The elder Tomlinson spun on her. “Why wasn’t the hall packed with our people? That’s your job, lady!”

“It’s just the primary—”

“Those people will go out and vote! A dedicated group of crazies can swing a primary election!”

“I’ll do better next time,” his son promised. “I’ll know what to expect from him.”

“I don’t think there should be another debate. No sense looking like an ass all over again.”

Tomlinson slowly got to his feet and faced his father. Jake saw that their profiles were alike, their postures straight and rigid, their fists balled at their sides.

“I’ll beat him,” the younger Tomlinson said. “That’s a promise.”

His father backed away half a step. Then he said, “We need to know more about this man Dant. Why he’s running. Who’s backing him.”

“I’ll put some of my people on that right away.”

“No,” the old man said. “Not your campaign people. Keep their noses out of it. I’ll get some people I know to look into his background. Even if they’re caught snooping nobody will be able to trace it back to you.”

Amy asked, “Do you think Leeds has put him up to it? As a straw man, to take the nomination away from Franklin.”

Alexander Tomlinson glared at her for a moment, but then he muttered, “I wouldn’t put it past the sneaky sonofabitch.”

*   *   *

As he drove home through the bitter night, Jake wondered if he should have asked Tomlinson’s father to have some professionals look into Sinclair’s background. There’s something fishy about the professor’s attitude, his behavior. Something’s going on, and I can’t figure out what it is.

Maybe Glynis knows, he mused, but she’s too loyal to Sinclair to spill the beans. Or maybe she’s afraid he’ll cut her off from the program. That’ll kill her master’s thesis, ruin a year or more of work.

Somehow, the idea of hiring professional investigators to look into Sinclair’s life disturbed Jake. If they find anything they’ll take it straight to the old man, not to me. He’ll ruin Sinclair if he thinks it’ll help his son. He’ll run right over him like an eighteen-wheeler.

As he pulled into his parking space and killed the Mustang’s engine, Jake decided he’d have to work harder at finding out what was making Sinclair tick. But where to start? The professor won’t see me. His son works in Leeds’s office; I can’t barge in there and start questioning him.

That leaves Glynis, he thought. I’ve got to get closer to her and find out everything she knows about the professor.