When No One Is Watching (30 page)

“Is there more to this story?” Bobby asked, looking concerned.

“Shit, Bobby, it speaks for itself. We caught a break! This Slazak guy was apparently a nut job. Anyway, this mess is behind us now. There’s no evidence, the cop is dead, and there’s no one else to tell the story. It’s over. We’re completely in the clear. The only thing between Blair and the Presidency now is time—sixty-six days, to be exact!”

CHAPTER 48
T
he doorbell rang, and Allie answered. “Hi, Kristen.” She embraced her former college roommate. “Come on in.”

 

“It’s great to see you, Allie,” Kristen replied, looking at her friend with compassion in her eyes. “How’s your dad?” she asked as she stepped inside and removed her coat.

“He’s having a pretty good day today. Like I mentioned on the phone, he’s completely bedridden now, but mentally he’s all there. And he’s still himself. I’m grateful for that.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him again,” Kristen said. “And I really appreciate the fact that he’s allowing me to interview him about the early days of Governor Van Howe. Is he still up to it?”

Allie smiled. “Absolutely. He considers it an honor to be working with the
Tribune
’s most promising reporter.”

Kristen reached into an oversized purse and pulled out a handheld digital recorder and a small notepad. “Oh, I brought this thing, too,” she said, pulling out what looked like a walkie-talkie and a small plastic blue-and-white radio. “This is the baby monitor I used when my kids were new-borns. You put the base in your dad’s room, near his bed, and you can put this receiver anywhere in the house, or you can carry it around with you. Whenever he talks, you’ll be able to hear him. The sound quality is great. Even if he’s just whispering, you’ll hear him loud and clear.”

“Thanks, Kristen, this will really help,” Allie said in a quiet voice.

“How are you holding up?” Kristen asked sympathetically.

“Not so good,” Allie replied softly, looking down as tears filled her eyes. “This is so hard, Kristen,” she stammered, as she began to weep quietly. The two friends embraced again, sharing tears of sorrow.

Danny Moran had been diagnosed with liver cancer in late August. He’d seen several doctors, all of whom expressed the same grim opinion: nothing short of an absolute miracle could stop the spread of the insidious disease. The most advanced, cutting-edge treatments might prolong his life for some period of time, but it would not be long, and it would be at the expense of his quality of life.

It was November first, barely two months since the diagnosis, and the cancer had ravaged his body at a merciless pace. Allie had taken a leave of absence from her residency position beginning in early October to move in with her father and act as his caretaker. She was determined to be there for whatever time he had left, which wasn’t likely to be much. She could see that his vital body functions were showing signs of shutting down. Blessedly, he was not in great discomfort. He slept a great deal, but when he was awake, he was lucid and peaceful.

Danny was sleeping as Allie and Kristen walked into his room. “Don’t wake him,” Kristen whispered. “I’m in no hurry. I’ll go ahead and set up the monitor.” She plugged in the base and set it on the bedside table, then checked the frequency to make sure its setting matched the receiver. “There you go. We’re all set,” she said in a hushed tone, handing the receiver to Allie.

They walked into the kitchen, and Allie put a kettle on the stove. As she poured hot water over their tea bags, the door-bell rang again. Allie opened the door to find a burly young man with long brown hair hanging over large, sad-looking brown eyes. “Hi, Allie,” he said hesitantly. “My name is T. J. I’m a friend of your dad’s. I was hoping I could see him.”

“Hi, T. J.!” Allie said, warmly shaking his hand. “It’s so nice of you to come by. Daddy’s told me a lot about you, and I’m so glad to finally meet you. Come on in.”

She introduced him to Kristen and offered him a cup of tea.

“How’s he doing?” T. J. asked, looking uncomfortable and self-conscious, avoiding eye contact.

“He’s doing okay,” Allie said in a comforting voice. “He doesn’t have much time left, but he’s peaceful and he’s lucid. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

“Allie?” Danny’s voice came through the monitor, sounding a bit hollow and metallic, but otherwise loud and clear.

“Perfect timing!” Allie said. “He’s awake now. I’ll take you in there, T. J.”

They walked out of the kitchen and down a narrow corridor adorned with old family photos to the master bedroom. Allie peeked in. “Daddy? You have a visitor.”

T. J. peered in over Allie’s shoulder. “Hello, Danny,” he said, his voice breaking just a bit as he beheld former mentor. Danny looked like an old man, shriveled and pale, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.

“T. J.!” Danny exclaimed, his voice sounding weak and tired, yet upbeat. “What a wonderful surprise!”

T. J. lumbered across the room and shook Danny’s frail hand with his meaty paw.

Danny smiled at his young friend. “You look good, T. J. Are you still sober?”

T. J. chuckled softly. “You never were one to beat around the bush. Yes, I’m still sober, Danny.” He seated himself in the wooden desk chair next to the bed, and Allie retreated to the kitchen. “How you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Tired … weak … I’m dying, T. J.,” Danny answered with a matter-of-fact shrug.

“Judge Andy told me you’re not doing chemo or radiation … or anything. Can’t you fight this, Danny? You’ve helped so many of us fight to straighten out our lives. Can’t you fight for yourself?”

“I wish I could,” Danny replied. “I’m afraid this is a fight I just can’t win.”

T. J. began sniffling and wiping his nose with his hand. “I’m sorry I walked out on you, Danny. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re the best friend I’ve got. I don’t want to lose you …” He pulled out a rumpled handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. “I would have come sooner, but I didn’t know. I stopped going to the meetings at St. Martin’s. I go to the one in Blue Island now, so I’ve been out of touch. I just found out you were sick yesterday when I saw Andy at the mall. I’m so sorry. I should have been a better friend.” He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.

“T. J., you had every right to be upset with me, after all the pain I caused you and your family. I don’t blame you a bit.”

“I don’t care what happened ten years ago, Danny. That’s in the past, and we can’t do shit about that. All I know is that, when you came into my life, you made a difference. No one’s cared about me in forever, until you came along. You didn’t treat me like a loser. You treated me like a friend, and you helped straighten me out. You actually cared. You’ll never know how much that means to me.”

“And it means a lot to me that you’re here now, T. J.,” Danny replied, reaching out and putting his frail hand on T. J.’s bulky forearm. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve had a good life. Having real friends, friends who are there for each other, making a difference in each other’s lives, that’s what matters. I’ve been blessed to have you for a friend, T. J. And you’re going to have a good life, too. I just know it. You’re on the right track now.”

T. J. smiled through his tears. “I owe that to you, Danny.”

CHAPTER 49
F
or a presidential candidate four days before the election, Blair Van Howe was remarkably relaxed. He had good reason to be, as all the polls indicated that he was on the verge of the biggest landslide victory in decades. There was no need for the usual frenzy of last-minute campaigning in key battleground states. He had just one final stop on the campaign trail, a speech in Chicago, where he launched his career, on the day before the election. Until then, he intended to relax and spend time working on his victory speech, out of the limelight, at his home in North Beverly, free from the ubiquitous cameras and microphones he would encounter at any downtown hotel.

Kimberly had stayed behind at campaign headquarters in Washington, and Blair was relishing the prospect of a few days of quiet solitude. Solitude was, of course, a relative thing for a presidential candidate, since a small army of Secret Service agents would be hovering nearby. An around-the-clock detail was stationed on his property and others blanketed the surrounding area.

It was late Friday afternoon, as Blair looked out his front window and saw his next-door neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard, lifting grocery bags from the trunk of her Buick. Mrs. Hubbard had lived there when Blair moved into his house fifteen years ago. She was well into her seventies now. Blair felt an urge to reconnect with the old neighborhood and bounded down his front steps into the chilly November air without his jacket.

“Hi, Mrs. H.,” he called out brightly as he hurried across the lawn toward the Hubbards’ driveway, followed by one of his Secret Service agents. “Let me help you with that.”

“Blair, what a surprise! Or should I call you Mr. President now?” She beamed at him like a proud parent and gave him a warm embrace.

Blair and the agent each hoisted several grocery bags and carried them into the kitchen. Blair listened with genuine interest as she brought him up-to-date on the lives of each of her four children and proudly showed off her most recent pictures of her six grandchildren.

“So, what’s new around the neighborhood, Mrs. H.?” Blair asked when she completed the update on her family.

She thought for a moment. “Well, I assume you’ve heard about Danny Moran,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice.

“No, what about him?” Blair asked.

“The poor chap has cancer. It was just diagnosed a couple of months ago, but it spread really fast. Nothing they could do about it. It was just too far along when they found it.” She shook her head sadly. “Such a shame. He’s always been such a nice man.”

“Is he in the hospital?” Blair asked, trying to conceal his sense of shock.

“No, he’s at home. Probably doesn’t have more than a few days, from what I hear.”

Blair left the Hubbard house pale and shaken. Over the years, he’d managed to compartmentalize his life very well. Danny Moran was a subject he’d tried to keep locked away somewhere in the distant recesses of his memory. Whenever he thought about Danny, he felt besieged by guilt and sadness, so he did what Sam and Kimberly repeatedly told him he must do: put Danny out of his mind. Danny Moran was part of his past, and there was simply no place for Danny in his present life. It wasn’t right, and he knew it, but that was his coping mechanism—doing his best to stay oblivious to Danny’s existence. The guilt and sadness flooded back.

He sat on the leather sofa in his living room and flipped on the television. He stared at a football game with unseeing eyes for a long time. He thought about Danny: their time together in law school, their early years in the legal profession, all the fun they’d had together. He thought about the selfless mentoring and encouragement Danny had always provided. He thought about Danny’s efforts to bring him into the fold at the city’s premier law firm and Danny’s tireless efforts to use his influence and connections to pave the way for Blair’s political career.

Then he thought about the accident. He had always banished those thoughts when they ambushed him at inopportune times. But he could not banish them now—or would not. His conscience tortured him. That piece of unexpected news from Mrs. Hubbard had jolted him, instantaneously transforming his mindset and his self-image. He no longer felt like a man of supreme talent and confidence on the threshold of greatness. He felt like a regular guy who had egregiously harmed his best friend.

He stood and walked to the front window. In the gathering darkness, he could see a Secret Service agent standing on his porch, a car with two agents inside parked on the street in front of his house, and another Secret Service vehicle parked farther up the street. He turned and walked toward the back of the house, determination in his footsteps. He exited the back door, strode past an agent posted there, and hurried across the yard, scaling the four-foot wroughtiron fence and landing in his neighbor’s yard. The Secret Service agent hustled after him.

“Sir, where are you going?”

Blair stopped and looked at him. “I’m taking a little walk, Tony. Visiting an old friend, and I don’t want to attract a crowd. Come on, I guess you’d better come along.”

“How far are we going?” the agent asked nervously, hurrying to keep up as Blair walked briskly across the neighbor’s yard.

“Not far. We just need to cut through a few yards, and we’ll be there.” Blair stopped and stared at the young agent. “Don’t call this in, Tony. This is just you and me, got it? We won’t be gone long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Allie and Kristen sipped their tea in the kitchen. They could hear T. J.’s halting voice coming through the baby monitor as he read from Danny’s devotional.

“Thanks for waiting, Kristen. You can meet with Daddy as soon as T. J.’s finished.”

Kristen gave her friend an understanding smile. “No problem. I’m in no hurry.” She swallowed the last of her tea and said, “I think I’ll step outside for a smoke.”

“I could use some fresh air, too,” Allie replied. “I’ll join you.”

Allie grabbed their jackets, and they sat on the cement stairs leading down from the kitchen door to the backyard. They sat in silence, enjoying the cool night air and the companionship. As Kristen took a drag from her cigarette, the stillness was interrupted by the rattling of the chain-link fence. Two dark figures scaled the fence and walked purposefully toward them. Allie pulled her cell phone from her pocket, ready to dial 911 if necessary. The dark figures stopped in their tracks when they noticed the two women sitting on the steps. The taller figure approached first, the other man lingering behind. Halfway across the yard, a motion-activated floodlight bathed the visitors in a bright light. The tall man stopped momentarily and held a hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the harsh glare.

Allie’s eyes grew wide. “Blair?”

“Is that you, Allie?”

Kristen dropped her cigarette and stared in stunned disbelief as the unmistakable figure of Governor Blair Van Howe approached them.