AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’d loved two women in his life. He and Pauline had been together a long time, ever since high school. Their marriage had been inevitable and relatively happy until Mary died. Nothing was ever the same after that, though they each tried to pretend otherwise. Why they stayed married was easy. Both of them were ambitious. He admitted to the sham, Pauline liked to deny it. But he knew better. She’d enjoyed being the First Lady of both Tennessee and the United States. True, neither honor brought her happiness, but each may have provided a small respite from the enormous pain he never could cleanse from her.
Now he loved another woman.
Who lay before him with two bullet wounds.
He’d never told her exactly how he felt. As president and her boss, that had seemed inappropriate. Since his leaving office they hadn’t spent a whole lot of time alone.
He reached down and grasped her hand.
Her breaths were so shallow that it was nearly impossible to detect the rise and fall of her chest. The doctor had told him that she should make it, but there was a serious risk of infection since the injuries had been so extensive. They were pumping her full of antibiotics and decided a short-term, medically induced coma would aid the process, which also explained the ventilator. But a coma was not without risk, either, since the brain would have to be overloaded with dangerous barbiturates. Nothing about any of this was good, except for the fact that she was still alive.
He wondered what her reaction would be when she learned that he was about to become a U.S. senator. She probably would not be surprised, since she knew him better than he knew himself.
He gently squeezed her fingers, trying to quell a consuming anger, one that kept demanding revenge. Nearly his entire adult life had been spent keeping his emotions in check. Only alone with Pauline had he ever let his guard down. But even with her, there hadn’t been full openness. Both of them had held back. The last fifteen years of their relationship had been totally platonic, and he’d grown accustomed to the lack of physical intimacy. Politics and power had become his aphrodisiacs, but both of those vanished on January 20. Perhaps that further explained why he’d been so depressed the past few months. Only the prospects of a new life, with a new love, had kept him optimistic.
Yet here he was, about to be sworn into public office once again.
It had taken the death of an old friend and the duplicity of his widow to make that happen.
Timing wasn’t everything, it was absolutely everything.
And his had been impeccable.
Nothing about Alex’s death had rung right from the moment he’d heard the news. And now, with what he’d seen last night, he knew trouble was brewing. As president he’d had to treat Lucius Vance with kid gloves, since the Speaker of the House could cause the executive branch lots of problems. As a senator no such caution would be necessary. That was the great thing about the U.S. Senate. Members could do whatever they wanted, with few repercussions besides what their voters might think. And what an arsenal at his disposal. Unlimited debate, on any topic, without censorship. And without stoppage, except by a vote of sixty members, which was nearly impossible to obtain.
A hell of a pulpit.
So if what Vance was planning needed Senate approval, good damn luck with that.
He’d kill it dead.
He continued to hold Stephanie’s hand, grateful they were alone. He’d told the guard outside to let no one other than doctors and nurses inside.
Appearances be damned. If she pulled through this there’d be no more delays, no more denials. Time for them both to live life out in the open.
His anger started to wane, replaced by a hollow, deflated feeling of loneliness.
“I love you,” he whispered.
* * *
Cassiopeia, Lea, and Terry Morse fled the mine shaft through the archway dug from the rubble at the exit. Cassiopeia moved ahead, armed with a weapon from one of the men back in the chamber, Morse still carrying his shotgun. The steady hum of a generator, loud inside the cavern, faded as they rushed away. Morning had arrived over the trees to the east. They stopped among the rubble, staring out at the clearing that lay between the camp and the beginnings of the forest, where the dirt road led back to the highway. To their right was a black tarp covering something and she quickly checked what was underneath.
Gold bars.
Maybe fifty or more.
“Their last load,” she said. “That means people are coming back.”
“I figured you’d be here,” Morse said to Lea.
“How did you know?”
“’Cause the daddy of that boyfriend of yours is a sentinel.”
“That can’t be. His uncle was, not his daddy.”
“That’s what a good sentinel does. He never lets people know what he is. But he’s got arthritis and isn’t able to do much anymore, so I’ve been coverin’ for him. And don’t think we don’t know about you and his boy. We do. But we let it go, since you’re both good kids.”
Cassiopeia was impressed with the old man’s style.
“I woke up and everyone was gone,” Morse said. “I heard when Malone left. But you two? Where else would she have taken you? Sentinels keep each other informed. I’ve been knowin’ somethin’ was happening out here for days. So I took a guess.”
“How’d you get here?” Cassiopeia asked him.
“Borrowed a car from a friend at the lodge, the same one that told me about you and Malone.”
Morse was watching the woods, as was she, both of them alert for any signs of movement.
“These men are the real deal,” she told Morse.
“Not like dumb me and those fakes?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I get what you meant,” Morse said, his attention remaining on the rapidly dissipating darkness.
“You killed a man,” Lea said to her grandfather, concern in her voice.
“It had to be done, child.”
Cassiopeia agreed, but wanted to know, “Is the Witch’s Stone safe?”
Mo
rse nodded. “I made sure.”
“Then take Lea and head back to the lodge.”
“Where are you goin’?” he asked.
“To find the man who just tried to kill me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Grant remained still, stunned that someone was here. It could simply be one of the security guards or a construction worker, surprised to see an intruder. He had Thomas’ ID and he might be able to bluff his way out. Then again, why take the chance?
A door opened off to his right and voices could be heard. More people had entered the demolished hall. He used that moment of distraction to regrip the iron strut, which lay at his feet beside the Trail Stone.
“Get up,” came the command from behind him.
Conversation continued in the distance, echoing through the hall. He had to move fast. So he rose, with the strut in hand, pivoted his body to the right, and flung the iron bar sideways like a Frisbee. At the same time he dropped back to the floor and rolled, still holding his cell phone, and managed a look back. The strut swooshed through the air, then slid across the concrete. The man who’d been there had leaped out of the way, offering him a moment where escape might be possible.
But he saw a gun in the man’s hand.
This was no construction worker.
He scampered right, using a Sheetrock partition for protection, which blocked any shot coming his way. The source of the voices he’d heard was just ahead. Three people in hard hats who’d entered from a far door.
He knew where that exit led.
Into the research wings, for staff only.
* * *
Cotton dodged the strut.
He’d seen the man grip the iron bar, so he was ready. What he hadn’t anticipated was other people entering the hall. He’d told Stamm to seal the place off, but apparently not everyone had gotten the memo.
His target was trying to flee, walls blocking both his view and any shot. Whatever the man had been after had apparently been concealed within an exhibit. Some sort of coral reef, now demolished, a huge slash marring the fake wall. Another stone lay on the concrete floor, its face loaded with etchings, similar to the one in Arkansas. But that was not his primary concern at the moment. Instead, he had to corral the man trying to escape.
