CSA Case Files: Campaign of Desire Part 6

"Stop being my mother for just one minute, will you?" Kimmie stood and faced Phoebe, hat in hand. The animosity that was radiating off of her sister was astonishing and Phoebe just stared at her in shock. "You don't always get to decide what is right for me. From the time Mom died, all you did was make decisions that were in my best interest. I know you did what you thought was best, but there were times that I felt smothered. Having rent-a-cops following me twenty-four seven suffocates me, Phoebe."

Phoebe could feel her chest tighten and her airway constrict, but she refused to allow Kimmie to see that the words she was slinging were hitting their target. Vulnerability had no place when one was on the defensive. It was time to turn the tables and get to the truth of the matter, which was why Kimmie would admit her guilt now.

"You could have kept the letters coming in hopes that Dad would eventually change his mind. Why didn't you?"

"Dad was always going to run." Kimmie looked a little deflated, but she didn't sit back down. "It was you who I thought would change your mind. I know you love me and I know how protective you can be, so I thought if the letters were threatening enough, you would tell him to step down. He's always listened to you."

"He never showed me the letters, Kimmie." Phoebe felt like the office was closing in on her, but going out into the bullpen wasn't an option. Forget rewinding the minutes-she wanted to totally reverse this day and go back to last night, when everything was right in the world. "Dad made the threats sound innocuous. As for this last one, Ethan had already turned it over to one of the security team members to process. Is that why you're telling me now?"

"I tried to be careful not to leave any evidence. I used gloves and paper that were at the college. I honestly didn't think-"

"No, you didn't," Phoebe accused, shaking her in disappointment. "What if the Secret Service had come in right away? What if they were the ones who had discovered it first? Your a.s.s would be sitting in a jail cell and not in this office. h.e.l.l, Kimmie, you might still go to jail when Ethan tells Gavin Crest. This isn't about a daughter and a father, this is about threatening a Presidential candidate. My G.o.d, what were you thinking?"

"That I wanted my life back," Kimmie shouted, her fingers tightening on her knitted hat. "I know I f.u.c.ked up, Phoebe. Which is why I went to Ethan first thing this morning. After yesterday, when they thought Austin might have had something to do with it...he's innocent and a friend of mine. It made me realize that this was getting out of hand."

"Or did the fact that Crest's computer technician was about to look at the footage of the campus building have something to do with it? You were close to getting caught."

"I didn't put the letter in the cla.s.sroom," Kimmie admitted, guilt lacing her tone for the first time. "I couldn't get away from the guard or Ethan, so I had a friend do it."

"The same friend being Austin?" Phoebe was astounded that for someone so intelligent that Kimmie would have so little common sense. She tried to remind herself that her sister was young, especially mentally, but it really didn't help the situation. The damage had already been done. "Do you want him arrested?"

"No, not Austin," Kimmie defended, finally taking a seat and pushing her hair out of her face. "Just a friend who I don't want to get into trouble. I told Ethan on the way here, which was why he looked so mad when we arrived. I'm sure he's already called his boss and probably Dad too."

"I can't believe you did this," Phoebe whispered, deflated and discouraged. Numerous thoughts were going round and round in her mind, from how this would affect their relationship, Kimmie and Dad's relationship, and even what it would do to their father's campaign. The fallout was monumental, especially if Kimmie were to face prosecution. "I thought we were closer than-"

"Phoebe, we are." Kimmie stood back up and came to stand before Phoebe, but it was hard to look her sister in the face. This wasn't the girl she helped to raise. Kimmie was right. Phoebe wasn't her mother, but that still didn't negate the fact that she'd raised Kimmie throughout her teens and mentored her through her twenties. They were more than sisters...they were best friends. What did that say about Phoebe that she hadn't seen something wrong? This betrayal cut through to the bone. "I made a mistake. A big one that I'm finally owning up to. That's got to count for something."

"No, Kimmie," Phoebe said softly, needing Kimmie to understand the damage that she'd done. "It doesn't."

A knock sounded on the door, and for once Phoebe was grateful. She hadn't even realized that a tear had fallen down her cheek until she'd moved, the air causing her skin to cool. She quickly wiped it away and then pulled on the handle. Lach and Ethan stood on the opposite side, but she'd already known it was them. The individual security agents had yet to move from their station at the window, but she'd caught sight of Ethan and Lach as they'd walked away from where they'd been discussing what was most likely Kimmie's fate. Phoebe wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.

"Can...can you give us more time, please?" Phoebe looked up into their faces and instantly saw that Ethan was still furious. Lach's eyes were filled with compa.s.sion that she couldn't handle right now. She needed to be strong and handle this as a Dunaway would. "We still have some things to go over."

"It's too late for that, Phoebe," Ethan replied in a brisk tone, walking into the office and coming to stand beside Kimmie. He looked down at her, disappointment and anger evident. "Your father will meet us at your family home. Let's go."

"Wait." Phoebe took a step and stood between them and the door. "Dad has his debate later this afternoon. They flew out first thing this morning. He's not cancelling, is he? I think it best to wait and notify him until after-"

"Phoebe."

Lach's use of her name brought her rambling to a stop. d.a.m.n it. She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her shoulders. Damage control. What they needed was for Paul to work his magic and do damage control. It was what they paid him for and he better d.a.m.n well earn his paycheck.

"Kimmie, go with Ethan and wait for Dad at the house." Phoebe walked around her father's desk and picked up her cell phone. She swiped away the missed call from Timothy and went directly to her speed dial list. "I'll call Lou Moser and see who would be best in representing you."

"There's no need for that." Ethan leaned down and picked up Kimmie's tote, hoisting it over his shoulder. His features expressed his disapproval as he stood waiting for her sister to stand. "The authorities weren't involved and your father never notified the Secret Service. As far as he are concerned, this is a personal matter and will be dealt with accordingly."

"The letters were brought up in court," Kimmie reminded them, her skepticism apparent yet there was a hint of hope lacing her tone. "Won't the media hang onto that? The coverage on Victor Ward was extreme and I'm sure they're wondering-"

"Regardless that Victor Ward didn't take claim for the handwritten letters, the public believes he's responsible." Ethan motioned with his head that it was time for him and Kimmie to go. "It looks like you lucked out."

"I wouldn't say that," Kimmie responded, looking Phoebe's way. She knew her sister was looking for forgiveness, but it wasn't quite there to give. "I'm sorry, Phoebe. I know you're disappointed in me, but you and Dad weren't listening."

"When you get to the point where you don't add the word but, that's when we'll talk. You're still making excuses." Phoebe watched as Kimmie stood up, a mixture of emotions rolling off of her in waves. Guilt was included, but it wasn't enough to overcome the hurt that had been done. Whereas Phoebe usually caved in when it came to Kimmie, she wasn't feeling so inclined right now. "I'll meet you and Dad at the house later tonight."

Phoebe cringed inwardly at the sound of her voice, knowing it had a motherly lecture quality to it, as if she were talking to a child that had gotten their hand caught in a cookie jar. She wouldn't apologize for that, though. Kimmie could have ended up in jail for her actions. This wasn't an eight-year-old girl getting caught sending notes in cla.s.s. She was a grown woman who'd resorted to extortion because she wasn't getting what she wanted from her daddy.

Ethan followed behind Kimmie as they left the office, but Phoebe didn't bother to watch them leave through the window as they walked to the exit. Stewart had glanced up from where he sat, a hopeful look on his face that she would now see him. She shook her head slightly, indicating that she wasn't ready yet. The phone in her hand reminded her that instead of calling their attorney she should really call her father.

"It was too late to cancel the debate," Lach said, closing the door and leaning against the thick wood. He was still wearing his jacket and the leather creased when he crossed his arms. "Your father will go through with it and then immediately fly back home."

"He was supposed to attend an afternoon rally." Phoebe could feel her knees tremble in the aftermath of what had just happened, so she sat down. "I'll call him and tell him that I'll handle things at home. After all, if it's already been decided that this incident can stay internal, then there really isn't anything else to be done."

"Really?" Lach didn't give away what he was thinking, but his voice suggested something that made her straighten her back. "Don't you think it might be possible that your father and sister have some issues to work out?"

"Work out?" Phoebe laughed and even to her own ears it sounded a little hysterical. "Kimmie sent threatening letters with the intention of getting Dad to drop his pursuit of the Presidency. That could have easily landed her in jail...for a very long time. It's almost as if she doesn't see that she did anything wrong."

"She's in her mid-twenties. Old enough to know right from wrong."

"That's the kicker, isn't it?" Phoebe tightened her hold on the phone. "She either didn't, in which case I didn't do a very good job being a role model. Or she did, meaning I really suck as a mother teaching her responsibility for her own actions. Which technically she never wanted me to be that to her to begin with."

"Stop."

Phoebe hadn't realized that she'd been staring into s.p.a.ce until she heard his order. Her head jerked and she immediately met his gaze. What the h.e.l.l was she doing, sharing her most inner feelings with Lach? They couldn't seem to go through one day without a misunderstanding. Did she really expect him to comprehend this?

"You're right. I need to stop." Phoebe lifted up her phone and implied she'd like to be alone. When he didn't move a muscle from where he was positioned, she followed up her reference with words. "I have some calls to make. You can tell Brent that I'll be here until the afternoon and then we'll head to my father's house."

"You asked me a question last night at dinner about my work with the FBI. It's not something I want to reminisce, but it certainly applies in this case. No matter what you say or do, you can't control another person's actions. It took me years to figure that out, although there are still nights that I struggle with the fact that maybe I didn't do enough to save the lives that were in my hands." Lach pushed himself off of the door. "Kimmie made her decision and will now have to deal with the consequences of what she's done to her family relationships. Regardless, you were still going to save Kimmie's a.s.s had she been turned into the authorities. You're lucky that she's here, alive, so that you can mend what needs mending. I'm not that fortunate."

Before Phoebe could reply, Lach had turned and walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. The silence of the office was deafening, and although she wanted more than anything to sit here and have a good cry, people were watching and she still had an image to uphold. She should have told her father that this layout wouldn't work. His office should be private, but seeing as he was hardly ever here it wasn't something he had to worry about.

Blinds. Tomorrow this office needed to have blinds on every window and a receptionist to screen people before they knocked on her father's door. He had a personal a.s.sistant keeping things running over at the Senate building, but someone needed to be here. For now, she would just have to act as if nothing at all had happened to destroy the continuity of her small family.

Phoebe looked down at her phone, knowing she had numerous calls to make. She couldn't bring herself to make any though, or to even reach out to her father. She knew how he was feeling, yet she also understood what Lach was saying. She shouldn't blame herself for how Kimmie had responded to the situation. That didn't stop her from feeling some guilt. After all, Phoebe had tried her best to teach her sister right from wrong. Failure was hard to accept and only time would tell what the fallout would be from Kimmie's actions.

Chapter Thirteen.

Lach opened up the ALON gla.s.s security entry doors to CSA using his encrypted key card. He surmised that it would be easier to break through the steel clad reinforced concrete walls than to break through the main entrance of the CSA offices. Crest had invested quite an impressive sum in securing the workplace from intrusion and the armory inside the complex was certified to hold cla.s.s three weapons. For all the security this building provided, Lach couldn't help but wonder about those Crest left outside its protective boundaries every time Lach entered this fortress. It was going on six o'clock in the evening and Phoebe was relatively safe inside her family home, along with the highly volatile combination of Kimmie and their father. Connor, Ethan, and the PSD agents were all in place, giving Lach the time he needed to run into the fort.

"Lach, I'm glad you stopped in," Jessie greeted, holding up some messages. He took them and quickly glanced through them, ensuring that he didn't need to return any calls immediately. "By the way, are you attending Derrick's birthday party?"

"That's not for another month." Lach looked at Jessie, noticing that she was wearing her long brown hair to the side and her make-up was applied just right. She probably had some sort of date and briefly wondered what Crest thought of that. They had an ongoing exchange of this for that. After Crest had started construction on the security upgrades for the offices, he nearly had a cow when he found out that Jessie had painted daisies on his newly poured concrete. It wasn't any of Lach's business, so he shrugged and crumpled the papers in his hand. "Yes, sure. I'll go."

"Don't forget to tell Jax and make sure the present is age appropriate." Jessie lifted her left eyebrow so that it arched perfectly. She was a stickler for social etiquette when it came to the CSA team members' families. "I'll email you a few sites."

"Did Crest come back to the office after leaving the Dunaway's?" Lach didn't bother telling her that he'd purchased quite a few gifts for his nephew over the years and knew exactly what to get a one-year old boy. Jessie liked to think she was taking care of the team and he was inclined to let her. "He mentioned a conference call."

"Yes, Gavin arrived around twenty minutes ago. He's got another ten minutes before his video-conference meeting."

"Thanks." Lach headed into the core of the office, noticing that no one was around in the cubicles. Kevin and Jax must have headed home. Taryn's light was on, but he'd touch base with her after he spoke with Crest. Knocking lightly on the boss's door, he waited for the okay to enter and then walked in. "You knew."

"Yes," Crest admitted, sitting back in his chair. His tie was loosened and he was holding a pencil in his fist. He pointed toward a chair. "I knew a couple of weeks ago that Kimmie had written the letters. We had taken handwritten samples from everyone, although close family didn't need to supply one. Dunaway had automatically given us what we needed to rule the family members out. For a brief moment yesterday, I thought maybe Mooney had something to do with it as well with the way the current note was worded."

"It wasn't the outcome that Dunaway had banked on." Lach went over to the far wall and leaned his shoulder against it. "Is there a reason that you didn't share this with the team?"

"Yes." Crest didn't elaborate though, not that Lach expected him too. The man had his own way of running things and it certainly got the job done. He did expand on why Dunaway hadn't been informed. "I was hoping that Kimmie would confess, thus leaving this situation for their own internal resolution. I'm just sorry that the trust that family had has now been destroyed."

"Not destroyed," Lach corrected, knowing full well that Phoebe would see to it that the family relations were mended. "Just bruised."

He saw Crest glance at his watch. Lach figured he had around five minutes to inquire about Ryland. SITREPS had been given, but more could be taken out of verbal responses.

"What's going on with Ryland?"

"Taryn is working to find out what her relationship is with Yvette Capre. Ryland, as usual, is nowhere to be found."

"What do you think he's waiting on?"

"The right time." Crest tossed his pencil down onto his desk and then rubbed the back of his neck. Lach didn't envy the pressure the man was under to keep his team safe. "He'll wait until the federal authorities have their minds on other priorities and then sneak into the country. Taryn has worked almost day and night to make sure the facial recognition software she created is up and running at all ports of entry."

"So you believe the nurse when she says Ryland didn't have plastic surgery to reconstruct his features?" Lach felt his phone vibrate and he reached into his jacket, pulling out the device. It was a text from Jax, relaying that he and Emily were headed to the club. Emily was slowly getting acclimated to the club and Jax was gradually increasing their scenes. "That's a big gamble."

"I don't believe he did, but there's nothing to gamble on. When Ryland comes for us, he's coming when and where he's tilted the odds in his favor. He's taken the initiative away from us. He won't forget that we put his a.s.s in a federal prison. We just need to be ready when he decides to move."

A knock came at the door right before Jessie entered. Lach was surprised that she didn't wait for Crest's verbal response. Instead, she walked over with some files in hand and placed them in a wooden tray on the right side of his desk.

"I'm heading out for the evening." Jessie turned on her heel with a smile on her red lips. It didn't quite meet her eyes. "Don't forget your nine o'clock appointment tomorrow morning."

Jessie took her leave, and it was only then that Lach noticed Crest observing the doorway as if she were coming back. It was obvious she wasn't by the sound of her light footsteps moving through the office toward the foyer. Everyone knew that Jessie had a thing for Crest and that the only outcome for her was a broken heart. It was like watching a slow train that everyone knew was going to crash and they were unable to look away.

"She's going to get herself in trouble," Crest muttered, still not looking Lach's way.

"Why do you say that?" Lach knew he shouldn't have inquired, but it was the only logical question to ask. He felt uncomfortable, so he shifted his stance and moved to the middle of the office. He should go and Crest was taking a call anyway. "Look, I just had this conversation with Phoebe. Jessie is in her mid-twenties and can make her own decisions, whatever it might be that's got you concerned."

"It's nothing." Crest looked at his watch once more as if he hadn't uttered a word. "Is there anything else you need to discuss?"

"Catori Starr touched base about that one hostage rescue a.s.signment she needs more hands for. I told her that I was tied up on this case, but gave her a name of a buddy of mine interested in some contract work."

"That's for the best. If Dunaway takes the primaries like is predicted, I think he'll opt for the Secret Service. The White House is already making overtures due to the Victor Ward case."

"I had a feeling that might happen," Lach replied, refusing to show any reaction to Crest's announcement. Once Lach was off this a.s.signment, whatever he and Phoebe did on their own time was their own d.a.m.ned business. "I'll let you know if there are any new developments with Dunaway after his evening with his daughters."

Crest's computer chimed that his video conference was starting and Lach took that as his cue to leave. He closed the door behind him and walked across the hallway to Taryn's office. She had her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her, her gla.s.ses perched on the end of her nose and a pencil perfectly lodged behind her ear.

"You keep frowning like that your face will stay that way."

"f.u.c.k you." Taryn reached for her cup and held it over her monitor. "Refill please?"

"Only because you asked so nicely." Lach s.n.a.t.c.hed the mug out of Taryn's hand, walked out of the office and into the common area. He grimaced as he poured what looked like sludge into the ceramic and then put the pot back on the burner. At the rate they were killing each other, he might have to take responsibility and start making the coffee around here. He went back to Taryn's office and set the poison in front of her. "Enjoy."

"You're such a sn.o.b." Taryn kept clicking away on her keyboard. "She could be a cousin. DNA suggests a sister, but I'm sure it's not out of the realm of possibility."

Lach knew instantly that Taryn was referring to Yvette Capre. He wasn't even going to mentally try to put together the pieces of Capre's life, knowing that somewhere along the way Capre had been born into Taryn's family and then given up for adoption. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Find a trace to follow?"

"Maybe. I'm thinking of driving up north. No better way to get answers than in person."

"You run that by Crest? I'm not so sure he'd want you doing that on your own." Lach studied Taryn, noticing that her fingers had stopped the clacking. She finally looked up at him and he saw the anguish in her eyes at the situation. "Ryland has set his sights on you. I'm not telling you anything that you don't know and every time you separate yourself from us, that makes you vulnerable."

"I can take care of myself."

Those words reminded Lach of Phoebe and he sighed at the misconception. "I'm not saying you can't. You would be the first to say we work better as a unit. This is no different."

"I want him. Alive." Taryn's declaration was said with vengeance. "Ryland knows about Yvette. I guarantee he knows exactly how I'm related to her and yet I'm the one who has to investigate my family to find out why a woman who is connected to me was involved with an a.s.sa.s.sin."

"Life's not fair." Lach wasn't the type to sugarcoat anything and he wasn't going to now. Taryn was military and she knew exactly how this worked. "You'll do what you have to do. It's who we are."

"Well, this little chat made me feel better." Taryn pushed up her gla.s.ses and scrunched her nose.

"If you'd wanted that, you'd have had Chinese for dinner and cracked open a fortune cookie."

"Yada, yada." Taryn finally picked up her mug. "Thanks for the coffee."

"If that's what you want to call it," Lach said, making a facial expression so she knew that he didn't. She laughed, but he didn't correct her a.s.sumption that he was kidding around. He was dead serious. "Have a good night."

"Night."

Lach made a quick detour to his cubicle, although why they'd even given him one he didn't know. He was rarely in the office and only then when his presence was required. His desk was still clear, just like he'd left it. He stood there for a minute, debating if he should meet up with Jax and Emily at Masters. It wasn't like he was going to play. He'd resigned himself to the fact that the only woman he wanted was Phoebe, and although there were complications to getting what he wanted, she was now within his reach-give or take a few weeks. He thought back to their conversations and her words echoed in his mind regarding what she really wanted to do with her life, which was travel to other countries and be in the thick of things instead of behind a desk doing administrative work. That left only one question. Did that make her a flight risk?

Chapter Fourteen.

Lach listened as voices rang out in his earpiece, the security detail checking in from their various posts. The Dunaways were in the middle of primaries and they were now holed up in a hotel in some G.o.dforsaken city. He'd lost count of how many munic.i.p.alities they'd traveled to in the last month, but the polls had finally started reporting in January and would continue into June. There was a good four months left, but at least they'd gotten some initial primary states out of the way. Senator Dunaway was leading by two percent with only fifty percent of the votes turned in for tonight's election. It was set to be a long evening.

"Lach," Kimmie said hesitantly, as if she didn't want to disturb them. "I wanted to thank you."