That Mike was ten years old when his dad had gotten up in the middle of the night to confront what he thought was an intruder and accidentally shot Mike’s teenage brother in the head.
That sometimes Mike could still hear the harrowing thump of his dead brother’s body hitting the wooden floor.
That sometimes Mike thought he was hearing the other thump of his dad’s body when the man had killed himself with the same gun one week later.
“Hey, I almost forgot.” Mike was smiling when he turned back around. “I was going to offer you some advice.”
Andrea loved his teasing tone. “My favorite thing is unsolicited advice.”
His smile turned into a grin. “Wherever you land, do yourself a favor and tell everybody that we’re dating.”
She actually guffawed. “How is that doing me a favor?”
“Well, number one, look at me.” He spread out his arms. “I’m fucking gorgeous.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. “And number two?”
“The guys in your new office are gonna wonder why you’re not sleeping with them.” He leaned his back against the window. “And they’re gonna start wondering—is she from internal affairs? Is she spying on me? Can I trust her? Or is she a lesbian? Why won’t she come out? What’s she hiding? Is her girlfriend prettier than me?”
“Those are the only choices? Either I’m a rat or I’m gay? It can’t be that I’m not interested?”
“Baby, they’re US Marshals. Of course you’re interested.”
Andrea shook her head. The only thing at Glynco that reeked more than sweat and Skin So Soft was testosterone. “I think your ego swallowed my carrier pigeon.”
His eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “That explains why I can’t get the taste of you out of my mouth.”
They both startled when a man wearing a black suit and a springy earpiece and showcasing the stick-up-the-ass posture of a federal agent poked his bald head into the room. He glanced around, nodded, then backed out.
“Sorry I’m late.” An imposing older man walked through the doorway, effectively sucking up all of the oxygen. He reached out an elegant hand toward Andrea. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Andrea. I’m so proud of what you’ve done here at the training facility. It’s quite an accomplishment.”
She had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. He hadn’t introduced himself, but she knew his face—of course she knew his face. He’d been a serious contender in the last presidential primary until a scandal had knocked him out of contention. Fortunately, he’d managed to land on his feet and was now the junior senator from the state of California.
He was also, she had recently learned, Laura’s older brother, which technically made him Andrea’s uncle.
“Have you—” her voice caught. “You didn’t see my mother?”
Jasper Queller’s Botoxed eyebrows twitched. “She’s here?”
“With my dad. Gordon. They, uh …” Andrea had to sit down. She had forgotten Mike was in the room until he introduced himself to Jasper. She wanted to kick his balls into the back of his throat for bringing her here. And she wanted to kick herself for walking into his trap, because Jasper hadn’t shown up by happenstance.
All of this had been planned.
Andrea heard a question ping-ponging inside her brain, one that had been posed to her two years ago when her life had turned upside down—
Jesus, kid, did you go through your entire life with a fishhook in your mouth?
She had answered in the affirmative then. There was no excuse for the fact that she was still taking the bait two years later.
She asked Jasper, “What are you doing here?”
Mike divined this was a good time to slip out the door.
Jasper placed a slim leather briefcase on the table. The sharp sound of the gold-plated locks clicking open was like money. She didn’t know who had made his suit, but someone had held an actual needle while they were doing it. She was probably looking at the physical manifestation of her combined student loan debt.
He indicated a chair. “May I?”
Andrea didn’t need to consult the organizational flowchart on the wall. The USMS was a bureau within the Department of Justice, which was overseen by the Senate Judiciary Committee, which consisted of twenty-two senators, including the man who was asking if he could sit down across from her.
“Help yourself.” She tried to wave her hand cavalierly but ended up hitting the edge of the table. Despite the frigid a/c, a bead of sweat rolled down her back. Her emotions were all over the place. Laura would go nuts if she found out that her daughter and her brother were in the same room together. No matter how angry Andrea was with her mother, she didn’t see a choice in front of her. She would never, ever be on Jasper’s side.
“Andrea, I’d like to start by saying I’m sorry we’ve not met before.” Even sitting down, Jasper had a military bearing, though he’d been out of uniform for decades. “I had hoped you would reach out to me.”
Andrea looked at the fine lines crinkling around his eyes. He was six years older than Laura, but they had the same patrician nose and high cheekbones. “Why would I reach out to you?”
He nodded once. “Good question. I suppose your mother was against it.”
The truth was an effective weapon. “The subject never came up.”
Jasper looked at her from behind his open briefcase. He pulled out a folder. He placed it on the table. He closed the briefcase and set it on the floor.
Andrea forced herself not to ask about the folder because he clearly wanted her to ask about the folder. “I’m going to be late for my graduation.”
“Trust me, they won’t start without you.”
Andrea gritted her teeth. The small world of the Marshal Service just got smaller. She’d soon be surrounded by a bunch of trained investigators who would be wondering why a US senator had held up graduation so he could talk to Andrea Oliver.
“It’s really quite something to see you in person.” Jasper was openly studying her face. “Your aspect reminds me so much of your mother.”
“Why doesn’t that feel like a compliment?”
He smiled. “I suppose it’s better than being compared to your father.”
She supposed he was right.
“He’s why I’m here, actually.” Jasper tapped the folder. “As you know, the additional charges filed against your father two years ago ended with hung juries. DOJ won’t try him again. Meanwhile, time is winding down on his original sentencing. Conspiracy to commit acts of domestic terrorism was a novel charge pre-9/11. The murder conspiracy only has a certain number of teeth, and while your mother’s testimony was helpful, it was not quite helpful enough, was it? We would be almost better off had your father succeeded in his crimes.”
Andrea didn’t appreciate the swipe at Laura, but she shrugged out her hands. Nick Harp had another fifteen years left on his forty-eight-year sentence. “So?”
Jasper said, “Your father is up for parole again in six months.”
Something about his tone twisted Andrea’s stomach into a knot. The only reason she was able to sleep at night was because she knew that Nick was behind bars. “He’s had parole hearings before. He always gets turned down. Why do you think this time will be any different?”