The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [127]
“Because he was in love with Blythe himself.”
“So he thought that if Sarah talked her father into leaving Blythe and coming back to her mother, then he would have Blythe all to himself . . . ?”
“That’s the best we could come up with. But instead of going to her father—”
“Sarah went to Blythe . . .” Dina said softly.
“Miles had made some comments to me to the effect that he’d never meant for Blythe to die. That it wasn’t supposed to turn out the way it did, or something like that. And it all makes sense when you add it all together.”
“Hmmm.” Dina lay back and pondered it for a few minutes. “She must have hated Blythe terribly,” she said after a time.
“I imagine she did,” Simon agreed.
“I like to think that my father had Dr. Norton in the wings watching over me somehow,” she told him. Before he could respond, she added, “And that reminds me that I need to thank Dr. Norton for . . . well, you know, for what he did after. After . . . Sarah—well, there was a lot that never appeared in any official report that I saw. The fire, for one thing—”
“Philip’s ‘old friend’ at the Bureau turned out to be the director. And it’s amazing what a call from the director of the FBI can do, isn’t it? Your local police didn’t even seem upset when the Feds took over everything. Your chief seemed almost happy to have them involved.”
“Biggest moment of Tom’s life, I do believe. All he had to hear was ‘matter of national security’ and his lips were sealed. I didn’t even see a mention of the gun in the report.” Dina paused, then asked, “What do you suppose happened to Sarah’s gun?”
“What gun?”
“You know what gun. The gun Sarah shot at me with. Shot up Betsy’s Jeep with. The gun she had in her hand when she died.”
“There was no gun in her hand when the ambulance arrived.” Simon shrugged. “And there was nothing on the report about any damage to the Jeep.”
“Are people really that powerful, that they can hide things like that?” Dina half sat up.
Simon raised an amused eyebrow. “You have to ask me that? Sweetheart, they managed to hide you for almost thirty years. . . .”
“Do I look all right?” Dina had the car door half-opened, her legs poised to settle on the ground, an anxious look on her face.
“You look beautiful,” Simon assured her. “You have nothing to worry about. Just be yourself.”
“What if this doesn’t go well? Or if they don’t like me?”
“Hey, what if you don’t like them?” Simon took Dina’s arm and led her up to the front door of Jen and Gray Hayward’s Rhode Island home. “Now’s as good a time as any to find out. Come on.”
It was almost three months since Sarah Decker’s death, six weeks since Simon Keller had found the perfect bungalow to rent on a road right outside of Henderson. One month since he’d moved in and one week from the day that he’d started working on his first novel, the story of a young reporter who was tracking a dream of a story.
Jen Hayward was the first to greet Simon and Dina, and she did so warmly.
“Come in, please. Gray’s out back with Dr. Norton.” She escorted them through the house and out onto the patio. “Gray has been pacing all day, waiting for you to arrive. . . .”
The congressman from Rhode Island stepped forward and shook Simon’s hand, all the while looking beyond him to Dina.
“You must be Dina,” he said.
“Yes.” Dina wasn’t sure if she should offer her hand and was happy when Gray offered his.
“Did you have an enjoyable trip?” If anything, Gray appeared more nervous than Dina.
“Yes. It was a nice drive. I haven’t been in this part of the country before. It’s beautiful.” Dina nodded.
“You’ll have to see the view from the cliffs.” Gray turned toward the sea. “It’s spectacular.”
“I’ll be sure to do that before we leave.”
“Let me get you something to drink.” Gray gestured to the small bar where Philip Norton stood, watching the interaction. “What would you like?”
“Whatever white wine you have on hand would be lovely.”
“I have just the thing.” Gray patted her shoulder. “Simon? Your pleasure?”
“A cold beer would be fine.”
“Philip.” Simon nodded a greeting.
“Simon.” Norton nodded