Page 70 of The Senator's Wife

“Hi, Mom.”

“Have you spoken to Sloane?”

“Not since I visited her last week. I’ve left her a few messages, but she hasn’t called me back. I did speak to Whit yesterday, and he said she’s been sleeping a lot. I asked about stopping by again, but he said Sloane doesn’t want to see anyone. Said she’s not exactly herself lately. He said they’re waiting for the results of her MRI,” Camille said.

This was alarming news. “What? Why did she need an MRI?”

“I didn’t want to concern you, but apparently Sloane’s condition has declined dramatically over the past few weeks. She’s been hallucinating. He’s afraid that the lupus is affecting her brain.”

Rosemary blew out a breath. This was terrible news. “Poor Sloane. That’s the one thing she’s always been so terrified about. Does Emmy know?”

“I don’t think so. He said that Sloane has insisted he not worry her but promised me that if the MRI results are not good he’d call her.”

Rosemary didn’t agree with keeping Emmy out of the loop, but she supposed that was not her decision to make.

She was still furious with Faye for making her sound like she was imagining things about Whit, but powerless to do anything about it. Camille had connected with Mac’s admin, but she didn’t know anything about his report. So Rosemary still had no proof. She thought about Mac, and grief seized her again. She knew there was no way he’d overdosed. Someone had killed him. The same person who had tried to kill her. Why couldn’t she remember?

A chill ran through her. Camille had moved back to her own house a few days ago at Rosemary’s insistence—she couldn’t spend the rest of her life being coddled by her daughter. But Rosemary hired a security firm as soon as Camille had gone. They were expensive, but she could not afford to make herself a target again. Her musings were interrupted by the ringing of her house phone. She looked at the caller ID: Michelle Sommers. Finally! She picked up the phone.

“Michelle. Thank you for calling me back.”

“Hi, Rosemary. I’m so sorry it took me so long. We were in Ireland visiting our son, so I only got your message last night.”

“How nice. I didn’t realize he lived there.”

“Just for the next year. He’s on assignment for his work. So, what can I do for you?”

“I know you and Peg were good friends, and I’m still trying to come to terms with what happened that terrible day. You mentioned to me that Peg was seeking advice from your husband.”

“Yes. Not officially, but as a friend. She believed Whit was having an affair. At first, I wasn’t sure I believed her, to be honest.” Michelle cleared her throat. “You know, she tended to overreact. But then she showed me receipts she’d found, cellphone records. I’m pretty certain she was right.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh yes. She was convinced he was hiding money. Found some receipts for expensive jewelry that he never gave to her. Stuff he couldn’t have afforded on his salary.”

Rosemary was floored. “That definitely sounds like proof he was cheating.”

“Yes. Walter suggested she hire a forensic accountant to go through everything, but then, of course, Whit would be aware. And she was adamant that she didn’t want a divorce.”

Rosemary sighed. How pathetic that poor Peg still wanted to be with Whit after finding out about all of that.

“Okay. Thanks, Michelle. If you think of anything else, please call me.”

“I will. Take care, Rosemary.”

She knew in her gut that Whit was on the take, and definitely involved in illegal activities. The problem was that there were obviously some high-placed and powerful people in on it, people who could make anyone too curious disappear.

- 55 -

ATHENA

When Athena walked downstairs, Whit was on the phone. He held up a finger, indicating she should wait. When he ended the call, he motioned her over.

“Let’s go outside. That was Dr. Porter. He’s still away but has the results of the MRI and also the other tests he ordered before he left. The news isverybad. Sloane’s MRI showed brain damage, not just inflammation.”

“Is there anything they can do?”

“No. The neurologist suggested antipsychotics, but with the damage she has, Porter doesn’t believe they would help. It’s only going to get worse from here. I need some time to process it before telling her. Unfortunately, I have a dinner meeting, but I’ll be home around eight. Let’s talk then.”

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