The Dirty Secret (33 page)

“God knows he wants to,” Gil replied. “But Vincent didn’t get elected governor twice by being
stupid
. Maybe one-third of the Legislature would follow his orders, but the rest want nothing to do with it. People are burning up the phone lines to their delegates and senators, letting them know there’ll be hell to pay if they keep dragging this out.”

Dave grinned. “Nice. If that’s the case, there’s a fat lady somewhere, getting ready to sing. Before long, we might need to break out the champagne.”

Gil chuckled. “From what I understand, there’s a young lady in Martinsburg who would welcome an invitation to join you for that bubbly.”

A quizzical look crossed Dave’s face. “Care to shed some light on that comment?”

“Let’s just say Ms. Boley enjoyed your lunch on Monday,” Gil answered. “And she was
particularly
pleased you look younger in person than you do on TV.”

“Sheez. Do I really look that old on the tube?”

“Well, you don’t look like you need a
walker
. But…”

“I get your point. So did Monica say whether she’d work for us when the dust settles?”

Gil laughed. “Oh, yeah! If you’re serious about offering her a position inside the White House, she’d jump on it. And if that position coincidentally involved working with a certain dapper rising star from the Mountain State, even better.”

Dave smiled widely.
Maybe I’m going to like this ‘working for the President’ gig.

CHAPTER 72

PLEASANTS COUNTY, WEST VIRGINIA
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 3, 4:30 P.M.

“Come on, Dad!” Logan yelled. “It’s gonna be dark soon!”

Jack stared uphill at his two sons, who were 30 yards ahead of him on the hiking path behind their house. Like partially-unleashed balls of energy, the boys stared back impatiently, begging him with their eyes to move faster.

“Settle down, guys. The sun doesn’t go down for another half-hour. We have plenty of time to get to the top of the hill.”

Logan exhaled like it required all his forbearance to keep from running downhill and kicking his dad in the shins. Jack’s younger boy, Brandon, let out a loud laugh. “I thought you were in shape, Daddy!”

Jack clenched his teeth. “Daddy’s fine. He just had a rough day today. You guys keep going; I’m right behind you.”

By focusing on his breathing and taking longer strides, Jack kept pace with the boys. As they strolled along the leaf-covered path beneath the barren limbs of overhanging trees, Jack watched his sons interact with one another. Smiling and joking, they reveled in hiking through the woods with their dad as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

If only I could be so lucky.

Ten minutes later, they reached a clearing at the top of the hill enclosed by an old black wrought-iron fence. The boys raced the last 50 yards. Jack interlocked his hands behind his head and swallowed big gulps of air, hoping his breathing would soon return to normal.

Scattered around the clearing were twenty headstones of various sizes, shapes and ages. The McCallen clan had called Pleasants County home for close to a hundred years, and Jack’s grandfather had set aside this patch of land as a family cemetery so that those who so desired could remain close to home even after their time in this world had ended.

Jack ambled toward his father’s grave out of habit. Duke had been dead five years, but the old man had been overjoyed to see Jack produce two healthy sons capable of carrying on the family name. Recalling the pride in Duke’s eyes when he had held Brandon for the first time, as two-year-old Logan stood by his bedside, made Jack smile wistfully.

I could give my boys the
world
with 25 million bucks in my pocket. They wouldn’t worry about a thing the rest of their lives.

Jack bent down and gently wiped the dust and brittle leaf fragments from his dad’s flat black marble grave marker. Reading his full name and birth and death years reminded him how fleeting life is. Seeing the letters, “CPO, USN” engraved on the marker caused memories of the petty officer’s many war stories to come rushing back.

The last line on the marker read simply: “Proud Patriot. Loyal Husband. Loving Father.”

Jack traced a finger over the inscription, thinking back to his childhood when Duke led him by the hand up this path. They would come to the cemetery, and his dad would spend hours telling him stories about the loved ones in these graves. In the process, his father practically brought those bones to life, helping Jack understand where he came from and who he was.

Glancing at the far end of the cemetery, Jack watched Brandon and Logan take turns tossing pebbles at a small obelisk marking the grave of his Uncle Frank. He knew they meant no disrespect – just another little way of competing with one another, seeing whose aim was better – and the sight made him grin.

Suddenly, Jack’s mind flashed back to a conversation he had with his dad when he was in high school. He was mowing lawns to earn extra money, supplementing the small pay Duke gave him for doing odd jobs at McCallen Resources.

Returning home one day, Jack discovered an elderly woman had accidentally paid him with a twenty dollar bill instead of a five. Gleefully contemplating how he could impress a local girl with his unexpected bounty, Jack naively shared the news of his good fortune with his dad.

Jack still remembered the look that came over Duke’s face. “Son,” his father had said with a patient, yet firm tone. “Let me tell you something. Money is not a bad thing. Life’s always a little easier if you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.

“But money is dangerous. It changes people and makes good people do bad things. So as you’re sitting there, thinking about where you might spend that extra 15 dollars, let me give you one more thing to think about.” Duke paused and took a drag off his Marlboro Red. “If you spend all the money in your wallet, you can
always
go out and get more money with a little bit of hard work. But once people have reason not to trust your word, it’s damn near impossible to get that trust back.” Eyeing Jack closely, Duke softly added, “Don’t you think your family’s reputation for honesty is worth more than 15 dollars?”

McCallen gently patted his father’s marker, shut his eyes and exhaled.
I hear you, Dad. I hear you.

Looking across the clearing, Jack saw the last faint rays of sunlight disappearing in the west. “Okay, guys. Let’s head home. Your mom should have dinner ready when we get there.”

Brandon and Logan each threw one last pebble at Uncle Frank’s gravestone before running toward him. Shutting the gate, Jack put one hand on each of his two boys’ shoulders and began walking downhill. “But what do you say we take our time getting down there?” he added.

CHAPTER 73

PLEASANTS COUNTY, WEST VIRGINIA
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 4, 11:00 A.M.

Hurrying to her hair appointment, Tabatha barreled into Jack’s office looking for her earrings.
The boys must have been playing with them or Jack put them somewhere stupid!

Pilfering through Jack’s desk, a shimmering metallic object distracted her. Her curiosity piqued, she picked up the cardboard envelope with the metal strip that caught her eye. Seeing a document inside, she opened it up and read it.
Figures! That stupid son-of-a-bitch must have forgotten it. He’d forget his
head
if it wasn’t attached to his body.

Carrying the TPSA, Tabatha clip-clopped her way into the family room and angrily hit the speed-dial number for Jack’s cell phone.

“Hey,” Jack greeted. “Good morning. How are you?”

“Did you
forget
something when you left this morning?” she asked accusingly.

Five seconds of silence ensued. “I don’t think so. Why? Did you find something?”

“Just this paper you need to sign so Petromica will send us 25 million dollars.”

“Ohhhh,” Jack said slowly. “
That
. Well, honey … You see … There’s a problem with that document and it looks like the deal is off. I told Petromica an hour ago.”

“
What?!
Why did you do that?”

“Look at section seven on the last page.”

Tabatha quickly flipped to it. “The one that says, ‘Additional Services?’”

“That’s the one.”

Tabatha mouthed the words to herself as she read. Raising an eyebrow, she smirked. “
So?
What’s the problem? You can cast that electoral ballot for whoever you want!”

Jack stuttered. “Are you kidding? I’ve been a Republican my whole life! I was elected to the State Senate three times because people know who I am and what I stand for. How could you suggest I forget all that and vote for the Democrats in the Electoral College!?”

Tabatha scoffed. “Uh … Because Petromica will give you
25 million dollars
to do it. And besides: Senator Wilson carried Pleasants County on Election Day! For all you know, the only reason she didn’t win West Virginia outright is because of some stuffed ballot boxes in Berkeley County.”

When Jack remained silent, Tabatha sensed an opening. “Come on, baby. Think how that investment will help our company. We can drill into the Marcellus Shale! Think of the financial security we could give Logan and Brandon.”

Jack sighed deeply. “I know, Tabby. I’ve agonized over it. But I can’t do it. That money is dirty, and I know it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I’ll just have to find another way to hold things together until the Schoolcraft suit is resolved.”

“And how do you plan to do that, Jack?” she screamed. “Nobody will loan you any money, and we can’t keep throwing money down a rat-hole to that towel-head lawyer of yours! You don’t have any other options! You
have
to do this!”

“No, I
don’t
. We’ll have to tighten our belt and put our faith in God. With a little more work, we can always make a little more money.”

“And by ‘tightening
our
belt,’ you mean cutting the money you give
me
each month.”

“We’ll
all
need to be a little more frugal,” Jack said.

“Well, fuck that!” she yelled. “I’m already pissed I have to sit around and watch Betsy and all the other girls go to the spa when they want and take off to New York for weekend trips because you say we don’t have enough money for me to join them.
I’ve had it, Jack!
This isn’t the life I signed up for when I agreed to marry your ass, and something has to give!”

“You’re damn straight something has to give!” Jack screamed. “You think
you’ve
had it? You’re lucky I haven’t strangled the life out of you yet! I bust my ass to keep this company afloat, and all you do is sit around and bitch that your life isn’t
easy enough
.”

Tabatha rolled her eyes. They had been through this a thousand times. If Jack had wanted his wife to work outside the home and bring in additional money, he should have married another woman. She was sure there were plenty of
homely
girls who would have jumped at the chance to spend the rest of their lives married to Jack McCallen under those circumstances.

As it was, however, he married
Tabatha Pettigrew
, the hottest woman in the entire Mid-Ohio Valley. And a wife like that came with a price tag.

“As I’ve told you before, Jack, that’s not my problem,” she said coldly. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me. If you wanted low maintenance, you should have married someone else. I take pride in looking good for you. Looking good for you is
my
job. I work hard at it. So don’t cry to me because you’re working hard to live up to
your
end of the bargain and provide me with the lifestyle I deserve. You made this bed … You have to lie in it.”

“The hell I do,” Jack shot back. “Not any more. I’ve put up with your shit long enough and
I’m out of here
.”

Tabatha’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Jack let out a deep breath. “It’s
over
, Tabatha. Our marriage is
over
. I’ve given and I’ve given, and it’s never enough for you. I can’t take this shit any more. I want a divorce.”

Her knees weakened and she gingerly sat on the couch. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I’ll swing by this afternoon and pack a few things. I was going hunting with Bart on his farm on Saturday anyway, so I’ll just take some clothes and stay there all weekend. You keep the boys the next few nights. We’ll sit down and discuss things on Monday.”

Remain calm
, Tabatha told herself.
The pressure from this change in the Petromica deal has him teetering on the edge. You know every button he has and how to push them. Buy some time and think of something.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she whispered, remembering to sniffle. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Just take a few days and don’t make any rash decisions. We’ll sit down on Monday and try to work things out. Okay?”

Jack exhaled. “All right. I’ll come by around two this afternoon to pick up my stuff before the boys get home from school. Make sure you’re not around when I get there.”

“I won’t be. And Jack …”

“Yes?”

“I really do love you.”

Jack paused a moment, then responded, “I’ll talk to you on Monday.”

The line went dead.

Tabatha sank into the couch, clutching her phone in one hand and the TSPA in the other.
This can’t be happening! There must be
something
I can do to turn this around!

Sitting on the sofa, her blue eyes danced back and forth as she pondered her dilemma. Moments later, a faint smile etched itself on her face.

Glancing down at the letter from Petromica, Tabatha punched numbers on her phone, took a deep breath and composed herself.

“Mr. Beria? This is Jack McCallen’s wife, Tabatha. I think my husband has made a
foolish
decision to reject your company’s offer, but we
may
be able to salvage the deal …”