No Stranger to Scandal - By Rachel Bailey Page 0,45

most people would have missed, but he’d come to be able to read Lucy—her investigator’s senses had perked up the same time his had.

He looked back to Barbara Jessup and gave her a warm smile. “This is very important, Mrs. Jessup. Think back to that phone call for me. Did either one of you mention in that conversation that you thought the baby might have been Ted Morrow’s?”

Her hand flew to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. “Is it all my fault?” she said from between her fingers. “Has that boy got all this trouble falling on his head because of me? I wasn’t even sure the baby was his. Oh, sweet Jesus, what have I done?”

Lucy moved over to the sofa beside Barbara and put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, Mrs. Jessup. This is not your fault. You did really well when you were interviewed. You kept the Morrows’ secrets.”

He’d bet money that after Ted Morrow was elected president, Angelica, like hundreds of other journalists across the country, had gone looking for a new angle. Something different to put on TV. She would have gone back over the footage and interviews from her first trip to Fields, looking for tidbits. When she saw the baby mentioned again, she would have done a simple internet search, as Hayden had done, and found Eleanor Albert was Ted Morrow’s prom date. There was no record of Eleanor Albert having a baby, or even of Eleanor herself after high school, so Angelica would have had no idea if she’d gotten pregnant within a time frame that could implicate the president.

So, hoping for a scoop, she would have gone back to Fields, interviewed the same people again, stirred up memories, and planted the taps on the phones. She’d lucked out when she overheard Barbara and her friend Nancy discuss the baby and their theory that Ted Morrow had been the father. Then she would have had Ames and Hall hire the hackers that focused on Ted Morrow’s and Eleanor Albert’s friends and families—the infamous scene that had been caught on tape—and they found enough information to run the story that had aired after the president’s inauguration. It was all clicking into place.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Jessup,” Hayden said as gently as he could, “it’s very likely there’s a tap on your phone and some of the conversations you thought were private have been overheard.”

Her face twisted in disgust. “That’s plain wrong, that’s what that is.”

Lucy’s gaze met his again, just briefly, but in that moment he knew their thoughts were completely in sync. He felt somehow warmer.

“We agree,” he said, nodding. “And I’ll be working hard to make sure those responsible face justice. In the meantime, I can take care of your phone for you. And if you give me a list of your friends Angelica or her team spoke to, I can check their phones, as well.”

“You’re a good man, Mr. Black.” She turned to Lucy and patted her hand. “You hold on to this one real tight.”

Lucy’s mouth opened, startled. Hayden hesitated with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. If Barbara Jessup had suspected their connection, they’d have to be more careful of betraying it, become more circumspect when they were together.

And even if he could admit there was something between him and Lucy, neither of them would be holding on to the other one tight. What they had was temporary. Physical and temporary.

Before Lucy could reply, Hayden stood and headed for the phone in the corner of the room. “I’ll start with this one.”

* * *

They stopped at a deli in town for lunch after their interview with Barbara Jessup. While Hayden waited for their sandwiches to be made, Lucy found a pretty table on the sidewalk. The town had an interesting vibe with the mix of traditional and new and she soon lost herself to people watching—a lifelong pastime that came in handy now that she was a journalist on the lookout for stories.

“Lucy? Is that you?”

She twisted in her seat to see her aunt—a tall woman dressed in understated elegance—emerging from the ski shop next door. Within moments, Lucy was off her feet and finding herself wrapped in a warm embrace.

“Aunt Judith,” Lucy said, hugging her tightly.

Judith stepped back, pulling a tissue from her bag and dabbing at her eyes. “I didn’t know you were in Fields, sweetie. You should have let me know.”

Lucy felt her own eyes mist over and blinked the moisture