David Kent - The Triangle Conspiracy

“You’re quite a man,” she said softly.

Sean smiled at her.

She stroked his leg. “Let’s talk now,” she said.

Sean propped himself on one elbow.

His cell phone rang. They looked at each other.

“Do you need to get that?” Daryn asked.

Sean waited a long moment before answering. “No,” he said. “Let it go.”

Daryn smiled.

They talked for three hours, and Sean began to see how brilliant Daryn McDermott really was. She laid out all her arguments, the ones he’d already read about in the papers Owens had given him. She was like a lawyer arguing before the Supreme Court-passionate and articulate, with facts and figures to back her up. Her ideas were wild, radical, some would say dangerous. She even envisioned a sort of salary-control socialism, where CEOs of major corporations would have their salaries capped by the federal government. Then what she called the “overage”-the amount the CEOs would have earned above their salary cap-would be put into a federal fund that would then be used to raise the salaries of professions like teachers, nurses, and social workers. Sean could certainly see how politicians like her father and those of like mind would feel threatened.

When the conversation waned, Sean realized that all she’d told him about were her ideas, her opinions…nothing about herself. Not even anything about the fictitious Katherine Hall.

He stretched out on the bed. “How long have you been doing the escort gig?”

“Long enough to know not to answer that question.”

They both laughed.

“And now,” she said, “the next thing you’re going to ask is how a smart girl like me becomes an escort.”

Sean shrugged. “I guess we’ve kind of gone past our original, uh, professional relationship. I’d like to know more about you.”

Daryn was silent for a long moment, studying him. “The obvious answer is that I like sex.”

Sean smiled.

“But that’s not all of it,” Daryn added quickly. “I like people. I like getting to know people. I like touching. I love touching.” She traced a finger along Sean’s forearm. “There’s such power in touch. On some level I’m probably overcompensating.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, letting it touch her eyes, and Sean thought for a second that he had seen the first glimpse past the veneer of Kat Hall, and into the soul of Daryn McDermott. “My family didn’t touch. Not at all.”

“It’s just who we were,” Daryn said. “My mother…well, I don’t remember much of her anyway. She was gone when I was little.” A little tone of bitterness crept into her voice. “And my father…I remember going to hug him, and he would just go all stiff. He wouldn’t actually push me away, but he wouldn’t return the hug, and after a while I quit trying.”

Sean was silent. Let her talk, he thought.

“None of my stepmothers paid much attention to me either,” Daryn said. “They were there for my father, the ‘great man,’ and I was just part of the scenery.”

Sean sat up. “Your father, the ‘great man’?”

Daryn backed off. “Forget it. It’s just me being bitter, and I recognize it for what it is. You don’t really want to hear a bunch of crazy stuff about me, after all.”

Yes, I do, Sean thought, but said nothing.

Daryn smiled wickedly, and it seemed Kat Hall was back, the invisible mask having been put on again. “Speaking of touching…” She leaned toward him.

They coupled again-briefly, intensely-then drifted off to sleep, naked beside each other, sometime after three a.m. Just before sleep claimed him, Sean wondered, So who were the gun thugs? Really, who were they?

Sean woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He looked at the clock: just past seven a.m.

“Faith,” he muttered, digging the phone out of his pants pocket.

“Where the hell are you?” his sister said.

Sean sat up. Daryn stirred but stayed asleep. “I ran into a little trouble last night,” he said.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Sorry, Dad, just stupid, I guess.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Are you all right?”

“Fine, fine. At least there aren’t any bullet holes in your car.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m kidding.” He glanced at Daryn. The sheet had fallen away from her breasts. The word justice stared up at him. He thought about all the things she’d told him. She’d presented her views with as much passion as she presented her body. But when talking about herself, even as she thought she was carefully preserving the fiction that was Kat Hall, it was like she was another person, one who’d been wounded deeply. One who wasn’t nearly as sure of herself as she was of her politics.

“Faith, I need your help,” Sean said.

Faith recognized the tone. “I’m listening.”

“Not on the phone. Let me meet you.”

“I’m leaving for the office now, driving that god-awful monster truck of yours.”

“Sorry,” Sean said. He began to fumble for his clothes. “I’m in a town called El Reno.”

“El Reno! How did you get way out there?”

“Never mind. I’ll be in front of the building where your office is in one hour.”

There was a long silence. Sean listened to his sister’s breathing. She would be turning over in her mind the reason he hadn’t just said “the courthouse.” “You’re not alone?” she finally said.

“No, I’m not. I will be when I meet you, but I’ll need to…” I’ll need to what? He squeezed his eyes open and closed. God, I need a drink right about now. “I’ll need to come back.”

“Sean-”

“Trust me, sister. I need you to just trust me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Sean clicked off. He looked back at Daryn. Her eyes were wide open and staring at him. “Who was that?” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Maybe someone who can help keep us safe,” Sean said. “I have to go out for a while.”

“But you’ll be back?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll be back,” Sean said, and started to get dressed.

IT WAS A GORGEOUS SPRING MORNING.T HE LATESTround of storms had moved out of Oklahoma City and left moderately cool morning temperatures under blazing clear blue skies. Faith waited for Sean on the sidewalk in front of the federal courthouse. When she saw her Miata turn onto Fourth, she waved Sean to a parking place around the corner and started up the sidewalk.

He parked at a meter on the Harvey Avenue side of the courthouse and they met each other at the corner. “You’re late,” Faith said. “You said an hour. It’s been nearly two.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Sean said.

She looked at him. His clothes were rumpled, his hair sticking up in back. He was unshaven, and she could smell the liquor from three feet away.

Faith clenched a fist, then slowly let it out. “What happened?”

Sean rubbed a finger under his nose. “Let’s take a walk. At least that damn rain’s stopped.”

They walked west, passing the front door of the courthouse. Sean was silent, and Faith suppressed her natural urge to pump him for details. They crossed the street, passing Saint Joseph Old Cathedral, the oldest Catholic church in Oklahoma City, dating from years before statehood.

“You go to mass much?” Sean asked as they walked past the beautifully restored brick cathedral.

“Not too often,” Faith said.

“Me either. I’m sure Mom’s disappointed. Kind of a curse to have the name Faith, huh?”

Faith shrugged. “It’s my name. What can I say?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Sean stuffed both hands in the pockets of his khakis.