A mission he should’ve been leading, except his father had demanded his presence on the campaign trail, and Jamie wasn’t in a position to say no. His father needed his support, now more than ever, because a solid family presence in the face of adversity had always been their strongest weapon. The cracks couldn’t show, no matter how deep they got.
And they were getting deep.
The doors to the convention center’s main floor opened up and the Secret Service spread out to handle crowd control. Richard strode forward, embraced by cheers and the blaring campaign music. Jamie kept some distance between them, letting his father glad-hand his way up to the stage before taking his own spot at the right-hand side of the stage, well within view of the press pool. Jamie plastered a bland smile on his face and kept applauding his father’s arrival.
“I thought you weren’t coming to the rally tonight?”
Jamie turned to face his little sister, keeping the smile on his face. “Father needed me.”
Leah Callahan blinked slowly at him, her teeth an even white line between her glossy red lips. She nearly reached his height of six feet two in the five-inch stilettos she wore, blonde hair streaked with honey highlights through the soft waves she’d styled it in tonight. At twenty-seven, she’d grown out of the more daring colors she used to dye her hair, or more accurately, the campaign had forced her to tone down her image somewhat.
Between the two of them, Leah was the golden child in the press at the moment, as much as any Callahan could be golden these days. She still made the front page of the all the fashion sites, her outfits a tad less trendsetting than they used to be due to the family’s dinged social status, but the public seemed more forgiving of her place in the family than Jamie’s.
“I found someone at work to cover for me,” Jamie said.
It was the truth, to an extent. Katie was the best second-in-command an officer could have. Leading Alpha Team in his absence was something Katie had done a lot over the last year or so. She was an exceedingly capable NCO, and Jamie wasn’t looking forward to the day the MDF thought to give Katie her own team to lead.
“How long are you staying?” Leah asked.
“Just through tomorrow.”
She nodded and kept smiling, even though Jamie could see the tension in her shoulders. “I wish you could stay longer.”
Jamie bit his tongue, the words he wanted to say never escaping. He knew this entire presidential campaign run had been hard on his sister, more so than it had been on him. Jamie couldn’t completely shirk his duties to the MDF and in his absence, Leah had shouldered the burden of being the child the media devoured more often. Because she was present and available while Jamie was off fighting the good fight and ruining his family’s name.
They were both of them Callahans though, and their parents had trained them young in the art of media manipulation. Jamie had eschewed the spotlight for years due to his classified identity and the position he held within the MDF. Neither of them were going to argue about decisions already made and actions already taken where anyone could hear. That still didn’t stop Jamie from offering what apology he could.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Leah tilted her head in his direction, the diamond teardrop earrings she wore glittering in the bright stage lights. “I know.”
He would have said more, except the roar of the crowd grew louder as Charlotte announced Richard. Jamie watched their father take center stage to a chorus of cheers and greet the supporters who had braved the muggy, triple-digit spring night. Jamie was glad for the air-conditioning that was required by law in the Dallas megacity. Charlotte drew Richard into a brief hug before kissing his cheek and moving to the side.
Jamie let his attention drift as his father spoke, unable to stop himself from scanning the crowd for any kind of threat. Since Boston, the Secret Service and other police or security companies had made certain that every location was locked down as much as possible. Jamie still periodically reviewed the security protocols that kept his family safe. Unlike before, their personal security were no longer the only ones who obeyed his orders without argument.
Jamie’s precautions in Boston had meant the death toll wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been on the street—but it was stillbad. Before the exposé, the media had lauded his precautions. After the dust had settled, long enough for questions to be asked and ignored, that was when the media from all corners began accusing him and Richard of knowing the Splice attack was going to happen in the first place.
Which was a truth they couldn’t reveal on orders of the MDF, the Joint Chiefs, and the president.
But the truth, like most hidden things, almost always saw the light.
Richard’s speech ended fifteen minutes later to the campaign’s theme song, more cheers, and the entire family on stage waving at the crowd. Since his poll numbers were still tumbling, Richard made it a point after every rally and stump speech stop to glad-hand with the crowd a little more. The rest of the family had no choice but to follow suit.
Not everyone shook Jamie’s hand when he offered it as they slowly headed for the exit, staying on their side of the barriers. Anything more untoward than glares were caught early and quick by the Secret Service. What they didn’t catch, and which Jamie didn’t see coming in time, was the charming young woman who smiled widely at Jamie as she thrust her hand out to him.
“Mr. Callahan,” the woman said calmly before slipping a folded-up piece of synthpaper into his hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Jamie automatically curled his fingers around what she’d given him so it wouldn’t fall to the ground. “I’m sure.”
He kept smiling, pocketing the document and keeping it out of sight until he and the rest of his family were within the restricted areas of the convention center. Only then did he pull out the synthpaper and unfold it. The stark black words of a Congressional subpoena filled the page, impossible to ignore.
“What is that?” Charlotte asked sharply.
Jamie held up the document for them to see. “I was just served with a subpoena issued by the Senate investigation on the handshake line.”
“You’ve already been questioned regarding Boston. I haven’t heard anything about the special counsel reaching the subpoena stage yet,” Richard said, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“This isn’t strictly about Boston.”
