'Don't know what?'
'The whole thing is pretty overwhelming. I'm not certain that I want to do it.'
'Are you serious? How could you even think about not running?'
Tim heard the excitement in Cindy's voice and felt the beginning of a pain in his stomach.
'I don't know if I can do it, Cindy.'
'Of course you can do it. You're as smart as Harold Travis, smarter. It's the chance of a lifetime. Think what it will mean to Megan. She'll be so proud of you. Think of the people we'll meet.'
'I know it's a great opportunity. I just need some time to get used to it.'
Cindy hugged him and pressed her cheek against Tim's chest.
'I'm so proud of you.' She held his face in her hands and kissed him. 'I always knew you'd do something great.'
Suddenly Cindy stepped back and took Tim's hands. She looked up into his eyes. He thought she looked frightened.
'Tim, I love you, but I know . . . There have been times during our marriage when I felt that you didn't love me.'
'Cindy . . .'
'No, let me say this.' She took a deep breath. 'I've always loved you, even when I seemed angry or cold. I acted that way because I was afraid that I was losing you. I know you love Megan. I know we've had hard times. I don't know what I've done wrong, but I'll change if you tell me.' Her grip tightened. She looked fierce. 'I want our marriage to work. I want you to be the person you were meant to be, and I want to be there to help you.' Her grip slackened. 'I also know that there are times when you don't believe in yourself, that you think you don't deserve the rewards life has given to you.' Tim's eyes widened with surprise. He had no idea that Cindy suspected the doubts and fears that bedeviled him. 'But you're wrong, Tim. You are good and kind and you do deserve to be a star. Accept the offer, run for the Senate. Don't doubt yourself and never doubt me.'
After they made love, Cindy fell into an exhausted sleep but Tim lay awake. He imagined himself striding through Washington's corridors of power: Tim Kerrigan, United States senator. It sounded unbelievable, and the thought of running scared him to death. Still, it was an important position he could use to help people, and it was a way to pay back Cindy for the pain he'd caused her. She would be part of the Washington social whirl. A senator's wife threw parties and dined with ambassadors and generals. A senator's wife would be on television and would be interviewed in magazines. It was a role that she was born to play.
But a senator can't hide. What if someone found out what had happened in the park just before the Rose Bowl? He was almost certain that his secret was buried so deep that no one would ever uncover it, but he'd never been up against the resources of a national political party.
Tim turned on his side. He didn't know what to do. He was afraid. But then he was always afraid.
Chapter Thirteen.
The Justice Center was a sixteen-story, concrete-and-glass edifice located a block from the courthouse. The Multnomah County jail occupied the fourth through tenth floors of the building, which also housed the central precinct of the Portland Police, a branch of the district attorney's office, and several courtrooms. A pack of reporters was waiting for Wendell Hayes in the Justice Center's glass-vaulted lobby. The defense attorney was easy to spot because he was as wide as he was tall.
'Can you tell us why Judge Grant appointed you to represent Jon Dupre?' one reporter asked.
'Isn't it unusual for you to accept a court appointment?' another shouted.
Hayes greeted several reporters as he huffed past the curving stairs that led up to the courtrooms on the third floor and walked into the jail reception area. He was a large man gone soft, and the short walk from the courthouse to the jail had winded him. Even expert handtailoring could not disguise his girth. Hayes pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his flushed face. His broad back was to the two sheriff's deputies who watched the show from the protection of the reception desk. The television cameramen turned on their lights and the deputies blinked as Hayes was washed in a white glow. The reporters crowded around him and repeated their questions.
Hayes flashed the brethren of the Fourth Estate a warm smile. He loved them. It was their reports of his colorful courtroom exploits that had made the attorney a household name. In return, Hayes was always good for a quote and had no compunction about leaking information when it was to his advantage.
Hayes held up a hand and the questions stopped. 'As you know, I rarely accept a court appointment, but I did in this case because Judge Grant asked me. He's an old friend and a hard man to turn down.'
'Why didn't Judge Grant use one of the lawyers on the court-appointment list?' shouted a reporter from one of the network affiliates.
'Jack Stamm is going to seek the death penalty, which limits the list to death-qualified lawyers. Judge Grant wanted to avoid any suggestion that Mr. Dupre was not going to be treated fairly because of Senator Travis's prominence.'
'What's your defense going to be?' a reporter from the Oregonian asked.
Hayes smiled. 'Grace, I haven't talked to Mr. Dupre yet, so I can't possibly answer that question. But I'm going to do that now. So, if you'll excuse me . . .'
Hayes turned to one of the deputies manning the reception desk, a huge man with red hair who was almost as tall as the lawyer.
'Hey, Mac, help me make my escape from this rabble, will you?' he said loudly enough so the reporters could hear him. A few laughed.
