36

CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

“Do what you need to do, Will. We’re fine here. Your mother needs you there,” Laura told him.

It was Sunday morning, and Will was still in Chautauqua. Neither he nor his mother had heard anything from Bill. Will’s Land Rover was still missing. Ava had wandered like a shadow from room to room since Thursday. Will had barely convinced her to take a bite of food. Even her favorite tea had lost its flavor, she said.

There was no way he’d leave her in this condition.

Now she stepped into the kitchen. “You know I love him, don’t you, Will? That I learned to love him?” she asked.

So there it was—at last in the open after all these years. It was why his mother had never used the word love when she told Will about dating and marrying Bill. She had said, “I admired him.”

He wished Laura were there. She’d know what to say. “Yes, Mom, I know you learned to love him. And that you do love him now.”

“Perhaps it’s only over the past few days I’ve realized how much I do.” Her eyes teared. “When I may have lost him.”

“You don’t know that,” Will said. “But I do know he has to process. You need to give him that time.”

She straightened. “You’re right. So then, would you like some breakfast?”

Much like the old Ava, she busied herself making a breakfast Will didn’t want to eat but did anyway to please her. Cooking made his mother happy.

When she retired to nap in the sunroom, he knew she would be all right, no matter what happened. It was her favorite room of the Chautauqua house, filled with tall, leafy palms and ferns and a 15-foot-long, rock-lined koi pond with a waterfall. She called it her “green room” and had spent hours there feeding and admiring the fish and adding various flowers until it was a garden extraordinaire. She’d avoided it since Thursday and had kept the blinds drawn in her bedroom, blocking out the sun and the beautiful lake view.

He kept an eye on her until he saw her breathing relax. Then he tackled the latest text from his sister.

Want me to come?

He’d stalled her by sending little texts since Thursday, such as:

Mom’s still in shock. Needs some time.

Dad and Mom have a lot to discuss and work out.

I’m sure Mom will contact you when she’s able.

I’ll be here at least through the weekend.

He shot her another text now.

No need. Laura says I need a vacation. Think I’ll stick around a bit.

That tactic would work for maybe another two or three days, if he was lucky and Sarah was buried in her work. Then Sarah would insist on talking to their mother, or she’d be in the car, headed to Chautauqua.

Will also left a message for Drew that he would be staying a few more days. Drew would give Will that time, but then he’d press for answers.

Will wasn’t sure what he could or should say. He was caught even more in the midst of a dilemma. Only he and Laura knew the whole story—Sean’s potential connection to the bomber, who his birth father was, and that Sean was missing. Now Bill was temporarily out of communication. Will had no doubt his father would come back. The question was simply when.

NEW YORK CITY

“So the president handed Carson over to the FBI, and they’ve finished questioning him?” Sarah asked Darcy over the phone on Monday.

“Not exactly,” Darcy said. “The current attorney general actually referred it over to the FBI. By the time Carson showed up for his confession, he was surrounded by an army of attorneys. Everything had already been set.”

“So President Rich handed Carson over to us and washed his hands? What exactly did Carson confess to? A campaign cash violation? And the deal was already in place by the time he showed up?”

“Yeah, it was all preordained. No one’s talking, but it almost certainly contains some sort of an inappropriate campaign violation. Cash for a regulatory favor for American Frontier, ordered by the CEO. Not murder or mayhem, and not something that will put him or anyone else away. Fines, probation, and a black eye—but no jail time.”

Darcy’s voice became more bitter as she went on. “His lead attorney, Rick Wilson, did all the talking for him. Carson never said much. They rolled Eric Sandstrom under the bus. Carson will walk, and none of this will ever get anywhere close to the White House. Carson won’t get any jail time for this. He’ll have to resign, but it’s not like he killed anyone. He just helped his company on a deal that went very badly.”

Sarah sat up in her chair. “So it all lands on Sandstrom?”

“Sure looks that way from where I sit,” Darcy said.

Sarah did some quick mental calculations. She knew she couldn’t warn her older brother about any of this. That would be a clear ethical breach. It seemed strange that she was forced to sit on her hands while the prize that Will had pursued was about to come back into view. But there was nothing she could do.

Wilson was as powerful and connected as attorneys came in New York. He was a named partner on one of the top three law firms in the city that handled nearly every big civil case against the world’s largest multinational corporations—many of which had their global headquarters in the city. Wilson led the firm’s criminal division and had orchestrated so many white-collar plea deals over the years that this case was likely child’s play for him.

What seemed curious was that American Frontier was represented by his firm in other civil matters. They’d almost certainly built a Chinese wall that allowed Wilson to represent Carson personally on the criminal side. But there were boxes inside boxes on this one. Who did Wilson truly represent here? Carson? Or someone else? It made no sense that Wilson would sacrifice the CEO of American Frontier while protecting his consigliere—unless there were other much more powerful interests at play that needed protecting.

“It was all handled at the highest levels,” Darcy declared, “and I just found out about it. Only the top echelons at DHS knew, and they’re not telling anyone yet exactly what the deal was. I know a couple of the FBI agents who were brought in, and they’ll eventually fill me in. But they’re not talking right now.”

Because Sarah was a Worthington and had at least a working knowledge of what a corporation like AF paid its top officials who worked directly for the CEO, she knew that Jason Carson would be set for life once he’d gotten clear of the noose. He almost certainly had tens of millions stashed somewhere outside the United States, in the Cayman Islands or elsewhere. He also likely had a second nest egg in another location, tax free, from the extra favors he’d done throughout his career. But she wondered who was really paying his legal bills on this.

“So Carson does get that get-out-of-jail-free card,” Sarah murmured.

“He’ll walk,” Darcy said. “His basic story is that Sandstrom approached him to do a little campaign violation job under the table. Carson didn’t feel comfortable with the request, since Sandstrom said it had to be just between them and not on the books, so he refused. He claims Sandstrom didn’t tell him any more than that, and he didn’t want to know.”

“Right, and that he’d never done anything like this before. Like Carson is squeaky clean.”

“He said Sandstrom let it slip later that the job was taken care of,” Darcy continued. “Once they got their exclusive permit to drill in the Arctic, Carson said he put the pieces together. Cash for a permit. His testimony keeps it contained to a regulatory agency and away from the White House.”

“Convenient.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“What can Sandstrom say to counter that? It’s his word against Carson’s, and Carson stepped forward first. If he says Carson was actually behind it, he indicates he had pre-knowledge of the campaign violation and also implicates himself as the mastermind. No judge would fall for Carson dreaming it up on his own out of misplaced loyalty to his boss. Carson was just an underling. But you can’t tell me he wasn’t the one who set up the quid pro quo. That kind of thing is right up his alley.”

“Still, he claims he had no knowledge of anything.”

“Let me guess. For that benign info, Carson also probably stays in the FBI’s protective custody?”

“Yup, until the trial’s over. AF has even been ordered to continue to pay his salary until this settles out and he can be free to look for a new position,” Darcy said. “And you? You’re now all tied up in knots with this. You can’t tell anyone about any of it, especially your family.”

“You got that right.” Sarah exhaled in frustration. “I can’t go after Carson in the DOJ’s criminal negligence suit. And I can’t go after him as the newly appointed AG either because of the previously existing deal.”

“Isn’t that grand timing?” Darcy’s tone dripped with more than her usual sarcasm.

“Makes you wonder what else got pulled behind the scenes, doesn’t it? This takes the wind out of all kinds of sails, including mine.”

“This is lousy all the way around,” Darcy announced. “There’s one bright spot, though. We still have Sandstrom . . . maybe.”

When Sarah hung up the phone, she wasn’t so sure. Neither was Darcy, Sarah knew. Deals got cut all the time, and they’d both been on the receiving and giving ends of them. Every time the deals concluded, though, Sarah battled with her innate sense of justice. Justice was not always done. That tension between the real and the ideal wore her down sometimes.

In that moment, a reminder of Bill Worthington’s mantra, “Do the right thing and the truth will win out,” flashed into her head. It had dogged every step she’d taken in her career. Yes, she would do her work with integrity, even if others didn’t. She would stay on the path and relentlessly pursue her chance to make at least her corner of the world a better place . . . even if she drove her soon-to-be-former boss a little crazy in the meanwhile.