Primary Storm by Brendan DuBois Read Free Book Online Page A

bloodstains out of clothing? "Usually, they hang right up," he told me once. "And it really has cut down on the follow-up calls."
    Now the water was boiling and I was about to pour it in my tea mug, when the phone rang again, and by now I was tired of all the attention. I picked up the phone and said, "I swear to God, if this is another survey, I'm going to trace this number and hunt you down and rip your phone out of the wall."
    The woman on the other end laughed. "Can't do that, Lewis. I'm on my cell phone, right in downtown Manchester."
    "Oh."
    Annie said, "I feel bad about something and I need to tell you that."
    "Okay, go ahead." I poured the water into the mug, liking the sensation of the steam rising up to my face. "Still upset about the shooting, I'm sure."
    "No, it's not that."
    "It's not?"
    "No, and if you let me talk, I'll tell you all about it. Look I came in and dumped all over you, and you gave me a shoulder and a few hugs and all that good stuff. But you told me you were sick, that you threw up in the conference center's parking lot, and I found you all wrapped up on the couch when I came to see you. I should have asked you how you were doing. I should have offered to help you. But I didn't. I'm sorry."
    "No apologies necessary," I said. "You've had a tough day. Don't worry about it."
    "Well, I did worry about it, and I wanted to let you know. Okay?"
    "Okay."
    "Good. I'm in front of the campaign headquarters now. I'll call you tomorrow. Hope you feel better. Bye."
    "Bye right back," I said, and sure enough, even before I had the cup of tea, I was feeling better.
    Dinner was a couple of scrambled eggs and toast, and maybe my aggressive nap schedule was working in my favor, for I felt more human as the day dragged on. I caught a bit of the news at six-thirty and saw some of the shooting coverage, but missed the actual first footage of the shooting and what it looked like from inside the building. Still, most of the coverage was similar, with all channels showing a graphic of the interior of the Tyler Conference Center --- I'm sure the management couldn't buy advertising like this, and I wasn't sure what they thought of this particular good fortune ---- and there were interviews with a cheerful Senator Hale, who did his best to shrug off the attempt on his life. Plus the usual and customary interviews with a variety of eyewitnesses, none of whom actually saw a damn thing, but heard plenty, or thought he did. This was followed by the typical stories of our violent society, and how we were all to blame for what had happened in Tyler this day.
    When that coverage was over, I decided that I'd had my fill of politics for the day, so I channel-surfed for a while, and almost cheered my luck when I saw a two-hour documentary on one of the cable channels on the history of U -boat operations in the North Atlantic. I settled back on the couch, fire in the fireplace, comforter wrapped around me, and cherished a time when the conflicts were so clear, so finely drawn. The next morning when the phone rang, I was washing my breakfast dishes, feeling much better, and I was surprised at the woman's voice on the other end of the phone: not my Annie Wynn, but my good friend Detective Sergeant Diane Woods. It sounded like she was on a cell phone.
    "Hey," she said. "How are you doing?"
    "Doing all right," I said. "How are you?"
    'Well, got my fingers in a bit on this Senator Hale incident," she said.
    "You do, do you? I thought the state police and the Secret Service would be all over this and pushing poor little you aside."
    "I'm not poor, and I'm not little."
    "All right. Point noted. And what part of the investigation has your fingers in it?"
    She sighed. "You."
    I folded up the dish towel I had been using. "Mind saying that again? I had the oddest idea that you just said 'you.' Meaning me."
    "That's right."
    "Why?"
    Another big sigh. "I don't know, Lewis. All I know is that the Secret Service wants to talk to you about the shooting.