Linwood Barclay - Far From True

“If you expect people to come out,” David said, “I’ve got to promise them something good. You deciding to run is not enough.”

A pause at the other end of the line. “Okay, you can tell them this. Tell them to expect a bombshell about how things are currently run in this town. Something big. And that’s why I’m running. To straighten things out here.”

“I need something more,” David insisted. “Something specific.”

“I don’t want to give it all away,” Finley said. “It’s like taking some hot chick on a date and you come in your pants while you’re still at dinner.”

David closed his eyes for a moment, kneaded his forehead with his fingers. “I would prefer not to put it to them that way.”

“Okay, tell them it’s about incompetence in the police department. And whether this force has the tools it needs to catch this twenty-three dude.”

“Twenty-three what?”

“Christ, David, do you watch the news?”

“I had some stuff going on yesterday.”

Finley told him about Barry Duckworth’s news conference.

“That’s crazy,” David said. “That’s absolutely crazy.”

“I know,” Finley said, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. “This plays right into what I’m going to talk about.”

“What’s the thing you’re holding back?” Or made up, David thought.

“You’ll find out when everyone else does. But the good thing is, you can take it to the bank. It’s solid.”

David sighed in defeat. “Let me start making some calls,” he said. “Oh, another thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to talk to Mrs. Finley. Jane, is it?”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Spouses always figure into a campaign. I want to talk to her about her role.”

“She’s my closest adviser,” Finley said. “That’s her role. You don’t need to talk to her.”

He hung up.

David put the phone on the bedside table, held his head in his hands for a moment, elbows on his knees.

“Something bad?” Samantha said.

David turned, looked at her head on the pillow next to his. “Sorry if that woke you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I was already awake. I was thinking I got to pick up Carl. Get him back here, get him ready for school.”

Carl was having a sleepover with Ethan at David’s house. David’s sleepover — although there’d been a limited amount of actual sleeping — had been at Sam’s.

The night before, the two had decided to have that dinner — drinks, actually, with some bar snacks, since the two of them had already eaten — right away. The moment Sam had said yes, she’d be happy to go out with him sometime, David had asked, “How about now?”

Sam didn’t feel as though she could say no. The man had, after all, just saved her son from an abduction. When David went back inside and asked Arlene if she could watch the boys for a while, she’d said sure, no problem, they were already getting along just fine, up in Ethan’s room.

Around eleven, David had glanced at his watch and said, “Oh, shit.”

“God, I haven’t been up this late in years,” Sam had said. “Get me back to your place. I’ll grab Carl and get home.”

But something had happened on the way to the car. When he’d opened the passenger door for her, Sam had turned, her face brushing up close to David’s, and he’d kissed her. Hungrily. Sam responded. It was the same kind of instantaneous passion they’d felt in her kitchen weeks earlier.

Her back pressed up against the car, she’d said, “My place.”

On the way, David had phoned his mother. “Where are you?” Arlene had asked, her voice just above a whisper. “It’s past Ethan’s bedtime, but it’s kind of hard to put him to bed when Carl is still here.”

David had said, “Have Carl sleep over.” He’d glanced at Sam, who’d nodded.

“Sleep over?” Arlene had said. “He hasn’t brought pajamas or a toothbrush or a change of clothes for tomorrow or—”

“ Mom , make it work.”

Silence, for a moment, from his mother. “I’ll see what I can do. Will I see you in the morning, or are you going to Mexico?”

“Thanks, Mom,” he’d said.

And five minutes later they were in Samantha Worthington’s bed. The first time was rushed, frantic. The second, an hour later, was slower, more tender. Sometime around two, they both fell asleep.

So Randall Finley’s phone call, only three and a half hours later, was as rude a wake-up call as one could get.

David quickly explained. “Finley. I’m helping him with his campaign. He wants to be mayor again.”

“I never heard of him,” Sam said, pushing herself up, leaning against the headboard, making no effort to cover her naked breasts with a sheet.

“He was mayor before you moved here. Had a rather spectacular flameout that involved, among other things, an underage hooker. Now he’s trying for a comeback.”

“Can you come back from something like that?”

David thought. “If anyone can, Finley’s the one. Look, I’ve got a ton of calls to make. Mind if I jump in the shower?”

Samantha smiled. “I’ll join you.”

Forty minutes later — nearly half of that in the shower — they came out the front door of Samantha’s house, David walking down to the curb to his car while Sam, her hair still wet, locked her front door. She had a small bag with her with a change of clothes, and a lunch, for her son.

“You know what might be fun?” Sam asked.

“More fun than we just had?”

“I was thinking — no, forget it.”

“No, what?”

“I’m moving too fast. It’ll sound pushy.”

“It’s okay,” David said. “Just tell me.”

“It’s just, the boys seem to be getting along okay after a bumpy start, and maybe sometime we could do something with them. The four of us.”

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that. What’d you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. A movie, or maybe even — you ever been camping?”

“Camping? Like, in a tent?”

She grinned. “Yes, in a tent. With sleeping bags and burnt marshmallows and mosquitoes. The whole deal.”

“I’ve never been camping. You take Carl camping?”

“A couple of times we’ve gone up to Lake Luzerne. A place called Camp Sunrise.”

As she said it, the sun started making an appearance.

“Let’s talk about that,” David said. “It could be fun.”

As David held open the passenger door, she asked, “How are we going to explain this, exactly, to the boys?”

“We don’t have to explain,” he said. “We’re adults.”

“You telling me Ethan won’t have questions? Carl sure will.”

David smiled resignedly. “My mom, too.”

Sam grinned at him. “Should I be seeing a man who still lives with his parents?”

“I don’t live with my parents — they live with me . And not for much longer, I hope.”

David closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and got in behind the wheel. Sam leaned across, kissed his cheek, and said, “This was good. I like you. But I’m not one of those girls who’s going to be waiting for you to call. You call, great. You don’t, I’ll get the message. I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

David turned in his seat and looked at her. “I’ll be calling.”

Sam’s face had appeared ready to crack into a thousand pieces. Now it didn’t have to. “Okay,” she said.

“Let’s get our boys ready for school,” he said, and turned the key.

The car pulled away from the curb. Half a block back, Ed Noble sat in Garnet and Yolanda Worthington’s Cadillac and watched them leave.

The two of them together, he thought. The fucker who kicked his face in, and Carl’s slutty mom.