrange to kill the president. Just saying it out loud makes it sound even more nonsensical.”

“He might be a racist asshole but that doesn’t mean he’s a total monster,” Ellen said. “You’ve had too much to drink, Caroline. It’s been a stressful week.”

“Your grief is clouding your judgment,” Christine said.

Caroline knew she’d said too much. Perhaps it was better for her to let them think she was spouting off buzzed nonsense or other dark fantasies rather than positing a legitimate theory. “Maybe,” she said. “I liked Hendricks. I thought he had a lot of potential.”

Ellen stared down at her empty glass. “So did I. He was willing to reach across the aisle. That’s too rare. I was looking forward to seeing what we could accomplish.”

Caroline got up. She would drop it, for now. It wasn’t worth Christine and Ellen worrying about her or anything else. Best to pretend the conversation never happened. She twirled the stem of her own empty wineglass in her fingers. “Anyone need a refill?”

*              *              *              *              *

Any person surfing the internet could easily stumble upon conspiracy theories on any topic, and that held true in the days and weeks after President Hendricks died. Of course many rumors pertaining to the assassination were dismissed as implausible, ridiculous, and unrealistic, but Caroline pored over every website and blog posting, searching for any tiny bit of legitimacy.