Capital Offense

“Well, no.” Carolyn hedged. “Unexpectedly, Warner’s out of town, and I hoped you’d escort me. If your wife wasn’t coining, of course. But since she is, I’ll work it out. It was just a thought.”

“Well… let me give her a call. She’d probably be delighted to have a night off.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t think of it. I’ll see you tonight.”

Mark picked up his phone. “Hold on. Let me ask her.”

Carolyn sat quietly while he phoned. The reception was important. Warner was in the southern region of the state surveying flooded farmland, and Carolyn was standing in for him at party given by an elite businessmen’s organization called the Pinstripe Club. She didn’t have to give a speech, but with the campaign in full gear, she needed to make an appearance.

All the major business and political players would be in attendance. These were people with whom she needed to solidify relationships. The members were more powerful than most officials already in office. Like Warner’s father, they were “king makers.” They made the decisions as to who won the political offices and at what price. She and Warner needed their support – and their deep pockets – in order to break through to the national scene.

Mark was the key. He’d grown up with them, and, although Warner was a senator and the Lane family was prominent, Carolyn needed Mark’s help in establishing herself as a potential political force. Even though in legal circles she’d earned a reputation as a tough prosecutor, she knew that in this arena she was perceived only as the senator’s wife.

She’d debated whether or not to impose on Mark for his contacts, but realized that an opportunity like this, a party of this magnitude and Warner out of town, would not present itself again. Too, she had to admit, she’d enjoy a night out with Mark, even if it was strictly business.

Mark hung up the phone. “One of the kids has an ear infection, and Sandy would love to get out of going tonight. So, I’m available.”

“Are you sure you’re not just telling me this so I won’t feel guilty about taking you away from your wife?”

“No, honestly, she’d rather stay home with the kids. You know me, Carolyn. Would Saint Mark lie?”

“No.” Carolyn laughed low in her throat, “Saint Mark would never lie.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”

She pushed up from the chair, and left his office. They’d become close over the years, and he was one of the few people she trusted, although within limits. Dangerous, Carolyn warned herself, stopping her thoughts. Mark was married, off limits. But she couldn’t help envying his wife just a bit.

Once she returned to her office, Carolyn called in her assistant, Katherine Seals. Carolyn had met Katherine at party headquarters. The daughter of a party leader, Katherine had quickly become invaluable and was a good friend as well.

Katherine entered her office. At twenty-seven, Katherine moved with the silent grace of a feline. Even seated in the chair in front of Carolyn’s desk, her athletic frame looked ready to pounce. Auburn curls danced around her face as she spoke. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a hot case,” Carolyn announced with an easy smile.

Katherine’s green eyes lit up. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll brief you tomorrow. This afternoon I need you to go to the law library and pull everything you can find on children as informants, and everything on kids who’ve testified against their parents. Don’t limit it to Missouri, but weed through it. I only want information with teeth to it.” Her gaze caught on the wall clock above Katherine’s credenza. It was four o’clock.

“You want sensational stuff, as well as precedent-setting information?” Katherine asked.

“Exactly.” Carolyn picked up her briefcase and lifted her coat off the hook behind her door. “Have it by tomorrow, and we’ll review it together. I won’t be back today.”

NINE

The reception consisted of caviar and champagne, followed by a full-course meal featuring Maine lobsters flown in that day. Heads turned when Carolyn strolled into the main room with Mark. Her black cocktail dress, cut on the bias, accented shapely legs and her hair moved in soft waves about her shoulders. A waiter offered glasses of Veuve Clicquot, which they accepted.

“Our seats are at the head table.” Mark said.

Walking through the crowd with Mark felt natural, she thought, comfortable.

Mark introduced her to several bankers. He’d begun his professional life in investment banking. The fact that he’d given up such a lucrative career for the pursuit of justice, Carolyn long ago concluded, was a testament to his moral fiber. Attentive and polite, he made her feel valued and respected, things she hadn’t felt in a longtime.

“I want you to meet someone special.” Mark said as they finally approached the head table and found their seats.

“ Carolyn Alden Lane, may I introduce you to Mort Fields.”