LifeoftheParty (14 page)

He stood, going silently to the window. He braced himself
against the molding, Gina holding her breath. “He put that in your suitcase,”
he finally said, not as question. “When he broke into your room.”

“Yes.”

After a few moments more, he said, “Where’s your phone?”

She grabbed her purse, handing it to him.

He snatched it, hitting the redial button. “Was his the last
call you received?”

“I think so.”

He tossed the phone to the bed. “There’s your answer. And
there’s your stalker.”

She glanced to it. PRIVATE CALLER.

“Just like yourbigfan last night. Looks like the District
dick fucked up.”

“Jesus.” She clasped her damp head. “I should’ve figured it.
But why now? After all this time?” She stood, throwing off her towel. “Well, he
can’t shut me up anymore.” She went to her suitcase, rifling through it,
glancing at the clock. “Damn, we got to get out of here!”

He slammed her suitcase shut. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” She threw it open. “Of course I am. I have to.”

“No.” He shoved it off the bed. “The only place you’re going
is here.”

He clamped a handcuff around her wrist and tossed her atop
the bed, clamping the other end to the iron headboard. She struggled against
him, kicking and cursing so violently a second later he cuffed her other wrist
and she was pinned, arms spread and naked against the bars.

“You bastard! Get me out of these!”

“No. And I’ll stuff a gag in your mouth if you don’t shut
up.”

“Motherfucker! Bastard! Son of a—
Mummph.”

He leaned over her, his sock in her mouth. “Listen to me and
listen to me good. You’re not going to the rally. I won’t allow it. You lost
this argument the second you told me you loved me.”

She rattled the cuffs, screaming muffled oaths.

He grabbed a tee shirt from his dresser then turned. “Gina,
I’m warning you. If you don’t shut up I’ll— Oh fuck it.” He tossed the shirt
and, kicking off his jeans, jumped atop the bed.

“I’ve dreamed of doing this,” he said, crouching between her
legs. “You game?”

More muffled screaming. But when he touched her pussy, she
fairly flooded his hand.

“Oh you’re ready. You’re sooo ready. This is what I love
about you. Your spirit of adventure.” He slid himself in.

She screamed, muffled against the sock. He fucked her like
he never fucked her before, the cuffs clanging against the bars.

“Love me?” he asked, nipping her breast. “Love me or were
you lying when you said it?”

“
Mm mmm mmmph. MM MMM MMMPH!
”

He cocked his ear. “What? What? I can’t hear you!”

“MMMMMMPPPH!”

“You don’t love me? Oh Gina.” He inched out. “I guess that
means—”

“I said I love you!” she screeched as the sock popped out,
bouncing off his face. “What do you think I said, you bloody bastard! Now get
that cock back in me! I’m almost ready to—”

Then she did, voluminously and exquisitely, like water
flowing down a mountain, like a long undulation of waves crashing against the
shore.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he said, fucking the climax
right out of her. “This pussy will never see another cock besides mine, or so
help me, Gina, I’ll…” And then he came too, filling her, overflowing. Almost as
abruptly, he pulled out.

“Where are you going—Doug?”

But he was already yanking his jeans on, stepping into his
shoes, gearing up. After he put on his jacket he unlocked one of the cuffs.

“Thank God,” she said, rubbing her wrist as she sat up. “Now
get the other one. We have to get out of here.”

Doug laid a key on the table on the other side of the room.
“Here’s the key in case there’s a fire.” He switched his phone for her
BlackBerry, laying it on the table beside the bed. “Here’s my cell. Don’t
bother with the contacts. All you’ll get is a bunch of cops, squeals and a lot
of women with names like Destiny and Desire.” He shoved the other pair of cuffs
half into the back of his jeans. “And your own number, of course. But don’t use
it because I won’t be answering.”

“Don’t do this, Doug. Don’t leave me here.”

He went to her, kissing her thoroughly. “She loves me. She
loves
me!” He grinned. “Ain’t life grand.” Then bolted for the door.

“Doug!” The door slammed below. She huffed, jangling the
cuff. “Ten minutes!” she yelled. “Ten minutes, tops, and I’m out of here!”

* * * * *

11:01 A.M.

“Jack?”

“Doug? Is that you? Where’s Gina?”

“She’s kinda tied up at the moment, so I’m on my way up
without her. Do me a favor. Don’t let Ted Parks out of your sight.”

Silence, then, “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“You’re psychic, Jack.”

“I had a feeling. Precisely why his vetting isn’t over yet.”

“Is that why Lee Roland was in Philly the other night?”

“To slow the process down. You catch on quick, Welland.
Maybe you should go into politics.”

“I’d cause too many scandals. And Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your head down. I’m coming in after him.”

He tossed the BlackBerry to the seat. “She loves me. She
loves
me!” He switched lanes, grinning all the way through.

COUNTY COURTHOUSE—RIVERBORO

SUNDAY 3 NOVEMBER

11:45 A.M.

Jesus
, Doug thought, moving through the throngs of
people gathered at the courthouse steps.
I didn’t know this many people gave
a shit.

Which normally he’d think would be a good thing. But on that
morning the only thing in his head as he snaked around the avid supporters,
chanting protesters carrying signs, the loyal opposition and the random nutcase
was finding Ted Parks and strangling his scrawny neck.

The podium at the top of the steps was vacant, the high muckity-mucks
still assembling behind the big glass doors. Ted was no doubt somewhere inside,
and Doug sincerely hoped Falco was keeping him out of the way for the moment.
Just below, the local high school band played, squeaking out the occasional
flat note. The police had the perimeter, squad cars lining the curb and
uniforms milling about, and Doug headed for them.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked an officer leaning against
his cruiser.

The man eyed him. “Why? Someone steal your sign?”

Doug flashed his shield. “Cut the comedy, I’m not a fan. Now
who?”

The officer sniffed, thumb jutting over his shoulder.
“Captain MacDuff. In the brown overcoat.”

Doug found him near the juror entrance talking to some more
officers.

“Make it quick,” MacDuff said, looking tired and impatient.
“I’m about ten quarts low on caffeine.” He eyed Doug’s shield for a moment
before dismissing the officers. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, Lieutenant.
This better be good.”

“It isn’t, and that’s the problem.” Doug gave him the
thirty-second lowdown. “You can check with Halchak if you want.”

“You realize you’re talking about the district attorney.”
MacDuff pulled out his phone. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“If you want proof, don’t use that phone—use mine.” He held
up Gina’s BlackBerry. “Everything you need is right inside here.”

* * * * *

HENRY STREET—CITY OF CAMDEN

11:52 A.M.

Gina rubbed her wrist. The damn thing was chafed as hell.
Doug had handcuffed her three bars in, so the only way she could get a good
two-handed grip on the iron headboard was to stand with her back to the bed and
yank it in inches, alternately pulling and pushing it away from the wall,
literally having to turn it around. It was slow, methodical work, getting to
the key on the other side of the room, especially with her bare legs banging
against the frame. The bed made a scraping sound against the wooden floor as
she worked but apparently Doug had thought of that too. It being Sunday
morning, the whole house was at church, and Gina was effectively on her own.

“Bas-tard,” she grunted, yanking again, yet inwardly, she
exalted. Two and a half years was a long time to carry around such guilt, and
to have it lifted now, her psyche felt as naked inside as she currently was
outside.
Because he loves me.
She closed her eyes and yanked, the bed
turned almost three quarters, the key a little more than a couple yards away.
And
I love him.
Best feeling in the world.
Yank.

She glanced around the room, catching little pieces of
personality in the things scattered about. Police thrillers on his
bookshelves—Lisa Scottoline, Pamela Flynn. James Lee Burke. A book of poetry by
Robert Burns. Biographies of Abraham Lincoln and FDR.
Pudd’nhead Wilson
,
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
.
No Irish, No Blacks, No
Dogs
. Two Bill Brysons.
Push.

What looked like original photography was on the walls—beach
scenes, the RCA Victor building near the river, an old family photo. A
three-gauge brass weather station, temperature, humidity, barometer. On the
small table, a blue wristband, a pack of Dentyne, loose change, the remote, a
laptop. Two beer caps.
Yank.

She was almost there, and even though she was naked, she
wasn’t cold. Sweating, in fact. Sweating and still flushed from their
lovemaking, covered in passion bites and deliciously sore, no matter what she
told him. She felt well-fucked and still aching for it. And to get at Ted
Parks.
Oh yessiree.
She gave the bed one more push.
Not even Doug’s
going to rob me of that.
She stretched, straining toward the key.

* * * * *

COUNTY COURTHOUSE

12:14 P.M.

The point of Lee Roland’s finger met the resolve of Doug
Welland’s chest. “No scene,” Lee said. “And I mean it. I want this done as
unobtrusively as possible. We do not need bad press this early in the game.”

“I get you, Roland,” Doug said, glancing down. Lee’s finger
quickly withdrew. “But neither do I want that fuck slipping away.”

Lee tossed his gaze up the courthouse steps, past a union
representative spouting his spiel to the crowd, to the opaque glass doors.
“He’s not going anywhere. MacDuff’s got cops at every exit and Parks has every
expectation of joining the Congressman at the podium. All I’m asking is to wait
until Falco goes out there.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Doug said, his hand fisting.

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Lee said, turning away. “A
half hour, tops.”

The crowd gave a round of polite applause.
Another one
down
, Doug thought, another one on his way up. He glanced at his watch and
smiled, sincerely hoping Gina didn’t have to piss. Her phone rang.

“Doug.” It was Falco. “How’s it looking?”

“Where is he?”

“I have him in my sights right now. Don’t worry.”

His hand fisted again. “Oh believe me, I’m not.”

* * * * *

HENRY STREET

12:21 P.M.

Gina shoved the cuffs into the pocket of her skirt, figuring
they might come in handy. She yanked Doug’s shirt on over her bra and belted
it, slipping into one of his jackets, rolling the sleeves and straightening the
collar. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, a stab of loneliness shooting
through her. She tossed her head, glimpsing herself in the mirror. With her
tangled hair long and loose, her feet in her highest shoes—four-inch faux
alligator man-killers—she looked like an urban Amazon, especially when she slid
on some Jungle Red lipstick. She tossed the tube into her purse. It clinked
against the clasp of her wallet. Somewhere inside it was a single sheet of
paper folded four times, tucked into one of those pockets rarely used, like the
one that held Social Security or voter registration cards.

She never looked at it except to tamp it back in from time
to time when a corner eased out. She carried it like an old scar in some
private place, healed over but still aware of it. Gina eased open the wallet,
thumbing back the pocket to take a glimpse. Of course it was there. The things
you never wanted to carry in the first place usually were. But now it meant
something altogether different. And that difference, for the first time, gave
her courage. Down below a door slammed, and Miss Ella’s voice floated through
the house. Gina slung her purse over her shoulder and ran toward it.

Gina caught her just before she disappeared into her
apartment. “Miss Ella?”

The woman turned, her brow arched. “Well, look who’s here.
Where’s Douglas?”

“He left without me, and that’s part of my problem. Miss
Ella, Doug told me that’s your grandson’s car out front.”

The older woman glanced toward the old green Monte Carlo on
the curb. “He’s in the army. Korea, right now. Why?”

“I need to borrow it for a couple of hours. My rental is
back at the hotel, and I really need to get up to Riverboro.” She dug into her
purse, bringing out a wad of bills. “I can give you a hundred dollars if you
let me use it.”

“You crazy, girl?” She shoved the wad back. “I’m not gonna
take your money.” She eyed her warily. “Why did Douglas leave you here in the first
place?”

Gina sighed. “Miss Ella, have you ever had a man keep you
from doing something, saying it was for your own good? Like you’re a little
child, and he can’t figure out how you possibly could’ve made it to the age you
are without him around, watching your every step?”

“He doing that to you? Well, he must’ve had a reason.”

“Sure he does. He wants to wrap me in a little box and keep
all the bad away from me. Well, I’ve seen a lot of bad and a lot of bad’s seen
me, and there really isn’t too much that surprises me anymore. Except that
maybe Doug thinks there is.”

She came closer. “Miss Ella, I have to get up to Riverboro.
There’s something up there I have to finish for myself. And although Doug means
well, he can’t do it for me. If he does it’ll never be over, and I can’t live
like this anymore.”

“He’s a good man, you know. A good man who been troubled a
long time now. You the cause of that?”

“Yes, I’m ashamed to say. But this is my one chance to make
amends. I love him, more than anything in the world. But I have to do this
myself if it’s ever going to be right between us.”

Miss Ella considered it a moment, her lips pursed, before
finally turning into her apartment. “Come on then.”

Gina followed her into a bright, cheery space, photos lining
the walls. Miss Ella reached into a dish at a small secretary, pulling out a
set of keys. “I want you to know I’m not doing this for you but for Douglas.
That man been in pain too long. But I can see he’s in love. It’s plain on his
face when he looks at you. And no one should ever be alone.”

As Gina pocketed the keys, she asked, “Are you alone, Miss
Ella?”

The older woman snorted dismissively. “I’ve outlived three
husbands and two more are lined up wanting the job. I’ve got four kids, two of
them down the hall, and a pack of grandkids, all of whom are gonna be here in
two hours wanting my home cooking and anything else they can get out of me.
Missy, I am the most un-alone woman on the face of the earth. If it wasn’t for
the lock on this door, I’d never get any peace.”

Gina laughed. “Well, thank you, Miss Ella. I’ll leave you to
it then.”

“Just one more thing.” The old woman looked to a framed
picture of the president, her eyes softening. “Have you ever met him?”

Gina came up to her. “Yes, once. At a state dinner last spring.”

She smiled wistfully. “Is he as handsome as they say?”

“Yes. And very charming.”

“Was she there too?”

“Yes. She’s very elegant.”

“Well, then.” Miss Ella took her hand. “If those two people
could tackle the biggest problems in the world and still be as much in love as
they look to be, then there’s hope for you two yet.” She gave it a squeeze.
“Good luck, honey.”

“Thank you,” Gina said. Because surely she’d need it.

* * * * *

COUNTY COURTHOUSE

1:22 P.M.

“Just give me two minutes alone with him,” Doug said. “Then
I don’t give a damn what you do.”

“Don’t push it, Welland,” MacDuff said. “You’re already too
close to the case.”

“Two minutes, then send him to Guantanamo for all I give a
shit.” Doug disappeared through the doorway.

All the major players were already on the dais, the governor
just introducing Jack Falco, formally throwing him his support and opening up
Jack’s campaign. After a short speech, Jack would name his successor. Doug
slipped up the back staircase and into the courthouse lobby where Parks waited
in a side office, fully expecting to be called out by Falco and named his
successor. Doug inched to the doorway, glimpsing Parks gazing out a window to
the dais.

“Yo, Parks.”

Ted spun around. “Jesus, Lieutenant! You startled me.
Where’s Gina?”

Doug leaned against the jamb. “She couldn’t make it.”

Ted shook his head slightly. “What do you mean? She was
supposed to be here hours ago. Who’s going to talk to the press after Falco
announces?”

“Jack’s a big boy. I’m sure he can talk for himself. The bigger
question is who’s going to talk for you?”

Parks eyed him coolly. “I’m doing it myself. I already have
a press kit made up.”

“Really. I bet that’s a hell of a read. What’s it include?”

“Standard stuff. My accomplishments and family. About when I
was mayor, district attorney, my interests like running, duck decoys,
sculling—”

“You mean stalking?” Doug pushed himself from the doorway.
“Or how about aggravated assault?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ted asked, taking a
step back.

“I’m talking about making terroristic threats, breaking and
entering.” Doug grabbed his lapel. “About using something as innocuous as a
phone and a computer to drive someone half out of their mind.”

“
You’re
half out of your mind!” Parks said, pushing
him off. He looked to the hall. “Where’s security? Where the hell’s SECURITY?”

Doug shoved him against the desk. “No one can hear you, you
little fuck. When I’m done with you I’m gonna get you for everything short of
murder and—”

“Rape. Let’s not forget that.”

They both looked to the doorway. “
Gina
,” Doug
breathed, alternately angry and amazed.

Ted straightened. “Gina! Jesus, what the hell’s going on
here?”

“Why’d you do it, Ted?” she asked, sauntering in. “Why’d you
send me all those nasty little messages? What were you trying to prove?”

“Messages!” He looked from Gina to Doug and back. “Are you
both insane?”

Doug pushed him again. “I know I am. Ask anyone. Now, should
Gina repeat the question?” He grabbed his tie. “Or should I rephrase it for
you?”

Ted shrugged him off, scrambling past him. “You can call me
anything you want, but I’ll tell you what she is. A murderer.” His gaze shot to
Gina, his eyes wild. “You’re down in Washington pushing for DNA verification
for criminals. For
murderers
? When you’re a murderer yourself? You
killed our baby. Didn’t you think I’d find out?”