“For one thing,” Senator Albricht said, rising from behind his table shield, “he saved my life from that madman on the floor.”
Paul looked confused. In all the noise and the flying wood and glass, he’d never gotten a good look at the man who’d been shooting at him. When he did look, recognition was instant. “Oh, my God,” he whispered.
“He shot your partner,” Jake said. “She needs an ambulance.” He struggled under the agent’s weight to find a spot to rest his face that wouldn’t hurt so much.
Paul looked even more stunned as he fully recognized the cast of characters in the room. “Jake Donovan!” he said.
“Help your friend,” Jake said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Clearly, that’s what Paul wanted to do, but first, he had a prisoner to take care of. As he reached for his handcuffs, Senator Clayton Albricht placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Please don’t do that,” he said gently. “It really isn’t necessary.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Travis pulled at his shirt collar, hoping the fabric might stretch and give him some room to move. He hated ties.
“Stop fidgeting,” Carolyn whispered. “And sit up straight.” She couldn’t count the number of times she’d said those words over the years, in that same order, but for some reason, they seemed fresh, unused. The fact that she was able to say them at all was a miracle she’d never again take for granted.
After five weeks of therapy, her neck was better, though not completely. Doctors still weren’t sure that she’d ever get full range of motion back, but given the nature of the injury, and progress she’d made so far, there was plenty of reason to hope.
Travis stopped squirming, but he didn’t straighten his shoulders. They were his shoulders, after all, and he could keep them slouched if he wanted to. “How come Dad gets to pace around?” he asked.
Jake turned away from the window and its view of Old Town, Alexandria, to face his son. “Because pacing keeps me from exploding,” he answered, honestly enough.
Travis leaned heavily on the ancient oak conference table and took a deep, exasperated breath. It caught in his throat and triggered a heavy cough.
“You okay?” both parents asked as one. It was a sound that would forever live in their nightmares.
“Jesus Christ, I’m not allowed to cough anymore?” Ever since Travis had gotten out of the hospital, his folks had been like this, on edge about everything he did; every sound he made. It was like living under a microscope. God only knew what was going to happen next time he caught the flu.
Carolyn closed her eyes and shook her head. For the time being, she’d given up correcting his language. His voice had only recently taken on a husky, smoky quality that was fascinating to listen to, no matter what he had to say. Whether it was the remaining traces of his injury or the onset of adolescence, she wasn’t sure, but as long as the words were coming, she couldn’t bring herself to interfere.
Jake was the one she worried about. Clearly, they’d won their war, yet Jake still wouldn’t allow himself to celebrate. The final details had taken a while to work out, and in the end, he’d had to spend two nights in jail, but then it was officially over.
They were celebrities now, with every talk show host in the country dogging them for interviews. Book publishers, movie producers, and magazine editors fell all over themselves trying to scoop their competition in what was turning out to be the biggest story of the year-at least until the next biggest story came around-and a growing gaggle of celebrity lawyers pandered every day for the opportunity to represent them.
Through it all, Jake had become more and more withdrawn, his outward sense of dread in many ways stronger now than it had ever been while they were on the run. He refused to talk about any of it, but Carolyn knew in her heart that it had something to do with his days alone with Thorne. Something awful had happened, and Jake was either too afraid or too ashamed to discuss it. In their quiet times together, in the hotel rooms provided by the FBI, Carolyn had tried to probe it out of her husband, but he’d have none of it.
In time, she supposed. All things happen in time.
When the phone call came two days ago for this morning’s meeting at the federal courthouse in Alexandria, she watched her husband panic. After five weeks of interviews and debriefings by Paul Boersky, something about this one call to report in person had left him a wreck. Last night he even talked about not coming in-about going on the run again.
“What for, Jake?” Carolyn had asked. “What are you so worried about?”
He let it drop without answering; stopped talking altogether. Today he’d said barely a word all morning, and as the rest of the family was getting dressed in the hotel, she watched him out the window as he paced the parking lot, staring at the trees and sucking in the November air like it was his last time.
And here he stood at the window, lost in his thoughts again, floating in his mind somewhere out there over the rooftops.
When the door to their conference room opened, Jake jumped a foot. The cockiness he once possessed was all gone, replaced with a kind of timidness that left Carolyn feeling frightened. As her husband smoothed out his suit coat, she strolled around the end of the table to join him.
Paul Boersky led the procession into the room, followed close behind by Senator Albricht; by a woman who looked vaguely familiar but whose face Jake couldn’t quite place; and, finally, by Irene Rivers.
The sight of his old nemesis brought a broad smile to Jake’s face, even as Carolyn withdrew. “Hello, Agent Rivers,” he said. In deference to Irene’s heavily bandaged right arm, he extended his left hand as a greeting. “How are you feeling?”
She accepted his grasp with a warm smile. “They tell me it helps when the bullet doesn’t penetrate the brain,” she deadpanned. “As for the shoulder, we’ll have to see.”
The group burned up a minute or so with introductions and pleasantries. Neither Carolyn nor Travis had ever met the senator, who in turn introduced the final guest.
“Donovan family, I’d like you to meet Ms. Emma Sanders, attorney general of the United States.”
With short, gray hair and a tiny frame, Ms. Sanders stood about five-three and could have been anybody’s grandmother, or maybe even the local librarian, but her piercing, humorless emerald-green eyes left no doubt that she was one tough lady. She shook hands politely, then ushered everyone into their seats.
“Do you have any idea why you’re here this afternoon?” Ms. Sanders asked.
Jake and Carolyn exchanged glances, then Jake spoke for the family. “No, ma’am, we don’t.”
“That’s good,” Sanders said. “That’s very good, in fact. With the level of media coverage you’re receiving these days, I didn’t want anything leaking out before we had a deal.”
Jake shot a look to Paul-his primary point of contact these past weeks-who raised a finger, urging him to be patient.
“Excuse me,” Senator Albricht interrupted. “Perhaps it would be best if the boy waited out in the hall.”
Travis’s eyes grew huge as he shot a glance to his mom and dad. “I’m not going anywhere!”
Jake looked to Boersky, who answered his silent question with a nod. “It’ll just be for a few minutes,” he said.
Jake turned to face his son. “Go ahead, Trav.”
“No!”
Jake stood and gently pulled the boy’s chair away from the table. “Please,” he said. “They wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Travis looked to everyone in the room for support but couldn’t find any. Clearly, he didn’t know what to do next.
“Please,” Jake urged again.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” Carolyn added.
Haltingly, the boy rose from his chair and allowed himself to be escorted to the big wooden door with smoked glass in the top. Jake opened it and pointed to the wooden bench against the wall. “Just wait for us there.”
Travis looked terrified; he knew that something was horribly wrong. “Dad?”
