Within Reach (42 page)

Michael pressed her head to his chest, unable to bear the pain in her eyes. “Don’t torment yourself, sweetheart. It’s not worth it.”

Her voice came muffled from his chest. “It’s not that I wanted him then any more than I do now. We never had much of a sex life. Now I can see why. It’s just that I feel so angry! He should have been honest. When I told him about you, he should have let me go. He had no right to do that to me, to us.”

“I feel angry, too. Believe me. But anger won’t get us anywhere. We have to think of the future.
You
have to think of the future.”

“I don’t want to. You know why.”

He did. He knew Danica. She would foresee the ordeal that Blake was facing and would feel it her duty to stand by his side, at least until the trial was done. Michael didn’t like the idea; in his book, Danica had suffered enough at Blake Lindsay’s hand. But he knew that she would view deserting Blake now as callous. He had to admire her for it.

They remained in the bedroom until Danica felt stronger, then rejoined Cilla and Jeff, who had cleaned up the remains of Michael and Danica’s brunch and had perked a fresh pot of coffee. Cilla insisted on making Danica a cup of tea, then took her out to the deck while the men talked inside.

“What do you think?” Michael asked softly.

“I think we may have our motive. If Lindsay and Magnusson were sexually involved, Magnusson could easily have swung his weight to get that shipment out. We know that he was the contact. Lindsay may never have even known about it if. Because of their relationship, he gave Magnusson an inordinate amount of freedom.” He paused, thinking. “I talked with Lindsay briefly at a party several months back. He said that the responsibility of the company had been his, that he knew of everything that happened. Of course, that may have been arrogance speaking.”

“So you do think he was conned by Magnusson?”

Jeffrey shook his head. “I think the guy knew exactly what was going on. His signature’s right there on incriminating documents. But I do think that’ll be his defense. And we’ll never know otherwise, will we?”

Michael had said similar words to Danica. The fact was that Harlan Magnusson, a key element in the case, was dead. Michael wasn’t sure he liked the implication. “Do you think Lindsay could have had something to do with Magnusson’s murder?”

“Nah. It doesn’t fit. As far as I know, Lindsay’s been strictly on the up and up as Secretary of Commerce. Sure, he already knew of the investigation when Magnusson was murdered, but I can’t believe he’d be so stupid. He’s in a powerful position. He’s well respected. Even if he was worried that indictments would be returned, he had to have known that he’d easily have the upper hand if it came down to Magnusson’s word against his. Murder is something else entirely. There’s no logical reason he’d risk it.”

“Who do you think did?”

“Probably someone representing the guy in Capetown, who just happens to be a paid operative of the KGB. I’m sure it was a professional job, which is another reason to rule Lindsay out. For something that professional, he’d have had to hire a hit man, which would have only given him someone
else
to worry about. No, Lindsay wouldn’t buy into that.”

“Do you think the cops will?”

“I’m sure they’ll consider it once the shit hits the fan on Monday, but I doubt it’ll go far.”

Michael sighed and sat back in his seat. “Christ, I hope not. That’s all Dani needs.” He glanced toward the deck. The two women stood at the railing, Cilla with her arm around Danica’s shoulder, talking softly to her. “Will the trial be held in Washington?”

“Uh-huh. That’s were Lindsay personally filed for the export license. Falsifying the information on that application will be one of the charges.” His voice grew even quieter. “You’re not still angry at me, are you, pal?”

“No. It’s done. Maybe it was for the best. I think Dani’s going to need all the support she can get over the next few days.”

Her emotions raged in an endless circle. She was angry, then hurt, then frightened, then self-abasing, then angry, again and again. Cilla and Jeff stayed until Sunday night. They bolstered her as best they could, talking openly, if gently, about every aspect of what had happened, agreeing with Michael that the more Danica got off her chest, the better. They talked about what she could expect when she joined Blake in Washington, as they all knew she would, and tried to prepare her for any ugliness she might find.

Cilla saw the ordeal through Danica’s eyes, and as a reporter whose stories had more than once prompted other ordeals, she found it a humbling experience. Jeffrey, an investigator who had seen many of his targets go to jail, had a similar view of the other side and was enlightened. Michael, who loved Danica, felt her pain as his own and wondered if things would ever be the same again.

When Monday morning rolled around, Danica clung to him for a long, long time.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly.

“I have to. It’s the only way.”

“You could stay here.”

“If I was a different sort of person, yes. But I’m not.”

“Are you sorry we told you?”

“No. It’s helped. If Blake were a man, he’d have told me himself. But you all were wonderful this weekend. I can think clearly now. I’m going to need a level head if I hope to make it through all this.”

Michael felt utterly helpless. “What can I do?”

She put her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his throat. “I’ll call you. Knowing that you’re here…that’s the biggest help.”

“Will you call? Will you let me know what’s happening?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

She drew back her head, studied the features she knew and adored, kissed him very lightly, then disengaged herself and ran toward the car. Michael was reminded of the winter before, when she had done much the same after he had told her he was going away. He hadn’t wanted a repeat of that. Damn it, he wanted her with him!

But the car was disappearing from the drive, its sound a low purr, then a growl, that faded and faded. He walked slowly around her house and down to the beach, knowing that all he could do was to wait and watch and hope that Danica’s strength would see her through.

Mrs. Hannah said nothing about Danica’s early return from Maine. The house, as always, was in order, but Danica could only look around and wonder at the farce she and Blake had lived there. One part of her didn’t want to touch a table, a lamp, a stick of furniture. The other part very carefully took a seat in the den and waited for the inevitable call to come.

It was nearly two in the afternoon when the phone rang. Clenching her fists over her fluttering stomach, Danica willed herself to be calm. When Mrs. Hannah came to the door to announce that Mr. Lindsay was on the phone, she nodded politely, waited for the housekeeper to depart, then slowly, coolly lifted the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Danica, thank God, I found you. I tried the house in Maine, then Buchanan’s house. He told me where you were. Danica, something’s happened. I need you here with me.”

Where she had thought herself emotionally played out, anger flared. She diligently curbed it, aided by the perverse satisfaction she felt at hearing Blake’s ruffled tone. “This is sudden, Blake. What’s happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it now. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding. Look, I’ve been in touch with Hal Fremont. He’s going to pick you up and fly here with you.”

Danica tensely twisted a button on the soft leather sofa. “Hal? Your lawyer? Is there a legal problem?”

“Later, Danica. Can you be packed and ready in an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.”

He was about to hang up when Danica blurted out, “Don’t you think you should tell me now?” She was thinking about the press, which, if it knew of the indictments, would be sure to meet her plane. It wasn’t every day that a member of the Cabinet was indicted on charges not far afield from treason.

“I can’t. Hal will fill you in on the plane. I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up then, and Danica could only seethe at the idea that he was leaving his dirty work to others. With great effort, she composed herself and marched upstairs to pack the suitcase that Mrs. Hannah had just finished unpacking. Of course, she mused cynically, the clothes she would need in Washington were a world away from those she had taken to Maine.
Washington
was a world away from Maine, where more than anything at that moment she wanted to be. But she had a mission, a final mission with regard to her husband, and that conviction gave her the strength to put her own wishes on hold.

Within the hour, Hal Fremont was at her door, looking as pale and somber as Cilla and Jeff had looked two days before. The only difference was that this time she knew its cause and she was able to maintain her poise through the short drive to the airport, then the flight aboard the Lear jet Hal had chartered.

Danica had no quarrel with Hal, who, as gently as he could, broke the news of Blake’s indictment while the jet winged southward. “I don’t know all the details myself,” he explained, “but I think you should be prepared for the worst. Of course, Blake is innocent, but he will have to face the charges.”

She listened to his monologue in utter silence, but her initial concern about having to act stunned proved to be groundless because, despite how fully Cilla and Jeff and Michael had prepared her, the whole business was shocking and that much more real coming from Blake’s personal lawyer.

A car was waiting for them at National, and Danica had actually begun to hope that she had beaten out the press, when the car rounded the corner near Blake’s townhouse and she saw a large media contingent on his front steps.

“Oh, God,” she murmured. “What do we do?”

“I’ll get you in. Just keep calm and don’t say a word.”

The car had barely come to a halt when the horde closed in. Hal stepped out first, shielding Danica with his back.

“Does Mrs. Lindsay have any comment about the charges being brought against her husband?”

Hal gave a curt “No,” reached in for Danica and, when she climbed from the car, put a firm arm around her shoulders. He wasn’t a large man, but he knew what he was doing. She followed his lead toward the steps.

“Did you know of your husband’s dealings in Boston, Mrs. Lindsay?”

“How did you feel to learn of the indictments?”

“Will your husband be resigning from the Cabinet?”

Hal pushed his way through the crowd. “Mrs. Lindsay has no comment at this time.”

They half ran up the steps, but the questions followed.

“How close was the Secretary to Harlan Magnusson?”

“Do you feel that there’s a connection between Mr. Magnusson’s death and the charges brought today?”

“Has there been any communication with Senator Marshall?”

The front door was opened, and Danica and Hal fled through. In the abrupt silence that followed its closing, Danica sank trembling into a nearby chair. “I don’t believe them,” she murmured shakily. “‘How did I feel to learn of the indictments?’ How do they
think
I feel!”

Hal patted her on the shoulder, then stepped aside. When she raised her eyes, she saw Blake standing on the stairs.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Danica,” he said evenly.

She hesitated for a minute, though her gaze didn’t waver. “So am I.”

“Thank you for coming.”

Aware that she was being watched not only by Hal but by Blake’s houseboy and two other men who had come to stand at the top of the stairs, she simply nodded.

Blake’s voice seemed to lose some of its force then. “Why don’t you and Hal come up to the den. You’d better hear what we’ve been discussing.”

Given little choice, she followed Blake to the top of the stairs, where she was introduced to Jason Fitzgerald and Ray Pickering, the local lawyers Blake had chosen to lead his defense. Once in the den, she refused invitation of a seat and propped herself on the back windowsill in an effort to remove herself from the talk. When an hour later Blake’s houseboy, John, told Danica that she was wanted on the phone, she was grateful for an excuse to leave the room.

More than anyone she wanted it to be Michael because she felt chilled to the bone and in need of his encouragement, but she knew that he wouldn’t call her here.

“Hello?”

“Darling?”

Danica felt sudden tears in her eyes. “Mom,” she sighed, “oh, Mom, thank you for calling.” It hadn’t even occurred to her to call Eleanor. She had been conditioned for so long not to depend on her help, but she suddenly realized that, in lieu of Michael, Eleanor might be a comfort. “Where are you?”

“I flew down as soon as your father called me. Darling, I’m so sorry about all this.”

“It’s not your fault, Mom. But things are pretty awful.”

“When did you get there?”

“About an hour ago. I flew down with Hal Fremont. Reporters are swarming all over the place. We had to fight our way through.”

“Oh, darling, I’m so, so sorry. How are you holding up?”

“Barely.” She was about to say that it had been a draining three days when she caught herself. “I’ll do it, though. I’ll be good. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t. I have faith in you. Darling, your father wants to talk.”

“Mom?” Danica asked urgently. “Mom, I…I don’t want to stay here tonight…with the press outside and all.” It was as good an excuse as any, and the only one she felt she could offer Eleanor. “Can I stay with you?”

“Of course, darling. I’m sure Blake will be with his lawyers for hours anyway. Why don’t you call me when you want to come and I’ll send the car.”

“I will. Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m glad I can finally do something to help you.” She issued a muffled, surprisingly impatient “Just a minute, William,” then returned to Danica. “You’ll call when you’re ready?”

“Yes.” She managed a weak smile. “Why don’t you put Daddy on before he throws a tantrum.”

“I think I’d better—”

“Danica?” Her father’s voice held near belligerence. “Thank God, you’re there, girl. I was worried you’d sit on your can up in Maine.”