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She described her hesitation, her concern about the fact that Leland was from a wealthy family while his challenger was a working-class resident of South Boston. The crowd was silent, sensing the big reveal, the turning point in the story.
It came a moment later when she described Leland’s passion for improving the lives of everyday people in their great state, about his humble profession, that he’d been blessed by wealth and comfort through no actions of his own, that this tremendous good fortune meant that he owed a debt of gratitude to others in Massachusetts.
Leland Walker wanted to pay that debt by serving the people, she said, by using the relationships built by his ancestors over generations to strike deals for higher wages and better jobs, to coax lawmakers tight with the purse strings to funnel money into programs that would result in more work and more money in the state’s economy. He wanted to cut the fat of bureaucratic government and use the money saved to improve the state’s schools, its roads and bridges.
The crowd was rapt as she continued. The state’s first responders deserved more money, a better quality of living for their families to support the sacrifices they made on behalf of their fellow citizens, and Leland Walker would fight to see it done.
She concluded by recalling her meeting with Leland, saying that by the time it was over, she knew he was the real deal.
The crowd roared its approval, and she introduced the mayor of Cambridge, who gave a similarly glowing speech about his long relationship with Leland and his family, his faith in Leland’s unique abilities and vision to bring positive change to the state.
Alexa listened as more of the people onstage got up to speak, all of them testifying to Leland Walker’s character and experience. By the time they’d finished speaking, even Alexa had forgotten that Leland Walker didn’t have any experience to speak of. Other than positions in the Walker family companies and foundations and a couple of seats on charitable boards, he’d never worked a day in his life.
The crowd didn’t seem to care. The display was powerful. The flags, the music, the shiny words. All of it easier and more convincing than facts that would require time and attention to vet.
Alexa understood. She worked for the AG’s office and she’d never been to a political rally that hadn’t been part of her job. She’d grudgingly sat through the ones she’d attended on behalf of the office, forcing a smile and tuning out half of what was said at the podium.
She was as guilty as anyone of being lazy, of not bothering to look closely at promises that were handed out like candy.
The last speaker — she hadn’t gotten his name — was winding down his speech, and Alexa held her breath, her heart beating faster in her chest. This had been a bad idea. It was one thing to see Leland Walker on TV, to hear other people talk about the man who had killed Samantha.
It was something else to see him in the flesh.
And yet, that was why she’d come, wasn’t it? To face the boogeyman? To see if he had any power over her?
She didn’t have to wonder what Nick would say. It was why she hadn’t told him how she was spending her Saturday, why she’d been vague about the fact that she had work to do, errands to run, straddling the line of lying and withholding, something she was getting frighteningly good at doing with everyone.
The crowd clapped, the kids sitting on their parents’ shoulders waving their flags, a few extra enthusiastic attendees near the front cheering as the final speaker stepped back from the microphone, his gaze traveling to the side of the stage.
And then Leland Walker was there, making his way up the stairs and toward the microphone. He paused to shake the hand of the man who’d introduced him and turned to face the crowd.
He was taller than he seemed on TV, at least six-foot-four, his shoulders broad enough to fill out his tailored white button-down, worn sans tie with the sleeves rolled up like the working-class Bostonian he wasn’t.
He lifted a hand and smiled. He was the epitome of American good health — muscular but not beefy, tall but not distractingly so. His teeth were straight and white, probably the product of the best orthodontia money could buy, and his skin was tan enough to conjure windblown days on a boat on the bay without appearing cartoonish.
The crowd died down and Leland began to talk, his voice strong and sure as he spoke about the lessons he’d learned from his great-grandfather, a man who’d taken the modest fortune built by his great-great-grandfather and parleyed it into the kind of success story that used to be commonplace in Boston, in America.
He spoke about how that dream had left too many people behind, how government had stopped working for the people and instead worked for the people pulling the strings behind the curtain. Then he did something Alexa didn’t expect: he acknowledged that many would consider him the enemy of the working-class American dream, that he didn’t blame them for being suspicious of his motives, because that’s what happens when your trust is betrayed over and over again by those in power.
The crowd was so quiet Alexa could hear the birds chirping in the trees.
His tone was somber as he went on to hit the same talking points his campaign manager had covered — the rich kid who wanted to pay forward his blessings by helping those who hadn’t been given the same leg up, who felt purpose burning in his gut, a mission to provide the same kind of opportunities to the working-class citizens of their state that he’d been afforded.
Her stomach turned over as she looked around.
They were buying it.
The crowd — probably a mix of academia, they were in Harvard territory after all — and middle-class families out for a low-cost day at the park, were nodding in agreement, some of them smiling up at the picture-perfect image of Leland Walker, trust-fund baby turned supposed advocate and activist.
She had to hand it to whoever had devised the campaign strategy. Getting out in front of the accusation that Leland was just another rich guy running for office, someone who didn’t understand the worries of the average citizen, was a good call. In her experience, most of the wealthy candidates who ran for office spent their time downplaying their money and privilege, exaggerating the nature of their challenges to seem like one of the people.
She hadn’t believed it when she’d seen Leland’s poll numbers rising on TV, hadn’t believed he could really win. Now she felt stupid. What had she thought? That people could sense a murderer under the suit? That there was an invisible letter K that would reveal itself at some point in Leland Walker’s campaign, outing him for the killer he was?
Maybe she’d hoped it would be obvious that there was something deeply wrong with him, that voters would be instinctually turned off even if they didn’t know why. Instead, he’d won them over, saying all the right things, smiling in just the right way.
She saw now why Frederick was willing to cover any sin to get Leland into the Senate: he would win. The more he talked, the more he got in front of voters, the more the numbers would skew in his favor. He would win, and he would go on winning, because a man willing to do the things Frederick Walker had done for his son didn’t intend to let him stop at the Senate.
She had a feeling Leland would keep right on going to the White House.
