Captain's Call of Duty. Cindy Dees
me to work out that kink?” he offered.
She jolted so hard she all but fell out of her chair. “No. I got it.”
“Find anything?”
“Maybe. Yes. I think so.”
“What’ve you got?”
He plugged in the white-noise machine as she moved over to the sofa and spread her notes out on the coffee table. “At least twenty of the same corporate donors and another dozen large private donors contributed to both your father’s and Chet’s last campaigns. These folks have donated to Chandler’s last several campaigns, but they were all first-time donors to your dad’s last campaign.”
He frowned, staring at the lengthy list of names. He’d never heard his father mention any of these people. “I don’t think any of these guys are from California.”
“I know they’re not.” She shrugged. “Your father and Chandler both tend to vote conservatively, so these donors could conceivably just be supporting like-minded senatorial candidates. Or, they could’ve bought Chet a while back and just be getting around to buying your father. How’d Hank’s last campaign go?”
“It was a close thing. His conservative platform doesn’t always play well with west-coast voters. He was behind in all the polls throughout the campaign and forecasted by everyone to lose. Then he got a big influx of cash at the last minute and was able to blitz the media with family-values ads.” He added bitterly, “Which we all know now to be a load of crap.”
Alex replied quietly, “Just because he cheated on his wife doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his kids.”
Jim shrugged. “He’s not the man I thought he was.” He figured Alex would know what he was talking about. She’d grown up around Hank and seen how larger-than-life but out of reach the man had always been, especially in the eyes of his sons.
“Lots of people aren’t the same as they appear on the surface.”
She sounded oddly choked up when she said that. He studied her closely, but her dark eyes gave away nothing. But then she cleared her throat and said briskly, “Almost every donor on that list is going to be at Senator Chandler’s fundraiser tomorrow night.”
“The one this McNaught Group is putting on?” Jim asked.
She nodded.
“Then I guess I’m going to have to get myself invited to it,” he commented.
“How?” Alex blurted.
“Easy. I’ll call and tell them I want to give Chandler money.”
She replied doubtfully, “The guest list is pretty exclusive. Some of the richest people in this part of the country are going.”
“All the more reason to be there. Sounds like exactly the kind of people I’m looking for.”
She said hesitantly, “I don’t know if you’re rich enough to get in. And the cost per plate is thirty thousand dollars.”
He shrugged. “We can always have Homeland Security add a few zeroes to my bank-account totals if it turns out I’m not wealthy enough to get in on my own.”
She blinked, stunned. “They can do that?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you and I can have whatever we want on this op. The people who put me on this job seriously want to see this bunch of folks exposed.”
“Wow.”
“I’ll arrange for the boost to my bank accounts in the morning. And you’d better call in sick for work tomorrow.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“Because you have to go shopping.”
“For what?”
“A decent dress to wear to the McNaught fundraiser with me.”
“What?” she squawked.
“Do you even own a dress, Mendez?”
“Of course,” she answered quickly enough that he wondered if she was telling the truth.
“It’ll need to be a fancy one. The McNaught fundraiser is no doubt black-tie.”
“As in tuxedos and ball gowns?” she practically squeaked.
“Exactly.”
She subsided, looking horrified. He laughed. “Chin up, kid. If you’re nice to me I won’t take blackmail pictures of you in a dress to post in the unit.”
“Try it and I’ll have to get even with you.”
“How do you figure you’ll do that?”
“I’ll tell everyone about you kissing the goat.”
Laughter rolled through him. “Lord, I haven’t thought about that in years. The Colton twins dared me to do it.”
“The way I heard it, they didn’t dare you to do it at the summer dance. Taking that poor goat as your date was purely your idea. I can’t wait to see what the guys in the unit do when they find out you make out with goats,” she gloated.
He groaned. “Okay, fine. No pictures tomorrow. Truce?” He held out a hand to shake on the deal.
She reached for his hand but failed to take into account the coffee table between them and pitched over it into the sofa. Fortunately, the piece was overstuffed and broke her fall without injury.
“Remind me to wear body armor under my tux tomorrow night,” he declared. “I’m going to need it if I’m going to dance with you.”
Her response was muffled by the sofa cushions, but given the irritation in her voice, he was glad he couldn’t make out the words.
“I’m heading home, Mendez. Give me a call in the morning if you come up with anything new overnight.”
Something unrepeatable floated out of the sofa pillow. Laughing quietly, he walked out the door.
Alex stared at the closed door and all but burst into tears. When was she going to stop turning into a complete klutz every time he touched her or walked into the room with her?
A black-tie dinner dance, huh? With Jim Kelley? She was so hosed. The only dress she owned was the one she’d worn to her uncle’s funeral a few years ago, and it had managed to be out of style even then.
Desperate, she picked up her phone and made a panicked call. “Carla, you’ve got to save my life.”
She’d gone to high school with Carla Grant back in Maple Cove and the young woman had come to town recently to work in the new Washington, D.C., office of Walsh Enterprises, an oil and gas exploration company headquartered back in Montana.
“What’s up, Alex?” Carla laughed. “Did you get lost in a department store and accidentally wander into the women’s clothing section? Remember, you get your clothes in men’s wear.”
“Very funny. That’s my problem. I’ve got to get a dress. A long one. For a fancy dance. I have to do makeup and everything. And, ohmigosh, my hair. I can’t wear a ponytail to this thing.”
“Whoa! You have a date? With a living, breathing man? Spill, girlfriend.”
Alex scowled. “I’ve been invited to a fundraiser for the senator I work for.”
“By whom? Not one of those gay Congressional staffers using you to convince people they’re straight?” Carla demanded.
“No. Jim Kelley.”
Silence came from the other end of the line. Had she given Carla a no-kidding heart attack? “Did I kill you?” Alex asked anxiously as the silence stretched out.
An ear-splitting scream erupted in her ear, making Alex yank the phone away from her head. From