“But we must look to the silver lining,” Charles said persuasively. “Hannah had many strengths, yes, but we all knew her political potential had a limit. Her vices were far less understandable.”
That was unfair, in Marist’s opinion. Hathaway’s struggles with alcohol and opioids had been attempts to fill a painful void. “Her father’s suicide hit her hard.”
“I have a nation to protect. I’m afraid I’ll leave empathy to the empaths,” Charles said shortly. “Even before Hannah’sdeath, I was grooming Braun to replace her in the senate. I’ve known him nearly thirty years, and I’m pleased the governor took my suggestion in his appointment.”
Took his suggestion.As if Stone Solutions, and the Stones themselves, didn’t donate more to the governor’s campaign than everyone else put together. Of course the governor had done what Charles wanted.
“Think of the benefits, Vivian.” Charles picked up another mug. “Lucien understands the importance of pushing S.B. 1437 through the senate immediately.”
“I might have chosen waiting a few months for funding over angering American Minds Intact,” Marist muttered.
Charles waved that away dismissively, pouring coffee from the carafe with his other hand. “The affair was years ago. Beau will come around. And you will too: When the bill passes, we’ll be able to add a driving range to Orion. Won’t it be a treat to practice your swing there?”
Marist pursed her lips.
“You have enough to worry about trying to keep another empath murder out of the public sphere,” Charles said in a persuasive tone perfectly manufactured from years of his own emotional training. He held out the freshly poured cup to her. “Let me handle Beau. You get the Dead Man on the line and figure out how to catch Reece Davies.”
Marist sighed but took the coffee.
Chapter Eight
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Reece woke late, and with a headache. It’d been almost dawn when he’d calmed down enough to come back to Jason Owens’s house. He’d snuck in and fallen into bed and a twitchy, restless sleep.
Now it was full morning, the sun too bright and making him mutter a curse as he reached for his phone. He had one text from Grayson and several from Jamey.
Grayson’s was short and curt:Message received. Don’t bother coming over. I’ll find you.
Reece squinted at it for a long moment, but the words still weren’t making sense. He sent a pair of grouchy texts back.
Reece:It’s too early for your cryptic Fear The Mysterious Dead Man bullshit.
Reece:What the fuck are you talking about?
He switched over to Jamey’s texts instead.
Jamey:You better not have done this
Jamey:I can forgive you for robbery and B & Es but this is the LINE
Jamey:I know you’re too chickenshit to respond to me but listen asshole: I will find out who really did this. I am telling everyone it wasn’t you.
Jamey:And I better be right.
Reece stared at her messages in a mixture of confusion and rising irritation. She was being just as cryptic as Grayson, and she didn’t get to boss him around. Not anymore.
She’s worried, said the little voice in his head.Obviously upset. And she’s right: You’re too big a coward to respond.
Reece took a breath through his nose, shoving the voice away.
His phone chimed.
