“We knew,” she said, taking his hand and leading him up the front stairs. “You’re here now. Come say hello to your father-in-law. He’s missed seeing you.”
He found the Senator in his study standing at the window, looking at the lake with a cell phone held to his ear. Walnut paneling above a caramel Berber carpet gave the room a serious, solid sense in contrast with the framed black and white political cartoons adorning the walls. The desk was red oak topped with glass, a legal pad, and a flat-screen monitor.
The Senator waved to Drake and ended his conversation. Even in jeans and a V-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed up over tanned and still well-muscled forearms, the man looked like a senator. His silver hair framed a face that made you think of Cary Grant, with a smile that said everything was going to be all right. Tonight, the smile was familiar, but the eyes were different. They attempted to match the smile, but didn’t make it.
“Adam, thanks for coming,” he said, giving Drake a quick hug. “How are you?”
“I’ve had better days.”
The Senator nodded and put his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Let’s go outside and talk before my friend gets here. We have time for a drink while Meredith finishes the dinner.”
The terrace at the rear of the house was red brick, with a waist-high wall lined with flowering planters. Sweet smells of flowers mixed with the scent of freshly mown grass. Sadly, it was all just as he remembered.
“Here, hope you’re still drinking bourbon,” the Senator said behind him.
Not just bourbon, Drake recognized with the first sip, but Jim Beam Black, his favorite. The Senator preferred single malt Scotch, but this was the first time he’d served him bourbon.
The Senator looked out over the lake, and finally said, “I met Richard Martin twenty-five years ago when I first ran for the state legislature. He’d just started his company here and was promoting Oregon for high-tech industry. We became friends, and he’s been one of my most loyal supporters. His company’s doing research for Homeland Security. I helped him get the contract, and I’d like you to help him.”
“Does his secretary’s murder have anything to do with his work for the government, or you for that matter?” Drake asked.
The Senator turned and seemed to be surprised by the question. “No, no, this has nothing to do with me. He’s developing monitoring systems for chemical and biological weapons we don’t want smuggled into the country.”
So this was something more than just helping an old friend whose secretary had been murdered.
“We think the work Rich is doing will be a real breakthrough, but he says they’ve been having security problems. He brought in a new firm to tighten up security, and now this. He’s worried the death of his secretary and the security problems could mean the end of top secret projects he’s been awarded. I’m worried about the loss of the technology he’s capable of developing for us.”
What did the Senator think he could do about his friend’s problem, Drake wondered.
“Why do you think Martin can’t trust the police to handle this? They’ve done good work on cases like this. They’ll find out who killed his secretary.”
The Senator turned and leaned against the terrace half wall. He appeared to have expected the question, but also appeared to be undecided about how to answer it.
“Adam, Homeland Security would like to keep this matter out of the news as much as possible if this turns out to have something to do with national security. We also don’t want to blow the whistle too early and call in the FBI. The Secretary of Homeland Security is a friend. I chair his oversight committee. I suggested that you take a look first. You have the background to know if there’s more to this than a homicide.”
Drake knew the Senator wasn’t referring to his experience as a prosecutor.
“You’ve seen my military records?”
“When I saw Kay was serious about you, I checked out your background. There were missing years after you graduated law school. You passed the bar exam two days after 9/11, so I thought you might have enlisted. The Army said there was no record of you ever being in the service. So I pulled a few strings. When I saw your file, I understood why it wasn’t initially provided to me. Delta Force personnel records don’t officially exist.”
At least it had taken a senior U.S. Senator to get his records, Drake thought. His training, his missions, were not for public consumption. America didn’t want to know how it was able to sleep soundly in a troubled world. Its warriors knew, but they were forbidden to tell.
“Does your friend know my background?” Drake asked.
“No, it’s not something he needs to know. If you’re concerned, it’s not something Meredith or I share with anyone. We’re proud of the way you served and the sacrifices you made. But there are things some people will never understand, and don’t ever need to know.”
“Did you share my file with Kay?”
“No, we didn’t. We felt that was something you would do, if you felt it was necessary.”
Drake nodded his thanks and looked out over the lake and the lights beginning to twinkle across the way. Kay had known there were secret places in his soul that he hadn’t shared. She’d never pushed, waiting for him to open up. He had wanted to tell her about the army, how he idolized his father, memorized “Fighting soldiers from the sky, fearless men who jump and die” from the lyrics of “The Ballad of the Green Beret” as a young boy, and hated that his father wouldn’t be around to pin silver wings on his chest. How proud he was when he was invited to selection and survived to become a member of Delta Force. He’d wanted to tell her all of it, but had never found the right time before she died.
“All right. I’ll talk to your friend and help him if I can. If this involves more than theft and murder, I want your promise you’ll call in the troops. I’m not going to play Lone Ranger on this.”
He didn’t resent the Senator asking for his help, but if the reason centered more on his military training than his legal skills, the two of them were headed for trouble. Politicians had a habit of getting soldiers into trouble, eager to stick their noses in someone’s mess and then not being around when things got rough.
Chapter 4
“Let’s walk down to the boathouse before Martin gets here,” the Senator said, changing the subject as he led them off the rear deck.
Drake knew what the Senator had in mind. Before she’d left them alone, Meredith warned him her husband would try to slip off and have a cigar.
“If he starts inhaling, you tell him to stop. He’s stopped smoking cigarettes behind my back, but he hasn’t gotten over his love of cigars. The doctor and I will put an end to this if he doesn’t,” Meredith said.
When they reached the dock beside the boathouse, the Senator took a Hemingway Short Story from his pocket, clipped off the tip, and lit it with a silver lighter. When it burned evenly, he smiled at Drake.
“I imagine Meredith warned you to keep an eye on my smoking. She pretends she doesn’t know what I’m doing, and I pretend I never inhale. She’s better off not knowing everything. Like, how you’ve been doing lately. How’s your practice?”
Several boats were out on the lake, and Drake smelled steaks being grilled somewhere. He was drinking too much and letting his work slide, but he thought no one had noticed. His marvelous secretary was skilled at covering for him.
“If you phrase the question that way, you probably know.”
“I practiced law for fifteen years before I entered politics. I still know lawyers here. No one blames you for losing your focus after Kay died, but your friends don’t want you to get in trouble because of it. I don’t either.”
Drake focused on a boat passing by. Its wake slapped against the side of the dock, like the nightly memories that pummeled his mind.
“Senator, I’m okay. A little depressed at times but Margo, my secretary, keeps things running. I won’t let my clients down, don’t worry.”
“Son, I’m not worried about your clients, I worry about you. You let me know if there’s something you need help with. I mean that. This thing with Rich Martin is important, don’t get me wrong, but you’re more important. I
