Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder (11 page)

Indy Drivers Have Nothing On Us

THE STORAGE LOCKER THAT KYLE rented was ten minutes away from the university. Sean broke more laws as he tore off like a racecar driver, weaving in and out of traffic. The clock was starting to really work against them. They had only twenty minutes.

“My goodness, I can’t even imagine her, locked up in here.” Sara followed behind Sean as they made their way on foot through the maze of trailers to the one, ironically, marked number thirteen. There was a large padlock on the door.

Sean looked over his shoulders. “You keep an eye out and I’ll see what I can do with this.”

“One thing in our favor is Kyle likely doesn’t have a gun, or he wouldn’t have killed Justin with a frying pan.”

Sean stopped working on the lock. His expression put fear into her. “He could have gotten himself one by now.”

She nodded.

“We just have to keep our heads about us.” He handled the lock. “I’m not sure I’ve got this one.”

“Sean.” She put her hand on his shoulder.

“What?”

“Someone’s coming.”

Footsteps were echoing from around the corner.

Sean looked left and right, then grabbed her hand, taking her around the corner of the unit. The feet shuffled along, coming to a stop in front of Kyle’s locker.

“He’s back,” she whispered.

“He’s going to kill her if he doesn’t get that money. He’s already proved himself a murderer.”

Hearing it put so plainly cinched Sara’s chest.

The door rattled open and then clanked shut.

“There is one thing in our favor with a storage unit though.” He smirked at Sara. “They typically only lock from the outside.”

“Just be careful.”

“I thought we weren’t going to baby each oth—”

She took his mouth in a hungry kiss and pulled back.

“Got it. Be careful. No one dies today,” he said with a wink.

She stalked behind him and they both stopped outside the door and pressed an ear against it.

“She’s in there,” Sara whispered. She detected a male tone talking to someone, but the inflection it carried didn’t bode well for Halie. The money hadn’t come through yet and the deadline was drawing near. “We have to do this quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Ready?”

She nodded and he flung the door open. They rushed inside.

Kyle who was waving his cell at Halie, spun around. “What the—”

Sean lunged at Kyle, sending his phone flying through the air.

Kyle staggered to the side and then toward Sean, pummeling him into the storage room wall.

As the men battled for supremacy, Sara went to Halie, who was bound to a chair, a necktie was used as a gag. Mascara-laden tears had streaked her otherwise pale cheeks, but her eyes were large, and, as Sara worked on releasing the necktie, went wider still.

A strong force pulled back on Sara’s shoulder, making her lose her balance. She met with the hard concrete, a breath of air whooshing out of her.

Kyle was coming at her again.

Her mind in a haze, she looked around for Sean.

He was in the corner of the space, doubled over but coming to. When he saw her on the floor, Sean hurtled toward Kyle and yanked him around. His fist met with Kyle’s eye socket.

It was a knockout blow and Kyle fell to the ground.

Sean dashed to Sara, holding out his hand to help her up. “Are you okay, darling?”

She nodded. Her thoughts not on herself, but on a girl who had been held for days against her will, who had been forced to stay in this locker, with, based on appearance, little to no food and water.

Once Sara got to her feet, she rushed to Halie. Her hands were shaking as she tried to undo the rope.

Sean gently put his hand over hers. He would take it from here.

“Halie, you’re going to be all right.” Sara smiled at the girl, thankful they were able to make good on a promise and save her life. It was sad that Justin had paid with his.

Deep Thoughts

SARA HAD PICKED UP HER phone and had dialed Wayne Davenport as Sean had worked to free Halie. “Hold off on sending the ransom money. We’ve got her.”

Hours later, when the plane touched down in Albany, the screams of elation still echoed in her head. And, although it had taken a bit of convincing, they had Halie with them.

As they walked up the front path to the Davenport house, Sara smiled at Halie. “They’re going to be so happy to see you.”

Sean went to ring the bell but, before he could, the door opened wide and Randi scooped her daughter into her arms. Tears fell from both Davenport women as they hugged.

“Thank you so much for bringing our daughter home. Please come in.” Wayne Davenport gestured them inside. “Tea? Coffee?”

Sean held up a hand, but smiled politely. “We won’t be staying long.”

“Nonsense, you brought our girl home. It’s time to celebrate.” Wayne walked into the room they had been in the first time.

Sara glanced at Sean and shrugged her shoulders, surrendering herself to the invitation.

Randi touched her arm. “I will get us ladies a nice glass of wine.” She snapped her fingers. “Ida.”

The maid came out from the rear of the house and then scurried back in that direction to carry out her employer’s wishes.

“Please, come, sit.”

Reanne Mable was sitting in the room, her legs crossed. She smiled when she saw them. “You really are angels. That is why you were left all that money.” A tear fell and had her brushing it away in a seemingly self-conscious manner.

Sara went over and hugged the reporter, while the Davenports settled on the couch, Halie in between her parents.

Wayne shot up and addressed Sean. “Scotch?”

Sean passed Sara a look and then smiled. “Sure, why not.”

“Excellent.” Wayne poured two glasses from the bar cart at the edge of the room, handed one to Sean and sat back on the couch. “I still can’t believe Palmer was behind all of this.”

“Well, his son anyway.”

“You buy that?” Wayne held up his glass in a gesture of tribute and then took a swig. “If he thought his political career was over before, it’s dead now.”

Sara felt a spark of empathy for the man, having his aspirations contingent upon his son’s actions, but she also knew politicians retained a lot of secret agendas. While Wayne might have convinced himself his competition was dead in the water, she expected Palmer would rise from the ashes.

“Thank you. I know we keep saying it.” Randi ran a hand down the length of her daughter’s hair.

Sara found her thoughts drifting to a subject she wasn’t necessarily comfortable dwelling on—would she ever be a mother? Did she even want to be? And what about Sean? Did he want to be a father?

She pushed the questions aside, burying them beneath a smile when Ida handed her a glass of red.

Hours later, Sean and Sara headed out. He unlocked the Mercedes and held Sara’s door for her. “All’s well that ends well.” He walked around and slid behind the wheel. “We even got back in plenty of time to enjoy Easter dinner with your parents.”

When she didn’t say anything, he turned to face her and asked, “What is it, darling?”

“I noticed how you wince whenever someone calls me ma’am.” When he didn’t respond, she did. “Your silence tells me I wasn’t imagining it.”

“All right, guilty, but you still love me.” He moved in for a kiss, but she pulled back with a smirk.

“It seems to me, I’m not the only one feeling their age. Hmm?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.”

“You were beat by a twenty-year-old.”

“Hey, now, that’s not fair. I did get back up.” He stayed his position, angled toward her.

“Yes, yes, you did.” She moved forward.

“I’ve still got it.”

She pulled on his jacket, drawing him closer. “Yes, darling, that you do.” She took in his face, her eyes tracing to his lips before kissing him.

Easter Dinner

THE HOUSE WAS DECORATED NICELY and the table set for a formal occasion such as this one required. The holidays had always been important for Sara’s family. Her mother, Jeannie, and father, Leon, sat at each end of the table, with her and Sean seated across from each other.

Neither of them were her biological parent. In fact, Leon’s skin was dark as night and stood in contrast to Jeannie’s fair skin and blue eyes. They met and fell deeply in love in their late twenties, but, despite their large hearts, weren’t able to have children of their own, so they had sought out adoption agencies.

They’d always told her they got lucky when it came to her. The adoption process had been extensive and painful, paved with discouragement and heartbreak along the way. They wouldn’t go through it again.

Jeannie, who Sara thought of as her mother, was even more than that. She was a friend, a confidant, and her bright smile only revealed a glimmer of her true giving nature. Leon, the only father she would ever have, was the perfect partner for her mother and had always been there for her.

As she watched them eat and drink, her mind drifted to how much her life had changed in a few short months. Not so much giving focus to the newfound wealth in monetary measurement, but how events had altered her outlook.

“So, when are you having that party, dear?” her mother asked as she passed the bowl of potatoes.

“Our reception?”

“Yes. Your father needs to get me out on that dance floor.” She flashed one of her famous smiles across the table.

“We actually just started making the plans for it.”

“Oh. Wonderful.”

Sean looked up from his plate. “We did?”

She smiled.

“She’s keeping secrets already, Leon.”

Sara reached for her wine glass, but didn’t take a sip. “I got started on the list in the last couple of days.”

Her mother smiled. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.” Sara’s eyes went to each of them. The three people she loved most in the world were seated around this table. “I’ve even picked a tentative date. I’m thinking we’ll hold it in our new home.”

“Brilliant idea.” Sean smiled at her.

“Speaking of secrets,” her father started, “your mother’s been driving me crazy.”

“Mom?” Sara faced her mother, who was dabbing the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Leon, let’s not go there tonight.”

“Come on.” He took a sip of wine and set his glass back down.

“What is it?” The curiosity echoed through her.

“No, she’s going to hurt me.”

“Mom, I promise I won’t hurt you.” Sara laughed, her heart beating fast, a part of her sensing what her mother was going to ask—a part of her not wanting the question brought to the light of day.

“She wants to know when we’re going to have a grandbaby.” Her father blurted out the words, their implication not a proposal but a likelihood.

Sara was glad she had paused eating or she was certain she would have choked on her food.

Sean did.

He dropped his fork to the table and started coughing with one hand over his mouth, the other on his chest.

“Would you look at what you’ve done.” Her mother shot her father a dirty look and went to get up, but Sara stopped her.

“I’ve got it, Mom.” She went to Sean and asked him to follow her into the kitchen.

He didn’t say anything and, as she gazed into his eyes, words were failing her. But she had to go through with this. The moment she decided to verbalize her thoughts, his eyes glazed over—it was as if he knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t want kids, Sean.”

It felt like minutes had passed in silence, but it was only seconds.

He took her hands in his and smiled. It was a passive one that mostly pressed his lips together in a curved manner. “Whatever you want, darling.”

She pulled her hands from his and moistened her lips. “Please, don’t just say that to agree with me.” Emotion whelmed up in her throat, but she swallowed it down as a lump of rigid coal.

He took her hands back into his. “I’m not just saying that. I’m actually—please forgive me for this—but I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?”

He nodded. “I want to spend my lifetime close to you, getting to know you, exploring the world with you, meeting new people, doing different things.”

Her chest expanded with a full breath. “Yes, and kids don’t fit into that picture.”

“I thought you were going to hate me. I thought for sure you wanted them.”

“No.” It started out as a giggle and was born into a full laugh.

He smiled, but the expression didn’t extend beyond that. His eyes were serious. “What about you? Why don’t you want kids?”

She felt her face draw straight. “It’s a deep question, darling.”

“I’m here when you want to tell me.”

She pulled one of her hands from his and caressed his face, tracing from his brow, down his cheek, and came to rest her fingertips on his lips. He kissed them and took her hand again.

“You tell me when you’re ready. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Her spirit lightened somewhat, but there was still a gnawing pain beneath the surface. She would tell him one day, but this wasn’t the time or place. She diverted with another concern of hers. “Does this make us selfish?”

“Us? Selfish? That isn’t even a possibility. Besides, I think it’s more selfish to have kids for the wrong reasons, don’t you?”

“Yes, darling, I do.” She kissed him and basked in the warmth of his love, his understanding, his compassion—in this moment—while anticipating the many years to come.