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Back Vortex Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

She got up, made a cup of tea to shake off her fatigue, paced her living room while she planned out what she’d write, then returned to her laptop. She looked at a photo of Harrington taken recently at a society party—he looked every bit as charming as he’d been this evening, in command of himself, totally comfortable in his surroundings. She never doubted he’d say all the right things, both to her and to voters. He simply had that look. She thought, then typed, “It’s not important what a politician says during a campaign, what promises he or she makes, it’s what they actually do when elected.” So let’s see how you’ve actually behaved in your life, Alex, outside the political arena. I’m going to look at your roots. Milo always said to look at the family first if you want to find out who a candidate really is.

Mia left her laptop and walked into her small kitchen to make another cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, she looked at the Christmas card from Serena’s parents she’d kept on the counter. She felt the familiar stab of remembered pain, the horrific grief Serena’s family had felt. Their not knowing, their tiny flame of hope that she was still alive somewhere. Somewhere. There was no rhyme or reason for them to hope, but it didn’t matter, probably never would.

Serena had been gone for seven years now, ever since the fire at the frat house. Everyone except her family accepted she had to be dead, even Tommy Maitland, Serena’s boyfriend at the time. Mia and Tommy spoke often, emailed several times a month. He was an FBI agent, for two years now, assigned to the Washington Field Office. She remembered his father, Assistant Director James Maitland, had sent the Philadelphia Field Office to assist with the search for Serena, starting at the scene, and with interviews. They’d found nothing to lead them to her, no clue, only that the fire had been set. When Tommy had graduated from Quantico, the first thing he did was repeat everything that had already been done, with the same result. It had led nowhere.

Mia closed down her laptop for the night when she realized it was two a.m. and her eyes were burning.

6

Olivia

32 Willard Avenue

McLean, Virginia

Monday evening