Capital Offense Page 7

  She gave a short, bitter laugh, thinking of the circumstances that had all but destroyed their marriage. What difference would it have made if she had spoken to Edmund? It wasn’t as if Warner would ever forgive her, anyway.

  The truth, however, was that she had no intention of ever subjugating her self to Edmund Lane again. Introduced to Edmund by a law school professor, Carolyn welcomed his willingness to act as her mentor in her pursuit of an internship clerking for the Missouri State Supreme Court. Due to her inexperience and naiveté, she mistook Edmund’s manipulation for kindness and fell for his polished charm. Now, she believed, he was the devil incarnate. He would always be a tom cat.

  She stopped her train of thought. Warner and the election had to take precedence over everything right now. She didn’t have time for self-pity. She and Warner had covered a lot of ground campaigning, but recently Warner’s enthusiasm and conviction were being perceived as over-confidence. This puzzled Carolyn, because Warner’s ability for gauging an audience’s response to him was a trait that he had perfected.

  He’d also developed a habit of disappearing after his speeches. One newspaper even coined him the “invisible incumbent.” She’d told him that he needed to stay longer and shake hands, make people feel they were a part of the action and essential to his success. Hell, Carolyn thought, Warner knew this stuff. Political savvy ran in his veins. Why was he so intent on sabotaging himself now?

  She suspected the answer had something to do with Cindy. A life without politics cleared the way for a divorce and marriage to his mistress.

  Lightning flashed through the closed blind, creating jagged images on the wall. Feeling a chill, Carolyn walked over and turned up the heater. The warmth it produced didn’t help. She doubted that anything would be able to dispel her sense of impending doom.

  ***

  Warner strolled through the lobby of the hotel closest to campaign headquarters, a wide smile on his face. He shook hands and waved to his supporters, then he headed for the elevator.

  Television news crews followed his progress through the building. They’d been with him since eight that morning, when he and Carolyn had gone together to cast their votes.

  After twelve and a half hours, Warner was still going strong. Excitement pumped adrenaline into his veins. He was overdue to meet Carolyn at the suite they had reserved. The polls had just closed, and he felt great. He stepped onto the elevator with Sammy, the state trooper, who punched the button for the top floor.

  “Tonight’s our night,” Warner said.

  “Yes, sir,” Sammy replied.

  “It’s the close races that mean the most. They make the victory sweeter.” Warner flashed Sammy his two-thousand-watt smile. “This victory is going to be the sweetest.”

  Carolyn and Edmund had been the voices of disaster lately, he mused, but he had refused to let them dampen his spirits. He realized the polls showed a close race, but he’d witnessed the faces of the crowd, the faces that affirmed his victory.

  They have no faith! Warner thought. He’d never lost an election before, and he wasn’t going to lose this one. He had it all under control. This was his day. Another day of glory on his way to his destiny – the White House.

  ***

  By 1:00 A.M, the unofficial results were in. Warner stepped up to the microphone to give his speech. The crowd had thinned. Filled with disbelief, he glanced around at his remaining supporters. Carolyn stood off to his side, her makeup perfect, a smile affixed to her face.

  Warner grasped the podium to stop his hands from shaking. Then his eyes fell on Edmund, who stood in the back of the room. Even at this distance, he could read the disgust on the old man’s face. History had repeated itself, and again, Warner found himself judged unworthy of love. Rejected. A failure. The “bastard” child had shamed the great Edmund Lane once more. Warner watched him turn his back and leave.

  He could feel his lips trembling as he spoke the words of his hastily thrown together concession speech. He’d seen no reason to prepare one, and now he stumbled through words of thanks, and of putting up a good fight, before cutting the speech short and excusing himself.

  He knew Carolyn was behind him as he headed for the exit. Warner turned, met her sober gaze and saw the stubborn set of her jaw.

  “Warner-”

  He held up his hand. “Not now.”

  FIFTEEN

  November 4,1990 – Jefferson City, Missouri

  A dumbfounded Warner Hamilton Lane slumped into the chair behind his desk in his home office. It was six A.M. He’d been up all night, grappling with the final election results. He’d spent most of the night driving around aimlessly before returning to the mansion. Carolyn wasn’t at home. She must have stayed in the hotel suite, he thought. He raked his fingers through his hair. How had this happened? He’d been so sure the election was his. How had he lost it?

  Carolyn’s list of campaign concerns came to mind. “The airport project will sink you,” she’d warned. “Even if you get the federal funding, you’ll still have to raise taxes. You voted for spending cuts in education. Green is hammering you on these fronts.” Her list had gone on and on. He’d ignored her, convinced that she was overreacting, convinced he had it all under control. He’d been stupid and arrogant, and now he was out of office. A loser.

  Edmund. His heart beat faster. The image of the old man leaving in the middle of his concession speech sprang into his mind, making him feel sick to his stomach. At least he hadn’t had to face him close up. Nor had he had to endure the sneer that he knew would be on Edmund’s face. It was the look that continued his inability to measure up. I’ve proven him right, again, Warner thought.

  What could he do now? He wanted to hide from the entire world, but especially from Carolyn and Edmund. Disgrace draped over him like a shroud. The worst part was that his position was indefensible. Carolyn had been right.

  Once, not lone ago, he could have counted on a loving and compassionate wife, but not now – not after the last year. He had to admit, that was his failing too. Granted, he’d been having an affair, but a man needed a sexual release. Initially he’d intended to hurt Carolyn, to punish her for her deceit and his sexual inadequacy where she was concerned. Hell, it was her fault after all. He’d never had that problem before. But now, with defeat smothering his energy, he found it impossible to conjure up the intense anger that had caused him to strike out at her.

  I’ve fucked up, Warner thought. Everything he’d possessed that was right and good, he’d abused or destroyed.

  Warner staggered to his feet, then paused. He had nowhere to go. He wanted to die. How could this have happened! he asked himself again and again. His mind spinning, he struggled to come up with a viable plan for his future and his very survival, but he could think of nothing.

  He’d always joked with the troopers that he’d have to stay in politics because he was too old to be a movie star. Being a politician was who he was, what he was. He garnered respect from the world and even Edmund in the political realm. If he couldn’t memorize the lines and wave to the crowd, he was lost. He didn’t know anything but politics, he didn’t want to know anything else. Well, he had taught law for a little while, but that was just until he’d won his first election.

  Carolyn selected that moment to walk into his office. “Damn you. You insisted on building that airport. There wasn’t enough public support for your pet project. But you still opted to please your father and his friends. And it’s cost you your political career. It was obvious to the voters that you were catering to the big money men. But you thought you were being clever, and no one would smell the corruption. You were wrong, and I’ve had it. I’m done playing the loving wife to a man who has just single-handedly flushed his career down the toilet.”

  Heat suffused his neck and face. He could feel the blood pulsing against the pain in his temples. Warner rose to his full height.

  Hands on her hips. Carolyn stood her ground.

  He didn’t care if he deserved h
er wrath, he refused to take it.

  “I’ll be filing for divorce,” she whispered.

  Warner began to shake. He wanted to hit something, to hit her, to unleash his frustration and failure through his fists.

  The defiance in her eyes stopped him, and he sat abruptly.

  The full weight of her words struck him like a blow to his solar plexus. “You can’t-” He looked at her, desperation seeping into his voice. He knew he sounded like a little boy. “Don’t – please – you can’t leave me.” A sob, pitched and quaking, bubbled up from deep within him.

  Carolyn remained silent.

  After a few moments, he wiped at the tears on his cheeks, and cleared his throat. “We’ll both be finished if you do that.”

  “No.” Carolyn said, “you’ll be finished. You are finished.” She turned and walked out.

  Oh, my God, Warner thought. Rings of sweat soaked the underarms of his shirt. If Carolyn left him now, he’d be lost. She was his source of strength and direction. He knew that losing the senatorial race would prompt Edmund to cut him off and without Carolyn’s income, he’d be destitute. He’d never had to worry about money before, but now, he realized, his future was doomed without her.

  He stood in the middle of the study feeling disoriented, not knowing where to turn or what to do. For the first time in his life, his charm meant nothing; he couldn’t talk his way out of this. Convinced that destiny was self-determined, he felt his world fly off its axis. He felt on the verge of suffocation, each breath shallow and short. “I can’t deal with this. I just can’t.”

  Warner walked over to a portrait that hung on a far wall of himself in cap and gown on graduation day at Harvard Law School. Edmund had not attended. He’d told Warner that he’d show up when Warner accomplished something worth celebrating.

  Warner pulled the frame forward like a cupboard door to reveal a wall safe. He stared at the steel door behind the picture, hesitating for a moment as he tried to make some sense out of his confused emotions.

  He reached out and grasped the dial to the safe, his decision made. With numb fingers, he dialed the combination. The lock clicked, then the door opened.

  He pulled out a.38 caliber snub nose.

  He was Warner “Fucking” Lane, the promising young Senator from Missouri. On the fast track to the White House. The presidency was his lifelong goal, and the senate was a key component to reaching that goal. Shit, what did it matter? Everything was gone now.

  Warner inspected the gun as it rested in the palm of his shaking hand. A sob caught in his throat.

  ***

  Carolyn sat on the corner of her desk at their mansion, scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad, and fielding calls from all over the country. High-level politicians and powerbrokers wanted her read on what had happened to Warner. She answered their questions in polished political fashion, spinning the situation to her and Warner’s advantage. The national attention was incredible.

  Carolyn knew that the balance of power between her and Warner shifted on the night of the election. She’d never aspired to anything other than a full partnership with her husband, but fate had stepped in and turned their world upside down. She’d promised herself that same night that they would recover from defeat and triumph again, although she would lead the team. In her own way, and on her terms. Then, and only then, she realized, would she be able to reform the foster care system. Then, and only then, would she be able to salvage her dignity, despite Warner’s rejection and his shockingly self-destructive behavior. She would not fail Warner a second time, at least not professionally.

  The phone rang again.

  “May I speak to Warner, please,” a baritone voice drawled.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not available. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Senator Richard Young. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

  Carolyn cringed. She knew that the Senator from Georgia was one of Warner’s drinking buddies in Washington. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Senator. I’ve heard Warner speak of you often, and I’ll be sure to tell him you called.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. He knows where to reach me.”

  “Good day. Senator.” Carolyn wrote his name down on a message slip, then tore it up. She’d be damned before she’d encourage that friendship. Warner knew she didn’t trust Young. but they were close friends and, as usual, he didn’t care what she thought. Carolyn dropped the ripped up message into the garbage can at the side of her desk.

  The phone rang again. A female voice told her to hold for the Speaker of the House.

  Carolyn moved behind her desk and sat.

  “Carolyn, hello.” The hearty voice of Jonathan Daniels boomed over the phone lines.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Speaker. It’s so nice to hear from you.”

  “I was sorry to learn of yesterday’s outcome.”

  “Yes, we’re very disappointed, but we’re going to re-group and come out fighting in the next election.”

  “Good to hear it.” Jonathan said. “Is Warner around? You know my feelings about him. I still believe he has a great future in politics, and I’d like to offer my support.”

  “No, actually he’s stepped out for the morning.” Carolyn lied. “But let me thank you for him. I’ll be sure to tell Warner you called to offer your support. I know it will mean a lot to him.”

  She hung up, validated that her efforts behind the scenes during the previous year had worked. In order to separate herself from her father-in-law’s grasp, she’d concentrated on cultivating relationships at the national level. Obviously, she had succeeded in bringing the right kind of attention to herself and Warner. Despite this debacle of an election, she now had a strategically tight grip on the reins of their future.

  In anger she’d threatened divorce, but she knew that would be disastrous to her life – their lives. She would build on Warner’s failure. Prove to him the value of their marriage. Their partnership.

  Edmund would make it easy for her. He’d relinquish control and want nothing to do with his son, now that Warner had lost. Carolyn stopped writing and tapped her cheek with the end of the pen. “I can make this work,” she said aloud, heartened that her dreams had not been completely destroyed.

  Warner had always done what he wanted. All too often, he ignored her advice. Not any longer, she decided. Carolyn picked up her mug of tea and walked to the window, looking out across the lawn of the old estate. Like her life, the gardens were dormant. Barren branches trembled in the wind and rusted leaves skittered across the yard.

  A measure of calm came with her newfound feeling of confidence. She knew that she could get Warner into the White House, but he’d have to agree to her terms. He’d rejected her personally, and that pain would probably never fade, but professionally, he needed her now more than ever. And, just maybe, if she saved his career, she could heal their marriage once he succeeded in the political arena.

  She sipped at her now cold herbal tea, enjoying the quiet as her mind raced with thoughts of the future. She was, after all, a survivor.

  The sharp report of a gunshot shattered the calm.

  Carolyn jumped.

  Tea splattered the window, her sweater and the wall. Her mug crashed to the floor.

  She stood stock still. Her mind frozen by fear. Her limbs suddenly weak and rubbery.

  Warner? Oh, dear God, please don’t take him from me.

  She willed herself to move. Heart pounding in her ears, she dashed out of the room and ran down the hallway toward the gunshot.

  SIXTEEN

  November, 1990 – Washington, D. C.

  Jack Rudly strode across the tarmac about ten yards behind the president of the United States. The wind whipped at his face, and the crisp morning air sent a shiver through his body. Freshly fallen leaves skipped across the ground. He looked up at the glimmer of yellow light on the horizon as it blended into shades of pale blue and pushed against the navy darkness of the night sky.

  Absently, he adjusted his tie.
This was his first morning covering the White House in the “tight pool.” Every White House correspondent traveled in the press plane, except the tight pool. Chosen on a rotating basis, this small group spent every moment near the president on catastrophe watch, then reported anything significant to the regular press pool.

  Jack boarded Air Force One and found his seat. He had to admit that since joining the Today news organization, his accommodations had improved dramatically. But was this what he wanted? Wearing a suit and baby-sitting the president in hopes of a scoop that he’d have to share with the rest of the press population. Adrenaline had been his steady diet for years. Now his biggest rush would be when the plane took off.

  Jack reached for a cigarette, then stopped himself Air Force One had rules about such things. Damn, domestic issues just didn’t hold the charm that life as a foreign correspondent had. This was success, he reminded himself, what his goal had been, a senior position with an excellent news organization.

  He remembered his discussion with his father about joining Today. His father had been right: living on the cutting edge of life didn’t bode well for any type of meaningful relationship. And his former lifestyle and passion for journalism had caused more damage to his personal life than he cared to admit.

  Having learned the hard way, Jack would no longer subject someone he loved to the nomadic and dangerous life of a foreign correspondent. Thus, after his wife died, he’d remained single and alone. The only exception had been Katherine Seals, and the ruin of that relationship proved his fears.