Page 15 of Lessons in Power

Strategy. Resources. Influence.Family mattered to Keyes—but putting his man inside Ivy’s house? Having eyes on her base of operations?

That had value, too.

I decided on the lesser of two evils. “Where are we going?”

We went to the Mall. In any other city in the world, that might have involved shopping, but the National Mall wasn’t the kind with shops. Keyes and I stood, side by side, next to the Reflecting Pool. Behind us, the Lincoln Memorial loomed over the tourists below. On the far side of the Reflecting Pool, the Washington Monument cut a striking figure against a graying sky.

“The Marquette boy drove you home.” Keyes seemed to direct that observation more to the water than to me. “His mother is an Abellard, is she not?”

I decided that was a rhetorical question.

“It is important,” Keyes said contemplatively, “to make friends with the right kind of people.”

In his eyes, Henry was the right kind of people.

“Did you meet Walker Nolan when he came to visit Ivy?” Keyes queried, and my gut told me this was what he’d wanted to ask all along.

I was comfortable with silence, comfortable with letting questions go unanswered. Sometimes it was my best tool for making a person say more.

“There are times,” Keyes sighed, “when you remind me very much of my wife.”

I wasn’t going to give him any information about Ivy’s case, and he wasn’t going to share what he knew with me. But I felt like I should give him something in exchange for what he’d just said about the grandmother I’d never met.

“The minority whip’s son is running for student council.” That was as close to a peace offering as I could come. “I intend for him to lose.”

That got a small snort out of the old man. “Funny,” he said, “isn’t it, that sometimes the loser matters more than the person who wins?” He glanced up from the pool. His gaze settled on something and then he turned back to me. “Give us a moment, would you, Tess?”

Us?I turned to look at a woman standing nearby, a scarf hiding her hair, sunglasses obscuring her face. Even with the camouflage, I recognized her immediately.

Georgia Nolan. The First Lady.

I tried to reconcile the fact that she was here with the reality that we were in the middle of a media blitz about the hospital bombing. This wasn’t the time for the First Lady to be taking a stroll through the National Mall.

She’s here to see Keyes. Why?

I turned and walked toward the Lincoln Memorial, coming to stand at the base of the steps, looking out at my paternal grandfather and the First Lady. Her Secret Service detail was standinga discreet distance away. She and Keyes stood several feet apart, neither looking at the other as they spoke.

What could have possessed her to come here to talk to him? And if he’d planned to meet her, why bring me along?

I didn’t get answers to those questions. Three minutes after Georgia had arrived, she was gone.

CHAPTER 12

I arrived back at Ivy’s house to see flashing lights. I was out of the car before Keyes could order me to stay put. I pushed past the police cruiser in the driveway.

“Ivy?” I called out her name a second before I laid eyes on her. She was wearing a navy blazer, her light brown hair clipped neatly back from her face.

“I assure you,” Ivy was telling an officer, the very picture of composure, “everything is fine.” She saw me approach. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see to my daughter.”

Having dispatched the police officer, she ushered me into the house.

“What happened?” I asked her, my voice low.

“As far as the police are concerned,” Ivy said, “nothing. The alarm went off quite by accident.”

“What really happened?” I countered.

I could see Ivy weighing her choices. Ultimately, she must have decided I could handle the truth. “There was a break-in.They tossed my office but didn’t find what they were looking for.”