Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)

Milton roared to his feet. “So Natalie told you! I knew I couldn’t trust her word, even though she promised me she wouldn’t say anything to anyone. She’s always been a liar and a cheat.”

Davis smiled at him and slouched against the sofa cushions, a ploy meant to enrage. “What she promised you was not to tell your parents, Senator Holmes. That would be too humiliating for all of you.

“Your mother told me, Perry, that once he’d ended his spiel, she laughed at him, told him to do his worst. She said it was sad, really, that it would end his own career if he tried to disgrace his own sister. She wasn’t sure if he believed her.”

Perry stared back and forth from Davis to her uncle. She simply couldn’t get her head around his betrayal. She’d always thought of Uncle Milton as pleasant, a bit ineffectual, maybe, rather pompous, and always in the shadow of his sister, and no wonder. Natalie Black’s charm and intelligence shined like a beacon compared to her brother’s occasional flicker. She didn’t want to accept his treachery. It was almost too much to take in.

She noticed Barnaby from the corner of her eyes. He appeared nailed to the floor, his eyes on her uncle’s face, and she saw the same leveling betrayal in his eyes she knew must be in her own. She said into the cold, deafening silence. “So what you said about Mom to us, you were following your script, to see how we’d react?”

Uncle Milton stayed silent.

“No, I wouldn’t say anything, either, Uncle Milton.” Perry slowly rose, stared down at him. She heard Barnaby clear his throat behind her, but she didn’t turn. “Don’t you say anything, either, Barnaby.” She said to her uncle, her voice cold, utterly damning, “You are a pathetic worm, aren’t you? I disown you.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Did you try to run my mother down in Buckner Park? Is it you who have been threatening me?”

His face was ashen. He stretched a shaking hand out to Perry. “What? What did you say? No, of course not. Because my campaign needs money, you suspect me of trying to kill my own sister, and of threatening you, my niece? The situation is not what you think, Perry, really, it isn’t. Listen to me, you must understand. You know you can’t get elected in this country without lots of money. Of course I need money to run a successful campaign, and you know your grandparents have so much money, more than they can spend. But they refused me, their only son! How many men could get themselves elected to the General Court in Massachusetts as I have? But it wasn’t enough for them.” He paused, panting now, red in the face.

Milton looked straight at Perry. “Your grandmother told me if I had half your mother’s talent, your mother’s brains, I could manage to back my own campaign, not mooch off them and their friends.” He was still panting, his mouth working, and the words hurled themselves out: “Father told me he thought the whole idea of my running for the Senate was planted by my wife.” He paused, tried to get control, drew in several deep breaths.

He’d memorized what his parents had said to him, Davis realized, memorized it word for word.

Amazingly, Milton’s years of training kicked in and his voice sounded more reasoned. “But I would never hurt your mother, or you, Perry. I admire Natalie, always have. It’s your grandparents’ fault this happened.”

Perry was drowning in his excuses, in his bitterness and rage at everyone she loved, in his inability to take responsibility for what he’d done. Her stomach roiled and twisted. She swallowed bile. Barnaby moved toward her, and she saw his face was leached of color, pale as death. Like hers? She asked her uncle again, “Did you try to kill my mother in Buckner Park? Run her down?”

“Of course not! Why would I? I don’t even drive in this benighted city!”

Barnaby cleared his throat, but his voice shook. “He doesn’t, Ms. Black, really.”

She said, her eyes on her uncle again, a man whose blood she shared, “Uncle Milton, I hope Mother tells my grandparents what you did. I hope they disown you, too.” And Perry marched out the door.

Davis didn’t say another word, simply followed her out of the Lincoln Suite, down the long hallway to the elevator. There were two couples on the elevator, so they stayed silent. When they reached the lobby, Perry grabbed his sleeve. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.”

She punched his arm. “Why not? You should have given me some warning about what he’d done so I wouldn’t be blindsided—”

Davis was aware of people looking toward them, so he kept moving. She was right on his heels through the hotel doors and out into the crisp air. Davis breathed it in, smelled the faint exhaust fumes that brushed the air. “I love this city.”