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“We got reports from her doctors on the Island, but they said her information wasn’t reliable. It came through a drug fog.”
“Then let me make the truth abundantly clear to you, sir. Blaine Maisri was, without doubt, one of the people who raped and tortured your daughter.”
He bares his teeth at me, like an angry stray dog.
“I’m supporting his bid for my old House seat. I’ve endorsed his campaign. You tell me this now?”
“Don’t play dumb, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”
He’s pale, his shoulders rising with each breath, chest moving fast. “Fuck you.”
My eyes narrow instinctively, examining him. He’s not lying.
But he’s not telling the truth, either.
“Do you,” he says tightly, “have any idea how thin the ice you’re skating on really is, Drew? Blaine Maisri has connections you cannot fathom.” His eyes bore into me. I don’t flinch. I don’t move.
I stare back. “Like Nolan Corning?”
No reaction.
“And those connections are more important than your daughter,” I challenge.
It’s not a question.
“No.” I expect more anger in his answer. “But pissing off Blaine and the people behind him does nothing but put Lindsay in more danger.”
More danger.
“He’s been texting her.”
Harry blinks in surprise. “More texts?”
“Yes. Threats. Pictures.”
“You traced them directly to him?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve proven nothing, which means we can do nothing.”
“Not true.”
“You have to act within the law, Drew. This is my presidency at stake. The election year is a weird one. Once I’m nominated as the party’s candidate in the general election, it’s smooth sailing.”
“How do you know?”
He shoots me a dry look.
“I know.”
“But that assurance isn’t there through these early stages?”
“No.”
“Then this may very well involve Nolan Corning. He has a reputation for being cut-throat, Harry.”
“So do I, Drew.”
