Tate gave the cameras his most engaging smile and a thumbs-up sign as they moved toward the waiting limousine parked in the brick paved porte cochere. Microphones were aimed toward them. Bleakly, Avery thought they resembled gun barrels. Tate’s voice carried confidently across the city racket and general confusion. “Great Election Day weather. Good for the voters and for the candidates in each race.”
He was bombarded with questions regarding more serious topics than the weather, but Eddy ushered them into the backseat of the limo. Avery was distressed to learn that he was riding with them to Kerrville. She wouldn’t have Tate to herself, as she had hoped. They hadn’t been alone all morning. He was already up and dressed by the time she woke up. He breakfasted in the dining room on the river level of the hotel while she got Mandy and herself dressed.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, she glanced through the rear window, trying to locate Van. She spotted a two-man crew from KTEX, but Van wasn’t the photographer behind the Betacam. Why not? she wondered. Where is he?
He wasn’t among the media waiting for them at their polling place in Kerrville, either. Her anxiety mounted, so much so that at one point, Tate leaned down at her and whispered, “Smile, for God’s sake. You look like I’ve already lost.”
“I’m afraid, Tate.”
“Afraid I’ll lose before the day is out?”
“No. Afraid you’ll die.” She held his gaze for several seconds before Jack intruded on them with a question for Tate.
The ride back to San Antonio seemed interminable. Freeway and downtown traffic was heavier than normal. As they alighted from the limo at the entrance of the hotel, Avery’s eyes scanned the milling crowd again. She sighted a familiar face, but it wasn’t the one she wanted to see. The gray-haired man was standing in front of the convention center across the street. Van, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight.
Irish had promised.
Something was wrong.
The moment they reached their suite, she excused herself and went into the bedroom to use the telephone. The direct line into the newsroom was answered after ten rings. “Irish McCabe, please,” she said with breathless urgency.
“Irish? Okay, I’ll go find him.”
Having worked election days, she knew what nightmares, and yet what challenges, they presented to the media. Everybody operated on a frantic frequency.
“Come on, come on, Irish,” she whispered while waiting. She kept remembering how still and intent Gray Hair had stood, as though maintaining a post.
“Hello?”
“Irish!” she exclaimed, going limp with relief.
“No. Is that who you’re holding for? Just a sec.”
“This is Av—” When she was abruptly put on hold again, she nearly sobbed with anxiety.
The phone was picked up a second time. “Hello?” a man asked hesitantly. “Hello?”
“Yes, who is—Eddy, is that you??
?
“Yeah.”
“This is, A—uh, Carole.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m in the bedroom. I’m using this line.” Evidently, he had picked up the extension in the parlor.
“Well, make it snappy, okay? We’ve got to keep these lines open.”
He hung up. She was still on hold. Her call to the newsroom had been ignored by people with better things to do than track down the boss on the busiest news day of the year. Distraught, she replaced the telephone and went to join the family and a few key volunteers who had assembled in the other room.
Though she smiled and conversed as it was expected of her, she tried to imagine where Van could be. She comforted herself by picturing him downstairs in the ballroom, setting up his tripod and camera to cover what would hopefully be Tate’s victory celebration later in the evening.
For the time being there was nothing more she could do. There must be a logical explanation for the switch in plans. Because she hadn’t been apprised, she had let her imagination run away with her. Irish and Van knew where she was if they needed to contact her. Resolving to keep her panic at bay, she moved toward the sofa where Tate was sprawled.
True to his word, he’d gone to the polls dressed casually, wearing a leather sports jacket over his jeans. He appeared perfectly relaxed as he told Zee, who was taking orders, what he wanted for lunch.