a look.
“His campaign manager,” Rebecca said. “He’s connected. He could get things done if he wanted to.”
“Do you think he wants to?”
Another pause. Finally, Rebecca nodded.
Cait blew out her breath. “Why would your husband let him do something like that?”
Rebecca looked at her, her eyes hollow. “Remember what I said about miracles?”
Cait nodded.
“He thinks if we just have faith, we can save our baby. He wants me to carry her to term so he can be proven right. And, of course, all his campaign manager cares about is how it will affect his poll numbers. Apparently, bringing a child into this world who is destined to suffer and die has better optics than a woman choosing to have an abortion.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want her to be used as a political pawn or as proof of faith. She deserves better than that.”
“You do, too.”
Rebecca shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I would give anything in this world to make my child healthy, but that’s not possible. Trust me, if I thought there was even the slimmest chance . . .”
Cait nodded. “What are you going to tell him?”
“I’m going to tell him that I had a miscarriage while he was away.”
“Do you think he’ll believe you?”
“I don’t know.” Rebecca paused. “I hope so.”
“So you still want to be married to him. After everything.” Cait tried to keep her voice neutral.
“I love him,” she said simply. And then, “He’s a good man. I have to believe that.”
Cait had to stifle her disbelief. No more judgment, she reminded herself. You’re standing in a house made of glass. “Do you think he’ll win?”
Rebecca looked at her. “What?”
“Your husband. Do you think he’ll win the election?”
“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe. The poll numbers are good.”
“I think he will.”
“You do?”
Cait nodded. “He’s the type of guy who wins. You can tell by looking at him.” She paused. “Will you vote for him?”
Rebecca had never been asked the question before, had never even considered it. “Will I vote for him?” she repeated, stalling for time.
Cait didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Yeah. Will you go into that voting booth on March whatever-the-day-is and fill in the little bubble next to your husband’s name?”
Rebecca opened her mouth. Hesitated. “No.”
Cait’s eyebrows went into her hairline. “You won’t?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Will you tell him you voted for him?”
“Honestly? I don’t think he’ll ask.”
“You’ll have to do that photo op, probably, of the two of you walking up to the voting place together, holding hands and smiling for the camera.”
“He tends to keep me out of the politics stuff. I’ve done a few rallies, but no press yet.”
“That’ll change when he gets elected. You’ll be a senator’s wife. Public property.”
Rebecca winced. “Don’t say that.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you, with that speech . . . I don’t think he had any idea that it would blow up in the way it did.”
Even as Rebecca said this, she wasn’t entirely sure it was true. There were a lot of things she’d thought he was incapable of doing that now felt all too possible.
“I’m afraid I won’t be voting for him, either,” Cait said. “Though I don’t think my vote’s going to be the one that stops him.”
Rebecca turned her face toward the window. “You’re right. I don’t think anything will.”
Eight Days Earlier
Cait was sure someone was following her. It was a sunny Monday afternoon, and she watched the black Dodge Durango snake its way through Windsor Park, staying a few car lengths behind the Jeep but always there when she looked in the rearview mirror. Eventually, she punched her way through a yellow light on Manor Road and pulled around back of the Dairy Queen and waited until she saw the Durango drive past.
It had been two days since Adam had told her that someone had come looking for her. Two whole days, and still nothing had happened. Not only that, but the message boards had quieted down, or at least the ones she could access. She kept the knife tucked under her pillow, but she’d managed to grab a few hours of sleep last night, before a stray animal scurrying in the bushes outside sent her flying out of bed.
Maybe people were starting to forget about her again. They had found—like they always did—someone else to hate. She allowed herself to think that she might be safe.
But then that Dodge Durango appeared in her rearview mirror, the windshield tinted black, and she knew