Free Fatal Justice by Marie Force Page A

and nodded in agreement. “Of course.”
    “I think it would be best if you just followed my lead, son. Let me blaze the path, make it easier for you.”
    Nick rested his spoon in the bowl and wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin. He might be younger and he might be green, but he recognized condescension when he heard it and wondered if Cook had tried to pull the same thing on John. If so, Nick hadn’t heard about it. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Bob,” he said, deciding to play dumb in case he was reading it wrong.
    “Well, let’s face it, you don’t have time to strike out on some independent path all your own. We’re both serving the same constituency. If you let me call the shots, you come out looking good, the people are taken care of, and the party gets what it needs from both of us.”
    Nope. Not reading it wrong. Swallowing his anger, Nick forced himself to stay quiet and let the other man continue to dig the hole.
    “Take this nomination of Julian Sinclair, for instance.”
    “What about it?”
    “He’s a poor choice for the high court. Way too far out to the left. I don’t know what Nelson was thinking.” Cook scowled. “He’s put us in a terrible spot—what choice do we have but to confirm him? After all, we can’t hand the Republicans that kind of easy victory.”
    “Sinclair’s a respected jurist. I think it’s a wise choice.”
    “He’s a divisive and inflammatory son of a bitch,” Cook snapped, his amiable expression hardening as it seemed to dawn on him all of a sudden that Nick had a mind of his own and fully intended to use it. “Surely you can’t tell me you support this nomination.”
    “I more than support it. In addition to being a good friend of mine, Julian is a respected attorney, and I have nothing but the utmost regard for him.”
    Cook scowled. “Wait’til the protestors get ahold of him. I hope he’s watching his back. Someone might take a shot at him.”
    “Is that a threat?” Nick asked, appalled by the implication.
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it isn’t a threat.” Cook took a long drink of his tea before turning hard eyes on Nick. “Son, you haven’t been around long enough to know how much damage a nomination like this can do to the Senate. It’ll split us right down the middle, and the ill will could infect the entire session.”
    Nick could tell he startled the older man when he stood up and dropped his napkin on the table next to his half-eaten bowl of soup. “I appreciate you laying out the ground rules for me, Senator, but I’m fairly certain I’ve been around just long enough to know how to get the most out of my year in office.” He took a step away from the table before he turned back. “Oh, and you can feel free to call me Nick or Senator, but I’m not your son. You have a good day now.”
     

    Sam stood in Clarence Reese’s bedroom, staring at the photo of him with his wife and children. They had scoured the city and found no sign of the man who’d slaughtered his family. If Reese’s mother or brother knew where he was hiding out, they weren’t talking. Until they located him, Sam could only wonder what involvement Reese had in her father’s shooting.
    “Are we done here?” Freddie asked from the doorway. “This place gives me the creeps.”
    Taking another long last look at the man in the picture, Sam turned to her partner. “We’re missing something.”
    “Crime scene took this place apart.” The disheveled condition of the house backed up the statement. “There’s nothing else here.”
    She rested her hand over her gut, her most trusted ally when it came to situations like this. “There’s something. I know it.”
    “What do you want me to do? Where should I look?”
    “That I don’t know,” she said, feeling defeated. “I wish I did.”
    “Sam, listen, maybe it’s just a coincidence that Reese had those clippings—”
    “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
    The clatter of