"Discussions about upcoming votes. How to build coalitions."
"Did those discussions ever include offers of support—financial or otherwise—in exchange for particular votes?"
"My client can't speak to conversations he wasn't party to," the lawyer interjects.
"I'm asking about conversations he was party to."
They both look at me.
I should deflect.
"I never witnessed anything I'd characterize as bribery," I say carefully. "But I wasn't privy to every conversation my father had."
Pause. The lawyer looks annoyed. Reeves looks interested.
"So you can't rule out the possibility?"
"I can only speak to what I personally witnessed."
"And what did you witness?"
"My father being very good at politics. Building relationships. I have never seen him cross any legal lines."
Reeves makes a note.
We continue for another hour. I answer some questions honestly, some with the prepared deflections. I'm not sure which category ends up larger.
When it's over, Reeves shakes my hand. "We may have follow-up questions."
"Anything to help."
The lawyer walks her out. I stay seated, staring at the table.
That night, I sit alone in my apartment with the television on and the volume low. Whiskey sits untouched on the coffee table. I keep thinking about Hartley.
The exposé alleged my father bought his vote multiple times. Coincidence, I'd told myself.
I open my laptop. The family records are on a private server. I've had access since twenty-one, though I rarely use it. I’ve never needed to. I trusted my father had everything under control.
I log in.
I navigate through folders for financial records, legal documents, correspondence and search for ‘Hartley’.
I find hundreds of results. I click through. Most are scheduling and generic email chains. He’s cc’d in a few thank you notes for donations. There are a lot of golf invitations.
This is Jamie Dean’s fault. There is zero evidence here of anything that damned omega is saying. That damned scent match has had me questioning my own flesh and blood. It’s had me questioning my own mind.
You defend yourself by proving I'm wrong, not by character assassination.
That’s the line that has been haunting me, but it’s impossible to prove a negative and I realize that isn’t onusto defend. It’s on Jamie to prove.
And what was that damned expose if itwasn’tcharacter assassination? Of me, my father and my entire damned family.
And now he’s too much of a coward to even speak to me.
This damned nightmare is all Jamie’s fault. He deserves whatever’s coming to him.
15. Jamie
