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Thick woods surrounded the house, and Shane admired the beauty of the already changing leaves as he followed the man to a back porch. There was another deck over it. The house had been built into a hill with a walk-out basement, nice and cozy.
“I love this room,” he murmured as he stepped through the back door. Polished dark wood floors stretched out to encompass both a living area and a massive bar. A deep blue color had been painted on the walls and even on the ceiling between heavy, wooden beams that matched the floor. A massive leather L-shaped couch faced a stone fireplace and the flat-screen television built right into one of the paneled walls. “This room just screams ‘man cave.’ Even with all the pictures of your kids on the walls.”
The same deep laugh that he heard on television spilled from the mayor as he padded to the bar. “What’s your poison?”
“Bourbon if you have it.”
“Only the best.” He poured two fingers into a highball glass and slid it across the bar.
Shane took it and walked to the wall that held pictures of his two daughters. “You have beautiful girls.”
“Thank you. I think so, too. I wasn’t going to run again after…well, after losing their mother.” He walked over to stare at the pictures. “But I have to stop and remind myself of why I first got into politics. I really do want a better world for my kids and their kids.” He stopped and self-consciously smirked at Shane. “And that’s not just some line because I’m running for reelection. I truly believe it. This country needs some work.”
“That’s for sure. I’m sorry about your wife.” Shane, like the rest of Cincinnati, had been shocked and saddened to hear of her passing. A fall down the stairs. Something that sudden and unexpected had to have devastated this family. Shane’s mother had dropped dead at the age of forty—years after she’d left him and his dad. He hadn’t seen her in four years when he’d heard of her death. Pushing that aside, he took a sip of the bourbon and enjoyed the burn.
“How is the search going? Any progress?”
“Some. It’s been a slow process. I’ve got—” he started to mention having someone on the case with him, but decided against it. “I’ve got traps set, and I attended your speech yesterday and took pictures of the protestors. I’m currently tracking them down. It takes time.”
“With the election in less than a month, do you think you’ll be able to find this person before then?”
“That’s my goal. Has there been any more personal contact?”
The mayor nodded, his warm expression growing grimmer. “I printed it out upstairs.” There was a slam from above and the smile that spread across the man’s face was huge and genuine. “There are my girls now. Come meet them and I’ll get you the papers.”
The upstairs held cathedral ceilings over a large living area and open kitchen, separated only by a long island. Two girls were busy taking off backpacks and shoes. He knew one was twelve and the other fourteen, but they looked younger. They must have gotten their short height from their mother. A woman Shane assumed was a nanny, a pretty blonde in her early twenties, walked into the kitchen and pulled bottled waters out of the refrigerator. She gave Shane a small smile before she started rummaging through cabinets.
“Shane, this is Miranda and Sylvie—two strange young women who wandered into my house and won’t leave.”
“Dad!” The taller one griped as she rolled her eyes. She had a bolder personality and stared at Shane with open curiosity.
The other one quietly walked over to hug her father. Both had the same black hair as their father, the same green eyes.
“Do you two have homework?”
The older one nodded and opened her backpack to pull out books. The nanny—did girls this age still have nannies?—set out bowls of pretzels. They obviously had a set routine, because within moments both girls were at the breakfast bar working.
“Come with me. We’ll get the printout from my office.” Shane nodded and followed the mayor down the hall into a medium-sized room lined with bookshelves. It looked like an impressive collection of law books all around a large dark-wood desk. The setup was exactly what you’d expect the mayor or any political official to have.
“When did the message arrive?” Shane asked as Gerald stepped behind his desk.
“Yesterday.” He shuffled through the stack of files and other papers on his desk until he finally came to the single sheet of paper that he was looking for. “It was emailed to my personal account.” He handed it over to Shane, frowning so that deep furrows dug into his handsome face.
The message was different than the first, but the cryptic threat was the same:
