One Hot Mess Part 42

"Where does he keep his schedule?" I asked.

"You think we're d.a.m.n pen pals?"

"I don't even think you're human," I said.

He snorted and strode down the hall. I followed him into a room on the right. A sleek state-of-the-art computer system purred at me from a broad walnut desk.

"Wow," I said.

"Nothing but the best." I couldn't tell what his tone implied, but it didn't sound joyous. He sat down and touched a key. It came to life, flashing the presidential seal as wallpaper. I helped him find a calendar. Two notations had been made for Friday. One said 1:00-Aaron. The other said 4:00-Lee Ann.

"You know either of them?" I asked.

He shook his head. "According to your stellar sleuthing it doesn't matter. He was home afterward, anyway."

"And alone," I said.

He glanced at me.

"Only three ice cubes."

I was pretty sure he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too busy rifling through the contents of the senators drawers.

"Who does he talk to when things are going poorly?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"You have met this man before, right?" I said, and reached past him for the keyboard.

But suddenly I stopped. A picture of Salina and Rivera Junior was frozen on the screen. Beautiful, young, and exotically dark, they actually left me momentarily breathless. Seconds ticked away unnoticed.

"f.u.c.k it," Rivera said, breaking the moment, but the picture had already changed to one of high, lonely plains.

"She was amazing," I said. My tone sounded rusty. Awed. And then the picture changed again.

Riveras jaw looked set in stone. He dropped his gaze to search another drawer, but my wide-eyed expression must have stopped him. My mouth opened. I blinked.

"What?" he said.

I motioned toward the screen.

"What!" he said again, but the photograph was already gone, replaced by an image of the senator holding a child and smiling.

Entranced, I reached slowly out and touched the left arrow.

The former picture flashed back up. Thea Altove was shown in profile next to her father. In the questionable light of Caring Hands, her hair looked a shade darker than its natural gold. Her expression, usually gleefully happy, was also a shade dimmer, and there was something in her eyes...

I stared, blinked, then, breathless and reverent, touched the back arrow several times until the picture of Jack and Salina reappeared.

"McMullen," he said, low and irritable.

I turned to him in stunned silence.

"You don't see it?"

"See what?" Past irritable. Into threatening.

I reached past him, touched the key again. "They're the same eyes."

He stared, snorted. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? They don't look anything alike."

"Not Thea and Salina," I breathed. "Thea and you."

He snapped his gaze back to the screen, stared for one atom-splitting second, then jerked to his feet. His chair spun wildly backward.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Don't-" I began breathlessly, but he didn't notice.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

I only nodded, still staring.

"That f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"We don't know for sure."

"That f.u.c.king, h.o.r.n.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

I winced.

"She's my sister," he hissed.

32.

It'd hardly be worth having a brother at all, if you couldn't smack him in the head every once in a while.

-Michael McMullen,

the eldest of the troglodytes

E STARED AT EACH OTHER, barely breathing.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Does it mean she's going to kill him?"

"Not before I do." His voice was a growl. He was already punching numbers on his cell. I heard it ring on the other end, then roll over to voice mail. Thea's recorded voice sounded chirpy. He hung up and hit REDIAL, but this time she answered on the third ring.

"h.e.l.lo?" Her voice was foggy with sleep.

"Thea?" Rivera's tone had lost its hard edge.

"Who is this?"

"Lieutenant Rivera."

"Jack?" Her voice was kitten-soft, feminine.

He stiffened like a boy who's seen his mother's undergarments. "Were you sleeping?"

"Yeah. I think so. What time is it?"

"Listen, honey..."

Honey? Had he ever called me honey? Under any conditions?

"I'm sorry to bother you, but you haven't seen..." His jaw flexed. "The senator's not there, is he?"

"The senator?" I could almost hear her blink. Could imagine her shoving back her supermodel hair.

He closed his eyes. I could see him deciding not to kill his old man-yet. "Yeah," he said.

"In my apartment!"

"Listen, I was just looking for him and thought-"

"Jack?" The bedsprings sang softly under her nonexistent weight. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I-" he began, but my gasp interrupted him.

He shot his dark gaze toward me like a javelin.

"Her father!" My voice was raspy.

His brows lowered.

"Theo Altove," I said. "He must know."

His jaw bunched and flexed. "Hey, your dad didn't say anything about meeting with my old man, did he?"

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"Jack, why-"

"Listen, Thea, this is pretty important. Do you know where your father is?"

She delayed an instant. "He's out of town," she said. "San Diego, I think. For the weekend."

"Do you know where you can get a hold of him?"

"I could try his cell phone, but-"

"What service does he have?"

She told him.

"Number?"

Her voice faded, but I knew she complied, 'cuz he was scribbling indecipherable numerals onto his fathers blotter.

"Does he keep it on at night?" he asked.

"Usually. He likes to stay in touch with-"

"Call him," he ordered. "Use the land line. I'll hold." He turned to me, not bothering to cover the receiver. "McMullen." Using the same pen, he wrote another phone number on the nearly blank sheet. "Call the captain."

I flipped open my phone, punched in the number.

"Ask for Kindred."

I did, then waited while Thea came back on the line.

"He's not answering," she said.

"Have you noticed anything strange lately?" Rivera asked.

"Strange?"

"Any unusual behavior?"