you really say that the IED robots are a waste, and the money should be spent saving lives at home?”
She gazed at him unflinchingly. “I’m a political-science professor lecturing in class. I was legitimately criticizing his policies.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you’re a registered Democrat.”
“Excuse me, but when did that become a crime?”
“It’s not, unless you’re the secret daughter of a Republican senator in a hotly contested race. You just gave the other candidate a two-point boost in the polls.”
Her eye roll told him that not only did she not care, but she wasn’t inclined to help him.
“I did a whole class on the Democratic candidate, too, pointing out his flaws. I present a balanced view to my students.”
“That’s good. Do you remember what day that class was?” He began typing an email to Crista to see if she could get that video. Senator Roberts’s poll numbers were falling every second, and with them, his odds of getting the bill passed. If the senate rank and file thought Roberts wasn’t going to win reelection, they would stop supporting him on the IED issue. Alex had spent a lot of time on things that wasted taxpayer money: initiatives that didn’t improve people’s lives, investments that were downright wrong. The IED technology was the one purchase he knew would save his soul, or at least give him an image other than that of his buddy lying on the desert sand with his leg blown off. He wasn’t going to let anything get in his way.
“I don’t want any more videos of me out there.” Kat’s frosty voice pulled him back into the moment.
“Then go outside and tell them this is a nonstory.”
Emilia stood. “Mr. Santiago, please leave my house. Now.”
He looked at Kat, who also stood and put an arm around her mother.
The doorbell rang, followed by loud knocks. They all started at each other.
Emilia Driscoll was the first to speak. “The vultures are back.”
“CALL THE POLICE. They’re not allowed to be on your property. They need to stay on the street.”
Kat began rummaging through the drawer in the hallway credenza. Everything was happening so fast, she needed a minute to catch her breath.
“What’re you doing?” Alex said impatiently.
“Looking for the number to the local police department.”
“It’s 911.”
“The nonemergency number.”
He picked up the phone, dialed and held it out to her. “Hello, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, it’s not really an emergency, but I need the police.”
“Are you in danger, ma’am?” came the dispassionate voice.
‘Well, not really, but—”
Alex snatched the phone from her. “There are twenty people on the front lawn, banging on the front door and threatening to come inside. We need the police.” He rattled off the address.
Kat heard the woman put him on hold then come back and ask for his name. “I can’t talk right now. They’re breaking down the door.” He hung up the phone.
Kat stared at him.
“You lied.”
“I did not lie. I stated the facts in a dramatic way. I want the police to get here quickly.”
“And what if there’s a real crime being committed, like a woman being raped or someone getting murdered?”
“When was the last time something like that happened in this town? Most likely, they’re out patrolling the highway and you just saved a citizen from getting a speeding ticket.”
“That’s Washington logic,” she muttered. He was a typical man, bending the truth to suit himself. If someone got hurt in the process, so be it. Driven by his own needs, he didn’t care whom he trampled along the way.
They heard the scream of sirens. The pounding on the door stopped.
Kat went to the drapes and peeked out. Four police cars came to a stop, and as officers emerged, the reporters began retreating to their vans. She had to admit it was an effective idea, but she still didn’t like Alex’s manipulations. He’d been playing her since they met, and she had to remember that the sincerity in his eyes was also an act.
An officer walked up to the house and she opened the door when he knocked. She ushered him in and then noticed that Alex wasn’t in the living room. Her mother’s eyes flicked toward the bedroom.
Kat explained the situation to the gray-haired, heavyset policeman who patted her hand in a fatherly gesture.
“You’re helping my daughter with her master’s thesis.” Kat blinked back her surprise as he told her his daughter’s name. She was one of the students Kat had recently taken on. “Tell you what—I’m not supposed to be doin’ this, but I’ll ticket them for parking illegally and tell them I’ll arrest them for trespassing if they set foot on your lawn again. I can’t stop them from talkin’ to you, though. And they’ll probably accost you when you leave the house and take pictures with long-range lenses through your windows. Nothin’ I can do about that.”
Kat nodded numbly. This had to be a crazy dream; all she could hope for was to wake up soon.
The cop stood to leave. “And another thing—I don’t think they’re gonna leave you alone until you give ’em a statement. I suggest you either do that or leave town. The dean is mighty upset at you, and we’re a small-town police department. We can’t really protect you or keep comin’ out here every time these reporters cross the line.”
He gave her his card and left. Kat went to get Alex out of hiding and find out why he didn’t want his presence known, though she had her suspicions already. She rapped on the bedroom door and entered without waiting for permission. This was her room. Her house. He had no right to waltz in and demand things from them.
“It won’t end until you deny the claim,” Alex said matter-of-factly. He seemed to take up all the air in the small space. “Nice room, by the way.”
She followed his gaze, considering what he saw. Her bed was made with an old Amish quilt. The dresser held some basics. There were no pictures anywhere, no clothes loosely strewn, no underwear lying around. It was a functional room, one she hadn’t made home yet because it didn’t feel like hers. Yet, for the first time, she felt an energy in here that she hadn’t felt before. Alex stepped toward her and she resisted the urge to back away. She was in the doorway, her hip leaning against the frame.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. She looked at his hand, but the now-familiar urge to smack it away didn’t bubble up. His hand felt strong
