Page 10 of Booked for Theft

“Possibly not,” he confessed.

“What did your mother do?”

“After your disappearance, she registered you as a candidate for the election. According to her, she did it as a way to memorialize your heroism. President Castillo even called her and praised her method of acknowledging your bravery and service to our country.”

My eyes widened. “She did what?”

“Do you need me to repeat that?”

“I might. That can’t be real.”

Bradley held out his hand, which I took to be a request to hand over my phone as his wouldn’t handle the task with any grace. I unlocked it and did as he requested. A few minutes later, he handed the device back.

The website, which belonged to the government and tracked campaign hopefuls, listed everyone with a valid registration. Sure enough, my name was listed three different ways: my birth name, my pseudonym, and my future last name with a note that I was engaged to Bradley and we were taking the slow and traditional approach with our union.

I tapped on the link, which used pictures of me taken from the library. It detailed my public service record, my current aptitude, and details of the crash that had almost claimed my life. In good news for me, there was a note indicating that I had been registered by my power of attorney, I was not running a funded campaign, and that the media was to contact Bradley’s mother with questions.

“Why did she do this?” I blurted.

“That’s what I don’t know. Maybe she thought she could better protect you?”

“Considering one hopeful is already dead, I do not feel well protected right now,” I informed him. “Was she trying to get secret service resources to find me?”

“That’s the best theory I have. And she did get to consult with the secret service after she filed the application and spoke with President Castillo. She confessed earlier today, and she admits she did it right at deadline as a drastic measure. It shouldn’t change anything for us.”

Shouldn’t and wouldn’t were two very different words, and I feared the nuances would result in serious problems for us in the future. “Do you think that’s why the media keeps reviving my name?”

“Familiarity is a marketing tactic, and you’re the only common ground all candidates have. All of them have, in some shape or another, endorsed you. They have to know you’re registered as a candidate by now.”

I checked the list totals, raising a brow at the number of people who had registered as a candidate. “This list has over ten thousand people on it, Bradley.”

“It costs two dollars to register, and only when the campaign spends over five thousand dollars must it submit information on the treasurer and so on. My mother pre-registered your campaign despite a notable lack of spend, and she claimed all the required spots in the campaign with the exception of the treasurer, who is one of my father’s accountants who has an interest in politics. Apparently, being the treasurer of a campaign, even a non-active one, is a dream come true for him.”

I laughed at the thought of some accountant having a ball with an entirely bogus political campaign. “All right. I’m in agreement. Mistakes have been made. We will interrogate her later regarding the why of it. Your mother doesn’t act without good reason. Now, knowing that there is a bogus campaign in my name does change things a little. Do you think the politicians will be more inclined to donate towards my library, understanding that if I’m too busy processing their charitable funds, that I can’t dip my toes into politics? Let’s face it, Bradley. There is no amount of money on this planet sufficient to convince me to join the clusterfuck that is American politics.”

“It’s worth a try, especially with President Castillo pushing public services as hard as he is lately. But I’m worried, Janette.”

As was I. “I’m sure the fact my name could be written in on the ballot is the least of our concerns right now. It’s not like I’m actually running for office. We will view this as a very strange prank your mother pulled on us during a stressful time in our lives.” I sat, stuck out my right foot, and wiggled my toes at him. “The serial killers took the blame for my foot, Bradley. Doctors around the world absolutely scolded this group for putting my life at risk in a twisted show of apology. And the world has bought it hook, line, and sinker. I will forever be labeled as the victim of a group that showed remorse for missing a shot at an assassination.”

Bradley took my phone, tapped at the screen, and returned it a moment later, showcasing the article originating the false belief the assassins had been my kidnappers. “I thought about sending this reporter flowers and chocolate. She made it so the world will never be able to uncover the truth, all for your benefit.”

And the benefit of the team who’d saved my life.

Without them, I would have died.

“Do you think President Castillo has been kind to us because he knows if he isn’t, the assassins might start striking again? Everyone believes they’re behind my kidnapping at this point.”

“It’s possible. We just don’t know. We don’t know what their end goal is. We know nothing, really. All we know is that after you were kidnapped, the killings stopped. Maybe they’ve accomplished their goals. Maybe they’re waiting. But for what?”

“Do you think we’ll ever know?”

After sighing, Bradley shrugged. “All we can do is try to find out.”

No matter how hard we tried, would it be enough?

Only time would tell.