ready?”
“Yes, please.”
When Ginger left, Kendra asked, “Coffee, tea?”
“Coffee, please,” Matt said. “Just black.”
“Same for me, thanks,” Meg said.
“Congressman,” Matt began, “Lara Mayhew called a friend after she left you the night before last. In her message she said she had to leave.”
Meg thought the congressman would appear baffled, that he would claim he had no idea why.
If he’d done something to her, he would know she hadn’t been found yet. Or would he? Had he left her body lying somewhere they wouldn’t easily find it?
But he shook his head sadly. “I was sorry, sorry because I knew I was losing one of my best employees. But there was an issue that I’ve determined to deal with in one way, and Lara was opposed to my position.”
“What was your position?” Meg asked.
“It had to do with a health issue, but you realize that committees manage to tack all kinds of add-ons to a bill to get other members to vote for it. Once a bill reaches a vote, it might contain a lot of extra provisions, many of which have nothing to do with the original bill,” Ian Walker explained. “Lara’s opinion was that we should nix the whole bill. After Hubbard died, I was trying to rework it on my own, but others became involved, too. Lara was an idealist. None of us want to admit it, but we aren’t capable of creating an ideal world. Or an ideal bill. Not when government requires compromise.”
He seemed earnest. And it was plausible.
“Garth Hubbard was a remarkable man. I believe he would have made an exceptional president,” Kendra said in a sorrowful voice. Her fingers tightened around her necklace as she added, “Such a tragic loss.”
“I thought there was some question about his death,” Matt said. “Weren’t there accusations flying around that either the far left or the far right had done him in?”
“When a political figure dies suddenly and unexpectedly, there’s always a conspiracy theory,” Walker said with a wave of his hand. “I loved Garth like a brother. But he had high blood pressure all his life. He told me once that his doctor had said he’d probably die of something heart-related sooner rather than later. He did. Massive heart attack. Better now, I suppose, than if he’d made the presidency.” Walker seemed to reflect for a minute, then said, “Lara was disheartened by his death. I suppose she just didn’t have enough faith in me.”
“Oh, darling, don’t say that!” Kendra slipped an arm around his shoulders. “Lara is such a lovely girl. I honestly believe she maintains complete faith in you. She was overwhelmed by all the bureaucracy and red tape that goes with government.”
She’d been so polite. Now she looked at Matt and Meg as if they were ogres who had come to threaten a loved one. “Is there anything else? I wish we could help you with Lara. She was a cherished member of our team. But she chose to leave. She said she was going home. But she didn’t let us know what her plans were. She wasn’t particularly happy when she left, and I have to admit, although I love the girl, she doesn’t belong here if she can’t be a team player.”
So much for Southern hospitality. Kendra was suddenly all but breathing fire.
“What I need to know is where and when you saw her last,” Matt said pleasantly, as if he hadn’t heard the venom and dismissal in her words.
“I saw her a few days ago,” Kendra replied.
“The night before last, we were all at my office,” Walker said. “My staff and me, not my family.” He smiled at his wife. “Our discussions went on for hours, and she left really late. Like two or three in the morning.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “I wasn’t aware of the time. She was determined to leave. There’s constant security around the Capitol all the time, though. I’m sure she’s fine—and that she did just what she said she was going to do. Go home.”
He spoke earnestly, and Meg couldn’t help believing that Walker genuinely cared about Lara—and that he’d been sorry to see her go.
But what exactly had upset her friend so much?
Matt Bosworth was getting to his feet, and she stood, too. She might have been a solid—even kick-ass—cadet, but he was the appointed agent and she was the new-grad tagalong. If he had risen, they were leaving. Both of them.
“What had been tacked onto the bill that upset Lara?” she asked.
“Oh, it had to do with equal rights in the health bill,” he said vaguely. “It’s all quite lengthy and complicated to explain, Agent Murray.”
She found that an unsatisfactory and, yes, condescending response, but it was time to go.
Matt took her arm. “Well, thank you for your assistance with this matter, and, Mrs. Walker, thank you for your hospitality. We may need to talk to you again. I’m grateful that you’re as concerned about Lara Mayhew as we are.”
“Of course!” Walker said, nodding solemnly. “We cared deeply about Lara. Call me anytime.”
“Yes, of course,” Kendra echoed, but her voice was a little more brittle. “If we can help in any way, call on us anytime.”
Ellery Manheim suddenly made a shocked noise.
They all turned to look at him. He quickly hid whatever emotion had accompanied his thought and resumed speaking.
“I heard they discovered a woman the other day... A woman who’d been murdered. Like the one they found about a month ago,” he said. “My God, you don’t think that could be Lara, do you?”
“It wasn’t Ms. Mayhew,” Matt informed him.
“No?” Kendra Walker asked. She seemed relieved.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Matt said, giving no more information.
“Lara’s fingerprints would be in the system. She was bonded, of course,” Congressman Walker said.
“Thank God!” Ellery Manheim said, and he sounded sincere.
There was a rush of laughter and footsteps pounding toward the room. Two little girls dashed in. They were both blonde and thin and full of energy, one about five and the other perhaps eight.
“Grammy, Gramps!” they called.
The kids pushed past Nathan Oliver and Joe Brighton to reach the congressman and his wife.
Kendra scooped up the smaller one and Congressman Walker picked up the older girl, whirling her around. Ginger ran in after the girls.
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