The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [108]
“And I would have, by God, if it had come to that.” Conrad Fritz had chewed on the end of his cigar, then tapped on it with pudgy fingers to knock off the ash. “Fortunately, for everyone’s sake, it never came to that. Graham came to his senses and all was well. Course then the girl died in the meantime, which just goes to show you that you never make your life plans based on someone else, if you follow me.”
“Did Graham change his mind before or after Blythe died, do you remember?”
“Yeah, Blythe. That was her name. What a looker she was, let me tell you. In all fairness, you almost couldn’t blame the man. And I do remember, he changed his mind before she died. I remember because he told me that he’d talked to her about it. He said she agreed with me, that he should stay in office and run for a second term. Then she left town for a while— good while. I really thought the whole affair was over. But then, there she was with Kendall at one of those big Christmas parties at the White House. I figured Graham had just shuttled her out of town or something to keep the press from finding out about her. And as far as I know, they never did.” Fritz paused and asked, “You’re not going to put any of this in your book, right?”
“No. I’m not going to put it in my book.”
“Good. Because with young Graham getting ready to announce his candidacy, it wouldn’t look good. Even all these years later, it still wouldn’t look good. Don’t want to take the focus from the candidate, if you follow.”
“I follow.” Simon had nodded. “It’s one story I won’t be writing. . . .”
At least, I won’t be writing it right now.
Simon sighed heavily. It was still a big story. Still an important story, maybe the biggest story he’d ever come across. All of his instincts as a journalist screamed that if he could solve the mystery surrounding Blythe’s death, he’d have himself one hell of a story. Not just the righteous President and the heiress story, but the murder of the President’s mistress. But right now, at this moment, Simon still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it.
Because in spite of all he knew of what a story like this could do for his career, there was one thing he hadn’t planned on when he’d started tracking the story. He hadn’t planned on Dina.
In the time they’d spent together, he’d become more and more drawn to her. Not just her beauty, though a man could bask in her glow for a lifetime. Not for the first time, Simon felt a twinge of envy for Graham Hayward, who’d been loved by such a woman. Simon wondered what it would take for Dina to love as deeply. It was something Simon longed to discover, and would, he vowed, as soon as this nightmare had come to an end for her.
And it was for her, Simon had come to realize, that he continued to pursue the truth. Not for the prize of fame that could await the one who told the story. But for Dina, because now the prize could well be Dina’s life.
When, he wondered, had it become more about Dina and less about Blythe?
Simon would take on demons from hell to keep Dina safe. Now and always. The realization rattled him more than he’d have been willing to admit.
And the story? Well, that would have to be dealt with, sooner or later. But right now, Dina would be waiting for him at the end of this trip. That, more than anything, spurred him toward the truth. What he’d do with it, once he’d uncovered it, well, that remained to be seen. . . .
He stepped on the accelerator as he approached the Maryland/Virginia state lines, formulating his game plan. Since it was too late to pay a visit to the professor, he’d stop at the town house, get a few hours’ sleep, a