An internet search told me that the pundit’s name was Stephanie Royal.
“Pancakes.” Bodie set them in front of me.
I gave him a look. We’d gotten home from the funeral ten minutes earlier. He hadn’t asked why I’d been so quiet on the drive.
“I can make two things, kid: pancakes and my hangover cure.” Bodie arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you telling me you’d rather I haul out the blender?”
I picked up a fork and stabbed it into the pancake in answer.
John Thomas accessed his father’s files. I couldn’t keep from going back over everything I’d discovered as I chewed. The congressman has a very personal relationship with the Nolan administration’s most vocal critic. I thought about the media leaks. Before Daniela Nicolae had sent Walker—and every major news outlet—that video, there had already been leaks.
The terrorist’s name.
The fact that the attack had been averted because of a tip from an anonymous source.
The picture of Daniela Nicolae’s very pregnant stomach.
Did Congressman Wilcox have access to information like that? My stomach clenched. Did John Thomas?
The front door opened and closed. Bodie’s hand went to his side. To his gun, I realized a moment later.
“Tess?”
I relaxed the second I heard Adam’s voice. Bodie rolled his eyes heavenward but let his hand fall away from the weapon.
“In here, Boy Wonder,” Bodie called out.
When Adam came into the kitchen, he and Bodie looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Bodie took a step back from the kitchen island. “I’d offer you a pancake,” Bodie told my uncle, “but I figure you’re probably watching your girlish figure.”
With a wink at me, Bodie strolled out the door.
Adam took a seat next to me at the counter. “For the record, I would have gone with you to the funeral,” he said, picking up a fork and stealing a bite of my pancake. “So would Ivy, if she’d known.”
I looked down at my plate. I hadn’t told them about the funeral, because I hadn’t wanted either of them asking questions about why I’d decided to go. I hadn’t wanted to tip them off to the fact that while Ivy was off investigating the attack on the president, I was running an investigation of my own.
But if there was even a chance that my case was connected to hers, I couldn’t keep that quiet. “Congressman Wilcox is having an affair with a woman named Stephanie Royal.”
It was clear from the expression on Adam’s face that he knew exactly who Stephanie Royal was.
“Does Congressman Wilcox have high-level security clearance?” I asked. “Could he have been the source of the media leaks about the bombing?”
Adam didn’t answer. I took that to mean that a man as powerful and resourceful as John Thomas’s father might have all kinds of access.
“John Thomas broke into his father’s files,” I told my uncle. “There’s a good chance that something John Thomas saw in those files got him killed.”
“Have you mentioned any of this to Ivy?” Adam asked.
I shook my head.
“Why not?” Adam’s expression was deadly serious. He expected an answer, and he wouldn’t back down until I gave him one.
Because Ivy told me to stay away from Asher. She promised that she would take care of it, but she’s done nothing. If she knew I was looking into John Thomas’s murder, she would have told me to stay away from that, too.
Instead of putting any of that into words, I took out my cell, called Ivy, and set the phone to speaker.
It went to voice mail.
Considering my point made, I hit end and turned back to Adam.
Adam was quiet for several seconds. “The vice president is attempting to move Daniela Nicolae to a classified facility.” Adam’s words—the fact that he was telling me this—took me completely off guard. “Ivy thinks Nicolae knows something she’s not sharing about the attempt on the president’s life, and no one trusts the vice president enough to let him remove a piece from the board. That’s where Ivy is right now. She’s working with Georgia to try to block the transfer.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, my brain whirring. “Why are you telling me anything?” Adam didn’t exactly have a history of over-sharing—particularly when it came to things like terrorists and Ivy’s line of work.
Adam caught my gaze and held it for several seconds. “Because,” he said finally, “there’s this dance that you and Ivy do, over and over again. The push and pull—it hurts you, and it hurts her, and I would give anything to keep either of you from being hurt ever again.” He stood up. “I’ll look into the connection between Wilcox and the pundit. I’ll look into the leaks.”
This was the part where Adam told me to stay out of it. This was the part where he read me the riot act and left me under lock and key.
“Thank you,” Adam said instead, looking at me in a way that made me wonder if he was seeing my father. “For trusting me.”
I gave a brief nod. I expected Adam to leave then, but he wasn’t done yet.
“I heard that my father is bankrolling your friend’s defense team.”
My gut told me that this was why Adam had come to see me in the first place. This was what he’d wanted to talk to me about, before I’d dropped the bombshell about the congressman.
“If you trust me, Tess,” my uncle said quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder, “don’t trust him.” Adam gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and then turned toward the door. “Favors from a man like William Keyes always come at a price.”