Tell. Didn’t. Tell.
An hour before John Thomas’s death, I’d threatened to tell his father that he was spilling secrets. I’d threatened to tell the congressman that John Thomas had told me about his affair.
Tell him I didn’t tell.
“I have to go,” I said, pulling away from the congressman’s grasp. As I turned to leave, the next mourner in line stepped forward. She was in her early forties, with girl-next-door looks and red hair. She was wearing a black dress and matching heels.
I recognized her immediately.
“Congressman, Mrs. Wilcox,” the woman said, her manner professional, more colleague than family friend. “My deepest condolences.”
I’d seen the congressman with this woman. I’d seen him burying his hands in her red hair. But as I forced myself to walk past her, it took everything in me not to turn around, because the woman the congressman was having an affair with—the fund-raiser wasn’t the only place I recognized her from.
Who is this Daniela Nicolae? I could see the red-haired woman asking the camera. How did she get into the country? And why is an anonymous tip the only thing standing between us and a terrorist attack on American soil?
Congressman Wilcox was having an affair with the female pundit I’d seen flaming the Nolan administration on the news.
CHAPTER 42
An internet search told me that the pundit’s name was Stephanie Royal.
“Pancakes.” Bodie set them in front of me.
I gave him a look. We’d gotten home from the funeral ten minutes earlier. He hadn’t asked why I’d been so quiet on the drive.
“I can make two things, kid: pancakes and my hangover cure.” Bodie arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you telling me you’d rather I haul out the blender?”
I picked up a fork and stabbed it into the pancake in answer.
John Thomas accessed his father’s files. I couldn’t keep from going back over everything I’d discovered as I chewed. The congressman has a very personal relationship with the Nolan administration’s most vocal critic. I thought about the media leaks. Before Daniela Nicolae had sent Walker—and every major news outlet—that video, there had already been leaks.
The terrorist’s name.
The fact that the attack had been averted because of a tip from an anonymous source.
The picture of Daniela Nicolae’s very pregnant stomach.
Did Congressman Wilcox have access to information like that? My stomach clenched. Did John Thomas?
The front door opened and closed. Bodie’s hand went to his side. To his gun, I realized a moment later.
“Tess?”
I relaxed the second I heard Adam’s voice. Bodie rolled his eyes heavenward but let his hand fall away from the weapon.
“In here, Boy Wonder,” Bodie called out.
When Adam came into the kitchen, he and Bodie looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Bodie took a step back from the kitchen island. “I’d offer you a pancake,” Bodie told my uncle, “but I figure you’re probably watching your girlish figure.”
With a wink at me, Bodie strolled out the door.
Adam took a seat next to me at the counter. “For the record, I would have gone with you to the funeral,” he said, picking up a fork and stealing a bite of my pancake. “So would Ivy, if she’d known.”
I looked down at my plate. I hadn’t told them about the funeral, because I hadn’t wanted either of them asking questions about why I’d decided to go. I hadn’t wanted to tip them off to the fact that while Ivy was off investigating the attack on the president, I was running an investigation of my own.
But if there was even a chance that my case was connected to hers, I couldn’t keep that quiet. “Congressman Wilcox is having an affair with a woman named Stephanie Royal.”
It was clear from the expression on Adam’s face that he knew exactly who Stephanie Royal was.
“Does Congressman Wilcox have high-level security clearance?” I asked. “Could he have been the source of the media leaks about the bombing?”
Adam didn’t answer. I took that to mean that a man as powerful and resourceful as John Thomas’s father might have all kinds of access.
“John Thomas broke into his father’s files,” I told my uncle. “There’s a good chance that something John Thomas saw in those files got him killed.”
“Have you mentioned any of this to Ivy?” Adam asked.
I shook my head.
“Why not?” Adam’s expression was deadly serious. He expected an answer, and he wouldn’t back down until I gave him one.
Because Ivy told me to stay away from Asher. She promised that she would take care of it, but she’s done nothing. If she knew I was looking into John Thomas’s murder, she would have told me to stay away from that, too.
Instead of putting any of that into words, I took out my cell, called Ivy, and set the phone to speaker.
It went to voice mail.