Winter's Harvest

By LS Sygnet

(Eriksson #11) Helen Eriksson’s greatest fears are realized when her new life suddenly crumbles around her. With limited options available, Helen is forced to make a difficult decision, to expose her past in order to save the people she loves from the man determined to destroy all of their lives. Battered on every front, Helen's past collides with her present and threatens the future she finally believes she can have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LS Sygnet
• Release date: Jul 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310921292

LS Sygnet

LS Sygnet was a mastermind of schoolyard schemes as a child who grew into someone who channeled that inner criminal onto the pages of books. Sygnet worked full-time in the nursing profession for 29 years before her "semi-retirement" in March 2014.She currently lives in Georgia, but Colorado will always be her home.

Book preview

Helen Eriksson

This nightmare didn’t start on Tuesday, November sixth. I hoped it would end here. Tonight. That Joe Collangelo would have to make a phone call wherein a whole lot of crow would be eaten. The polls were closed. The votes were being tallied. And Johnny and I had no right to oversee the legal tally of ballots. But I wished to God we did.

He denied nervousness. After news broke that Collangelo summarily fired Johnny due to fundamental differences in the ethical practices in law enforcement (Joe’s words, and while technically true, were intended to paint Johnny in the worst possible light), I saw red again. Red-black. That homicidal rage that in the end, jeopardized the career of my husband, returned.

It doesn’t matter what he says, Helen. At least he didn’t accuse me of tampering with evidence again, Johnny’s laugh was dry, forced, brittle enough to crack the air like a whip. We know the truth.

His thumb swished back and forth across my knuckles as the two of us sat alone on the sectional in the family room watching the election night coverage. Oh, he’d sworn up and down that the outcome didn’t matter to him at all, but the strength that was grinding the small bones in my deceptively fragile-looking hand said otherwise.

Johnny, he’s not going to win.

He snorted. Doesn’t matter, Helen. I’m done with the son of a bitch no matter what.

I didn’t want to let it go, nor was I convinced by the ardent claim that I’d just made. If Collangelo would unleash hell on Darkwater Bay just to get rid of me and attempt to make himself look like a hero, he’d do anything to make sure he won the election.

Like how he probably told Faith Briscoe he’d make it worth her while if Julie Spicer didn’t foil his very first election, I muttered.

Helen, stop fussing about him. Let Homeland Security deal with his vile crimes. People thought I took liberties with OSI…if they ever learned how far DHS can legally go without anyone yanking on the reins, they’d think we were boy scouts.

I feel powerless, I grumbled and reached for the remote control. Let’s find an old movie to watch. Something happy, without politics.

No, I want to watch the election results, Johnny grinned and snatched the remote before I could grab it. And besides, even old movies are political.

"Are you challenging me to a wrestling match? ‘Cause I’ll fight you for that remote, Orion. I will throw down for it."

Johnny tossed the remote over his shoulder and pulled me into his lap faster than I could—or wanted to—react. I’m where I want to be, Helen. Here, with you, with our beautiful babies. He’s out there fighting for something that’s pretty pointless in the end. I’m the one with all of the good fortune and blessings, not Joe.

Then watching this nonsense, the regurgitated predictions, the ridiculous and rampant state of denial by idiot prognosticators who can’t accept the fact that their horse in the race has foam dripping from its mouth and is down for the count on wobbly forelegs…this isn’t what you need right now.

He kissed me soundly. "It’s our first major election night together. Be happy they only come every four years, love, because this is exactly what I do every first Tuesday of November, every leap year."

Before I could attempt a new distraction related to his all-too-brief kiss, the broadcaster’s voice broke through and snared his attention. My poor husband…the trophy fish in the ocean of dreck.

This just in with fifty percent of the precincts reporting in…

Our candidate’s faces flashed on the screen.

Fifty-eight percent of the votes have been cast for Bernice Vandergüt, who as some viewers may know, actually left her Congressional seat to run against incumbent Governor Joseph Collangelo.

See? I grinned. "I was right. He’s going to lose by a lot."

"Of course our viewers should be aware that the fifty percent of the reporting precincts excludes the largest in the state, the capital city of Montgomery, and also we’re getting information that indicates only ten percent of the votes from the Darkwater Bay area have been tallied thus far.

We’re checking in with Governor Collangelo’s campaign manager from his hometown in Darkwater Bay at their hopeful site of a victory speech. Reporter Claire Carson from our local affiliate WDBA reports.

Thank you, Diane. I’m here with incumbent Governor Joe Collangelo’s campaign manager, Ricard Esquibel. Mr. Esquibel, the atmosphere here at the Rosemont has become rather subdued over the past hour or so since early results started to filter in. Can you tell our viewers about the governor’s state of mind and that of all of these people who have worked so tirelessly to help him win his bid for reelection?

I wouldn’t say things are any more subdued now than they were an hour ago, Claire, he smiled silkily.

My brain saw the smirk on a snake’s face just before it strikes. His tongue even poked out to moisten his lips.

At this point, the small districts have their tallies—that’s where the fifty percent comes from. But when you think about this from a mathematics point of view, half the districts in this state are rural and sparsely populated compared to our two major cities—Darkwater Bay and Montgomery. I don’t mean to sound like I’m marginalizing the voice of anyone, but this race is only beginning. Now when fifty percent of Darkwater Bay and Montgomery are counted, then we’ll have something to talk about.

Our exit polls in both major cities have been fairly consistent, with voters in a similar percentage voicing support for Congresswoman Vandergüt.

Exit polls are not votes, Claire, and until we’ve got all the ballots counted, we’re not conceding anything.

He turned to one of the many hands that had clapped him on the back in passing as he gave his little sound bites to Claire and started to strike up a conversation.

Everything but Claire’s eyes showed acceptance of the brush off. Those orbs of hers sparked with irritation. There you have it, hope is not lost at the Collangelo headquarters, she said. Back to you, Diane.

My jaw dropped. Did you just see who walked past her after she turned away from Esquibel?

No, who was it? Johnny asked.

I didn’t answer for a moment, lost in a bit of cold remembrance. The conversation I had with Stephen Jarecki from the Department of Homeland Security while my husband, Devlin Mackenzie and Baloyi Barbarossa loaded prisoners from an underground bunker into the back of a SWAT vehicle sucked me back in time.

"Interesting conversation between you and Bloode, doctor. I’d heard rumors that the two of you were in contact nearly a decade ago, that something significant happened just before Frank seemed to fall apart on the job."

"What’s your point, Jarecki?" I kept my focus on Johnny, on my tether to a better life, one that I had been reminded numerous times that I didn’t deserve but wanted desperately all the same.

"Just that Frank has been an incredible asset in the intelligence community. Some think he’s one of a kind. I’m starting to wonder if that’s true at all. Maybe he had some inspiration in his transformation," his voice dipped low, to the point that my head involuntarily shifted slightly left to get closer to the soft words.

"And again, I’d appreciate it if you’d spit out exactly what you’re trying to tell me, Agent Jarecki. If you’re trying to threaten me or make me feel uncomfortable because you think I’m a bad person—"

"That’s not my agenda at all, Helen. I was expressing admiration. This thing with Collangelo—sure, we could scoop him up and scare him into a confession, but the evidence we have now, it’s just not enough."

My eyes met his, blazing with silent fury. I heard his voice.

"Yeah, and Frank Bloode did too, but he could never be compelled to take the stand and we both know it. You saw what Frank did to Kavan Dunkle and Ted Macalister. If we could ever convince them to testify, anything they said would be shot down so fast because they were tortured, it’s not even funny. Ideally, Ryan Loffler would’ve been taken alive. He could’ve filled in the numerous blanks in this case.

"You think that because of who we are, how we operate outside the old paradigm that shifts all of the power to the guilty, that we don’t particularly give a damn about due process or the public’s perception of us, doctor. You’re wrong. Do you think I like operating this way? Don’t you think that I’d prefer that we hand a federal prosecutor an airtight case that could be successfully tried in any court in the land and would pass muster?"

"I’m not sure what any of this has to do with me. You think Collangelo will walk. I see your point. It’s my word against his, and in the column of sins committed, I’m sure you think my list is as long as his. But he’s a governor. People will give him the benefit of the doubt. Whereas I was married to a man who laundered money for the mob and claimed complete ignorance. Nobody believed me when it happened. There’s no conceivable reason that my credibility has increased, particularly since I was investigated for my ex-husband’s puzzling death."

Jarecki grinned. It wasn’t all that puzzling after the gun turned up in Sully Marcos’ waste disposal facility.

I broke eye contact and stared at the ground. Rick’s death was officially ruled a suicide by the FBI, Agent Jarecki. Case closed.

He leaned closer and murmured, "Convenient, but we both know better, and you were so shrewd about the whole thing, Helen. Having him cremated…burying his ashes in a coffin so if anybody tried to at some later point prove that there was no gunshot residue on his hand, that they’d find nothing but an urn and ashes. You see, I have great reason to believe that you and Frank Bloode are indeed kindred spirits.

"I’d imagine the man who raised you had a great deal to do with shaping not only your criminal mind, but your capacity to plan on the fly."

I swallowed the knot in my throat. I have no idea what that means.

"It boils down to this, Dr. Eriksson. At some point, you’re going to need me."

Another hard stare connected us in an unholy battle between agendas. I don’t need you, and I never will. Leave the past where it belongs, Agent Jarecki. I have a good life now, a very different one than you might imagine. I’ve stopped a lot of very bad people from hurting others, including Joe Collangelo. Let me have peace as my reward. I’d like to fade into obscurity with my husband.

He laughed softly. "With your husband, the highest profile and most powerful cop in the state. Right…and how long will it be before he needs you on the next case, or the one after that, Helen? You can’t get out of the maze. You’re trapped in it, just like every other cop who gets the virus inside his body. There is no cure."

"I am free, and I intend to stay that way." The heaviness in my chest reminded me that my children needed me. They were probably awake and hungry already.

"You scratch our back, we watch yours, doctor. I could use someone with your skills on my team, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you on my side. Make no mistake. You will see me again, perhaps when you least expect it."

"I can’t help you beyond this case, agent."

"Then I’ll take that much, for now at least. But I’ll have to ask you to lie to your husband."

I opened my mouth to protest.

"Just for the next however long it takes us to get Collangelo sitting down for a conversation. I want you to surprise him. Don’t worry. I’ll give Commander Orion enough details so he can help me get Collangelo in a room alone."

"And why would I need to lie to Johnny about that?"

"Because I want Johnny to lead Joe to believe you haven’t been recovered yet, and I want you to show up."

My lips curled into a sneer. You think that will work on a man like Joe Collangelo? This isn’t some ignorant, low-level street thug, Agent Jarecki. He’s a former State Attorney General, a brilliant litigator in his day from what I’ve heard. He probably invented a few tricks of his own when it came to squeezing the truth out of people.

"I don’t expect him to confess. I just want his reaction, and I want him to know that this isn’t going to go away. Regardless of how savvy a criminal thinks he or she is, when they feel heat on the back of their necks, they start making mistakes. You know it as well as I do," he added the last with a smirk.

"I really do despise you," I muttered.

"Funny, but you know what I learned over the past few weeks playing the role of your worst enemy’s cousin? You were so entrenched in closing a case that put Darkwater Bay on DHS’s radar that I know for a fact there are dozens of witnesses who could honestly swear that you were nowhere near Sully’s little biogas facility. But Commander Orion was in New York. He visited your dearly departed father at Attica Correctional Facility."

My cheeks flamed with heat. If you know so much, arrest me. See if you can put enough evidence behind your ugly insinuations and have it hold up in court, agent.

"I can’t do it…yet. Like I said, I’d rather have your help."

Johnny’s gaze connected with mine for a brief moment, and I recognized the suspicion growing in his eyes.

"Wish in one hand and shit in the other, Agent Jarecki. See which one gets filled faster. I’m done with you and your investigation."

"You don’t care if Collangelo walks? What if he wins the election? What if he unfairly wins it? Can you really live with that?"

I walked away from Jarecki after he asked those last four questions. After I did his bidding and confronted Joe, I hadn’t seen or heard from him again. The dubious subpoena I’d received twenty-four days ago made me panic for a moment. But I’d spoken to the prosecutor, a go-getter by the name of Lawrence Blanco, who assured me that I was only being listed as a witness in the event of the necessity, but didn’t elaborate beyond that.

Sully’s attorney, the main one anyway, Eli Hathaway, has made it abundantly clear that they plan to throw the kitchen sink at the government. Your testimony, while important, isn’t as crucial to our case, Dr. Eriksson. Still, I want you available to testify late in the trial should we need you. We’ll send you a ticket, put you up out here, even pay for an attorney to represent your interests if you think that’s necessary. I’m aware that you have a relationship with our star John Doe witness. He’s going to give us enough to convict Sullivan Marcos for at least a hundred life sentences. But we want him on everything. Please don’t worry about this subpoena.

I hadn’t been worried since that conversation. Not until tonight, anyway. Oddly, the fear that Jarecki had somehow used influence to affect a subpoena for my testimony seemed ridiculous after speaking to Lawrence Blanco.

But Jarecki’s promise…you will see me again, perhaps when you least expect it…

Johnny’s fingers snapped in front of my nose. Helen? What’s wrong?

I looked up at him. What?

You asked if I saw who walked past Esquibel, and I told you I didn’t. You zoned out when I asked who it was.

That thick knot of dread slithered up from the pit of my dark soul and lodged in the back of my throat again.

Helen?

It was Stephen Jarecki.

Oh, yeah. You’re right. I did see him. It just didn’t click for a moment.

"You don’t care?"

He smiled, one of those soft indulgent ones that was like a pat on the head to the slow child incapable of grasping that one plus one equals two. Honey, you didn’t actually expect him to give up his pursuit of Joe so easily, did you? The man planned to unleash a deadly chemical weapon on Darkwater Bay.

I didn’t expect to see him at the Rosemont with Collangelo’s people.

Johnny’s eyes tightened. Yeah, well I’d imagine he has the same concerns we do about Joe’s confidence that he’ll win the election tonight. I’d imagine that Agent Jarecki has people crawling all over our state making sure this election is indeed fair.

Oh. I suppose if he could catch him for election fraud, that would be a good first step in closing the rest of his case, I said.

Johnny snorted. Don’t kid yourself, Helen. Jarecki wants him for everything. He won’t stop until he succeeds.

Chapter 2

Helen Eriksson

Sometimes, the most innocent statement is fraught with foreboding. I thought about what Johnny said while I fed Erik—who outweighs his brother by three pounds already.

Jarecki wants Joe's hide in the worst way. Ordinarily, I’d agree with him. I’d lose my shit and be out there dogging his every step, just praying for that moment when he’d screw up and I’d catch him. The fact that he tried to frame me for an act of terrorism against the citizens of Darkwater Bay should’ve sent me into paranoid, vengeance-with-extreme-prejudice mode.

The infant snuggled against my breast, the other child in a crib examining his fist, they changed the game for me. I worried the entire duration of my pregnancy that I’d be a horrible mother who couldn’t put her children first, who couldn’t step back and look at a much bigger picture than cleaning the streets of scum that probably pissed me off in some personal way.

That fear clung to me right up to the day Jack and Erik were born prematurely. Sure, the doctors assured me that I hadn’t done anything per se to cause that placental abruption, but the niggling doubt in my head was like a kernel of self-loathing. It took root and burrowed deeply, making me so sensitive to every time I was more than three rooms away from my children that my guilt became an overwhelming issue.

And then some asshole abducted me again. Sheesh. How much bad luck can one person have?

Erik gave me a milky grin, done eating, but just enjoying the comfort of being cuddled, safe and warm. He’s going to be our problem child, I already know it. I was underneath a drape when the surgeon pulled Erik out—the first born technically. He was named after my father, Wendell Erik, because he looks like my side of the family. Well, he looks like his Uncle Crevan to be exact.

Jack looks like Johnny. Even after only three months, it’s pretty obvious to me that he has Johnny’s gentle side. Erik? He’s mama’s boy.

I vaguely heard Johnny moving around in the kitchen and wondered what was happening with the election watch. I shook my head and cooed to Erik, "Your daddy is insane, Erik. He is glued to that stupid television, like whatever happens is going to make a difference.

Listen to your mother. Politicians are pure evil. Every last one of them. Narcissists one and all, and that level of grandiosity should be illegal.

Jack gave a slight wail, ready for his turn, provided Erik left anything for him, and snagged my attention again.

I was about to pick him up after burping Erik and settling him back in the crib when I heard the chime signaling an arrival at the gate.

Got it, sweetheart, Johnny called from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the Rolex. Ten-thirty. What idiot in his right mind would be out visiting at this hour anyway? I snorted softly. Probably your Uncle Crevan, I cooed as I scooped Jack up into my arms.

Johnny’s voice was loud enough for me to hear him talking through the intercom to the gate, but not so loud that I could distinguish what he was saying. Frankly, I didn’t care. It would probably become a situation of commiseration over politics once Crevan got in the house, and I wanted no part of it.

But Johnny’s voice grew louder.

I frowned but for half a second before he appeared in the door of the nursery.

What’s going on? I asked.

Collangelo is so far behind with eighty-percent of precincts reporting that it’s a done deal, yet he’s refusing to make the concession call.

You look pale… something painful gripped my heart.

A state police officer is coming up to the house.

Why? I asked. Did Vandergüt win?

He nodded, But Joe's not out of office until January. They’re here to arrest me, Helen.

"What? Has that idiot lost his mind?"

The doorbell shattered the tension crackling between Johnny’s statement and my growing ire. Left in the void was another kind of strain, one that had me ready to put Jack back to bed and grab the nearest handgun and shoot our way out of Darkwater Bay, the whole damned state if necessary.

Helen, I’m letting them in, and looking at this alleged warrant for my arrest. I didn’t want you to be alarmed—

Too late, I snarled. Jack latched onto my bared breast and fussily objected to the waves of rage thundering from every pore in my body.

Just feed our son and call my lawyer.

Who the hell is your lawyer? I protested.

Technically, I don’t have one for criminal cases, but it appears I’m going to need somebody in a hurry, honey. Just…use your best judgment—but without any bloodshed.

He knows me so well.

The doorbell sounded insistently.

I draped a cloth over my exposed breast and suckling baby and followed him to the foyer. He had the door swung open before I got there, but was close enough to hear, John Orion, you’re under arrest for gross malfeasance. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—

I thrust one hand out. I’d like to see that warrant, and my husband knows his rights. I can assure you, whatever you’re hoping to hear from him absolutely won’t be said.

Helen, Johnny said softly, this is Lieutenant Commander Dickey Muscatine. Dickey, this is my wife Helen.

He tipped his cap soberly. Ma’am. Listen, I’m not any happier about this than you folks are, but I was ordered to execute the warrant for Johnny’s arrest. My hands are tied.

Malfeasance, I snorted. "Exactly who’s leveling this charge against him? Because unless the law has drastically changed in the past few weeks, malfeasance is typically reserved for criminal acts committed by elected officials, not appointed state police commanders, certainly not those who never took a dime from the state coffers illegally."

Muscatine flushed. I’m afraid I need to put you in cuffs, commander.

He’s not a commander anymore, you dolt.

Helen, call a lawyer. It’s all right, Dickey. I understand. Where can she tell my lawyer to meet me? Johnny asked.

Muscatine’s color bled quickly away.

Montgomery? I snarled. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! Collangelo did this, didn’t he? He’s behind this whole ridiculous exercise that won’t even result in prosecution—

Helen, let’s not blame Dickey for doing his job. This isn’t his fault.

Johnny held his hands behind his head and went docilely like a lamb to Joe's slaughter while Dickey cuffed him. Meanwhile, I simmered with volcanic rage on behalf of both of us.

I’ll call Carlos Stefano.

Johnny’s eyebrows did a little dance. I guess he’ll be meeting me at the state police headquarters in Montgomery.

I understood his silent amusement over the choice of attorney, but honestly, there wasn’t another bastard defense attorney that I knew well enough to get this ridiculous nonsense put to a quick end other than the lawyer who would’ve completely dismantled the case I made against Danny Datello last year.

For God’s sake, don’t answer any questions or talk to anyone about anything, I said rising on tip-toe and kissing him quickly. I’ll call Mom to watch the boys and be right behind you with Stefano.

Stay here, Helen, Johnny said quietly. I’d rather you were home managing things from this end. The attorney will be enough.

Anger welled in my chest as I watched Johnny leave with this jerk Muscatine. What was wrong with cops who felt compelled to follow bad orders?

I had Stefano on the phone before the state police car hit the front gate.

Helen Eriksson, I’d recognize your phone number anywhere, Stefano’s grin offended from afar. What could you possibly be calling me for at home and this late at night?

After a barely perceptible pause, he sobered instantly. Is this about Danny?

No, thank God, I said. As far as I know, he’s fine, waiting for his moment on the stand when he puts his bastard uncle away for all time.

"Then why are you calling me?"

I quickly explained what happened.

Hold on, Stefano said. The officer said Johnny was being arrested for malfeasance?

Just over a year ago, Johnny absconded with the state police jet and travelled to New York to visit my father. He’d done it again last spring when I took off and broke my father out of Attica. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

Doctor, this is not the time to be reticent. And why would the state police take him to Montgomery when for all intents and purposes, Johnny was based in Darkwater Bay’s state police annex throughout his tenure?

It’s Collangelo, I admitted, and if I seem reluctant to say more, let’s just be blunt with one another, Mr. Stefano. I’m asking you to represent my husband, not me. What he says to you is protected under attorney-client privilege. That doesn’t extend to me by proxy.

Actually, it does, because if I’m to represent my client properly, I need to know everything. Since the two of you can’t be compelled to testify against one another, it’s effectively making me your attorney as well.

Johnny used the state police jet for a couple of personal matters that…well, they both involved me, but they weren’t really germane to any open cases OSI was investigating.

I need details, Helen. For God’s sake, I’m a defense attorney, not a prosecutor.

I told everyone my father was dead. Johnny went to New York to visit him in prison last year…while I was embroiled in that drug case involving the Jackson brothers in Downey.

Silence. Dead-too-fucking-profound silence.

It wasn’t like he expensed the trips to the state police, for God’s sake, my exasperation mounted, rippled through my body and into poor Jack who most surely was having the least comforting bonding time during this particular feeding.

So Johnny met with your father in October last year while you were nearly killed.

Obviously, he got back in town in time to save my life, I snapped. That’s not the point!

Wasn’t that around the same time that Sullivan Marcos was arrested on the RICO charges?

I groaned.

"Okay, I don’t need to know anything that doesn’t relate to Johnny’s arrest, not unless it’s been unearthed and is cause for his arrest, Helen. Is that a possibility?"

Hell, could Collangelo have found out what really happened in New York when Johnny took the jet—either time?

I think Johnny should tell you that. Or you can have that discussion with him when you learn exactly what this charge of malfeasance is really about, I said.

Why did he take the jet the second time, and was the cost of that trip also out of his own pocket? he asked.

Of course he paid for it, and it was…it was personal. I’d been abducted just prior to that, and felt threatened, so I left town. Johnny basically figured out where I was and came to…retrieve me.

All right. I suppose that’s enough detail for the moment, Helen. I’ll be waiting for Johnny in Montgomery when he arrives.

A wave of relief flooded my tense muscles. You’ll fly?"

He chuckled. The state police will drive. I’ll be waiting at the state police headquarters long before they arrive, he assured me. We’ll get it resolved quickly, and I’ll have him back home in no time.

How much? I asked.

Time?

Your retainer, I said.

Let’s talk about fees after I get the charges dropped.

And if Joe's minions won’t drop this, then what?

Then we’ll be in front of a judge first thing in the morning and I’ll insist on discovery to show legal cause for the arrest. If the charges stand, I’ll get bail or RoR for him, in which case, we’ll be home for a late lunch.

If the judge refuses to release on recognizance, money is no option. I can have bail posted right away, I said.

No option at all? Stefano asked.

If it’s more than a million, it’ll take me a couple of hours to have the money transferred to a local bank so we can issue a cashier’s check.

Or we could use a bail bondsman, Helen. Let’s not throw up red flags advertising your personal wealth.

I hadn’t considered that. I’ll have to trust you to do what’s best.

I know we don’t have the best history, but when I finally learned the truth about what really happened to Danny, it meant a lot. I’ll do my very best for your husband, Helen.

I wouldn’t have called had I not known what a great defense you would’ve mounted for Danny. Johnny knows I planned to call you. I wanted to follow him after talking to you, but he insisted that I stay home.

Which is the right call, Helen. I know it’s tough, but we’ll keep you informed every step of the way. Is this the best number to reach you?

I rattled off my cell for him—just as it began ringing.

Now what?

Chapter 3

Helen Eriksson

I hung up one line and answered another.

Helen, this is Stephen Jarecki.

To quote my best friend Maya Winslow, Jesus Christ and General Jackson. I really don’t have time for whatever it is you want right now, Jarecki, I snarled.

I heard you’ve had a rather distressing development tonight, he said.

Let me call you back. You’re on your cell?

Do you promise to call? he asked. Because I’m not dicking around, Helen. This is very serious, probably more than you realize.

I’m breastfeeding a baby at the moment, if you must know. I’d like to get my mother over here to help me out so I can deal with these non-stop developments tonight. Do you mind?

Ten minutes. Any longer than that, and I’m showing up at your house.

The clock on the microwave read eleven-eleven. Just come over. There’s no way I can get my mother here that fast, and I’ve got a feeling that you might perhaps be responsible for the other mess that happened right before you called.

I most certainly did not, couldn’t hide his affront if he’d bothered to try.

Then after you convince me that’s the truth, I’ll apologize. I hung up without warning or preamble and dialed my mother’s number.

She sounded remarkably awake. Helen, I expected you’d call.

What the hell? Why? It’s late. What are you doing awake at this hour?

Sweetheart, she said gently, "it’s been all over the news. Governor Collangelo held a press conference. For heaven’s sake, CNN is covering the story already. Everyone expected that pompous windbag to stand up and concede the election, and he said he’d ordered Johnny’s arrest and has evidence that your husband tampered with the election, that Johnny has a long history of misusing his power and influence, his authority, even state property to advance some criminal agenda in the state. He basically called your husband—my son-in-law—some kind of organized crime boss!"

Sweet baby Jesus, I murmured and sagged against the counter. How soon can you get here?

I’m already dressed. I was just getting ready to call you when the phone rang. Give me ten minutes.

Thanks, Mom. Just so you’re aware, Johnny was arrested about half an hour ago. I’ve got an attorney en route to Montgomery to represent him, and…well, someone from the Department of Homeland Security is coming to talk to me about what’s going on.

He’s on our side of course, she said.

I could only hope so. Listen, I need to finish feeding Jack. Just let yourself in when you get here.

I will. And darling, everything is going to be fine. Everyone knows how wonderful Johnny Orion is. Don’t worry about a thing.

I couldn’t have given a damn what the public thought at that particular moment, at least not until my mother planted the seed in my fertile imagination.

By the time Jack was fed, burped, changed and tucked back into bed with his brother, I was in a state of near complete panic. Even if the charges were dropped, shown to be bogus like I knew they were, no way would Johnny walk away from it entirely unscathed. For over fifteen years, he had an ugly cloud of suspicion hanging over his head that some in law enforcement still believed was valid. Johnny hadn’t tampered with evidence in the Brighton Bennett murder investigation any more than he’d rigged the election somehow so Joe Collangelo would lose tonight.

Joe clearly didn’t plan to go down alone, that much was certain. He had nothing left to lose, unless he’d framed Johnny for election fraud and thought somehow that he could hold onto another term as governor by scapegoating my husband.

Framing me hadn’t worked. Johnny was suddenly fair game. That blessed red-black haze started seeping into the periphery of my field of vision. If Collangelo wanted a devil to settle this once and for all, a real criminal to show up on the scene, he’d at least come to the right address.

Mom appeared in the doorway of the nursery. I let Agent Jarecki in when I got here, she said. Though I did make him show me his badge.

I grinned, despite the horror of the evening. Good for you, Mom. The boys are fed, burped, changed and tucked away, but I don’t think Erik is going to let either one of them sleep.

Go talk to your friend, dear. He looks as upset as you are.

With wary anticipation, I found Jarecki in my kitchen. He’d pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and was glaring at it rather than drinking it.

You honestly didn’t see Joe's endgame coming, did you? I asked.

He tipped the beer to his lips and guzzled, emptied it and dragged the back of his right hand over his mouth. Got anything stronger than Guinness?

Scotch, Johnny’s Glenlivet is in the cupboard behind you. Help yourself.

I’d ask you to join me, he said as he turned quickly toward the hard liquor. Mom thing though. Didn’t figure you’d imbibe.

No, I wouldn’t, but that’s not the only reason. My husband’s life is unraveling, and he hasn’t done a damned thing to deserve it, Agent Jarecki. I think I owe it to him to remain levelheaded.

He laughed softly and toasted with the whole bottle before he took a hefty slug of the potent spirits. I’m starting to feel like your way is best, Helen. Shoulders slumped. I don’t know what to do to get this guy. It seems like he’s insulated himself so well, and has a contingency for everything imaginable.

I saw you on television at the Rosemont, I said. Why were you at Joe's election night headquarters?

Making sure there was no election fraud.

So the son of a bitch hasn’t been ten steps ahead of you after all, I said. Did you find any evidence of fraud?

Jarecki’s eyes narrowed. On the governor’s behalf? No. I believe he lost that election fair and square, though blaming someone else for making sure he lost is surely one way I never imagined someone would try to hold onto public office.

Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened. Remember the election of hanging chads? And those were the highest stakes of all. This is a governor’s race, not the presidential election.

How is Johnny? Jarecki asked.

"Do you really care? Last I knew, you didn’t think a whole lot of either one of us, Jarecki. In fact, I seem to recall you rather forcefully broadcasting your opinion that my husband was dubiously empowered."

I suppose I should fall on my sword right now, he sighed and took another robust gulp of booze.

I reached out and pried the bottle from his grip. What you should do is remain sober and tell me why you’re here.

I planned to talk to you tomorrow…before this…this bullshit went down tonight.

Agent, we’ve had this conversation. I can’t help you.

And I want you on my team. I told you I’d do anything to get you to work with me.

"Would anything include having my husband’s professional reputation ruined?"

Of course not, he growled. This thing could have far reaching implications for Johnny, even when he’s vindicated.

I should be comforted that you believe he will be vindicated, Stephen, I said. And I shouldn’t give a damn about his professional reputation, as long as he’s not in prison.

Biting my tongue, I clamped down on the urge to add, where I belong. Again, the waves of regret and bone crushing remorse settled over me. This was all my fault after all. If Johnny hadn’t had to dig for the