When Cassidy saw how adoringly Jenna regarded him, it was hard to keep from gagging.
"It's possible," Eric agreed."Cassidy, I'm sending you and Andy over to cover it. We'll run it live on the noon news. Glover was already looking at jail time for his financial shenanigans, but there are rumors this is connected to Jim Fate's murder."
Cassidy felt a grim satisfaction. She had never liked Glover. Cassidy hated politics. Show her a politician, and as far as she was concerned, show her a liar. And now, it seemed, quite likely a murderer as well. If so, she couldn't wait to cover his trial and sentencing. It wouldn't bring Jim back, of course, but it might restore some balance to the universe.
An idea nagged at her, but when she tried to pin it down, it flew away. Something about Jim. Something she had seen recently that didn't seem quite right. But what was it?
The press conference was packed, but Cassidy judiciously used her elbows and high heels to maneuver her way to the front. Glover looked bad, sweaty and pale, his eyes wide as he faced two dozen microphones.
Looking at him, Cassidy felt zero sympathy. Let him suffer. Whatever anguish he was experiencing was nothing compared to what he had put Jim through.
"Some of you are probably here today expecting to see me slink away in defeat. But I won't."
Glover shook his head so hard that Cassidy saw a drop of sweat fly off his face.
"I want to repeat that I am innocent of these accusations. I will not resign from the post that Oregonians have entrusted me with. I have been granted fifty-two years of exciting challenges and stimulating experiences and, most of all, the finest wife and children any man could ever desire. Now my life has changed because of a politically driven vendetta. That hack, Jim Fate, would not let up despite the lack of evidence. He did his best to destroy me and my family."
There was absolute silence in the room.
"Well, I'm happy to say that Jim's no longer here to badger me." Glover smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "But when those flapping gums of his were finally closed for good, the FBI, in its incompetence and its continued drive to persecute me, fixated on punishing me. So Jim continues to taunt me even from beyond the grave. I've come to realize that there is nothing I can do to escape these lies and slanders. Even though the man who set them into motion has been stopped, they still continue to spread, like the cancer that they are." A red stain spread up Glover's cheeks.
"Some people have been calling and e-mailing and telling me that they believe me. They know I'm innocent, that I never took a single dollar and that I certainly did not take Jim Fate's life. These people want to help. But in this nation, the world's greatest democracy, there is nothing they can do to prevent me from being prosecuted for crimes they know I did not commit. Jim Fate set into motion a juggernaut of political persecution and smears that have not only brought me pain, but have also hurt my family, friends, and colleagues! I had to watch my mother spend her last few weeks in agony because she couldn't believe the things Jim was saying about me." His words were coming faster, so fast he was almost spitting.
"Jim brought his own death on himself by the hate and lies he spewed. But while I understood the reasons behind it, I did not cause it. I have done nothing wrong. I ask those who believe in me to continue to extend friendship and prayer to my family, to work untiringly for the creation of a true justice system here in the United States, and to press on with the efforts to vindicate me, so that my family is not tainted by this injustice that has been perpetrated on me."
From the podium, with its Medusa head of microphones, he took three manila envelopes, two slender, one bulky. He looked off to one side. "John, could you take these, please?" One of Glover's staffers, appearing confused, stepped forward to take the two thin envelopes. And then Glover picked up the third and ripped it open. The crowd gasped.
It was a gun.
His face now oddly peaceful as he picked it up, Glover said calmly, "Please leave the room if this will offend you."
Around Cassidy, everyone pressed back.
John yelled, "Quentin, don't do this!" Others called out, "This isn't right, Quentin!" and "Quentin, listen to me!"
Glover held up one hand, signaling them to stop, while the other pointed the gun at the ceiling. "Don't try to take it, or someone will get hurt," he warned.
Cassidy felt like she was watching herself. It was as though the intervening weeks had never happened, and she was back in the home of the murdered Senate page, Katie Converse, with her eyes fixed on a gun. She couldn't move, couldn't even draw a breath.
Twisting his hand so that the gun was upside-down, Glover slipped the barrel into his mouth. People gasped and cried out.