Hidden in the Heart Page 2

  “Ya better watch out, ya better not cry…” The modern version of the classic blasted from the radio. “Ya better not pout, I’m tellin’ you why…” The Boss’s raspy voice belted out the warning.

  Claire almost grinned.

  Too late, Bruce. Already on the black list this year.

  Through the rear view mirror she watched the officer step out of his vehicle. He sloshed through gray snow, his burly frame shadowed in the setting sun, but she’d recognize that bear-like gait anywhere.

  Definitely not Santa Claus.

  Claire shook her head, her throat drying up. Why did it have to be him?

  She shoved her hand in her purse, pulled out her breath mints and wished she’d had a second cup of coffee. She chewed quickly and shoved another couple in just before he reached her car.

  Robert Ferguson tapped on her car window, a scowl set in place. His dark blue jacket was zipped halfway, his badge glinting. Claire returned the scowl and prayed for an apocalypse. He rapped again and Claire knew she had no choice. She pressed the button and the window slid down.

  “Hello, Claire.” Her brother-in-law stepped back and folded his arms over his chest.

  A blast of cold air smacked her face as she shifted to face him, tightening her grip on the wheel. “Robert. What a pleasant surprise.” Not. She forced a smile and ignored the hammering of her heart.

  “You okay?” He studied her in silence, suspicion settling in his eyes.

  Okay? She had a wet butt from falling in the parking lot, lived through that strange conversation with Amanda, and had a case of major indigestion, but whatever. “Sure, I’m okay. Sweet of you to ask.” Her heart rate jumped in time to the music as he let out a sigh.

  “Can you turn off the stereo, please?”

  “Sure.” Claire blinked at the dash and squinted. The silver buttons were so small and they all looked alike. “Ah. There. Better?”

  “Where’ve you been, Claire? You were driving a little erratically.”

  “Erratically?” She widened her eyes. “Oh, back there, you mean? Yeah, black ice. Thought I was done for.”

  His scowl deepened, forming a crater above the bridge of his nose. “Black ice, huh? You were all over the road. Going too fast, then too slow…I’ve been following you about a quarter mile. I guess you didn’t notice.”

  “Seriously? Guess I didn’t. You know, female drivers. We never check the rear view mirror unless we’re putting on lipstick.” Her palms grew moist despite the cold air flooding her car.

  His bland expression told her he wasn’t buying it. “Have you been drinking?” Robert narrowed his eyes, leaning in a little closer.

  Claire shook her head and the interior of the car spun. She covered her mouth with one hand and took a minute. “Of course not. I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Claire,” he growled, placing his big hands on the ledge of the open window. “Level with me.”

  There might have been a hint of compassion in his eyes but it faded too soon. Claire stared at the falling snow and wondered what she’d look like in orange. “I went out for lunch. I might have had a glass of wine. That’s all. Really. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” He took a step back. “Want to get out of the car?”

  “No,” she squeaked. “Come on, Robby. I just told you, I’m okay. Thanks for checking up on me though.” The back of her neck prickled and her throat constricted. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

  Robert yanked the door open. “Get out.”

  “Please, Robert. I’m begging you. I’m not drunk. You can follow me home if you want.”

  “Get out of the car, Claire.” Anger dripped off his tongue. Maybe if she pretended to pass out she’d wake up and find this was all some weird dream. Maybe she’d just pass out anyway.

  “Claire. Today. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’m coming.” She struggled to stand, slipped on the slush beneath her and he caught her elbow before she fell. The towering pines across the road blurred into one big green snowball, hurtling toward her. She steadied herself and tried to focus on Robert. This was a nightmare. It had to be.

  But no, she’d definitely had too much to drink and now she was busted.

  Served her right.

  There was always a price to pay.

  She just wished Robert didn’t have to be the one to collect.

  He barked instructions at her and Claire tried to follow what he was saying, but the buzzing in her ears made it hard to understand him. And she really had to pee.

  “You’re a mess,” he muttered. He leaned forward, eyes blazing. “You’re going to blow over, you know that, right?”

  “Maybe we should just skip it then.” Claire held out her wrists toward him and smiled.

  “Just get in the patrol car. I’ll drive you home.”

  “What? You’re not going to arrest me? You’re actually going to give me a break?” Claire stared in disbelief. “That’s…so…unlike you, Robby.”

  He shifted and put his hands on his hips, his stance wide. “Claire, seriously? I’m trying to be nice here.”

  “Just spreading a little Christmas joy, huh?” Her eyes landed on the butt of his revolver, his hand dangerously close to it. Tears welled and one rolled down her cheek into the corner of her mouth.

  “All right.” He zipped up his coat and propelled her toward the police car. “Let’s get you off the road before you kill somebody.”

  “I don’t need your help, Robert.” She tried to squirm out of his grip but he was too strong.

  “Do you want me to bring you in, Claire? Honestly, it would be a real pleasure. I’m only giving you a break out of respect for my brother. If you want to throw your life away, fine, I really don’t care, but don’t take him down with you.”

  Claire whirled to face him. “Then arrest me! Go on. It’s what you’re supposed to do anyway, right?” The words flew out before she could stop them. She watched his eyes narrow again, his mouth twitching.

  “Get in the car.” His glare silenced her into submission.

  Claire climbed into the back of the black and white patrol car. It reeked of sweat, cigarettes and coffee. She leaned her head against the plastic-covered seat and waited. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him retrieve her purse from her vehicle while he talked on his cell phone. Her heart raced as she tried to second-guess him. He wasn’t going to arrest her. That was the good news.

  Maybe she could get home without her father or James finding out. She’d sleep it off and be fine in the morning.

  Done with his call, Robert tossed her purse onto the seat beside her and slammed the door. The car shook from side to side. Claire winced and closed her eyes. She pulled her knees up, resting her boots on the divider as he pulled back onto the road. “Excuse me?” She rapped on the plastic glass between them. “Can you maybe have my car taken home? There’s a lot of stuff in there. I just went shopping.”

  “Before or after you stopped at the bar?”

  “Robert!”

  “Relax, Claire.” He cracked his gum and sniffed. “There’s a tow-truck on the way. It’ll be impounded. You’ll get it back. Eventually.”

  “Stop kidding around. You can’t do this to me. Come on…”

  He slowed at a stoplight along Main. Claire inched down on the seat, searching the faces on the sidewalk. “Where are you taking me? The exit is the other way.”

  “I know where the exit is.”

  He hated her. He was going to arrest her after all.

  Claire swallowed back nausea and chewed on a torn fingernail. “So, um…how’s the family?”

  Robert’s shoulders stiffened and he cleared his throat, glancing back at her through the mirror. “Claire?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop talking.”

  “Sorry.” Claire foraged through the jumbled mess of things inside her purse and came up with a lipstick. Didn’t bother checking the color. After applying a generous amount to her dr
y lips, she smacked them together. Bad idea. Her stomach rolled again and she popped a couple more mints in her mouth.

  When he parked the car at the back of the precinct, Claire glared at the three-story gray building, crumbling in places. She swore it would fall down one of these days. With any luck Robert would be inside when it did.

  “You said you were going to take me home, Robert.” Claire stared at the back of his big head, watching a fly settle on the short dark hair. Maybe she could smack it for him.

  He cleared his throat and she pushed aside the idea.

  “You’re staying at your dad’s house now, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought. That place is at least a half hour out on the other side of town. That would be going way beyond my family obligations. You can wait here until somebody comes for you.” He got out and opened the car door for her.

  “Who’s coming? Who did you call?” Claire pushed herself out and he escorted her through the back doors. She walked slowly, determined not to slip. Or fall over. They passed a couple of officers in the hall. Claire saw some raised eyebrows and one of the men let out a low whistle. Wonderful. She’d be the talk of small town Connecticut within the hour.

  Robert stopped outside a small office at the far end of the corridor. He kicked the door with his black boot and it swung open. He walked in, checked out the room and glanced her way. “Take a seat. Nobody will bother you. Unless I tell them to.”

  Claire’s feet wouldn’t move. “Look, I can just call a cab…I…”

  “Nope. You’ll stay right here until you sober up.”

  She shook her head and marched to the desk, threw her purse down and turned on him. “You can’t just shove me in here, Robert! I know my rights! Which you haven’t even read me by the way, and…”

  “Claire.” He breathed out her name, sounding tired and beyond reasoning. “Sit down, and for the last time, shut up.” Fury ran across his face. “I told you, I’m not arresting you. But I should be. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me like you haven’t done anything wrong.” Robert stood near the door, his eyes softening. “You’ve got to start dealing with life, Claire. You can’t go on like this.”

  She pushed hair off her face and pinched her lips together. “Where do you get off telling me how to ‘deal with it’?” Familiar anger coiled inside her stomach and the dull ache returned. She sank into the chair behind the desk. “First my mother dies, then I have a miscarriage. My third, by the way, but who’s counting? But everybody expect me to just forget it, get over it?” Claire leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He sounded a little sad. “But it’d be nice if you started acting more like a mature adult instead of a spoiled, out-of-control teenager.”

  “Are you done?” She put her head in hands.

  “I’ll be back in a while.”

  “Fine.” Claire gazed up at him, unsmiling. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” He turned and slammed the door behind him. The noise reverberated around the small room and pierced through her skull.

  Claire rubbed her temples and wondered if she could down a couple of Tylenol without water. Robert was probably enjoying every minute of this. He’d hold court later at his favorite watering hole and regale his buddies of how he finally one-upped his wayward sister-in-law.

  It wasn’t fair. Since Mom’s death, things just seemed to go from bad to worse. Her family, her husband, the whole world was against her. Every single day she had to endure some trial.

  She slumped down, put her head on the desk and took a deep breath.

  Robert was right though. This time.

  She should have known better than to drink and drive. Shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Once she got started, it was so easy to keep them coming. She just wanted to get rid of the pain. But whatever the amount she’d consumed today, it wasn’t enough.

  It was never enough.

  Chapter Two

  Michelle Hart listened with one ear as her secretary took yet another call.

  “Ms. Hart’s office. No, sir, she’s still not available. Yes, I do realize she’s the mayor’s Press Secretary…no…we have no statement at this time. No…I don’t believe Mayor Harrison is in the building at the moment.” There was an audible sigh. “Yes, I will tell Ms. Hart you called. Have a good night.”

  Sharlene marched into Michelle’s office a minute later, her cheeks puffed out like two apples on the way to ripening. Silver-rimmed spectacles were just about to slip off her nose. “That nasty newspaper reporter called again,” she huffed, pushing up her glasses. “For the fifth time. I turned on the answering machine. I will not tolerate profanity.”

  Sharlene picked up a stack of files from the desk and glanced at the broadcast coming from the flat-screen on the wall. Her expression changed from anger to pity. “That poor woman.” She rubbed a Kleenex over her bifocals and put them back on, squinting at the screen. “I mean, it’s bad enough to find out your husband’s cheating, but to have it splashed all over the six o’clock news…and right before the holidays. Don’t they have little kids?”

  Michelle worked hard not to let out a sigh of frustration. Her aging secretary wasn’t cut out for this job. “I thought you were headed home.” She turned up the volume. Sharlene meant well, but she’d never understand politics. They should discuss her retirement again. Soon.

  “On my way.” Sharlene moved to the door. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Did I miss it?” Kevin Harrison strode into the office, striped tie askew, his long black coat flapping open.

  “Evening, Mr. Harrison. Goodnight to you both.” Sharlene scurried out, closing the door behind her.

  “Oh good, it’s still on.” Kevin’s eyes went straight to the broadcast. His face blazed from the cold and his obvious excitement.

  Michelle smiled, a familiar rush of heat racing through her at the sight of him. Blond hair slightly mussed by the wind, his blue eyes sparkled brighter than ever. He was as handsome as the day they’d met five years ago. Maybe even more so. She lifted her chin and waited for him to approach, but he was already absorbed in the broadcast.

  “What’s he saying?” He shrugged out of his coat, took off his gloves and flung everything on a chair by the wall.

  “Shh…sit.” Michelle clasped her hands behind her head and watched New York Senator Barry Whiting walk to the podium and tap on the microphone. A few minutes later he was finished. Literally. And the senate seat was up for grabs.

  Kevin smacked his palms together and gave a low chuckle. Victory danced in his eyes and around the room and filled the air with anticipation. Michelle pressed the off switch and the screen went black.

  She stared at him a moment. “Well done, Kev. How does it feel to be God?”

  Kevin gave a short laugh, strode across the rug, flung open the antique mahogany cabinet and poured a couple of drinks. He handed her a crystal tumbler and sank into one of the chairs opposite her desk. He polished off his drink in two gulps and met her eyes, a sly smile tugging his lips upward. “Not fair. Whiting made his own mistakes and now he’s paying for them. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Not directly, of course.” Michelle sipped the dark liquid, made a face and coughed. She hated bourbon. He knew it of course, but her needs were never high on Kevin’s list of things to remember. She put her glass down. “But I’m pretty sure you had a lunch meeting a couple of days ago with your buddy Skip, from the Times. And if I’m not mistaken, that’s who broke the story.”

  Kevin waved a hand and went back to the bar. “So what? Rumors have been flying all over town for months. I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.” He kicked the office door shut as he passed it. “So how do we play this? I assume you’ve been fielding calls?”

  “For the last three hours.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Everybody knows you’re going to run for Barry’s seat. The question of the day is when will you confirm it?” Mich
elle reached for her Blackberry. “Next Saturday night you’ll host a private dinner at Le Bernardin. Sharlene will send out invitations tomorrow. I’ve planned for fifty, you can go through the list, if there’s anyone—”

  “The Governor?”

  “Of course. I talked to his wife this afternoon. They were going to Nantucket for a little R & R, but she’ll put it off a day.”

  “Excellent. We’ll make the announcement then.” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as his face softened with a rare genuine smile. “What would I do without you?”

  Michelle grinned and lifted an eyebrow. “Probably still be practicing law in Queens.”

  His jaw tightened and the light fled from his eyes. She broke his hard stare, ran her tongue over her bottom lip and checked her email. Her inbox was flooded again. “You should call Barry. Say something supportive.” She looked up and put on a conciliatory smile.

  “Right.” Kevin mussed his hair and fiddled with the thick gold band of his watch. “Maybe he’ll back me, what do you think?”

  “He doesn’t have a lot of choice.” Michelle put down her phone and massaged her temples. For some ridiculous reason, the image of a bedraggled Louise Whiting holding a child by each hand as they exited their home yesterday, hounded by the press, rankled her. “Do you think his wife will stay with him?”

  “Why should I care?” Kevin undid the top button of his navy shirt and turned his attention to checking his phone. “Listen to you, getting all melodramatic.”

  Melodramatic? No. Michelle fingered the strand of pearls around her neck. She’d met Louise a few times. Nice girl. Whiting was definitely an idiot. But she suspected Louise had been trained to turn a blind eye. The perfect politician’s wife.

  “I do feel sorry for her and their children. It’s not fair that they have to pay for his mistakes.”

  “Oh, please.” Kevin looked up. “He’s getting what he deserves. Infidelity is still a mortal sin in the eyes of the public. At least this year.”