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“When I came here, Miss Martha, she promised me I would be reunited with my family one day. I never saw that as possible.”
“But you did?”
“I did. Quite by accident, or maybe not. George is my great-great-great grandson. Can you believe that?” he chuckled. Harlow smiled, shaking her head. It did seem unbelievable. “Back in them days, women weren’t allowed to do man’s business. They’d rather have a black man bringin’ the crops to sell than a woman. Miss Martha trusted me with her horses, money, crops, everything.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” said Martha, lifting her chin. “You were the most honest man I’d ever known. You were my friend and my partner in everything.” Franklin nodded, smiling at her.
“We had some good times back then. We bought land that others might not have wanted and made it into somethin’. We let them civil war soldiers from both sides of the war stay here ‘til it was safe. We did an awful lot of good.”
“So, you forgave that man? The man that beat you and tore apart your family?” asked Harlow.
“Don’t know that I’d call it forgiveness, Harlow, but it was as close as I could come. If he was a standin’ here before me now, I’d probably kill him dead all over again. But he ain’t. He’s where he should be.”
Harlow stared at the people around her. They’d all been kind, full of wisdom and helpfulness. But forgiving what her parents had done to her? That was something she wasn’t sure she could do.
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “I promise that I’ll try.”
“That’s all you can do, darlin’,” said Franklin.
“Actually, all this talk about doppelgangers and tricks and forgiveness is giving me an idea,” said Nate. “Do we have any information on where Spencer is?”
“We caught him on a traffic camera headed toward Fredericksburg,” said Tanner. “I’m trying to figure out the most logical location for him. There are a number of townhomes and condos in that area, but none are registered to him, his wife, or to Morrison.”
“Check to see if any are under the POTUS’s name,” said Nate. “Either way, give me some directions. I’ve got a few ideas.”
“What do I do?” asked Harlow.
“You do what you’re doing. Stay here with everyone and be safe. I cannot think straight if you’re not safe. Just be here and be you, baby.”
“We have plenty to do, Harlow,” smiled Kat. “There’s so much Mama Irene wants done for the Mardi Gras celebrations. We’re going to be drenched in purple, gold, and green for the next few weeks.” Harlow laughed, nodding at her mother-in-law.
“You know what? Those colors all look good on me, so lead the way and tell me what to do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Nate was forever grateful to his mother for keeping Harlow busy while he and the others
traveled to D.C. Just as they landed, a winter storm hit the area, stopping everything. There was no public transportation available, no taxis, nothing. Fortunately, they’d rented a few cars and slowly, carefully made their way to the hotel.
Originally, they were supposed to stay at the Marriott Marquis, but when cameras spotted Spencer driving near The Mayflower, they immediately switched their reservation.
After check-in, the men all wrapped up in their winter gear and headed out. No man or beast was out in this weather as the winds whipped at an icy, biting forty miles per hour. The white winter gear blocked the wind and cold on their bodies, also making it very difficult to see them.
Finding an open coffee shop on the corner, they stepped inside to a swirl of snowflakes and took their seats at three large tables. Pulling back their masks, the waitress stared at them, then just set down several cups of piping hot coffee.
“Coffee is on the house. It’s too miserable out there not to warm your body up for free. I don’t have much but could warm up some soup or pie. Maybe make a grilled cheese.”
“Soup and grilled cheese all the way around,” said Nate. She nodded at them, smiling. At least this night wouldn’t be a total bust. They’d received a message that the others were doing the same, having found an open shop in Georgetown.
“Are we ready for whatever we find in that Oval Office?” asked Mike.
“I am,” said Nate. “I want to know just how deep this shit goes and who is involved in it. If it’s the POTUS, I’ll bring his ass down right alongside Judge.”
“Everyone read?” asked Hiro.
“Roger that. What’s up, brother?” answered Nate.
“Tanner and I have been digging through all these files. Judge is a lot like Lyra’s uncle. He seemed to do everything in writing. All old school. There are notes and writings going back thirty, forty years.”
