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Chapter Twenty-three 6 page

“I’m Special Agent Hara,” the woman said.

“Dana Barnett,” Dana said, feeling foolish since she knew the agent knew her name. And likely everything else there was to know about her.

“If you’ll come with me, please.”

They rode down the elevator in silence and exited the lobby where an SUV stood idling at the curb. Stark stood by the open rear door, her body partially obscuring the interior as she scanned the street in both directions. A half dozen reporters and a couple of cameramen jostled to get a look into the car around the big blond whom Dana had last seen standing outside Blair’s apartment. He was effectively blocking the sidewalk between the crowd and the Suburban.

“Dana!” A woman’s voice rose above the general onslaught of shouts. “What are you doing with the first daughter’s detail? Are you dating her or is it business?”

Caught off guard, Dana half turned toward the gaggle of reporters and saw cameras raised in her direction. Other people shouted questions, most of which she didn’t catch in the general tumult of noise, but she did hear the phrases sleeping with, new lover, and where is Roberts? She also saw a society reporter for the Baltimore Herald with whom she’d once had a brief fling. They had been great in bed, but their professional ideologies had been so different they couldn’t carry on a conversation for more than five minutes. Looking quickly away, Dana ducked into the back seat behind Hara.

“Jesus,” Dana muttered. “Nice reception.”

“Welcome to my world.” Blair Powell, dressed in dark slacks, black boots, and a burgundy blouse beneath a long black leather duster, occupied the opposite seat. She’d pulled her hair back somehow, taming the thick curls, and Dana realized how different she looked with it worn this way. The wild earthy look had been replaced by cool sophisticate. Both looks were sexy.

Dana met Blair’s eyes. “Is that normal?”

“It didn’t used to be, but…” Blair glanced out the window at the reporters straggling back to the news vans. “For the last few months it has been.”

“What about the man on the street? Are you bothered by people wanting to talk to you?”

“Not really. Unless they notice my entourage,” Blair grinned at Hara, “they don’t even recognize me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Blair’s eyebrows rose. There wasn’t anything flirtatious in Dana Barnett’s tone, although Blair had caught the barest flicker of interest from her a time or two. The reporter’s compliment seemed to be genuine. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dana removed a small digital recorder from the pocket of her leather jacket and showed it to Blair. “Do you mind? I’ll only use it while I’m actually interviewing you.”

“Where do the cards go when you’re done with them?” Blair asked.

Dana had half expected Blair to refuse outright, and the question took her by surprise. Most of the people she interviewed were eager for exposure. “I keep them locked in a safe. No one ever hears them except me.”

Blair was silent for a moment. “It’s all right with me, but I have a feeling there’s a protocol for this sort of thing.” She glanced at Hara, who appeared relaxed but alert sitting next to Dana. “Do you know, Patrice?”



“No, ma’am, but I would suggest clearing it with the chief and the commander.”

“Why don’t we assume it’s all right for now.” Blair saw the small red light come on at the end of the device. “By the way, Dana, are you a lesbian?”

Dana laughed and looked at the tape recorder in her hand. “For the record? Yes.”

“Not that it matters, of course,” Blair added.

“Considering that your marriage won’t be legal, why are you doing it?” Dana asked.

“Because it should be legal, and because I don’t need anyone’s permission to promise my life to Cam.”

“How does your father feel about it?”

“You should probably ask him about that.”

“I’d love to,” Dana said, “but I’m not sure I could get past Ms. Washburn to ask him.”

“He’ll be coming to the wedding. You can ask him then.”

Dana sat up straight. “The president is coming?”

“That’s not official,” Blair said, “so you’ll need to wait until the White House officially announces it. Unless you want Lucinda on your tail.”

“Are you kidding?” Dana said. “As soon as that word goes out, the number of reporters in Colorado will triple. You’re damn right I’ll keep it quiet.”

The SUV pulled over to the curb and slowed to a stop. Hara shifted toward the door, again blocking the interior as someone on the outside opened it. Dana craned her neck to see around Hara and saw Stark guarding the door again. Then a drop-dead gorgeous blonde in a Fifth Avenue wardrobe climbed in and settled next to Blair Powell. She kissed Blair on the cheek, then set her gaze on Dana.

“Blair, honey, whatever have you picked up?”

“Diane, this is Dana Barnett, the reporter I told you about,” Blair said dryly.

“Hello, Dana,” Diane said, savoring the name as if it were a fine wine.

Dana felt a pleasant anticipatory rush. The blonde’s smoky voice was like liquid heat pouring over her. She leaned across the space between them with her hand outstretched. “I think I’m going to like shopping after all.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea,” Diane purred as she took Dana’s hand.

Blair shook her head. “Diane.”

“I’m just being sociable.” Diane leisurely crossed her legs. “I told you, I don’t intend to touch.”

Dana laughed. “Do I get a vote?”

“I’m afraid not,” Diane replied.

“This assignment gets more difficult all the time,” Dana said, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

 

“I’m sorry, Deputy Director, but I think we’ve got a problem.” The balding, barrel-chested man with the military bearing didn’t sound particularly apologetic, although he’d been nothing but distantly polite since Cam and Savard had arrived at the high-security federal detention center. They’d been shown into his office after minimal delay and he had appeared genuinely surprised when she gave him Early’s name. Now he withdrew a folder from a pile on his desk, opened it, and studied a list. Then, his expression grave, he said, “Martin Early is in the process of being transferred to another facility. I’m afraid you won’t be able to interview him here.”

“Where’s he going?” Cam asked calmly, although she already knew the answer.

The prison director shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. With some of these guys, we’re just providing holding services. Bed and board.”

Meaning, Cam thought, some other agency was in charge. Since the Patriot Act—designed to broaden the ability to investigate foreign terrorism—had been enacted the month before, the jurisdiction over and civil liberties of suspected domestic terrorists had become a bit cloudy. Could be coincidence that the detainee she wanted to interrogate was suddenly bound for destinations unknown, but she doubted it. And now was not the time to discover where in the tangled lines of intelligence the message had gotten out that she was interested. “I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of his transfer.”

The prison director glanced at his watch. “I imagine they’re about ready to leave.”

Cam stood. “Please relay the message that they should wait. And have one of your people take us to them.”

“All right,” he said dubiously. “I’ll send the message, but these boys don’t necessarily listen.”

“I think they will this time,” Cam said pleasantly. Federal agents recognized chain of command even if they didn’t always play nice with other divisions. She motioned to Renee and they followed the guard who came in to escort them. He led them to the ground floor and through a myriad of hallways to the rear of the prison. Outside, a small parking lot was enclosed by twelve-foot-high concrete walls topped with razor wire, infrared cameras, and motion detectors. Two black SUVs and an unmarked black transport van idled in the lot. A young, clean-cut man in a well-fitting blue suit, white shirt, tie, and shiny black dress shoes stood outside the lead vehicle, his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t look happy. Cam walked over to him.

“I’m Deputy Director Cameron Roberts from the OHS,” she said, extending her credentials. She did not offer her hand. She tilted her head toward the windowless van. “Do you have Martin Early in there?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that, ma’am.”

“Can I see your ID, please.” Cam took his badge holder. It said Federal Bureau of Corrections, but she suspected he was DOD. “Agent Tomlinson, I need to interview Mr. Early on a matter of urgency. I’d like you to delay the transfer until I’m done.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am, without a direct order from my superiors. I’m sure you understand.”

He was stonewalling, as any good agent would. It might take hours to unravel the jurisdictional issues, and even that might not gain her access to the detainee. She was going to have to pull rank, and a parking lot was not the place to do it. “Where’s your destination?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“I understand,” Cam said evenly. She could feel Renee tense beside her. Her number one was short on patience; they all were these days. But a brawl between agencies, especially with a midlevel agent like this, wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “We’ll be coming with you.” She turned to Renee. “Radio our driver and tell them to come around and pick us up.”

Agent Tomlinson’s eyebrows climbed above his expensive sunglasses. “I don’t have clearance for that, ma’am.”

Cam smiled. “That’s quite all right. I do.”

Chapter Ten

“Wait a minute,” Diane said to Blair and Dana as she dug in her purse. “I’ve got a call.”

The group slowed, and Dana noticed their three shadows take up position in front and behind them again. Over the last few hours, she’d almost gotten used to Hara, Wozinski, and Stark hovering just outside her direct field of vision. When she had first started walking down Fifth Avenue with Blair and Diane, she’d been acutely aware of being followed. Spending time in combat zones had made her highly vigilant and hypersensitive to anyone encroaching on her personal space, and when that someone was the size of Greg Wozinski, she was doubly uncomfortable. In fact, after twenty minutes of having him behind her—close behind her—she was irritable and jumpy. She had no idea how Blair Powell tolerated this kind of violation of her privacy twenty-four hours a day.

“Hi,” Diane said brightly when she answered the phone, “where are you? Really? You’re finally free…? No, stay there—we’re right around the corner. We’ll meet you and buy you a drink.” Diane dropped the phone back into her purse. “That was Emory. I told her we’d join her at her hotel.”

“Great,” Blair replied. “I think anything else we have to do, we can do by phone before we leave this weekend.”

Dana whispered a prayer of thanks. She’d actually had a pretty good time watching Blair and Diane shop. Just the same, the art of shopping was an acquired taste, and one she had yet to develop. When she had to attend a formal function, she went with basic black and white, figuring that would always work. Plus, black traveled well and tended not to show wrinkles even after hours, sometimes days, in a suitcase. She’d used the time between fittings and discussions to informally interview Blair Powell. A good reporter didn’t need to ask questions to learn about her subject. Mostly, she just had to listen. And watch. She’d discovered quite a bit in the last few hours, almost none of which would ever make it into her article.

Diane Bleeker, she soon ascertained, was a lot more than Blair’s close friend. Diane was a little bit in love with Blair Powell, and a whole lot protective, and the feelings seemed mutual in a completely appropriate manner. Both women were effortlessly affectionate with one another in a way that Dana had never experienced with any woman. She was envious and intrigued by their relationship and more than a little turned on. Maybe her arousal stemmed from the sheer force of being surrounded by such powerful pheromones. Or maybe she had just gone too long without the singular pleasure of losing herself in a woman. Whatever the cause, her nerves were pleasantly on edge.

They set off walking again and within a few minutes had reached the Plaza. Dana noticed a few heads turn as they made their way through the lobby toward the hotel lounge and bar. Perhaps, as Blair had said, if Blair were by herself on the street, she might go unnoticed, but three women flanked by an entourage in suits scanning the surroundings were pretty hard to miss. Blair kept her eyes straight ahead, and Dana could almost feel the shield she had erected around herself. She wondered about the cost of maintaining that kind of barrier, and thought perhaps it explained why Blair seemed so intimate with those few she let close.

“She’s over there,” Diane remarked, pointing to a seating area in the corner with several sofas and a low table.

Dana glanced idly to where Diane indicated and nearly stumbled as her gaze honed in on the woman seated there. Blair and Diane, both blond, both beautiful, exuded a sense of brilliance and heat, and being around them was much like basking in the noon sun. The woman who awaited them made Dana think of midnight on the deck of a sailboat when the sky was black velvet sprinkled with diamonds and the breeze promised forbidden pleasures. The petite woman’s shoulder-length ebony hair framed a face rendered unforgettable not by perfection but by the bold mouth and deep-set dark eyes. Her complexion held hints of the Mediterranean, adding to her undeniable allure.

“Emory,” Blair and Diane exclaimed simultaneously. The three hugged, and then Blair indicated Dana, who stood slightly outside the group, unable to take her eyes off the brunette. “Dana Barnett, Emory Constantine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dana said, extending her hand. Dr. Emory Constantine’s chin barely came to Dana’s shoulder, and Dana had the irrational thought that they’d fit very well together in bed. Just as quickly, she banished the image and prayed Emory didn’t read minds. After all, she was supposed to be here getting Emory’s story too. Now she wouldn’t have to wait until they all gathered in Colorado to get started.

“Hello.” Emory’s voice was warm and mellow. Her gaze lingered on Dana’s for a few seconds before she turned to Blair and Diane again.

Wozinski, Hara, and Stark triangulated positions behind the grouping of sofas, and Dana realized that she stood midway between the perimeter formed by the agents and the inner circle of the three friends. She had often found herself caught between conflicting worlds—democracy and dictatorship, order and chaos, life and death. Despite being used to navigating the limbo of shifting landscapes, she had never felt as much an outsider as she did at this moment, nor been as aware of the desire to be connected. Watching Blair and Diane draw Emory into the fold of their affection, she experienced a pang of loneliness that settled in her chest and made it hard for her to breathe.

Everyone sat down, and Dana found herself next to Emory on a love seat across from Blair and Diane. A waitress appeared out of nowhere and took their orders for drinks. Dana didn’t drink much, but she ordered a beer while everyone else ordered wine. She rarely thought about her working-class upbringing, but right at this moment, surrounded by elegance and beauty, she felt the difference. Emory’s streamlined black skirt, she noticed, glided up her slender thighs when she crossed her legs. The slight whisper of pantyhose sliding over the surface of Emory’s skin made Dana’s stomach knot. She caught the barest trace of perfume, an aromatic scent that made her think of shadowed glades and sunlight dappling through a thick leafy canopy. She had the nearly irresistible urge to press her face to Emory’s neck.

“Thank God,” Dana muttered when the waitress brought their drinks. She took a long swallow of her beer and tried to distract herself from the altogether enthralling presence of Emory Constantine only inches away.

“So you’re really going to take time off,” Blair said to Emory. “I hope you’re planning to come with us when we leave on Monday.”

Emory laughed. “I didn’t pack enough for next week. I’ll have to go back to Boston first.”

“What could you possibly need at a ski resort that we can’t lend you?” Diane said.

“There’s a slight matter of you being five or six inches taller,” Emory pointed out.

Diane waved her hand in dismissal. “We’ll manage. Now that we’ve finally pried you out of your lab, we’re not letting you go back.”

“When’s the last time you had a vacation?” Blair asked.

“I travel a lot,” Emory said defensively.

Blair shook her head. “I’ve spent my life with politicians. It’s impossible to snow me with a diversionary answer like that. Vacation. Not business trip.”

“Uh…sometime last year.”

“There, see,” Diane said triumphantly. “You’re not going back to Boston. The second you do, you’ll start in on whatever it is you do and forget about coming with us.”

“I’m not going to forget that Blair is getting married,” Emory protested. She glanced at Dana with a friendly smile. “Are they this relentless with you too?”

“My situation is a little different,” Dana said, realizing that Emory didn’t know why she was there.

“Dana is a reporter, Emory,” Blair said, the slightest note of apology in her voice. “She’s covering the wedding for a Washington paper.”

“Oh.” Emory’s smile disappeared and her voice became distinctly cooler. She shifted slightly away and regarded Dana with thinly veiled suspicion. “I see.”

“Allergic to the press?” Dana asked sharply, bothered by the wall Emory had thrown up so quickly.

“Let’s just say my experiences haven’t been exactly positive,” Emory said, obviously trying to be polite. She set her wineglass down with exaggerated care, then looked regretfully at Blair. “I think I’ll have to pass on your offer to join your group this weekend.”

Blair didn’t look at Dana. “I’m sorry, Emory. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s quite all right. There’s no reason you should be.” Emory pushed her hair back from her face with a gesture of weariness. “Would you mind if I caught up with you later? I think I need a little time alone to unwind.”

“Of course not,” Blair said. “Promise you’ll call us later. Diane will be at my place for a while, and we were hoping you could come to dinner.”

“I’ll call.” Emory stood and gave Blair and Diane a quick hug. She nodded to Dana. “Good afternoon, Dana.”

“Well, hell,” Diane muttered as Emory hurried away. “That puts a crimp in our plans.”

Dana put her beer bottle down and stood. “I think I can take care of this for you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dana sprinted after Emory Constantine.

 

“We’re turning off the interstate,” Savard reported, checking the highway signs as the SUV slowed at the bottom of the exit ramp and turned west. “Looks like a pretty small road.”

Cam stretched her legs and shook some of the tension out of her shoulders. “I imagine this caravan was attracting a bit of attention on the highway. Easier to track by air out there too.”

“Air like helicopter or air like satellite?” Savard asked.

“Satellite for sure, possibly both.” Cam checked her watch. It got dark early in the mountains, but it was still later than she had hoped. “We’re not going to make it home tonight. We’ll be lucky if we make it home tomorrow.”

“You think we’re going to Illinois?”

Cam nodded. “My guess is they’re transferring Early and whoever else is in that van to the supermax facility at Marion. The Navy base at Guantanamo isn’t ready to hold detainees yet.”

“Hell,” Savard muttered, “if we don’t talk to this guy before he goes down there, we’ll never talk to him.”

“That’s why we’re on this road trip.”

“You want me to put in a call to base about our change in plans?”

Cam did, because she wanted to get a message to Blair that she wouldn’t be home when she had planned to be. On the other hand, even though she thought Early’s transfer just when she wanted to interrogate him might be a coincidence, she wasn’t convinced of it. She also believed their communications with base were as secure as they could make them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being monitored. For the moment, she preferred not to broadcast her plans. “Let’s wait on that for a bit.”

A few minutes later Savard looked out the window again. “Foggy out there.”

“We’re climbing through the mountains. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed them when it wasn’t.”

A beep sounded from the console built into the side panel announcing that an occupant in the front compartment wished to speak to them. Cam pushed a button. “Yes?”

“The vehicle just ahead of us is signaling they’re going to pull over.”

Cam frowned. “Can you see any sign of mechanical problem? A flat tire or engine overheating?”

“No ma’am.”

“There’s not much of a shoulder on these twisty roads. Be careful we don’t hit them.”

“Do you want us to stop, Deputy Director?”

Cam considered her options. The prisoner transport van was sandwiched between the two other SUVs. Her vehicle was fourth in line. If the agents in the vehicle behind the van were having mechanical problems, they weren’t in any danger. They had phones and were undoubtedly in contact with their superiors. On the other hand, if she stopped, she’d lose the prisoner van and the lead SUV along with her opportunity to interrogate Early. “No, go around them and pull in line behind the van.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What do you think that’s about?” Savard asked edgily.

“I don’t know.” Cam had a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and the uncomfortable feeling that she had missed something. She pushed the button on the intercom again. “Let me know if they speed up. And be prepared, they may try to lose us.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t.”

Cam tightened her seat belt. She could tell Savard felt uneasy too. At Savard’s unspoken request, Cam nodded. “Open the floor compartment.”

Savard leaned over while Cam punched in the code to unlock the storage bin beneath Savard’s feet. At the click of the lock disengaging, Savard opened it and extracted the shotgun from the clamps that held the weapon in place. She dropped the lid back on the compartment and rested the shotgun across her knees.

“If for any reason we need to leave the—” Cam’s words were obliterated by an explosion that rocked the vehicle. The SUV swerved abruptly and Cam catapulted forward. Her seat belt abruptly stopped her motion, and she vaguely registered a bruising pain across her chest. Then she was thrown violently back against the seat as the world dissolved in a dizzying, bone-jarring revolution of screeching metal.

 

“Emory, wait,” Dana called. For a second, she thought Emory would ignore her, but finally Emory stopped in front of the elevators.

Dana couldn’t read her expression so she went by instinct. Emory hadn’t seemed angry a few minutes earlier, more…sad. “It usually takes longer than five minutes for someone to decide they don’t like me.”

“It’s nothing personal.” Emory shrugged and pushed the up button. “It’s occupational.”

“I figured that out.”

“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Emory said, her attention fixed on the elevator doors. “But I’m too tired to watch what I say, especially when I’m relaxing with my friends.”

The resentment in her voice was hard to miss. “How about if I tell you everything is off the record unless we agree otherwise.”

Emory gave Dana a curious look. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insult you again, but I don’t believe you.”

“Let me guess,” Dana said, taking a chance. “You told someone something in an intimate situation and it ended up in print.”

“Close enough.”

“Then she didn’t have any scruples. I do.” Dana touched Emory lightly on the shoulder to be sure Emery was listening. “Off the record means off the record.”

Emory smiled sadly. “That’s what he said too.”

He. The disappointment hit Dana like a fist in the solar plexus, but she managed to hide her shock. “Sorry, I just assumed—”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“Well, since we don’t have to worry about pillow talk, you should feel even safer.”

“For some reason, I don’t,” Emory said, although her expression softened. “You’re a lot smoother than he was.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dana grinned and cupped Emory’s elbow, tugging gently. “Come back and finish your wine.”

“I’m not usually this easy to persuade,” Emory said with a small frown, falling into step beside Dana.

“It’s my natural charm,” Dana joked, wondering if she imagined the slight tremor beneath her fingertips. Emory’s arm brushed hers and she knew she wasn’t imagining the pulse of arousal that settled in the pit of her stomach. A news story, even one her boss had sent her out to get, was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to get to know Emory Constantine better. A lot better.

 

Cam registered two things at once. Heat and the smell of something burning. The vehicle had come to rest on its side, and she was dangling in her seat belt, her weight supported by the straps across her hips and chest. Breathing in that position was difficult. “Renee! Renee, are you all right?”

“Banged up,” Savard gasped. “Nothing serious.” “Stay there until I can check you out.” Cam fumbled with the latch on her seat belt and finally opened it. She tumbled the few feet onto the door, which was now really the floor, and landed on her left shoulder. She grunted at the pain, then pushed herself to her knees just as Savard dropped next to her with a bone-crunching thud. The interior lights were out, and as she tried to see Savard, she realized that the air was a hazy red. Panic hit her hard, and for an instant, she saw her father’s limo explode in a fountain of fire. Mentally pushing the image away, she grasped Savard’s shoulder. “We have to get out of here. How’s your leg?”

“Leg’s fine.” Renee’s voice was clear and calm. “I’m okay, Commander. You think anyone’s out there?”

“We’ll have to climb out to see.” Cam pushed upright and fumbled with the door handle on what was now the roof. The first person out would be a sitting duck. “Still have the shotgun?”

In response, Renee chambered a cartridge.

“Once I’m out I’ll cover you,” Cam said. “Wait here.”

“Commander, let me go out first!”

“No.” Cam pushed up on the door with all her strength and it banged open. Cautiously she peered out, but all she could see were fingers of fire leaping into the air. A sniper could have her in his crosshairs and she’d never know. Her vehicle wasn’t on fire—at least not yet. Something else was burning close by. Although her arms were shaking, she braced herself on the open hatch, pulled herself up, and rolled over the side onto the ground. As soon as she hit, ignoring the rocks digging into her body, she pulled her pistol and put her back to the vehicle. From that position she could see a hundred and eighty degrees. All she saw was smoke. If there was anyone out there, they were well hidden. “Savard. Now. Quickly.”

A few seconds later, Savard plummeted next to Cam. “What about the guys up front?”

“Still inside.” Cam’s eyes finally adjusted to the eerie light. “Our vehicle went over the side. We’re down about fifty yards.” On her knees, she worked her way slowly toward the front of the vehicle. Another fifty yards down the slope, the van, or what she assumed had been the van, was completely engulfed in flames. “You check our escort. I’ll check the van.”

“Commander,” Savard protested, “let me go down.”

“Just watch my back, Savard.” Cam edged into the roiling clouds of black smoke. She doubted anyone was still alive in that inferno, but she had to find out. She couldn’t just stand by and watch them burn.

 

Chapter Eleven

“So are you going to take us up on the dinner offer?” Blair asked Emory. After Emory had returned with Dana, they’d all shared another drink, and as far as Blair could tell, Dana and Emory had made some kind of peace. Emory seemed more relaxed, and Dana couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at Emory.

“Before I say yes,” Emory said, “who’s cooking?”

“We are,” Diane said, sliding her arm around Blair’s waist. “One of our many talents.”

“Then I accept.” Emory glanced at Dana. “Are you coming?”

“Well,” Dana said hesitantly, “I’m not really sure—”

“Join us,” Blair said. Even though she wasn’t crazy about Dana’s assignment, she liked her. And Emory’s question had sounded a lot like an invitation. If Emory wanted Dana to be there, Blair wasn’t going to object. She’d felt an immediate affinity for Emory the night they’d shared the stage together at a fund-raiser that turned deadly. Even though she, Diane, and Emory had gotten close, she didn’t know a lot about her, except that she was brilliant, kind, and single. There was an ex-husband in her past, but from the way Emory had been studying Dana all night, Blair wondered what had led to the ex part.


Date: 2015-12-11; view: 585


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