Attracted to Fire (25 page)

Last night, as she lay in bed, she thought again about the impact of her death and realized that if she were dead, nothing would stop him. But now people were dying as the demon grew more audacious. Lindsay smiled at her word choice. Reading had increased her vocabulary. In fact, she enjoyed learning. Once, her sister, Kelli, told her intelligence was why she often became depressed.

“You think too much.” Kelli had spoken those words with a hint of teasing, but Lindsay had seen through it.

The two were walking along a parklike setting at boarding school. Kelli was fifteen and Lindsay was twelve. “What do you mean?”

“You're too smart. I work for my grades, and you never study.”

“It's boring. Besides, who cares?”

“If you don't believe Mom and Dad do, which is a lie, then do it for yourself. You could skip a grade with no problem at all.”

Lindsay giggled to cover her heartache. “There's no point when no one cares.”

“Someday you'll see how wrong you are.”

The next Saturday night, Lindsay smoked her first joint. She hungered for anything to replace her parents' lack of love.

“Lindsay, didn't you hear me? I just bought Boardwalk.”

Her attention flew to the middle-aged woman with shoulder-length graying hair. “I'd rather play poker. This game lasts forever.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Carla's mouth. “What kind of poker?”

“Texas hold 'em.”

“You'll lose. I'm the poker queen.” Carla reached into her purse and presented a pack of cards.

Lindsay laughed. “You carry a poker deck in your purse?”

Carla wiggled her shoulders. “You betcha. I worked my way through nursing school by playing poker. What are we betting?”

She glanced around the room. “I have no money. Hey, Pepper has a huge bag of flavored jelly beans in the pantry.”

“Oh, sweet treats. That would work.”

Lindsay feigned shock. “Carla, what would Dave say?”

“We're betting them, not eating them—as far as he's concerned.” Her eyes twinkled. Why hadn't Lindsay seen this side of her before?

“You're on. But the popcorn ones are my favorite.”

Carla leaned closer. “I like the jalapeño. But don't tell A2Z. He'd kick me off the ranch.”

“Our secret.”

Lindsay watched Carla, the matron nurse, shuffle the cards like a pro. “You look like a blackjack dealer.”

Carla lifted a brow. “I've done that too.”

Lindsay scrutinized her with new interest. “What else have you done?”

She continued to shuffle, the riffling sound filling the room. “A cocktail waitress before I danced in a topless bar. Then I learned how to play poker.”

Lindsay couldn't stop the laughter. This middle-aged, plump woman had danced topless? “You what?”

“Lindsay, I'm sorry to interrupt your therapeutic session with Carla, but I have a call for you.”

She spun to see Meghan, who peered at the deck of cards. “It's Scottard Burnette.”

She didn't want to talk to him. Reminders . . . all reminders. “Can you tell him I'm busy?”

“Right. I see the poker cards.”

“Busted.” Carla's response was funny, despite the sickening feeling in the pit of Lindsay's stomach.

“Please tell him I'm in a counseling session.”

Meghan gave him Lindsay's answer. “He says it's important. Has to do with your father.”

Lindsay held her breath and reached for the phone. She was tucked away here and not causing any problems. What else did he want? “Hi, Uncle Scottard.”

“How's my Lindsay?”

Acid rose in her throat, her familiar response to Burnette's prodding. “Following the rules. Taking my supplements.”

“Wonderful. I missed you at Ethan's funeral. Hope you're feeling better.”

She cringed. “Depends on the day.”

“I'm so proud of you. Your father is anxious to see you, and I told him it would be soon. Right?”

“Yes. Soon.”

“I'd like for you to walk outside where Agent Connors cannot hear our conversation.”

She obeyed, begging for any deity to stop the whirlwind of terror that this man caused. “I'm on the front porch.”

“Walk out into the yard, near the large tree.”

Again she did as he bid. “I'm here.”

“While I was at the Dancin' Dust, I hid a treat for you.”

Lindsay's mouth went dry. “That's not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. It's what keeps you alive. It's the candy that helps you cope with your pitiful life. Worthless, too, I may add. You'll find my gift in a locked tack box in the stable. The one labeled with my name. The key is on the peg in the stall of the horse you normally ride.”

She pressed her lips to keep from screaming. The nightmare had begun again.

“I have some great news.”

Dread inched across her heart and crashed into her senses. She closed her eyes and willed it all to disappear.

“Lindsay, don't you want to hear the news?”

“Not really.”

“Your father has appointed me vice president. He doesn't have time to continue his work with foreign policy, and the Middle East Peace Summit in October is top priority for him.”

“I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job.”

“Oh, do I hear sarcasm? I expect your full support. Of course, my new role requires Congress's approval. But I don't think I have any worries.”

Does Dad have any idea what this appointment could mean?
“I don't imagine I'll be scheduling a Barry Knight interview about your new position.”

He chuckled. “That's not on the agenda.”

“I intend to stay clean and sober.”

“But I have another surprise for you. There's a key to the liquor cabinet just for you. The Dancin' Dust must be driving you crazy.”

“I told you I'm finished with drugs and alcohol.”

He laughed, and the sound terrified her. “Not as long as you're taking orders from me. The key is in the kitchen, in the back of the silverware drawer.”

“Why? You've been nominated as vice president. What else do you want?”

“That's my business.”

“Can't you simply stop with your demands?”

“Not yet. I have plans. A little celebration is in order, don't you think? Take care, Lindsay. I hope you understand the weight of the country is on your shoulders.”

How could she forget?

Chapter 40

After her shift on Saturday afternoon, Meghan walked through the stables, missing Ethan and the lightheartedness he'd offered to their remote location. She remembered his teasing, his love, his charm. Luke was a diligent worker but not a conversationalist.

Burnette had indicated Chip would be joining them soon. Now that the former press secretary was vice president, referred to as Copilot, he'd probably get the job done. Both Houses had affirmed his nomination, despite the opposing party's majority in the Senate. Most of the voters rallied behind President Hall, and although he was taking cautious steps, national opinion gave his approval rating in the midsixties. Media were furious, but only the political extremists were listening.

“Mind if I join you?”

Meghan turned to Ash, a smile whipping at the corners of her mouth. Heaven help her, but her heart had plummeted with this man, and if she was reading his body language correctly, he had the same problem. But she'd not mention the situation. After all, he held the title of SAIC.

“Company sounds good. Just missing Ethan.”

“Me too. A good man. Warrington just called. Couldn't find a thing to connect Chip to Wade's murder or any of the other crimes of late. He'll be back here in a few days.”

“The VP must have gotten his way.” Burnette's discourteous remark still stung, and her respect for him had diminished. She considered he'd just buried a friend, and grief asserted itself in sundry ways. But his remarks and behavior were unprofessional.

“Let's hope Chip changes his mind and heads back to Dallas. His presence could be to Lindsay's detriment.”

“Is she having a session with Dave?”

Ash nodded. “And not a good one. Heard a few words from her that I haven't been privy to in a long time.”

“She's been in a bad mood for a couple of days.” Meghan could trace her switch to the day Vice President Burnette called. “Earlier in the week she talked about mending the relationship with her parents.”

“Must be tough with the realization she'll never be free of the desire for drugs.”

“True. But sometimes God takes away addictions.”

“You don't talk much about your faith.”

She laughed. “It's not a subject that normally comes up when securing a protectee. However, prayers should be a part of protocol.”

“I'm right with you. Makes me wonder what people do without God.”

“They're miserable.”

Another nuance about A2Z.
Lord, do You know where my heart is leading?

“I have a question.” He glanced about. “Are we alone?”

Surely this wasn't about the two of them. If so, she might run. She rubbed her clammy palms. “Yes. Luke is out riding.”

“What I'm about to say is complicated.”

Meghan's heart stepped out of her comfort zone. “Are you sure I'm the right person to talk to?”

He stopped to pat a chestnut gelding. “You're not naive, Meghan. You know what I'm about to say . . . or ask.”

“The VPPD?” Maybe Warrington had offered him the position.

“Do I have to spell it out? Because you're making this hard for a man who is accustomed to dealing with fact, detail, procedure—not feelings.”

“I think I understand.” She whispered her response as if someone might hear.

“This requires a simple yes or no. From there, I'll have the information needed to take the next step.”

She blinked. Did he analyze everything in his life? If he wanted to discuss a possible relationship, he probably had a spreadsheet in his pocket charting the pros and cons.

“I'd like to tell you why I've had an aversion to women in the Secret Service.”

Relief flooded through her. “I've wondered what brought you to that decision.”

Perspiration beaded his forehead. The stable was warm, but the intensity on his face topped the thermometer. “Once I've finished with my story, then I'll ask you the yes-or-no question.”

Could she please have a break? “I'm listening.”

“Since we spoke about faith, what I'm about to say is more of a confession. Something I hope can stay between us.”

“Absolutely.”
Oh, Ash, just get on with it.

He swallowed hard, as though he might change his mind. “Seven years ago, while working counterfeit in LA, I was working undercover with two other agents involving drugs and gang warfare.”

Bob had mentioned something about an incident seven years ago.
This must be difficult for him . . . more than difficult.

“One of the agents was my best friend, more like a brother to me. The other agent was a woman. During the deal, things went south. When the gang pulled weapons, the woman agent reached for hers. Fire broke out. My friend lay dead. The woman critically wounded. I was shot too.” He took a deep breath. “I blamed Annette. Watched the footage repeatedly. Still do. But the truth of the matter is I hesitated. Joel's death and Annette's permanent paralysis were my fault.”

The emotion in his voice made her want to touch him, console him in some way. “You can't blame yourself for what happened to them.”

“Oh yes, I can.” Bitterness wove through his words. “I vowed that day no one would ever die on my watch again.”

Wade. Now she understood why he despised Chip. “Ash, you're wrong. You aren't responsible for your friends' deaths or the woman's injury.”

“But here we are bringing Chip back onto the scene.”

“I see why you feel this way, except I don't agree with your shouldering the burden.”

“It's also why Lindsay's safety is my top priority, and my agents are . . . well, they're very important to me.”

“I understand.” He had to be A2Z. His life focused on performance. How very sad. “I'm going to pray you find peace with your past. If God doesn't hold the situation against you, then neither should you.”

He gave her a grim smile. “I figured you'd say something along those lines. On good days, I can form all the arguments about dealing with it. On bad days, I crucify myself all over again. Anyway, I appreciate your listening.”

“Thank you for having the confidence in me to share your story. We all have our closet memories.”

“You too?”

“Oh yeah. But not today.”

“One hard-luck accounting is enough.” His smile faded. “Which brings me to my question.”

She wasn't any more ready to hear his next words than when their conversation began, but she'd do her best. Her cell phone rang. She slipped it from her belt and noted the caller ID. Mom. They'd just talked two nights ago. Her head pounded while she forced away a gnawing fear. “Hi, Mom. Everything okay?”

“I'm afraid not.” Mom choked on a sob. “Shelley's gone.”

“You mean she left the rehab?”

“Yes. Sometime yesterday morning. They called and said she'd signed herself out. The director tried to talk her out of it. Said Shelley was crying, but they couldn't convince her to stay.”

Ash must have detected her need for privacy, for he left the stables.

“Mom, let's not think the worst. Has she called? Have you contacted any of her friends?”

“It's too late. The police found her body behind a sleazy hotel. Overdose.”

Chapter 41

Meghan snapped her phone shut and replaced it on her belt. Her thoughts seemed paralyzed by the devastation, not that she hadn't lived with this possibility for years, but she'd always believed Shelley would one day be able to walk away from the drugs.