Page 130 of Ozzie

“Dickens? Henry Dickens?” Harding asks.

“Yes. We used to talk every morning. We’ve been friends for fifteen years. A couple of weeks ago, he asked me about my wife and son. That’s not a topic we usually discuss, but rumor had it his wife left him, so I thought that was why he was asking. Then he began arriving at meetings late, which meant we had no time to chat. You see, that’s not like him. He’s always early, and he can’t stand anyone who’s late. He’s been very vocal about it over the years.”

“Wait, this guy was late a few times? That’s all youhave?” Harding asks. “He could have had stomach issues and was in the bathroom. I need more.”

The senator opens the water and drinks half. “I don’t have more, but I’m certain he wasn’t in the bathroom. His office door would be closed as I walked by. That’s his way of saying do not disturb him. Usually, it’s open. I really felt like he was trying to avoid everyone, but now, looking back, he talked to Bennett. It was me he was avoiding.”

Harding sighs into the phone. “That really sounds like a leap. But I’ll look into him. Who is the other guy? You said one of two would take over as chair.”

Walton frowns. “Well, the other one is Ron McMahn, but he wouldn’t be behind this. He’s up for reelection this year and wouldn’t take any risks. Besides, he’s an honest man.”

“I’ll see what I can find on them and call you back,” Harding says, then ends the call.

Lightning turns his phone to me. “Here are photos of the two men. Neither is familiar to me.”

Dickens appears to be in his seventies and looks half asleep in his photo. McMahn is younger and smiling brightly for the camera.

“How long has McMahn been a senator?” I ask.

“Twenty years,” the senator says. “Almost as long as I have.”

I stare at the photo again. “He must have been the youngest senator.”

The senator laughs. “No, the man uses Botox. We tease him about it sometimes, but he says it helps get the votes.”

Either of these men could be out for whateverincentives the senator has been turning down all these years. Hopefully, Harding will find something. Otherwise, we’re back at square one, hiding out with no clear idea who is really after this man. Because my gut says Bennett isn’t the mastermind.

CHAPTER 37

Piper

A knockat the door wakes me. Somehow, I’d managed to fall asleep sitting upright in a chair. Unfortunately, I’m still tied to the damn thing. Despite my efforts for several hours last night, I hadn’t made any headway on the knots around my wrists. If only I were more flexible.

John is already dressed and goes to the door. “Just leave it. I’ll grab it in a minute. Thanks.”

A moment later, he opens the door and wheels in a cart. The smell of eggs and bacon waft in the air. “Breakfast is here.”

He feeds me himself instead of untying one of my hands.

“You don’t trust me to feed myself?”

He laughs. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve had some sort of training. So no, I don’t trust you with a fork.” After a fewbites, he sets the fork down and stares at me. “You did get some kind of training, didn’t you?”

I don’t answer.

“Why?”

My brow shoots up. “Are you seriously asking me that? You hit me!”

His lip curls up. “You mean that time I slapped you for talking back? Trust me, when I hit you, you’ll know.”

He turns his focus to his plate and feeds himself. He said, “when.” He’s not even trying to deny he’d do it again. But it doesn’t matter. As soon as I can, I’m breaking out of here.

After we finish, I notice two cups of coffee on the tray. “Is one of those for me?”

“It is. I ordered it black just how you like it.” He stares at me.

If the man thinks I’m going to thank him for ordering me coffee while he holds me hostage, well, he can go to hell.

---