Chapter Fifteen

Looking away from the computer screen, Jen rubbed her neck, then answered the e-mail open on the screen. She managed to hit Send before yawning again. She needed either a good nap or a shot of caffeine. Since the workday had several more hours in it, she’d have to settle for the caffeine. Hopefully it would do the trick, because she had two important meetings to get through this afternoon. If the coffee didn’t perk her up, she only had herself to blame.

Well, maybe she could lay some of the blame at Brett’s feet as well. He’d arrived at her house well after nine the previous night. Then they’d stayed up into the early morning hours fine-tuning the speech he was set to give this afternoon.

Over the past couple weeks, it had become common for Brett to send her a simple hi or a thinking of you text whenever he got a moment’s peace. The little messages always brightened her day.

Jen checked her cell phone now as she pulled her purse out of her bottom desk drawer.

Wish you were here, the message from Brett said.

She smiled. How could she not? The man was running for the United States Senate yet he still managed to send her text messages.

Talk to you tonight, she typed before dropping the device into her purse. They might not see each other every day, but a night hadn’t gone by this month they hadn’t spoken no matter the time.

When Jen had sat near Eden, they’d developed the habit of always checking with each other before heading out for coffee. So rather than head toward the elevator, Jen walked down the hall to Eden’s cubicle. She wasn’t surprised to find her friend chatting away with a new employee Jen didn’t recognize rather than working. Both women fell silent when Jen reached them.

“I’m going next door for a coffee. Do either of you want one?”

The employee Jen didn’t know shook her head. “No thanks.” She rolled her chair across to another cubicle without bothering to even introduce herself. Before getting back to work, the woman glanced back over at Jen once and then picked up her cell phone and started typing.

“If you were going to Ambrosia, I’d say yes, but I can’t handle the stuff from next door,” Eden said.

She much preferred the coffee at Ambrosia to what the chain coffee shop next door served as well, but she didn’t have a lot time this afternoon. “It’s not my first choice either, but it’s better than what comes out of the machine in the break room.”

“True,” Eden said, as her eyes darted toward the computer screen and quickly back toward Jen. Definite concern lurked in the woman’s dark eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Jen asked. “Do you need help with something?” It wouldn’t be the first time Eden got stuck or fell behind and needed help to meet a deadline.

“Just working my way through these reports.” She clicked the computer mouse and then turned her screen so Jen could see it. “You remember how tedious they can be.” She gave Jen a tight smile. “But thanks for offering.”

If Eden didn’t want to confide in her, she wasn’t going to press the issue. Everyone was entitled to his or her privacy, at least in her opinion. Thanks to firsthand experience, she knew the media didn’t agree. “If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be right back.”

“Will do.”

The usual office sounds drifted around her as she walked past the other occupied cubicles and offices. At first, she thought it was her imagination that each time she passed by coworkers conversations stopped and eyes turned her way. By the time she reached the end of the hall, she knew it wasn’t. Something similar had happened right after the first photos of her and Brett appeared in the paper. Later the pictures of them attending the fund-raiser at the Harbor House together had intensified her coworkers’ behavior. Over the past few weeks or so the looks had stopped.

At least until now.

Jen pulled her sweater tighter around her and entered the reception area. A handful of clients sat thumbing through magazines or checking their e-mails. Thankfully all seemed too preoccupied to notice her as she walked to the receptionist’s desk.

“Oh, Jennifer, a courier delivered this for you. I was just about to call and let you know,” Willow said from behind her desk, a large manila envelope in her hand.

Two of the clients reading magazines looked up in her direction. Jen did her best to ignore the unease gathering in her stomach. “Great. I expected them earlier, but better late than never,” she said, keeping her eyes on the receptionist and not the sudden audience they had. “Do you mind holding them until I come back? I’m only going next door for a coffee.”

“Sure, not a problem,” Willow said.

“Thanks. Can I bring you back anything?”

“I’m still working on my iced coffee from lunch. But thanks for thinking of me.”

Downstairs Jen stepped off the elevator and crossed the building’s lobby. She caught sight of the media lingering outside before she reached the revolving glass door. Immediately after news of her and Brett’s relationship broke, reporters and photographers had gathered outside the building, waiting to catch her. Thankfully, one of the building’s security guards had shown her a back way out so she could avoid the media when she came and went. The door opened into the alley behind the building and made her walk to and from the parking garage or anywhere else longer, but it beat dealing with the media multiple times a day.

Either the reporters had grown bored or they hadn’t found her newsworthy anymore, because over the last week and a half or so the number waiting outside had dwindled, allowing her to use the main entrance again. In fact, when she came in this morning, there hadn’t been a single person outside.

The sidewalk out front now was an entirely different story. She estimated at least eight reporters were out there. She could also see a few news vans. For some unknown reason, the media’s attention had been captured again.

Jen took several steps back and moved behind one of the decorative potted trees and considered her options. Going straight through the front door was out. Even if she didn’t mind dealing with the reporters, it would take time and she was on a tight schedule this afternoon. She could go through the back door and into the alley, but who knew what might happen if they saw her walk into the coffee shop next door.

“Jennifer, is there a problem?” Aiden, the same security guard who had shown her the back way out, stood next to her.

She pointed toward the entrance and the spectacle gathered out there. “I was heading out for a coffee. Now I’m reconsidering.”

“I don’t blame you,” Aiden said, sounding sympathetic. “Surprised to see so many out there again. There was no one this morning.”

“Me too.” She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why they’d returned. “I guess the break room coffee will have to do.”

Aiden grimaced. “Hope it’s better than what the machine in our break room spits out.”

“Probably not,” Jen admitted as she readjusted the straps of her purse. “But drinking it beats dealing with that.” She pointed toward the doors. “Have a nice afternoon, Aiden.”

***

Brett had started his day by meeting with the League of Women’s Clubs of Massachusetts. One of the largest and oldest women's volunteer service organizations in the country, the group was involved in everything from supporting the preservation of natural resources to stressing civic involvement. Despite its lengthy and distinguished past, he’d never heard of the group until earlier this month. From there he’d driven clear across the state to Pittsfield. The event there had ended ten minutes ago, and he had nothing else on his agenda until tomorrow afternoon.

With a double-chocolate glazed donut and large iced coffee in hand, Brett opened his car door and got behind the wheel. Before he could enjoy a sip of the caffeinated beverage he needed desperately, his cell phone chimed. Brett tossed the bag with his sugary treat on the seat, took a sip of his drink, and pulled out the annoying device.

We’ve got a situation the text from Carl read.

Carl had sent him a similar text when the pictures of him and Jen first hit the papers. The man stressed about any unanticipated occurrence.

The phone chimed again before Brett responded.

Where are you? We need to meet NOW, Carl’s next message stated.

At least two hours away. Not even on the Mass Pike yet.

Get to my office ASAP.

Carl never demanded. He suggested and sometimes tried to persuade, but he never flat-out made demands. The fact he was doing it this afternoon made Brett uneasy.

Brett started the car. Of course on the day a potential crisis struck he had to be on the opposite side of the friggin’ state.

Be there as soon as I can. He didn’t wait for another message. Tossing the cell phone on the passenger seat, he drove out of the parking lot.

Thirty minutes later, the music playing stopped and instead the sound of his phone ringing replaced it. The car’s touch screen revealed the call was from his dad. First Carl, and now Dad. It couldn’t be a coincidence. A crisis was brewing, or at least something they both viewed as a crisis.

Sending up a little thanks to whoever developed hands-free technology, Brett pressed the talk icon.

“Did you know?” Dad asked without returning Brett’s hello.

“Know what?”

“How can you ask me that? It was the breaking news story on every station this afternoon.”

Had his lead over Ted Smith taken a nosedive? Was that the major situation Carl needed to see him about? “I haven’t been near a television all day. But I’m on my way to Carl’s office. Whatever the problem, we’ll develop a plan to handle it.”

Carl was one of the best in the business. Brett had full confidence in him as well as the rest of the campaign team he’d hired. The situation would be resolved, and his campaign would move forward.

Silence came through the car’s speakers. The lack of a response caused the unease from earlier to return.

“You really don’t know.” Dad’s words were a clear statement. “Damn it.”

Dad went out of his way not to swear. If he’d reverted to it now, the situation had nothing to do with the poll numbers.

“When you told me you’d known Jen for two years, I assumed you knew everything about her. Knew whether or not she was the kind of woman a United States Senator should be involved with.”

“What the hell is going on?” Brett demanded.

“Evidently, Jen might not be who you think she is.”

“Bullshit.” As of late, he’d been vigilant about using any language that might offend or be perceived as crude. This afternoon he didn’t care. “I don’t know what’s got you and Carl all worked up, but I know Jen. Whatever you saw is a fabricated story. Some stunt from Smith’s camp.”

Several seconds passed and Dad remained quiet. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “For your sake, I hope you’re correct. I’ll see you at Carl’s office.”

The call ended before he could demand more details. Brett considered his options. He could try Jen and see if she knew what the hell his dad was going on about. She’d still be at work though. He hated to bother her there. He could check the news feed on his cell phone. Doing so would mean pulling over. Rush hour traffic would soon descend on the highway and make his drive both longer and more frustrating. Stopping to read the news would only make the situation potentially worse.

Brett switched lanes and passed the driver in front of him. He’d have to wait to find out whatever shit had hit the fan today.

A three-car accident and the backup associated with it added at least forty minutes to Brett’s commute. When he finally parked in the garage near Carl’s building, he didn’t bother to grab his suit jacket or put his tie back on. He didn’t care if Dad would disapprove.

He had the elevator to himself for the ride up to the tenth floor. While he waited to reach Carl’s floor, he sent Jen a text letting her know his call might be late tonight. The elevator doors opened before he got a response.

This evening Dee, Carl’s personal assistant, sat at the reception desk. He’d never seen the woman seated there before, not even on the nights when their meetings had ended well after the rest of office had left. Instead the assistant always occupied her post a short distance from Carl’s door.

“Good evening, Mr. Sherbrooke,” Dee said, looking up from the project she worked on. She picked up the receiver on the desk. “Carl’s in his office. I’ll let him know you are on your way down.”

When he went into a battle, he liked to know what awaited him. Tonight, he felt as if he was about to walk into the worst firefight of his life. “Dee, who else is here?”

Dee’s finger hovered over a button on the phone console. “Only Mr. Sherbrooke is with Carl.”

Brett didn’t knock on the closed door. “What kind of situation are we dealing with?” he asked, walking inside.

Carl and Dad paused in their conversation. They wore matching grim expressions when they looked his way. A collection of newspapers and file folders littered the conference table.

“Good, you’re finally here. Have a seat,” Carl said. He picked up the remote control and muted the television. At the moment, a commercial was playing, but Brett had visited the office enough to know it was tuned to Carl’s favorite news network.

“I assumed you knew the type of woman a potential senator should date. Evidently, I was mistaken,” Carl said.

His grip on the chair tightened. It was the second time tonight someone had insinuated Jen wasn’t good enough for him. He’d had enough of it. “Get to the point.” Brett used the same tone with Carl as when he’d given orders to his men. He took the seat and looked from Dad to Carl when neither spoke up. “One of you talk. Now!”

“Smith’s camp has uncovered some skeletons in Jen’s closet,” Dad answered. “They leaked them to the press today.”

“Correction. They concocted some half-assed story about Jen and leaked it,” Brett said.

Carl rolled his chair toward the opposite end of the table and grabbed a newspaper. “See for yourself.” He handed it over.

The front page rather than the society section of the Boston Times featured a picture of them outside Peggy Sue’s Café. It wasn’t the picture or the fact it had been taken outside the café near his home that bothered Brett. It was the damn headline over it: Senatorial Candidate Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Called Into Question.

His eyes drifted to the article beneath the picture, and he started to read. Nothing jumped out at him as anything more than the typical political mudslinging until he reached the fourth line. Daughter of a convicted felon, the sentence started. He shook his head and kept reading. The rest of the first few paragraphs detailed what a man named Dominic Russo had been convicted of and when. From there the story only went downhill at a breakneck pace. The last paragraph opened by stating that according to a relative, Jen had had her own run-in with the law, although it didn’t go into any specifics. The article closed with the reporter not-so-subtly calling both Brett’s judgment and integrity into question for associating with such a person.

Absolute disgust rolled over him, and Brett tossed the paper down. Political campaigns got nasty. It was all part of the game. Pure bullshit like this was way out of line.

“This story ran on every news station today and in all the papers,” Dad said. “Even the Star Insider featured it.”

Great. Just what he needed, to be on that trashy gossip show. “None of it’s true.” He’d met Reggie Wallace. The guy was a retired Army vet who worked as an electrician. There was no chance in hell he was an ex-con who’d committed murder or any other crime.

Carl leaned forward. “Brett, I know Phillip Young. He plays dirty and will stoop as low as he needs to assure his candidate wins.” He tapped the newspaper Brett tossed aside with his index finger. “He wouldn’t concoct a story like this when the facts are easy to verify.”

“Carl’s right. Smith’s team wouldn’t make these claims if they hadn’t checked it out first. Information like this can be verified, and if it came back as fabricated, it’d backfire on them,” Dad said.

He searched for another explanation because he couldn’t argue with Dad’s statement. “Then Smith’s team got Jen confused with someone who shares her name. I’m sure there is more than one Jennifer Wallace in the United States. This article refers to a Dominic Russo. I’ve met Jen’s parents, Reggie and Erica Wallace. I also know her brother, Keith, and sister, Kristen.” Hell, he’d even met Jen’s niece and brother-in-law.

“Phillip and his team would’ve made sure they had the correct person before running with the story,” Carl said, shooting down Brett’s argument right away. “My working theory is that Jennifer is adopted and whoever you met are her adopted parents. I’ve got people looking into it as we speak. But whatever you know about her, you need to share with us now. We need to start doing some damage control before this really hurts you.”

Brett raked both hands through his hair and then down his face. Carl had a point. Jen could be adopted. He’d noticed the lack of any resemblance between her and the rest of her family. He’d ignored it. Not everyone looked like copies of their parents. Besides, it wasn’t the type of question people usually asked each other, and she’d never mentioned it. “I don’t know if she’s adopted. It never came up,” he said, wishing he did know.

“Like I said, I have people looking into her background as we speak,” Carl said.

“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.”