Taste Page 15

  She nodded and took the dish, presenting it to him right away.

  He took it with a large smile and then joked good-naturedly with the man sitting at his side. He seemed so laidback, so relaxed that my stomach knotted.

  What if he didn’t go along with the plan?

  What if he had his own agenda?

  He seemed far too comfortable for a man who was about to “die.” I prayed it meant he was just a really good actor.

  Once all the dessert was passed out among the guests, everyone began to eat. With bated breath, I watched from behind a cracked doorway as the president picked up his spoon.

  “Delicious,” I heard him tell the First Lady as he took a second bite.

  My teeth sank into my lower lip, and I watched the unfolding scene. Spencer stood not far away, looking like a statue, standing tall and stock-still. His face gave away no indication he knew what might happen.

  No one did.

  Seconds ticked by. I felt sweat dampen my brow.

  The president’s spoon clattered against the plate holding his dish. He smiled tightly and wiped at his brow. The First Lady leaned into his ear, asking him if he was all right.

  I watched him assure her he was.

  He got up from the head table, excusing himself. On his way to a nearby door, he stumbled, then righted himself. Walsh went to his side, assisting him in going out the door.

  Just as the door was almost closed, I saw the president collapse on the floor. Spencer and the other Secret Service agents all received word in the black earpieces they were wearing. They filed out of the room quickly, barely drawing any attention.

  The door opened and closed quickly as they all disappeared to the president’s side.

  A few guests at the president’s table looked around in curiosity, worry marring their made-up faces.

  How everyone in the room could just go on, how they could not even realize someone was falling ill among them, how a sinister plot was developing right beneath their nose—it amazed me.

  After a moment, the First Lady appeared concerned. She excused herself and knocked on the door the president just left through.

  She was admitted entrance.

  Before the door latched, her muffled sobs broke through the hushed conversation that filled the room.

  It was done.

  22

  It was announced the president would not be coming back to the dinner. He had fallen ill and was resting in his private quarters. His personal doctor was on his way.

  Of course, it was implied that this not become common knowledge as the president just needed to rest and would be back to normal very soon.

  The dinner continued. No one seemed overly concerned.

  I went back to the kitchen because lurking behind doors looked suspicious.

  My chest felt tight as I worked, covering what was left of the granita with plastic wrap. It was hard to not know what was going on. Where was Spencer? Was he okay? Were they able to get the president out of the White House undetected?

  It made me realize that I knew very little about this plan. So many details likely went into this, details I wasn’t privy to. It was Spencer’s way of protecting me, the Secret Service’s way of doing their jobs… but it still sucked.

  When all the extra food was put away, I grabbed a rag and began cleaning some of the counters.

  Marley, one of the kitchen staff, came rushing up to where I and a few other people were cleaning up. “Did you hear?” she asked, her face was pale and her eyes were wide.

  We all paused and looked up. “Hear what?” I asked.

  She sniffled. “It’s horrible news.”

  “What is it?” someone beside me demanded.

  The bottom fell out of my stomach. I knew.

  “The president isn’t sick,” Marley said. “He’s dead.”

  I knew it was coming.

  It didn’t lessen the shock.

  It didn’t dampen the reaction I had. The wet rag fell out of my hand and made a slapping sound on the tile floor.

  “That’s not funny,” Mark, the man beside me, scolded Marley.

  “It’s not a joke,” she said, her voice low and watery. “It’s all over. Everyone is talking about it.”

  “But how?” I asked. “They just said he was ill.”

  “They think it was something he ate.” She nodded as she whispered, her eyes wide.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mark said. “Everyone at the dinner ate the same thing. No one else died.” He paused. “Did they?”

  “Not that I know of,” Marley said.

  This was something I hadn’t prepared for. Something I never thought of. The speculation. The rumors. In any workplace, people loved a good drama. They loved whispering by the water cooler. Well, this was about the biggest, most shocking piece of gossip the White House would ever see.

  Of course there would be theories.

  But those theories could come back on me.

  We’ll make sure you’re the one who goes down for plotting to kill the commander in chief. The threat from the night that seemed so long ago filled my mind, taunting me.

  Were these assholes going to get their way?

  In an attempt to free myself of this crime, did I accidentally implicate myself?

  “Then it couldn’t have been the food,” Mark insisted.

  “Maybe someone poisoned it.” Marley theorized.

  I jerked like I’d been shocked. Both people looked at me. “That’s impossible,” I said, not even having to pretend to be horrified. “This place has a ton of security. We would know if someone on this staff wanted the president dead.”

  God, that was such an epic lie.

  “Well, what else could it be?” Marley asked.

  “Are you sure he’s dead?” I asked.

  Marley opened her mouth to respond, but the kitchen manager called for the attention of everyone in the room.

  We all gathered around. It was evident by her tear-stained and pale face that she was going to tell us exactly what Marley already did.

  “It is with great sorrow that I need to confirm the rumors already making their way through the White House. The president is dead.”

  Murmuring went through the room. Grief settled over the space like a suffocating blanket.

  I didn’t anticipate how horrible this part would be. How cruel this plan really was. These people, my co-workers, they all thought he was dead. They were grieving, mourning the loss of someone who wasn’t really gone.

  I knew I hadn’t had a choice with this, but it still made me feel incredibly bad.

  “The White House is issuing a gag order,” she said, and I stopped listening. I knew what she was going to say. Everyone was being told to not breathe a word of this until further notice.

  And me…

  Well, I was just trying not call attention to myself.

  “A thorough investigation is being launched immediately. Every member of the staff will be interviewed. Cooperate. Tell them what you know. Every detail can make a difference,” she was saying.

  When she was done talking, everyone went back to what they were doing. The atmosphere was subdued and heavy. I couldn’t help but think about Spencer. The muffled cries I heard from the First Lady earlier tonight echoed through my brain, rattling in every corner of my mind.

  Did she know about this?

  They couldn’t possibly allow her to think her husband had died.

  Could they?

  Some of the staff were called out to be interviewed. The kitchen was thoroughly cleaned. Some of the food from the dinner was taken away for testing.

  My stomach roiled and threatened to empty itself on more than one occasion.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to put on a brave face. I could feel everything I was and let it show. Everyone just assumed it was grief.

  It wasn’t grief.

  It was guilt.

  The hour drew late. Far later than I normally stayed. The staff began trickling out. Everyone’s eyes
were bloodshot and tired.

  I was sitting at the island, just staring at my fingers, when a hand fell on my shoulder. I spun around quickly, hoping to see Spencer’s face.

  It wasn’t him.

  The kitchen manager frowned down at me. “Elle?” she asked. “What are you still doing here?”

  I wasn’t sure where else to go. I thought by now Spencer would have been around, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

  “I was waiting to be interviewed.” I lied.

  She sighed heavily. “Ah, I see. Well, thank you for waiting. They’re interviewing the wait staff now. It could take the rest of the night. Why don’t you go home, get some rest? They will interview you in the morning.”

  “I can stay,” I said, knowing I probably shouldn’t leave.

  “You look exhausted,” she said. “Go.”

  I hesitated, not sure of what excuse to give.

  “Is there another reason you want to be here?” she asked. The hint of suspicion in her tone was clear.

  “Of course not,” I said, standing up. “I just… This is just awful.”

  Her gaze softened. “I know. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded. She stayed, watching me. Like she was still suspicious of my presence. I had no choice but to grab my bag and leave the kitchen.

  Out in the hall, people were milling about, whispering and crying. Spencer was nowhere to be seen, and I was afraid to go searching for him. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I knew if he wasn’t here, it was for a good reason. I didn’t want to interrupt or get in the way of whatever he was doing.

  Before I turned the corner toward the staff exit, someone stepped out into the hallway. I glanced up, hoping it was Spence. It was Mr. Caroway. His hair was mussed, his face was drawn, and the tie around his neck was loose and askew.

  He saw me looking his way and inclined his head.

  I lowered my gaze. The vice president appeared, looking completely shell shocked and distraught. Mr. Caroway put an arm around him and led him into another private room.

  This plan was of huge magnitude. How angry would everyone be when they learned this was all just some giant ruse?

  The summer air was cool because the hour was so late. My feet crunched across the gravel as I walked through the parking lot toward my car. I wasn’t sure where I should go. My place? Spencer’s?

  I probably should wait for him, but hanging around would only make me look suspicious.

  Man, I just wanted this to be over. I was tired and confused. I missed my son, my regular routine. My life.

  At my car, I unlocked the door and sank into the driver’s seat. I laid my head against the headrest and blew out a heavy breath. I tossed my purse on the floorboards of the passenger seat and reached out to turn the key.

  That’s when I noticed the small note taped to the clear plastic over my speedometer.

  With shaking fingers, I pulled it off and slowly unfolded the white piece of paper.

  Good job.

  I crumbled the paper as a sob tore from my throat. This note meant two things:

  1.) Whoever was responsible most definitely worked here.

  and…

  2.) I was no longer necessary.

  23

  I sat outside my house, staring up at it through the windshield of my car. I hadn’t been here in several days. I was staying with Spencer, just like I said I would. I knew whoever was behind this knew. They seemed to know everything.

  I wondered if they knew about our secret plot.

  I hoped not.

  I glanced back up at the house. The porch light was on, so was the lamp in the living room. I knew the window was fixed. Spencer had it done yesterday.

  I probably wouldn’t stay here tonight, but I could use some clothes and things, so I figured I could go in and get what I needed while waiting for Spencer to get in touch.

  On my way to the front door, my cell phone started ringing. It was already in my hand and I hit the button immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “Elle,” Spencer’s voice filled my ear. “Where are you?”

  “Hey.” Relief poured through me. “I’m at my place. Just got here.”

  He grunted. “I’m on my way.”

  Before I could say anything else, the line went dead.

  Inside, the house was just as I left it, but the air smelled slightly stale because no one had been here. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went upstairs to get a couple extra outfits and change my clothes. After I put on a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved white top, I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands. My hair looked as limp as I felt, so I pulled it up into a high ponytail on top my head. After smoothing on some moisturizer, I went back into the bedroom and into the closet.

  I couldn’t help but think about the last time I was in here. When I was being drugged and attacked.

  I wondered if that memory would always assault me when I was in here. I hoped not. This was my home. The only home Jack had ever known. It was a nice place with plenty of room, and I didn’t want to move.

  The front door opened and closed, and I stiffened. When I got to the top of the stairs, Spencer grinned up at me.

  “Hey, darlin’.”

  “Hey,” I said, smiling. It was good to see him.

  He swept me up in his arms when he reached me, planting a kiss on my lips. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, setting me down after the usual second kiss.

  “It was starting to look suspicious that I was still at work. I had to leave.”

  “Why didn’t you go to my place?”

  “I don’t have a key.”

  He swore and pulled out a key ring. “Here,” he said, taking off a silver key. “I have another at home I can use.”

  “This isn’t necessary,” I said.

  “I want you to have it.” Instead of waiting for me to take it, he stuck it into the front pocket of my jeans. “I have a key to your place.”

  Yeah, because he was having the window fixed. Still, I wasn’t going to be asking for it back.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry I took so long,” he said. “I couldn’t get away.”

  “Is everything…?” I began, not really wanting to vocalize everything that was going on.

  He nodded. “It’s good.”

  “Any leads?” I ventured.

  His face drew grim and he shook his head. “Everyone there is acting the way you’d suspect. Nothing suspicious, and believe me, I’ve been watching.”

  I wrapped my hands around his waist and laid my cheek against his chest. He hugged me back, resting his chin on top of my head. I told myself not to freak out, that it was still really early. I mean, geez, had I expected whoever this was to be skipping through the halls in merriment?

  A girl could dream, I guess.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to my place,” Spencer said, releasing me.

  “You aren’t staying?”

  His mouth drew into a line. “I can’t. I have to go back to work.”

  I nodded. It was understandable. I grabbed a few things I needed and threw them in a bag, and then we left, locking the door behind us.

  I walked toward my car, but Spencer caught my hand. “Just leave it. Ride with me. We’ll come back and get it tomorrow.”

  “If you need to go back, I can drive myself.”

  “I want to spend some time with you,” he replied. “Even if it’s only a few minutes.”

  I smiled, but then the worry behind his words intruded. “Is everything really okay, Spence?”

  “Yeah,” he said, but it wasn’t that convincing.

  “Spencer,” I said, digging my feet into the pavement. “What?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired and strung out. I felt guilty for pressuring him, but not guilty enough to keep walking toward his Mustang.

  “It’s probably nothing,” he muttered. “It’s just talk.”

  “Ahh,” I said know
ingly. “You heard the rumors.”

  His eyes flashed up to mine. “You did, too?”

  “Of course. Work is a breeding ground for gossip, don’t you know?”

  “Fuck,” he swore. “I thought we were supposed to be adults.”

  “Adults are worse than teenagers.”

  He grunted.

  “I guess it is a natural assumption to draw,” I said. “I mean, he was eating at the time he grew sick and then died.”

  “And no one else has been sick,” he said, grim.

  “They took samples of the food to test for poison,” I told him. He nodded like he already knew.

  “You think it will come back on me,” I said.

  “I don’t know. I hope the hell not.”

  I began ringing my hands anxiously.

  Spencer gripped my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Look, even if you are suspected, it won’t go anywhere.”

  “It won’t?”

  “Of course not. We know the truth. They can’t pin you for a crime you didn’t commit. Walsh knows it, too.”

  “But what about the investigators that have been called in?” I wanted to know.

  Spence shook his head. “They’re in the dark. They have to be for now. We need this to look legit.”

  “I understand.”

  “Look, when they interview you, just play along, answer as honestly as you can without giving anything away.”

  “And if they suspect something?”

  His jaw muscles clenched. “Let them.”

  “What?” I was surprised he would suggest such a thing.

  “We don’t have a choice. Let them suspect you. When we catch whoever is behind this, you’ll be cleared.”

  My limbs began to tremble. I was exhausted and afraid. I was reaching the end of my limit. I knew this shouldn’t be a big deal, that it would all be cleared up, but even just the thought of being suspected of being capable of murder made me sick inside.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Spencer assured me. “I got you.”

  I shivered.

  He sighed. “Come on, let’s get you to my place.”

  He pulled away, and when I didn’t immediately follow, he turned back to take my hand.