Mirror Image

“I see.”

“Can I have some chewing gum? Mona said to ask you.”

“One piece. Don’t swallow it. Bring it to me when you don’t want it anymore.”

Mandy kissed her moistly. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too.” Avery gave her another tight hug, sustaining it until Mandy squirmed free and rushed off in quest of her chewing gum.

Avery followed her to the door and closed it. She considered turning the lock. There were those in the house whom she wanted to shut out.

But there were those she had to leave her door open for, just in case. Mandy, for one. And Tate.

* * *

Van opened a can of tuna and carried it with him back to his video console. His stomach had finally communicated to his brain that one had to have sustenance to stay alive. Otherwise, he would have been so engrossed in what he was doing, he would never have remembered to eat. He conveyed chunks of the oily fish from can to mouth via a reasonably clean spoon.

Clamping the bowl of the spoon in his mouth, he used both hands at once to eject one tape from one machine and insert a new tape into another. In this capacity, he functioned like a well-coordinated octopus.

He replaced the first tape in its labeled box and turned his attention to the one now playing. The color bars appeared on the screen, then the countdown.

Van swallowed the food he’d been holding in his mouth, took a puff of his smoldering cigarette, a gulp of whiskey, then scooped up another bite of tuna as he leaned back in his desk chair and propped his feet on the edge of the console.

He was watching a documentary he had shot several years earlier for a station in Des Moines. The subject was kiddie porn. This wasn’t the watered-down, edited version that had gone out over the air. This was his personal copy—the one containing all the footage he’d shot over a twelve-week period while following around a features producer, a reporter, a grip, and a sound man. It was only one tape of the hundreds in his extensive personal library.

So far, none that he’d watched had justified the niggling notion that he’d seen someone in Rutledge’s entourage before, and it wasn’t the gray-haired man that had Avery so concerned. Van wasn’t even certain what he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. He wouldn’t stop until he found it—whatever “it” was. Until he went back on the campaign trail with Rutledge, he didn’t have anything better to do except get wasted.

He could always do that later.

* * *

“Where’s Eddy?” Nelson asked from his place at the head of the dining table.

“He had to stay late,” Tate replied. “He said not to wait dinner on him.”

“It seems that we’re never all together at dinner anymore,” Nelson remarked with a frown. “Dorothy Rae, where’s Fancy?”

“She’s… she’s…” Dorothy Rae was at a loss as to the whereabouts of her daughter.

“She was still at headquarters when I left,” Tate said, coming to his sister-in-law’s rescue.

Jack smiled at his parents. “She’s been putting in a lot of long hours there, right, Mom?”

Zee gave him a tepid smile. “She’s been more dedicated than I expected.”

“The work’s been good for her.”

“It’s a start,” Nelson grumbled.

Avery, sitting across from Jack, held her peace. She doubted Fancy was working during all the hours she spent at campaign headquarters. She seemed the only one to attach any significance to Fancy and Eddy often coming in late together.

Mandy asked for help buttering her roll. When Avery finished and raised her head, she caught Jack watching her. He smiled, as though they shared a naughty secret. Avery quickly looked away and concentrated on her plate while the conversation eddied around her.

Fancy arrived several minutes later and flopped into her chair, her disposition as sour as her expression.

“Haven’t you got a civil word for anybody, young lady?” Nelson asked sternly.

“Jesus, cauliflower,” she mumbled, shoving the serving bowl to the other side of the table.