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“Tell your people to hold off,” he said. Jen deserved better than Carl’s minions investigating her past. At the same time, Carl was right. The situation required a plan. “I’ll talk to her and get the truth.”
“Brett, let my team keep working,” Carl said. “People lie to save their own skin. We have no way of knowing she won’t too.”
He knew people who fit Carl’s description. “Not Jen. After I talk to her, I’ll contact you. Tell your people to stop immediately. I’ll get back to you tonight.”
“I understand why you want to handle this yourself, but I suggest you reconsider. My team will be discreet and respectful. And remember time isn’t on our side. If we wait too long to respond, the media might assume you’re trying to hide something.”
Damn it. Carl was right. “Fine let them keep looking, but don’t issues any statement without my approval.”
“If my people uncover anything, I call you before taking any action,” Carl said.
Carl’s voice let Brett just how much the campaign manager didn’t like Brett’s plan, but he also knew who wrote his paycheck.
“As soon as I get some answers, Carl, I’ll call you. Before I go, is there anything else?” Brett asked. The sooner he got out of here the sooner he’d get some answers.
When Carl shook his head, Brett stood.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Dad said, coming to his feet too.
Hell. He had enough going through his head without a lecture from his dad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell him to back off.
Dad waited until the elevator doors closed before speaking. “When this story proves true, what are you going to do?”
“If, Dad. If it proves accurate.” Brett jabbed the button for the lobby.
“Brett, you’ve been around politics enough to know what Carl said is true. Ted Smith’s team wouldn’t have leaked this information if it wasn’t at least partially true.” Dad gripped his shoulder. “I like Jen. So does your mom. But are you willing to potentially sacrifice the race and your political future for her?” he asked. “You don’t have to answer me. Just think about it and don’t make any decisions until you can answer the question.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jen spotted the news vans outside her house before she turned down her street. If they were out there, they’d bombard her the second she turned into the driveway. With a little luck, she might get into the garage and into the house. So far luck hadn’t been on her side today. A more likely scenario would be a reporter would plant himself in front of her garage, meaning she either had to run him over to get inside or park in the driveway then walk the gauntlet of reporters to get inside the house.
Rather than chance it, she turned onto Hudson Street instead and parked in Anna and Billy’s driveway. Their backyard abutted hers. Since they were on vacatio
n, they wouldn’t mind if she left her car there for the night. Pushing open the gate, she entered Anna and Billy’s yard and crossed toward the gate in the fence, which would open into her yard. When she’d moved in, she’d found the extra gate an odd feature. Later, she’d learned she’d purchased her home from Billy’s twin brother. Since their children had loved playing together so much, they’d had the extra gate installed in the fence so the cousins could visit whenever they wanted without having to walk far. Tonight the unique feature allowed her to sneak into her house without alerting the vultures hanging around outside.
“Hey, Bo.” As usual the dog greeted her in the kitchen. After giving him a scratch behind the ears, she let him out into the backyard.
She’d been tempted to check the internet when the crowd gathered outside the office put a halt to her coffee run. She’d forced herself not to give in. Although she didn’t know what had the media so curious again, she sensed it wasn’t good. With two important meetings to get through, she needed her head in the game, not on whatever story the news was running. Jen had no good excuse for not checking now, other than she suspected she wasn’t going to like what she found.
“Not looking isn’t going to change it,” she said, grabbing a diet root beer from the fridge.
Jen let Bo back in the house before retreating to her bedroom. “Let’s see what the big story is.”
The dog jumped on the bed next to her as she pulled up the Providence Gazette’s website. The headline staring back at her made her wish she hadn’t: Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Not All It Should Be.
She didn’t need to read any further to know she wasn’t going to like what followed in the article below the rather nice picture of her and Brett outside Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Café. Jen forced her eyes to scan the words anyway.
Jen read the first paragraph and stopped. Dropping her head in her hands, she tried to breathe as her stomach rolled. Dominic Russo. The name hadn’t crossed her mind in a long time. How had they found out about him? As far as she knew, he was still rotting in a South Carolina prison.
She forced her head up and continued reading the article. It claimed, according to a relative, she’d had a run-in with the law herself. While the statement about her biological father was true, this part of the story sensationalized what had really happened all those years ago. Since the article had the facts straight about her biological father, would anyone believe her when she set the record straight on the rest?
Even though Jen knew she’d find similar articles on the other news sites, she typed in the web address for the Boston Times. Senatorial Candidate Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Called Into Question, the headline on the site read. Although written by a different reporter, the article attached to the headline read similar to the one the Providence Gazette had published. She didn’t look any farther. Instead, she closed the laptop and fell back on the bed.
The media was calling Brett’s judgment and integrity into question? He was the most upstanding individual she’d ever met. The media shouldn’t be holding her biological father’s poor decisions against Brett, especially when he didn’t even know the man existed.
Jen covered her face with her hands and groaned. His association with her could cost him the election, maybe even kill any chance he’d ever make it in politics. It wasn’t fair. Especially considering the type of man he was running against. From the little she’d learned about Ted Smith, the man was an adulterer who made questionable business deals. A person with such low moral standards didn’t have any place making decisions that would affect the country.
Bo nudged her hand, demanding her attention. Reaching over, she scratched the dog just below the collar, one of his favorite spots. “Do you think he hates me?”
