He flashed a charming smile. The table was full of very important people, people who had helped his political career to this point. They were strategizing how best to move forward, and he couldn’t afford to have any of them know things were going haywire on a different front.
“Yes,” JD said with another quick look at his phone. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have a call I need to take. I’m so sorry.”
The man waved a hand. “Do what you need to do. Once you’re in Washington, that phone will be ringing all the time.” He guffawed.
JD kept the smile on his face as he pushed back his chair and got up. He swiped the phone to answer and said, “Hold on.”
Kline remained silent, but JD could hear his breathing through the phone. Something big was going on. He stepped into a foyer, and as he walked toward the exit, his smile vanished.
“What’s going on? I told you not to disturb me.”
“We’ve got a big problem,” Kline snapped. “Jo Gunning may be working for the feds. Or someone. It’s no coincidence she hired on as Lydia’s driver.”
“What?” JD gripped the phone tightly. “How do you know that?”
“I’ll explain more later, but I talked to Sabrina, and to my police contact. The information is good. We have to get back to the house now.”
“They’re there?”
“Yes. They went to a bar called Remington’s in Irving for dinner, but they’re home now,” Kline said.
“Remington’s? I’ve never heard of the place,” JD said. “Why would she go there?”
“I don’t know,” Kline said. “They’re back at the house now, but Jo isn’t answering, and neither is Lydia. You need to call your wife and see what she’s doing. And tell her to stay there with Jo.”
“I’ll call as soon as I get off the phone,” JD said.
“I’m heading your way now. Wait outside for me. We have to figure out what’s going on, now.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Get here as fast as you can.”
JD ended the call. He stood there for a second, aware that he was breathing raggedly. He drew in some deep breaths, straightened his tie, and strode back into the dining room. He walked up to the table with an obligatory smile.
“Everything okay?” a woman from a fundraising organization asked.
JD shook his head and kept smiling. “I’m afraid something’s come up that I need to address. You know how it goes, sometimes people can’t get things done without your input.”
“You have to take charge,” the woman’s coworker said. “You’ll be doing a lot more of that soon.”
“Yes,” JD said. One of the first things he’d do was take care of Jo Gunning. He tipped his head politely. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
He turned away from the table before anyone could ask more questions. He hurried out of the dining room, already dialing Lydia as he stepped outside again. The phone rang and rang, and then went to voicemail. He ended the call, then tried again. Still no answer.
Where was she?
JD paced in front of the restaurant, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He hoped no one at the restaurant was suspicious. They hadn’t seemed so, but he would have to smooth things over later. And what about Kline? The man had told him everything would be okay, and it wasn’t. JD swore to himself. He should have known that the bank robbery would be too big a risk. There should’ve been another way to take care of things with that stupid reporter. Kline should have come up with a better plan. Well, when they got through this, he was going to have a long talk with Kline. If the man was going to follow him to DC, they would have to be more careful.
He tried Lydia again, and as the phone rang, an ugly thought crossed his mind. She’d been acting odd lately, distant. Suspicious even. What if Jo had gotten to her, gotten her to talk? Good lord, what if she was talking to the feds? He stopped pacing, his lungs heavy.
What did Lydia know? Anything?
He tried her another time, but still no answer. He looked around. Where the hell was Kline? They had to get to the mansion, now.
A black SUV sped into the parking lot, halting in front of the restaurant. JD didn’t wait for Kline to open the door, just hopped straight into the back seat.
“Tell me everything,” he said as they screeched away from the curb.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“What’s in there?” Lydia asked.
Jo rifled through some folders, at first glance not seeing anything that seemed important. Then, at the back of the drawer, she found some printed documents sitting on top of a black box.
“JD’s gun,” Lydia murmured.
Jo pulled out the papers, along with a USB drive. Lydia glanced at her phone.
“JD’s calling. I’m not talking to him.”
She killed the call and looked over her shoulder as Jo read some scanned copies of news articles.
“Trent Fontenot wrote these,” Jo said.
“Who’s he?” Lydia asked, exasperated as her phone rang again. She ignored it once more.
Jo glanced at her. “You don’t know the name?”
Lydia shook her head. Jo studied her, trying to see if she was lying, but she didn’t appear to be. She thought for a moment about how much she should say. She looked to the open desk drawer. She was committed now, so she took a chance.
