The Senator's Choice (10 page)

He glanced around the restaurant again in an attempt to spot any potential surveillance. No one had entered the restaurant since they sat down. But if these guys were as good as they appeared to be, they likely hacked his calendar and knew where he was going for dinner and probably already had someone there. Or maybe it wasn
’
t just a someone, but a couple appearing to casually enjoy a night out while keeping tabs on his movements and conversations. He couldn
’
t be certain, but he sensed someone was watching him.

Sarah reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “You don
’
t look well. Are you sure you
’
re okay?”

He withdrew his hands and stared down at the table. “I
’
m fine. Just a lot on my mind these days. Luke
’
s sick and I don
’
t feel my best
— and then there
’
s this stupid vote looming this week that I have a bad feeling about.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what exactly?”

“Any of it,” she said, reaching across the table and patting his hand again. “You know I
’
m here for you.”

He picked up his fork and started to slowly twirl it as he spoke. “I know—it
’
s just that—”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “It
’
s just that
what
?”

“I
’
m not sure it
’
s best that we talk politics right now.”

“Are you having second thoughts about the vote?”

He stopped and stared at her. “No, I
’
m not changing my position, despite your protests that I do otherwise.”

“
You can
’
t save all of Ohio,” she said. “It
’
s wiser to sacrifice a few jobs now for a better situation later on. Your constituency will thank you for it.”

“That
’
s just the problem — if I don
’
t help them now, there may not be a constituency for me to help in the future. Those people deserve something better than what they
’
re getting right now and I can
’
t ignore that.”

“Even if something better is bound to come along?”

“If there
’
s one thing I
’
ve learned in politics, it
’
s that there are no guarantees about anything. You can
’
t lead out of fear. You have to lead from a place of bold vision.”

She cleared her throat. “But aren
’
t you leading out of fear now? Fear that these people may not vote for you again if you don
’
t help them out now?”

“This is not a decision I
’
ve made out of fear. If I don
’
t help these people, who will? The answer is no one.”

“There are jobs in other parts of the state. They could move.”

“An entire town can
’
t move. These people need jobs where they are.”

“
But don’
t you see the negative impact on the environment the pipeline might have?”

Daniels huffed.
“I
’
ve seen nothing but partisan reports that state it will negatively impact the environment. Every other
independent
report has shown that the technology planned for use in the pipeline renders those assertions baseless. Besides, home is home for a reason. Those people want to stay where they are. It
’
s an idea worth preserving, even if I get skewered by the opposition party for my leadership on this issue.”

“Do you think you have enough votes?”

“Right now, I do. But like I said, there are no guarantees. And until that last vote is recorded, I
’
ll be nervous about this.”

Sarah smiled at him, easing his tension. “
Well, I
’
m sure whatever you do, it
’
ll be the right thing.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I just may not be much fun for the next few days.”

“I
’
ll be as gracious with you as you are with me,” she said as she laughed.

Daniels got her joke. Whenever Sarah turned into a hellcat, he knew to stay away. They
’
d been dating long enough that he figured out her monthly rhythms and planned all his out of town travel and lengthy meetings during the time. But now he was the one in danger of turning into a mad man with pent up angst. He didn
’
t want to hurt her nor did he think he could shoulder the burden of what he was facing alone. Yet the kidnappers gave him no choice.

Soldier on, Daniels. You can do it.

He smiled at her. “Shall we order?”

***

OVER DINNER, DANIELS GOT exactly what he wanted: a robust conversation about art, music and food. But over dessert, the conversation turned toward a trip the couple had planned for New York as soon as the vote was over.

“So what exactly do you have in mind while we
’
re in the Big Apple?” he asked.

“Just you wait,” she said, perking up. “If you think it was fun to talk about art, music and food, you
’
re going to love indulging ourselves in all three for a few days.”

“This sounds good.”

“Oh, it
’
s going to be better than good. It
’
s going to be fantastic.”

Daniels looked at his receipt on the table and added a tip. He started to turn it over and leave it face down before he noticed a note scribbled on the bottom.

We
’
re watching you. Be careful.

He started to look around the restaurant casually. His disengagement from the conversation was obvious.

“Are you sure you
’
re okay?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, I
’
m fine. But I think I am gonna skip out on this fundraiser tonight and go home to be with Luke. I
’
m just not feeling up to glad-handing folks and putting on a smile.”

“I understand, honey. I still had a fabulous evening with you. Do you want to drop me by your office so I can pick up my car now?”

“Sure,” he mumbled as he stood up and slid his chair back under the table. “Let
’
s go.”

On their way back to his office, Sarah launched into a discussion about her recent discovery of Hildegard of Bingen and her incredible music. Her exuberance over the topic reminded Daniels why he liked her so much — and underscored why he thought she would be the perfect woman to influence Luke in his last few years before he left home. But the moment she kissed him goodnight and got out of his car, his thoughts returned to the gravity of his situation.

He followed her until their routes parted ways. That
’
s when he noticed the black sedan behind him. It didn
’
t take long before he realized he was being followed.

Daniels gunned the engine and whipped his vehicle down several back streets in an effort to lose the tail. He managed to shake the car three blocks from his house.

When Daniels pulled into his driveway, he hustled up the steps toward his house. He was unlocking the deadbolt to his front door when he looked back over his shoulder just in time to notice the black sedan pulling up to the curve and turning off its lights.

CHAPTER 13

THE DIGITIZED CHIMES announced Greg Zellers
’
entry through the Cambridge Truck Stop. Not that Zellers needed anything to trumpet his arrival. His boots thudding on the dingy tile floor sufficed. He leaned on the counter, peering behind it.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” he called.

A thin man scurried from the back and up to the counter. He struggled to swallow his mouthful of ham and Swiss sandwich, a fact Zellers knew only because of the man
’
s lack of decorum when it came to eating.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Zellers could barely stand to look at the man. The glop of mayonnaise hanging tenuously from his chin served as a major distraction.

“We
’
re looking for a kid we think may have been taken against his will,” Zellers said as held up a picture to the man. “Have you seen him today?”

The man wiped his chin with the back of his hand and reached for the picture. “I think I remember him from earlier today.”

Zellers jerked the picture back, unable to take his eyes off the man
’
s hands slathered with Dorito dust. “Don
’
t touch it.” He paused, giving him time to think of a graceful way out of the situation. “It
’
s the only one I have of him.”

The man backed off and squinted as he stared at the image. Then he took his glasses off and nearly pressed his nose against it.

“Yep, I remember him,” he said triumphantly. “He was in here earlier today. He bought a bottle of Mountain Dew and some chips, I think.”

By this time, Jones had joined Zellers.

“Was he with anyone?” Jones asked.

The man nodded. “Three other men. I remember them because they were an odd-looking crew, but then again, I work at a truck stop. Odd is normal around these parts.”

“You got that right,” Zellers mumbled under his breath.

“Is there anything else I can help you boys with? Maybe a Twinkie or some Cheez-its?”

“Did you say Cheez-its?” Jones asked. “I love some—”

Zellers slugged him in the arm, breaking him out of his trance.

“Oh, yes, you can help us with your security camera footage.”

“I
’
m gonna have to call my boss about that,” the man said as he rubbed his hands on his blue work apron.

“Mr. — Gordon, is it?” Jones asked.

The man nodded.

“Mr. Gordon, this is a federal kidnapping case. Do you really want to call your boss right now? You
’
re only going to make him think you
’
re incompetent. If you do, I
’
ll have to get my boss on the line with your boss — and nobody will be happy. Let
’
s just go ahead and see those tapes.”

Mr. Gordon put his head down. “Well, all right. Follow me.”

Meanwhile, Zellers and Hammond headed straight for the men
’
s restroom.

Zellers put his shoulder into the door and gave it a shove. They found the restroom unusually clean. Aside from a stray piece of toilet paper square gliding wistfully across the floor and a small puddle of water near the sink, the room looked spotless.

He loathed public restrooms, much less touching anything in them. He slipped on his latex gloves and began feeling underneath every possible cavity. Underneath the sink, behind the toilet paper roll. Nothing. Then he went to the next stall. Still nothing. He was about to consider it a lost cause as he glanced at the potty humor decorating the walls.

“You think they even let him go to the bathroom?” Hammond asked.

“Who knows? These guys are animals, but I doubt anyone is that inhumane, especially to an innocent teenager.”

“Well, what are we looking for then?”

Zellers sighed.
“A note. You
’
ll know it when you see it.”

Hammond perked up. “I think I got something. For a good time, call Destiny at …”

“Knock if off, Hammond. The jokes aren
’
t helping.
”

“I
’
m just reading what
’
s on the stall wall here.”

“We
’
d be here all day if I read what was on this wall.”

Hammond chuckled. “Maybe you can grab a number for Shepherd.”

“Knock if off, will ya?”

Zellers scanned the wall but found nothing. He then reached his hand into the toilet paper roll holder and
bingo
!

“Look what I found,” he said as he pulled out a tightly folded sheet of paper. Zellers ducked out of the stall and walked near the lights above the pair of sinks.

“What
’
s it say?” Hammond asked.

Zellers smoothed out the paper and read a note, written in Luke
’
s handwriting.