The Senator's Choice (23 page)

With surprising clarity, Dave
’
s conversation on the phone came through the laptop speakers.

“He
’
s holding up fine — but I don
’
t know how much longer he can take it.”

Silence.

Matthews could feel the heat in his face rising, rage filling him. It took every ounce of restraint to not charge across the river and gun for Dave.

“Oh, the boy
’
s fine. He seems to be handling everything like a pro.” He chuckled. “He
’
s so calm, it
’
s almost as if he
’
s done this before.”

Matthews exhaled and felt his blood pressure drop.

A clicking noise started to interfere with the audio.

“What is that, Shepherd?”

“I—
I don’
t know.” Shepherd clicked away on his keyboard, trying to determine what was going on.

“So, what
’
s the plan for the kid tomorrow after the vote?”

Matthews swatted Shepherd
’
s hands. “Hush. We need to hear this.”

Shepherd froze and leaned his ear toward the speaker.

“I think we can handle that. We
’
re in the middle of nowhere. It
’
s not like anybody is going to find us out here. We
’
ll put him where—”

The audio became garbled with high-pitched screeching noises while the device tumbled to the ground.

“What
’
s going on, Shepherd?” Matthews demanded.

“I can
’
t control it,” he said. “Something
’
s got it.” Shepherd pecked on the laptop and changed the camera position. Two beady eyes stared back at them. It was a squirrel.

Seconds later, the immobile device was permanently stationed in a nest high above one of the pines soaring over the cabin.

“A lot of good that does us now,” Matthews said. “I hate technology.”

“I hate squirrels,”
Shepherd said.

“Pack up,” Matthews said. “Can
’
t be much more than the three of them we saw on the video in that truck. We
’
ve gotta move and get our plan together.”

“What are you thinking?” Zellers asked.

“If we
’
re gonna make a clean escape, we won
’
t be able to do it on foot. We need some more equipment — and we need to spend the rest of the night plotting out a fool-proof rescue plan.”

“
No plan
’
s fool proof,
” Hammond said.

“Well, aren
’
t you a ray of sunshine,”
Jones snapped.

“Just stating the obvious.”

Matthews stopped and eyed everyone closely. “We may not come up with a fool-proof plan, but we better come up with a way to get Luke outta there by tomorrow morning or else we may never see him alive again.”

He spun and lumbered toward their van, kicking a few small rocks as he went. He was itching for a fight. And he was determined to give Dave Dumas one he
’
d never forget.

CHAPTER 34

SENATOR DANIELS ARRIVED at Capitol Grill early so he could grab a drink in the bar while he waited for Sarah. He ordered a scotch, neat. The more alcohol in the glass the better. Anything to take the edge off while the hours dripped past like months.

A leggy blonde settled next to him at the bar and cut her eyes at him. Daniels noticed her glances and tried to ignore her. He wanted to be alone.

“Woman problems?” she asked.

He shook his head and stared at the bottom of his empty glass. “Worse. Kid problems.”

She put her hand on his arm and leaned in close. “That
’
s why I don
’
t have any—nor do I ever intend to have any.”

Daniels refused to take her bait. Perhaps it was a line that worked on the city
’
s power-hungry politicians looking for a break from the drudgery of their marriage. But it disgusted Daniels.

He raised his hand to get the bartenders attention and gestured for another drink.

Daniels turned toward her. “Kids are worth every minute of the heartache —
and don
’
t believe anyone else if they tell you otherwise.”

She rolled her eyes and took a large gulp of her wine. Without another word, she spun around and staggered down the bar in search of another empty seat.

I see I haven
’
t lost my touch in turning off women.

He chuckled to himself before downing another glass of scotch.

Before he could set the glass down, Daniels felt a slap in the back and booming voice.

“Better go easy there, senator. You might have to drive me home tonight,” boomed the man
’
s voice.

Daniels looked over his shoulder to see Wes Brady, the long-time Texas senator who livened up any room he walked into. Brady sported a white cowboy hat along with boots and spurs that he claimed belonged to Billy the Kid. Whenever asked about the spurs, Brady launched into a well-embellished story about their origin and how his great grandfather won them in a poker game with the famous sheriff from Lincoln County, New Mexico named Pat Garrett, who shot and killed Billy the Kid. Nobody on the Hill believed Brady
’
s story — or much of anything that came out of his mouth. But his Texas pride and deft salesmanship earned him a return trip to Washington every six years without much of a challenge for the better part of the past three decades.

“Senator Brady, what has you out here tonight?”

He pulled out a cigar and slowly ran it in front of his nose while he inhaled the aroma. “Just celebratin
’
a little victory a night early.”

“And what kind of victory might that be?”

Brady settled into the seat warmed moments ago by the petulant blonde. “The kind that squashed your little pipeline.”

Daniels glared at Brady. “The kind that did what?”

“You heard me, unless there
’
s too much steam comin
’
out of your ears to listen.” He chuckled. “Your pipeline is gone with the wind.” He paused. “
And don
’
t tell me you don
’
t give a damn.
”

Daniels didn
’
t — but he did. He
’
d poured his life and spent all his political capital to assure the passage of that bill. And now Brady was doing a victory dance all over it, spiking him with his Billy the Kid spurs just for spite. If what Brady said was true, at least he couldn
’
t be blamed for the bill
’
s inability to pass.

Brady slapped him again on the back. “Sucks to be on the wrong side of history — again.” He blew a ring with his cigar smoke and watched his drift upward until it dissipated. “That pipeline is coming to Texas where it belongs.”

Daniels bit his lip. “I thought we were on the same team — brothers, comrades. I guess I was wrong.”

“I
’
m on team ‘don
’
t mess with Texas
’
,” he snapped. “And if Texas wants a new pipeline, Texas is going to get it.”

“Not without my support.”

Brady leaned back on his stool and slapped his knee, laughing. “If this senator thing doesn
’
t work out for you, there
’
s a heck of a comedy club on Connecticut Avenue that sure could use your brand of humor.” He shook his head and snickered.

“I
’
ll tell you what,” Daniels started, “if the bill doesn
’
t pass tomorrow, I
’
ll buy you dinner and all the drinks you want.”

Brady smiled. “You sure you can afford that? I have been known to put away some very expensive whiskey.”

“Direct from the distributor on a trip they paid for to the Virgin Islands from what I hear.”

Brady wagged his finger and shook his head. “No below the belt shots tonight. I haven
’
t had enough to drink.”

“Come see me after dinner,” Daniels quipped before directing his attention back to his empty glass.

“It
’
ll be my pleasure,” Brady said. He slapped Daniels on the back again and stood up. “My table
’
s waiting — just as soon as I pick up that blonde down there at the end of the bar.”

“I
’
m sure she
’
ll love you,” Daniels said with a wave.

With Brady gone, he could focus on what needed to be done — though it was a long list of things he couldn
’
t actually do himself.

Rescue Luke.

Pass the pipeline bill.

Ask Sarah to marry him.

Well, the last one was an exception, but it wasn
’
t going to happen tonight. Though if he was ever going to do it, he couldn
’
t keep secrets like this from her. He felt awful about it and couldn
’
t believe that he
’
d managed to keep such a traumatic event in his life from her. But he
needed
to talk to someone about it. He needed to talk to
her
.

With another glass of scotch, he weighed the pros and cons of telling her. They might find out, but what are they going to do at this point? Whoever was behind this kidnapping needed him — or at least, they thought they did. He didn
’
t buy into Wes Brady
’
s grandiose claims since he knew his staff
’
s latest straw poll was far more accurate than a braggart strutting around the Hill with what he claimed were a pair of spurs that belonged to Billy the Kid. And if he told Sarah tonight, it might be enough to help him get through the vote scheduled for one o
’
clock on Friday afternoon. He needed
that
more than anything.

A gentle touch on his back snapped Daniels out of his stupor as he turned around.

“Senator Daniels, your table is ready,” said a young hostess.

Daniels left a hundred-dollar bill on the table and followed the woman. He
’
d barely settled into his chair before Sarah arrived. He stood up and knocked over his drink. The water splashed across the table and splattered onto Sarah
’
s dress.

“Oh, I
’
m so sorry, Sarah,” he said.

She smiled while she daubed her dress with her napkin. “It
’
s okay, really. It
’
s just water.
”

“I know but—” he paused and took a deep breath. “This isn
’
t how I wanted the evening to start out.”

She smiled. “My daddy always said it
’
s not how you start but how you finish.”

Daniels sat down. “Your daddy was a wise man.”

She brushed the water droplets on her chair onto the floor with her napkin and took a seat. “So, you
’
ve been jumpy lately. Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

He took a deep breath. “Actually there is.”

“Go on.”

“I— I haven
’
t been completely honest with you, Sarah.”

She slapped the table, making Daniels jump. “Stop the presses,” she said. “A Washington senator is claiming that he hasn
’
t been honest with me.” She held a straight face for a few moments before a grin spread across her face. “Gotcha!”

He forced a smile. “I
’
m serious, Sarah. I really haven
’
t.”

“And?”

“And Luke isn
’
t sick.
” He stopped and took a deep breath. “He
’
s been kidnapped.”

Sarah
’
s eyes bugged out as she glared at him. “
What
? You mean he
’
s not sick?”

“Did you just hear me?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, but I
’
m trying to wrap my head around the fact that you
’
ve been lying to me for the past few days.”