Today's Reading
CHAPTER ONE
Helen Warwick squinted against the glare of spotlights pointing at the stage. She couldn't see a thing past them. Not the reporters she knew to be out there nor the friends and family here to lend support.
She viscerally hated standing in front of a crowd like this, on display like some prize cow. She craved the shadows. Invisibility. Seeing but not seen. Yet here she was.
Being exposed was bad enough, but being blind was even worse. It went against every fiber in her hunter's soul to be so exposed, so helpless to spot an incoming threat and protect herself.
Her son, Mitch, stood at a podium center stage with his wife, Nancy, at his right elbow. Her other two children—middle child Peter and his husband, Liang, and her youngest, Jayne—lined up behind Mitch. Her husband, Gray, the lucky dog, was in South America trying to save the rain forest and had dodged this miserable event.
On the other end of the line of family was her mother, Constance Stapleton. It was just as well that they were on opposite ends of the stage. Her indomitable mother, veteran of dozens of Henry Stapleton's runs for Congress, would've told her to stop fidgeting and smile for the cameras.
With a sigh, Helen pasted a fake smile on her face and suppressed an urge to tug at the collar of her silk blouse. She felt the caked-on stage makeup cracking on her skin and dialed down the smile a little. No need to add more wrinkles to her face than she already had.
Somebody on the other side of the spotlights called out a thirty-second warning before they went live on the local news. Mitch, acting district attorney for Washington, DC, after his boss had been gunned down three months ago, was announcing his candidacy today for the permanent DA job. Hence the command appearance by the whole Warwick clan in their Sunday best at his press conference.
The heat of the lights made Helen sweat under the makeup, and the odd jumpiness she'd been feeling ramped up even more. Pressure built in her chest until she could barely breathe. Every instinct in her screamed to get out of the light or die. To move. Now.
Mitch would kill her if she ruined his big moment. Must. Stand. Still.
A drop of perspiration rolled down her temple and slid down her cheek. She tried to breathe, but her entire chest felt paralyzed. Adrenaline surged through her, making her body feel hot and cold, weak and strong, coiled to spring. She trembled from the effort of forcing herself to stand still. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stand here exposed and unable to defend herself.
Stop it. Stand still. Do. Not. Panic.
Nope. The urge was too much to control. She'd spent too many years listening to her instincts, backing out of situations where she suddenly felt as if she were lined up in somebody's crosshairs, to ignore the warning screaming in her mind.
She eased to the left edge of the raised platform erected in the middle of a much larger stage and turned sideways. She slid to the forward-most edge of the dais where she could stand beside those blasted spotlights and not in front of them any longer.
Ah, better. It took most of the remaining TV countdown for the dancing spots in front of her eyes to clear. But as the stage manager held up his fingers and flashed three, two, one, she could see again.
Mitch had always been a handsome boy, and he was in his element now, glowing with pride and excitement. Even Nancy looked especially good today. Normally, the girl was so bland in temperament and appearance that Helen found her gaze sliding over her daughter-in-law and barely noticing her. But as Nancy stood dutifully at Mitch's right elbow, slender and elegant, Helen began to understand why Mitch always said she was the perfect political wife. She was attractive to look at but did nothing to pull the spotlight off him.
Mitch launched into his declaration speech, opening with a joke that made the reporters crowding the flat orchestra area below and in front of the stage chuckle. He flashed one last charming smile and started into the meat of his speech about what he planned to do to address crime and corruption as the new district attorney.
Helen tuned out. She'd heard her father deliver so many campaign speeches over the years that all stump talks blended together in her head—pretty oratory, catchy sound bites, and empty promises.
She tried to be subtle in searching for the source of her panic attack, gazing out across the theater with that stupid smile still pasted on her face. It was starting to make her cheeks ache.
...
