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The first signof trouble was rarely the true beginning of a problem, so in order to get to the heart of the murders and the events leading up to Representative Kennedys writing a human rights violation of a bill, we needed to investigate the political climate triggering his decision to write legislation designed to murder twenty percent of the population. With that firmly in mind, I began trolling news outlets starting a year before Representative Kennedys had written the original bill.

I compiled a list of all mass incidents, magic or mundane, any notable political uprisings, riots, and incidents, and after several hundred entries, I questioned everything I knew about the United States. Violence infected society. The symptoms of the violence epidemic had become a center point of my life.

Without the risk of violence, Bradley wouldn’t have needed or wanted a bodyguard.

Then again, knowing what I knew about my fiancé, I suspected he would have found some other way to acquire a contract for me. The contracting system, for temporary and for lifers, had been established long before Representative Kennedys had concocted his little scheme to get rid of the unwanted people from society, myself included.

The contracting system offered the perfect way to create loopholes the wealthy and influential could manipulate.

The changes to the system the bill would force would change how the contracts worked, too. The wealthiest would be able to pluck their favorite people from the clutches of the military while the rest served—and died—under a permanent draft.

I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to kill so many. The entire concept boggled my mind and chilled me. I expected to lose a great deal of sleep over the situation. Rather than curse at the circumstances, I began my search with investigating movements concerned with population control of so-called civilized countries.

I could see an extremist group obsessed with global population control attempting something as callous and hateful as eliminating hundreds of thousands during a war, leaving only those they favored as the survivors.

Keeping a few of the unwanted, like me, made some sense. We’d be treated like animals in a zoo, alive but in captivity, bred at the command of those who believed themselves to be the rulers.

“Hey, Bradley?”

He looked up from his laptop. “What’s up?”

“What do you know about zoos?”

He blinked. “Did you say zoos? Like the place where we go to see animals?”

“Yes, zoos.”

“Help a man out here, Janette. What about zoos? How did we get to zoos?”

I pointed at the limited notes on the killings Bradley had dumped in his briefcase. “The bill essentially is a breeding program, isn’t it? Like what if humans were the animals in the zoo? The bill is meant to control what parts of the population survive long enough to, well, breed. Am I off the mark?”

His eyes widened, and he leaned forward to grab a few of the papers, sorting through them and retrieving three, which he read with a frown and furrowed brows. “I mean, I can see where you’d get that idea. Get rid of the unwanted, send them to war so they can’t make families and raise children, leaving the wanted elements of society to have children and promote the growth of the ‘good’ people. The exemptions allow for certain talents to be preserved, entering marriages through contracts. More importantly, it makes certain only those who fit a certain demographic with dangerous abilities stay out of the military and the government’s control. They’d be viewed as allies and less likely to rise up against the ruling powers.” He wrinkled his nose and tossed the papers onto my coffee table. “I think your aim is pretty accurate, really. That is a disturbing possibility. What made you think of zoos and breeding programs?”

“I was trying to think outside of the box. Or, more accurately, I was trying to think about why someone might cook up a bill meant to enslave and kill off a huge number of people. But if the goal is to get rid of those who might become a threat to the powers that be, it makes sense. There won’t be much of an uprising if those who might rebel are drafted and working for the military.”

“I’d be more concerned about the military rising up and overthrowing the government. That has been bothering me for a while. If your entire military is loaded with unhappy people the government is trying to kill off, and they’re trained and armed to kill off another nation’s people, probably in conditions required for us to take heavy losses, then they’re an armed and hugely dangerous population. Military coups have happened in the past, and they’ll happen again in the future. What’s stopping everyone being recruited from doing just that?”

“Unless that’s the goal,” I said, joining him in scowling over the plethora of possibilities. “That couldn’t be the goal, could it? To take over the country through its military?”

Bradley sighed. “If you put a bunch of dangerous talents in that position and could point them all in the same direction at the same time, I don’t see why it couldn’t work. Let’s say you were recruited for the military. You are an army when you want to be. If you have a visual of your target, that’s it. You win most draws. If you can’t hit them with your magic, you can hit them with your gun. If you put all exsanguinators in the military, you have some serious fear-factor going on. Even a mid-grade exsanguinator is not to be trifled with. You’re respected in general, especially after the shooting. It’s hard to judge all exsanguinators when you got shot and put everyone else above yourself. Not even the active opponents of exsanguinators peeped after the shooting.”

“They were probably too busy choking on their own vitriol, as most of that lot probably thought I’d offed myself rather than decide to work as a librarian.”

“Probably. So, one possibility is that Kennedys wants to eliminate certain groups due to prejudices, something we’d already identified as a strong possibility. Your idea leads us to the next possibility, where he wants to either use the talents to strengthen the army or stage a military coup. I’m of the opinion it’s the former, but the latter is a frightening option. Another possibility is to get rid of these people for population control purposes. A large war between overpopulated countries would accomplish that.”

“A genocide, like during World War II. The Holocaust.”

“Except instead of up to eighty-five million people perishing, the number is well over a billion, which would match the percentage of citizens who would be drafted.”

“Excuse me, how many people?”

“I did the math. At current estimate, almost eighty-three million people would be eligible for the draft. That’s a little over a quarter of our population. If the law were to become global, following the example set by the United States, almost two billion people would be drafted—or killed. And once drafted, it’s not like those left behind would really know what’s going on. They could be sent to war, they could become the subjects of experiments. We just don’t know.”

“That’s edging into conspiracy theorist territory, Bradley.”

“We’re going to need to head into conspiracy theorist territory because the idea a politician would essentially enslave a quarter of our people is just that awful. The blatant disregard for human life defies the norm. They’re our people, Janette. Without my mother’s paperwork and an engagement, you might be one of those people.”

“Technically, I am, just for having willingly joined the contracting system. But I signed up for that knowing what I was getting into, and I was willing to do whatever necessary to give my parents a future.”

“In a normal and sane world, they wouldn’t have needed you to do that. They would have worked to give you a future. Children aren’t supposed to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their parents. It’s supposed to be the other way around—if it has to happen at all. It shouldn’t happen at all. If China follows our lead, that’s over three hundred million people drafted. What would a power like China do? The whole idea of just forcing a draft on someone because of their talent rating is dangerous. It could be a power grab. It could be a way to control the population. It could be harmless.”

“How could it be harmless?”

“The papers do say they’re eligible to be drafted, not that they’re guaranteed to be drafted. But when the draft is activated, it’s used. The United States doesn’t have a good reputation when it comes to family and the military. Even the informal version of the Sullivan Rule never really got much traction. All that one did was permit siblings to request to serve in different units.” Bradley scowled. “I’ve been reading up on historic and current military practices. Did you know the pregnancy clause isn’t actually a far jump from our current system? Right now, pregnant women in our military have an option to be honorably discharged or go on leave for the pregnancy, and only if she is expected to see combat. Interior support staff not expected to see combat are not given an option for honorable discharge or leave. She is given leave at the time of delivery. All this does is change it so they don’t get the option for honorable discharge or leave. It’s a small step. In reality, any women found to be pregnant while serving are moved to an interior role until after the child’s birth, after which she is transferred back to the front lines while the child is either given to the father, put up for adoption, or given to another family member. She is not permitted to keep a child while serving. That’s likely the foundation for the bill. It’s already being done. This is just more blatant about it.”

“Holy shit. You have got to be fucking kidding me. They’re taking children away from their mothers in our military?”

“I wish I were kidding. I’m not. Worse, the vote for changing it to apply for combat personnel only was supported by both sides of the aisle. Either the politicians didn’t realize what was happening to the children...” Bradley sighed.

“Or they didn’t care.” I also sighed, shaking my head at the utter ruthlessness of the government and how little our fellow Americans were valued. “All this is doing is reinforcing why I hate politics.”

“All the speculation has done is give me more motives for the killings. They could be people of strong moral standing who understood what is going on in our military and want to prevent the system from becoming worse. They could want to showcase the legislation so people are aware of what’s happening behind the curtains. They could want the legislation to pass so they can cultivate a United States filled with the kind of Americans they approve of.”

“That’s disgusting. That’s reprehensible and disgusting.”

“This whole situation is reprehensible and disgusting,” he replied, and he growled some curses before tapping at his laptop. “In good news, such as it is, there are women pushing back about the military behavior regarding newborns of enlisted women. There are four mothers who are suing the government for the kidnapping and sale of their children.”

“Excuse me, but did you say sale?”

“The government accepted adoption fees for the infants, and a rather clever lawyer managed to twist it so the government is being charged with child trafficking. Here’s something interesting.” Bradley turned the screen and pointed at the date.

The court had opened on the case three months prior to the first killing. “Oh, that is interesting. Where is that case now? It’s been years.”

“I just found this case this morning, so I haven’t read the entire transcription. I was planning on reading through the court transcriptions rather than read an overview. I want a better feel for how the case actually played out. I don’t trust the media.”

Neither did I. “The government sold the babies of women in the military? Seriously?”

“Under the guise of giving them up for adoption, yes.” Bradley sighed. “I had no idea things had gotten this bad, Janette. I won’t even try to lie. I’d think about killing politicians, too, if they had anything to do with legalizing child trafficking.”

“Did the victims have anything to do with such rules in the military? Who decides how the military functions for things like this? Is it all internal to the military?”

“The Department of Defense is responsible for the rules, and they hold ultimate responsibility for the child trafficking accusations. In turn, the Secretary of Defense is responsible for the political elements of the Department. So, we would have to check for the relationship of the Secretary of Defense and the victims.”

Scratching my head, I turned my attention to the internet, pulling down who held the position of Secretary of Defense during the murders and prior, discovering President Castillo had opted against changing the Secretary of Defense following his election, nominating the same man, one Ashford Olette, to handle the role, making him an oddity in the position, having served a president on both sides of the aisle.

All things considered, I found the situation to be exceptionally fishy. “Hey, Bradley?”

“I’m now growing to be afraid whenever you ask me a question like that.”

“Why didn’t President Castillo change the Secretary of Defense when he was elected?”

“He thought the guy was doing a good job and saw no need to break what wasn’t broken.”

“Doesn’t that imply this is a joint effort? If the Secretary of Defense helps manage the Department of Defense, there’s no way Olette didn’t know they were selling the babies of military women. This only started going to trial halfway through Castillo’s presidency. Doesn’t that mean this started during the prior president’s term?”

“And Castillo is considered to be a fairly progressive conservative, while President Thorn was a more conservative progressive.” Bradley checked something on his computer. “This makes me think both of them were closer in general thought than I’d believed. Conservatives voted for Castillo because he’s conservative, the same reason Thorn’s following voted for him. I don’t think either of them won because of actual issues.”

“When I voted, I voted for whoever sounds like the lesser asshole,” I confessed.

“That is a sane and sensible thing, but we need to remember that people, in large groups, are neither sane nor sensible.”

“So, what you’re saying, is that it’s possible this monstrosity is being actively supported by both primary parties?” I hoped the answer was no but feared reality would be a far crueler thing.

The bill would need support from both sides to pass, and that we worried it would, told me a frightening story of political corruption doomed to cost a ridiculous number of lives. It didn’t matter if it was under the banner of genetic purity or population control.

Murder was murder was murder, and no one, politician or otherwise, should have been willing to support murder. History told me a different story, about the millions executed for the crime of being the wrong nationality or believing the wrong thing.

The United States of America should have been above that, but the truth stared me in the face.

My home was a far cry from being a strong moral compass for others to follow.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to exsanguinate every single asshole responsible for the theft and sale of babies stolen from serving women.

“When I wanted to be part of this cell, nobody had warned me just how hard doing the right thing could possibly be, Bradley.”

“I understand. I feel the same way. It seemed like a great idea at the time, trying to find the truth and bring justice, but now I wonder who we’re finding justice for. Who is the real criminal here? Do we do more harm finding the killers of these politicians?”

“No, we need to find and stop these assassins because our democratic process should not be founded on murder. Assassinations destroy democracy.”

“So does slavery.”

I grimaced. “It bothers me to think that when the United States was formed, it was founded on the backs of slaves, and even now, our country is trying to return to such a shameful heritage. Worse, I don’t even know what we can do about it at this stage. It’s like we need a third party, one that is genuinely moderate and possessing of something resembling morality, of which neither current primary party has even a scrap of. I mean, look at the contracting system. It’s not a far step from slavery.”

“That had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “Is it slavery if all parties are willing?”

I leaned back and considered the question. “Where’s the line? I guess it depends on if we view me as being a slave.”

“No.” Bradley let out his breath in a huff. “If you wanted out of the contract, I’d let you out. I want to be selfish and say I wouldn’t, but in reality, if you wanted to be released from your contract, I’d release you. Of course, I’d be pushing harder for a more immediate signing of marriage documentation if that were the case. That said, right now, the safest position for both of us is to make use of the loopholes inherently in the system.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how I ended up in a contract with you.”

“Oh, that’s simple. I’m useless with women, I had a crush, and you love your parents. I took advantage of how much you love your parents so I could overcome my general uselessness with women. I miscalculated, as I had no idea what I was getting into with you. I’m thinking my mother should have just offered a lot of cash for you to take me off her hands. But then I think about the repercussions of the current bills, and I think I had the right idea. With how they’ve been moving, what would have happened if you hadn’t been in my employ?”

“Especially with the effort they’ve gone to make it look like I did it. Or someone like me.” In some ways, the accident had become a blessing in disguise. “It really does look like they’d planned the killings to pin it on me, doesn’t it?”

“Or on me, since you’re in my employ. Either is viable.”

I blinked before staring at him, my mouth dropping open. “You? Plan a murder?”

“That’s what my mother said when I pitched the idea. Nobody believes I’m capable of murder. I’d make a very bad scapegoat, if everyone I know is to be believed. Honestly, that’s what I said about you. Sure, you’ll kill if you’re defending someone else. But you? Plan a murder? You’re more likely to plan how to get access to the ER so you can save lives. That, by the way, doesn’t need much planning. As soon as your lungs heal, you can just tell me you want to go volunteer, and we’ll loiter in the ER until they need you. That does lead me to believe the culprits don’t actually know anything about you beyond superficial assumptions. Of course, it could be a red herring, but we just don’t know.”

“That is a lot of work and effort on a red herring. Honestly, I almost admire them for their skills. That mender is incredible. They’re not touching the victim, they’re working under severely limited time, and they’re doing it while also working with someone capable of masking the true cause of death at the same time.”

“You’re not the first to mention that. Tawnlen has a pretty severe level of admiration for the mender, too. I think it’s because of his background. He knows a lot about how bodies work from his time in the morgue, and that level of work is top notch. Why is a mender of that level of skill assassinating politicians?”

“I’d say they might be at high risk of being drafted. And if the draft is meant to kill off a bunch of people, what would they make menders do?”

“You mean beyond help the government kill people more efficiently?” Bradley asked.

I wondered what life would have been like if I’d been born with a different and weaker talent. “Yes, beyond help them kill people more efficiently. I don’t even want to think about the trauma a mender would go through if they were drafted just to become killers. Where exsanguinators are expected to kill, menders are trained to heal from the moment their magic is identified.”

The bitterness I’d carried with me over the years sharpened my tone, and I winced at having allowed it to emerge.

“You never liked your reputation.” Bradley tapped at his laptop and turned the system so I could see the screen. “Your reputation is not what you think it is, you know. You’re admired and liked by a lot of people, based solely on your actions. Somebody leaked about your hospital work after the shooting. Those you saved had a lot to say about those who hate exsanguinators. Sure, not every exsanguinator is you or even like you, but you are far more than your magic.”

According to the article he’d selected to showcase my new and improved reputation, I deserved a Person of the Year award. I frowned, narrowed my eyes, and scrolled up to discover I’d been put in the running for said award by a magazine. “I don’t want that prize, Bradley. That looks like a surefire way to get a lot of attention.” On second look, I had no idea where they’d gotten the picture of me, but it was recent enough I had my oversized, gloriously tacky glasses. They’d even caught me wearing one of my favorite shirts. Judging from the mess of hair piled on my head, I’d been working at the time the picture had been taken. For someone who hadn’t prepared for a picture, I liked the shot. “Where can I get a copy of that picture? I like it.”

“You can thank Meridian for that picture. She took it at your work because she liked how intense you looked, and it turns out among all of the intense concentration pictures, there was this one, where you were obviously entranced by something among the stacks.”

My expression had been rather peaceful, with the ghost of a smile at whatever had caught my attention. I shrugged, able to make one good guess. “It was probably Ajani being her usual, charming self.”

My fluffy goddess bolted out of my bedroom, jumped on the couch, and took over my lap. While she successfully evicted my laptop, Bradley rescued it from death and destruction. As I understood my role in her life, I snagged the brush and went to work taming my cat.

“I see she has learned if you say her name, you are there to serve at her leisure.”

“I understand my place in our relationship. It is as her servant. I’m just glad she doesn’t bite me anymore on her way to get brushed. She used to. And she doesn’t attack me if I stop brushing anymore, either. She’s a good kitty.”

“She’s a wild demoness out for your blood, but she’s cute, so I can’t complain. I’ve discovered if I brush with one hand I can pet with the other and get away with it.”

I chuckled at the evidence Bradley had amused himself trying to befriend my cat. “We are in agreement. The cat rules, and anyone who tries to take my cat should be punished.”

“I’m trying to upgrade your cat to our cat status. Please offer assistance on how to make this transition.” Bradley wisely waited for me to give her a few strokes of the brush before swooping in and scratching my fluffy goddess under her chin, earning a contented purr. “I taught her a bad habit.”

“What now?” I asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of my tone.

“The jangle of keys will bring her running because I had a l-a-s-e-r p-o-i-n-t-e-r and she learned the sound. It was on a keyring. If anyone picks it up, she will not quit until she’s had at least five minutes with it. I have been attacked several times now for not playing with her.” Bradley pointed at his leg, which was covered by his slacks. “Cruelly mauled in punishment for my crimes. I almost bled to death, Janette. You have to take care of me now.”

“Does Ren know you were mauled?”

“I got him good. I played the victim of a vicious attack on the floor, and I even did a death scene. It took him a solid minute to realize I’d just angered your fluffy goddess for not playing with her. The murder weapon was on the carpet. I’m quite proud of having gotten him. He might need therapy now. It’s bad enough everyone is worried about protecting you, but for me to dare be scratched? Then he witnessed how I’d gotten scratched, and for some reason, he felt I deserved it.”

“Well, you hadn’t played with her appropriately or sufficiently. That seems like a good reason to be mauled. Honestly, any reason is good enough for her. I swear she’s made a lot of progress since I adopted her.”

“I know. I’ve handled the brush, and the imprints are fairly strong, even from when you first got her. She’s an angel compared to right after you got her and she clued in she was no longer dying.”

Damn it. Life with Bradley was filled with unique perils. “Your magic is going to drive me more than a little crazy.”

He smirked. “I know, especially when you think you can hide certain things. But don’t worry. I’ll only use such knowledge for your benefit. Realistically, our benefit. And while I have an advantage, all you’ll have to do, once that foot of yours is healed, is put on your boots to take full control of the situation. Those boots are going to drive me more than a little crazy. And patience. Those boots are a lesson in patience. It’s a lesson I’m really not appreciating right now.”

Well, at least my boots were getting good mileage, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to wear them. “I still have to pick the outfit I’m wearing with those boots,” I informed him.

“And that’s my cue to go out and get us dinner, as I must go wrestle with my disappointment and interest in what you might wear with those boots. And despair, having a good understanding of how long it will be until you can wear those boots. I will also bring my librarian a new book as punishment for torturing us both.”

I debated informing him about my new stash of birth control pills, the three boxes of condoms I’d acquired due to my absolute ignorance on sizing for men, and the various lotions and intriguing items I’d purchased the last time I’d managed to escape from the grasp of my family and friends under the guise of a doctor’s appointment.

I really needed to thank Dr. Mansfield for having served as my scapegoat for that adventure. She’d even taken me to an adult store so I could browse the selection and get advice from a married woman with children. If Bradley checked under my bed, I’d be worse than sunk.

Maybe I needed to ask him to fetch something out from under there to send more hints.

I would worry about that later, after I evicted him long enough to work on my other project, which involved making dinner plans with a potential victim.

To cover my thoughts, I grinned at him. “You don’t need to work on your bribes, although I’m accepting them because bribing me is much cheaper than chasing me around in that old car of yours.”

“The savings are real, and I’m enjoying spending them on you rather than looking for you. In bad news, that means I do need to work tonight so I can continue lavishing us both with gifts. I enjoy being spoiled through my hard work. There’s also something to be said for earning my keep and being good at something.”

No kidding. “Rewarding work is important. Bring some new notebooks back. I think we’re going to need them, especially with the new clues we need to hunt. Maybe some photo albums, too?”

“I’ll get us a pair of tablets and styluses, too. That’ll let us manage digital and physical records better. I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, gathering his wallet, keys, and everything else he might need for an adventure into the wilds of New York. “Try not to get into any trouble without me.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised. Calling a senator wasn’t trouble.

The trouble would come later, depending on what I learned.

I waiteduntil certain Bradley had left before dialing Senator Westonhaus’s number. I wondered if the man would answer, although I’d tested my phone and had confirmed it showed my name whenever I called someone.

“Good evening, Janette,” an older man greeted. “I’m delighted you called. I had hoped you would. You’ve been making ripples in all political circles, and you’re notoriously difficult to reach.”

I was? I eyed my phone, wondering how nobody had managed to get the number and call me. I suspected Bradley’s mother had something to do about that—or politicians had better manners than I’d thought. “Senator,” I greeted, already questioning what I was doing and how I’d get away with it. “I do plan to reach out to everyone who’d sent a card. It was very kind and generous of you.”

“My wife is a retired librarian, and there’s nothing librarians love more than free trips to the bookstore, so they can continue to grow their personal hoards. My wife, when she learned why we were going to her personal version of heaven, supervised to make certain I didn’t do anything unbecoming.”

“Giving a librarian a gift card involving books is never unbecoming. The only thing better than giving the librarian books is donating to their library.”

Senator Westonhaus laughed. “Do you know my wife? She said the same thing. In fact, that’s part of why I asked you to call me. She thinks I should place a donation, as I’ve been informed your medical bills are being covered?”

“Yes. Senator Maybelle’s campaign opted to use some of the remaining campaign donations to pay for the care of everyone injured during the shooting. They also are setting up a therapy program to address the trauma.”

“That is very honorable of them. I’m impressed. Are the donators aware of how their funds are being used?”

I’d dealt with that question from Bradley’s mother, the herd of attorneys she worked with, and everyone who knew me who worried about the charitable deed biting me in the ass later. “Yes. The campaign reached out to all donors and inquired if they were okay with their funds being used in such a fashion. Those who were not okay with their funds being used in such a fashion were refunded their contributions, along with the appropriate slips canceling their contributions.” I grinned at the idea of the selfish being made to pay for their actions. “The campaign also made a list of those who received their money back. They have opted to use complete transparency.”

“Very clever. Most won’t refuse if they know they will be doxed for their greed.”

“It only took a handful to get the point across, apparently.” As Westonhaus intended to donate to my precious library, I would show him my best side. “Were you aware the branch I work at is being renovated?”

“I hadn’t heard,” he admitted. “I do know you are located near the Met, and the building is considered to be a historic site.”

“Yes. We had two floors that we hadn’t been able to fund, and those will be opened for patrons as soon as the renovations and cleaning is completed. A generous donor provided the base funds required for the major renovations, but we can discuss how you can make meaningful contributions to the branch.”

Senator Westonhaus made a pleased noise in his throat. “Excellent. This sort of discussion is best done over dinner, and that will give me a chance to review the specific information for the donation.”

“I have the information here if you’d like it. The library was given a special account specifically for renovation donations, and I can draw up the appropriate tax receipts for you. We can discuss how the funds will specifically be used over dinner, along with addressing any of your concerns. But that way, you can address the payment itself at your leisure.” I grabbed my laptop and made sure to check my calendar. “Outside of doctor’s appointments and renovation work I can’t miss, I have a relatively open schedule until the library fully reopens.”

“Even better. Let me get to my computer real quick, and I’ll set up the wire now. While I hadn’t heard about the renovations, this works exceptionally well. It’s become rather apparent to me that we need to expand public services.”

The last I’d checked, Westonhaus redefined what it meant to be conservative, and that included public spending. “I had no idea you supported public services so extensively, Senator.”

“It seems there are an unfortunate number of people who lack education on certain elements of our society. Certain public services can rectify this, and places like libraries do help the unemployed find meaningful work. These should be preserved.”

I resisted the urge to snort, as I witnessed, day in and day out, the consequences of poor education. One of my duties as a librarian was to help those lacking that education to get the learning they needed to be able to function in society.

Day after day, I questioned how much good I did, but I refused to quit.

My stubbornness proved to be my salvation as often as it proved to be a prison.

“That is but one facet of our duties as librarians,” I replied, wondering how people handled mincing every damned word as part of their daily life. “Whenever you’re ready, I have the wire information. Once the wire arrives, you’ll be issued your donation receipt.”

I still questioned how I’d gotten saddled with working with the library accountants on gathering and processing charitable contributions, but I refused to complain about it.

“Just give me one more minute. I’m just logging into my bank account now.” According to the sounds of his typing, the senator typed faster than most secretaries or played some sort of game that required he bang the keys at an insane rate.

I made a note to practice typing, as I wasn’t about to let some damned politician beat me at anything.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

I relayed the wire information, careful to repeat the account and transit information so it would reach the library’s charitable contributions account. I instructed him to leave his phone number in the additional information box so he could be texted with a copy of his receipt and given an option to receive another copy by mail or email. “It can take up to 72 hours for the wires to be fully processed, depending on the bank. If the bank is open, you’ll usually get your text within five minutes of the wire being received.”

“At this time of night, I expect it’ll happen sometime tomorrow. Excellent. My wife has already explained some of the financial burdens libraries face. She informed me the computer systems are often a significant problem, especially for the librarians themselves. Is this true?”

“Very. We often will try to make certain the computers the patrons use are sufficient, which results in the private computers having some issues in terms of age.”

“Well, I would definitely like for some of that money to be used to upgrade the computer systems, then. That’s important, especially when job searching. I’m certain the amount sent will be sufficient for that cause. Is it possible to put a placard up in memory of Senator Maybelle and Senator Godrin?”

“Absolutely. I can make the inquiries. I’ll bring a tablet to make notes of these requests. The library board needs to approve everything like that, but I don’t anticipate there being an issue with such a placard in a suitable location.”

“That sounds good. My wife had warned me there might be hoops to jump, but I’m relieved to hear you are willing to make the effort.”

I rolled my eyes at his implication I wouldn’t, especially when it involved paying the library money to upgrade the computers. “Such requests don’t take long to send over to the board. The library often refuses requests that are intended to support businesses, but memorial placards are often approved depending on the situation. We do bar mention of political affiliations, but as long as the memorial placards are neutral or leave a wholesome message, they are typically approved. When the library reopens, I can show you several we have in our branch. You can also go to one of the other branches the next time you are in New York to see how we handle them.”

“I think I’ll do just that. So, when would be the best time and place for a dinner meeting?”

“I’ll have limited mobility for the next few weeks due to my foot, so anything without excessive stairs. I can manage, but it’s not ideal.”

“Yes, I have noticed that New York is not precisely accessible. My wife complained about that, especially now that she has to use a cane sometimes. She broke her foot two years ago, and when the weather sours, she limps.”

Ah-ha. I found many people changed their tune when they had to watch a loved one suffer. The changes the Hamptons had made to their household after the accident reminded me on a daily basis that I’d become more than a purchased acquisition.

I needed to unload some of my personal baggage before it crushed me beneath its weight.

“Any restaurant with limited steps will be fine, although if it isn’t within a block of my home, I’ll have to make transport arrangements.”

“I would be pleased to pick you up for the evening. I’ll make sure I bring a car suitable for your needs. Do you think you’ll require a wheelchair?”

“It’s a possibility,” I admitted. “My doctor doesn’t want me to put unnecessary weight on it.”

“Does your chair fold?”

“It does.”

“I’ll make sure to bring the right vehicle. My wife is really good at that sort of thing, so I’ll impose on her before she heads out of town on a trip.”

“Thank you, Senator. That’s appreciated. Why don’t you pick the restaurant? According to my fiancé, if given the choice, I will go to my favorite Chinese restaurant every time, without variation, in an attempt to flash-fry my remaining taste buds. I’ve convinced him to try some of the gentler foods, and he is slowly coming around, but he has a long way to go.”

“I asked a restaurant once to make me the spiciest dish they could, and I had to ask for something to make it hotter,” the senator replied with pride in his voice. “There is a South Korean restaurant that makes stellar Buldak. Have you had it?”

“I haven’t had any type of Korean food,” I confessed.

“I’ll take you there. They have a dress code, but as long as you’re not wearing jeans, it will be fine—and I can warn them you’re suffering from health problems, so they’ll relax the code for you, I’m sure.”

“I have business, business casual, and formal attire,” I assured him. “Which is ideal?”

“Business,” he replied. “It’s a popular spot for us to talk business, as every table in the restaurant is a semi-private booth.”

“That sounds wonderful. What day and time?”

“Do you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow evening?”

I checked, sighing to discover someone had added an appointment with Dr. Mansfield. I suspected Bradley as the primary culprit, as the sole person who knew my foot needed work because of the infection I’d purged. “My appointment ends at three, so I should be back home and ready by four.”

“I’ll pick you up at five. May I have your address?”

I gave him my apartment’s address, made a note in the calendar I would be busy from five to eight, with a note my appointment might last longer, and I shared it with everyone so they’d know I would be busy. Five minutes after Bradley’s phone notified him of my addition, he would be calling to confirm I wouldn’t be doing anything dangerous. To limit the concern, I described the event as speaking to a library donor at a dinner meeting.

My boss would be proud of me.

“I shall see you tomorrow at five, then. Have a good night, Janette.”

“You too, Senator.” I hung up, and I turned my attention to my next job, which involved learning everything I could about Senator Westonhaus and why he wanted to speak with me in person.