ivate investigator in Bend, owes me a favor—a big one.”
“And you’ve called him?”
“I will.”
“Good. And the note?”
“I’ll bring it over within the hour.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Just as Trask hung up the phone, Neva knocked quietly on the door and entered the den. She offered Trask a mug filled with coffee. “We were out of beer,” she lied.
Trask grinned at the obvious deception. “I don’t need a mother, you know.”
Neva leaned against the doorjamb and eyed him sadly. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“I do all right.”
“I read the papers, Trask. What do they call you? ‘The young rogue senator from Oregon’?”
“Sometimes.” He took a sip from the cup and let the warm liquid salve his nerves. “When are you going to take all this stuff—” he motioned to Jason’s softball trophies and plaques “—down and put it away?”
“Maybe never.”
Trask frowned and shook his head. “You’re a young beautiful woman, Neva—”
“With a six-year-old son who needs to know about his father.”
“Maybe he needs a new one.”
Neva looked shocked. “He’s a McFadden, Trask. Your brother’s son. You want some stranger to raise him?”
“He’ll always be a McFadden; but he could use some male influence.”
“He has you,” she said softly.
“I live in Washington.”
“Until you don’t get reelected.”
Trask nearly choked on his coffee. “That’s what I like to hear: confidence.” Trask’s eyes darted around the room and his smile faded. “You can’t live in the past, Neva.”
“I was going to say exactly the same thing to you.”
Trask caught her meaningful glance and frowned into his cup before finishing his coffee in one swallow and setting the empty mug on the desk. “I’ve got to go.”
“You could stay,” she suggested, her cheeks coloring slightly. “Nicholas would be thrilled.”
Trask shook his head, stood up, grabbed his hat and kissed Neva on the forehead. “Can’t do it. I’ve got things to do tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I’ll be in Salem.”
Neva paled and sank into the nearest chair. Her fingers nervously gripped her cup. “I knew it,” she said with a sigh. “You’re going to see Linn Benton and George Henderson in the pen, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”