59

Jane Ryland is in Rory’s office. That could not be a good thing. Luckily Kenna had been in the press room when the reporter showed up. As soon as she heard who’d arrived, she raced upstairs, sent Deenie for coffee, and staked out Rory’s office for herself.

Jane had to be showing Rory the photos Holly sent, just as Matt predicted. She couldn’t believe her brother’s crazy ex—or whatever she was—had geeked herself up as that mousy Hannah woman, gotten inside that way. But she, Kenna, was the only one besides Matt who knew that. So no problem there, at least. Matt, now packing to leave town, told her Holly had never been to Lassiter headquarters as herself.

“Kenna, come in. This is Jane Ryland, a reporter for the Register. Jane, this is—”

“We’ve met,” Kenna said with a smile, entering and standing in front of the bank of darkened televisions. She looked at Rory for direction, got nothing. “Hello, Jane.”

“Kenna, Miss Ryland is preparing a story on campaign volunteers. Pitched it to Trevor. And she asked him whether you’d be interested in participating. Tell why you’re involved in the Lassiter campaign.”

My, my. One door closes, another opens.

Kenna’s smile was genuine this time. “Well, of course,” she said. She perched on a chair, crossing one leg over the other, flapping closed the front slit of her black pencil skirt. In full interview mode. “This close to the election, I’m delighted for the public to hear how wonderful Owen Lassiter is. How beneficial he’ll be for Massachusetts. Much more effective than that Eleanor Gable. And I think—”

“So, Jane, let’s arrange for you two to connect at some point, later.” Rory cleared his throat, interrupting. He came out from behind his desk, moving toward the door.

Ah. Got it. Kenna stood quickly and turned in the same direction. “Miss Ryland? Come to my desk downstairs and arrange a time. Maybe at—” She looked at Rory. “My house?”

“One moment, please.” Ryland was frowning. Holding that piece of paper. “I was asking you, Mr. Maitland, about this sketch. So since Miss Wilkes is here, let me ask her, too. Do you recognize this woman?”

The reporter held up what looked like one of those police drawings. Pencil. Black and white. She’d never seen that face before. Still, she feared it had to be the real Holly Neff.

The truth was one thing. What Kenna needed to say was another.

“Just if you’ve seen her before,” Jane said, moving the picture closer to her. “Around the campaign. Or anywhere.”

“I’ve never seen that woman, no,” Kenna said. True-ish enough.

Besides, what did it matter what she told a stupid reporter? It wasn’t like it was the cops. She’d have to talk with Matt. Get their stories straight.

“How about this person?” Jane held up a photograph.

Now what? This was clearly one of the photos Matt warned her about. The same woman with Owen Lassiter, smiling, arm in arm. Ryland had apparently received Holly’s little gift. The reporter was “sharing” it, exactly as Matt feared. But Kenna just might have figured out how to make it all work. Because, thanks to big brother Matt, she knew what to expect.

The fly in the ointment, potentially, was Rory. How he’d handle this. But his truth was, he’d never knowingly met Holly. Hannah didn’t count.

It was up to Kenna. She took the photo from Jane. Holly and Lassiter at some rally. “No,” she said. “I’ve never seen her.”

“How about this one?” Jane held up yet another photo.

Holly and Owen arm in arm on the Boston Esplanade. Funny, she and Rory had been there that day. Her first day on the job. “No,” she replied. Oh, so baffled. “Who is she?”

“Miss Ryland, I don’t know where you’re going with this.” Rory stepped in front of Kenna, as if to steer her out of the room. “I told you, that person is not connected with the campaign. Every photo you’ve shown includes dozens of people, they’re clearly taken at public events. The candidate is on his way to one of them this very minute, in fact. We hope there’ll be Lassiter supporters there. We actually invite them. We even encourage them to take photos.”

Kenna stood back, taking it in. Rory’s sarcasm was making this even better.

“Someone’s sent you pictures of the candidate at public events. That’s pretty darn newsworthy, Miss Ryland.” Maitland held out an arm, dramatically showing Jane the door. “I know where you can get a whole lot more, exactly like that. In the newspaper. Every day. We done?”

I hope not, Kenna thought. We’re just getting to the good part.

*   *   *

“You’re so right, Mr. Maitland, they are public places. But look at this photo,” Jane said. She pulled out another snapshot. Showed it to Maitland, then to Kenna, then back to Maitland. She was taking a chance with the next question. “It appears to be in the candidate’s office. Lassiter’s personal desk. Doesn’t it? That’s hardly a public place.”

Jane waited, taking in the silence. Maitland and Kenna—who is she, anyway?—exchanged glances.

“Look here, in the reflection of the glass display case. You can see the person taking the photo. Hard to tell, certainly, but it could be the same woman.”

No one was correcting her.

“And since it is the governor’s private office, who took this photo? And how did the person who sent it to me get this photograph without having some connection to the governor?”

Maitland gave a snort, dismissive. “I beg you. The number of people who are brought to his fourth-floor private office to meet—”

“Exactly,” Jane said. “Who brought her? Cards on the table. This woman is dead. She’s connected to the campaign. She knows Owen Lassiter. If you don’t know who she is, I’m sure someone on your staff does. Whoever took her into the governor’s fourth-floor office. I’m not leaving until someone tells me her name.”

Kenna was edging toward the door. Maitland raised a hand to stop her, gave a half shake of his head. What is that about?

“And while you’re considering that, one more thing.” Jane displayed the picture in front of her, one hand holding the corner, the forefinger of the other pointing to a certain place on the photo. “See this big book on the governor’s desk? There’s a Magic Marker circle around it. Why?”