"Melissa is taking care of that."

"At least there won't be another nauseating toast to gag down." Josh rubbed his eyes and stretched his long frame. "I'm too old to be sleeping in a center seat in coach."

Anne shook her head. "Not too old. Too smart. But don't worry. When you're president, you'll have your own plane."

He grinned suddenly, looking more like forty than over sixty.

"That's the spirit. Did you have a chance to get some food for this place or will I have to keep on these ratty hiking clothes, pull my hat low, and slink into the local market?"

"No need. I did my Holly Homemaker act earlier. You'd have fallen on the floor laughing at my baggy jeans and sweatshirt."

He snickered. "Thanks. I know you hate to go slumming, but it's a great way to stay under the media radar."

"I'm just terrified of meeting someone who recognizes me."

"That's the whole point. No one looks at ordinary people. Turn on the TV, will you? I want to catch the three o'clock local cable news. I told everyone to keep Winifred out of the news until I could get back, but you never know."

Anne picked up the controller, turned on the small TV in the kitchen, and hit the channel for the local cable news feed. "You want a beer and a sandwich?" she asked.

"I'll make it."

"A sandwich I can manage. If you want something hot, you'll have to do it yourself."

"I didn't marry you for your domestic skills," Josh said, looking at his watch and then at the TV

"You knew I could afford a chef."

He smiled slightly. "And you knew I was on my way to the White House." Some things were more binding than love. Ambition was one of them. He and Anne understood the deal they'd made when they traded wedding rings.

On TV, some local siding salesman was giving his pitch.

Josh hit the mute button and lowered himself onto one of the two stools that made an informal dining area of the counter. He watched Anne work and thought that here was a family values photo op if ever there was one. About the only time Anne went willingly into a kitchen was to discuss the menu for an upcoming party.

The usual closely edited, high-energy shots of the cable news team flashed across the TV, a lead-in to their three o'clock promo of upcoming news events. Josh had often thought it was like a striptease-Have you heard the sky is falling? News on the hour. Have you seen a crack in your sky? News on the hour. Did the sky fall near you? News on the hour. By the time the story appeared, far more time had been spent hyping it than was devoted to actually covering it. It was the kind of ten-second-sensation mentality that had reduced political coverage to an exchange of slogans at six o'clock, with an occasional weekend recap of "news" for the people who lived under rocks on the far side of the moon.

But each one of those rock dwellers has a vote, Josh reminded himself.

His job was to get as many of those votes as he could and enjoy the benefits of power. The fact that political power was exercised in a way that would horrify the naive didn't matter. It was the naive who had the vote, the naive who had to be courted, and the naive who allowed national politicians to leave office richer than when they went in and "journalists" like Jeanette Dykstra to flourish. And speak of the devil…

Josh hit the mute button again, restoring sound.

A serious Dykstra looked straight into the camera and leaned forward to give out the physical cues that translated as: Listen up out there, this is hot! The fact that she did the same thing for a story about two celebrities wearing the same outfit to a party was all part of selling the news.

"Exclusively from Behind the Scenes, Governor Josh Quintrell's aunt Winifred Simmons y Castillo demands that her nephew have a blood test to prove that he is descended from Sylvia Castillo Quintrell. More as the story develops."

The camera cut away to another talking head selling another ten-second news promo.

Josh didn't listen.

"Did I hear your name?" Anne asked as she set a turkey sandwich in front of Josh.

Josh nodded. "Before Winifred died, she went crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"She wants me to prove I'm a Quintrell."

Anne stopped in the act of reaching inside the refrigerator for a beer. "Excuse me?"

"Like I said. She went nuts."

"Well, she's dead now, so it doesn't matter."

Josh thought of Dykstra's eager ferret eyes and wondered if it would be that easy.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the New York accountant's caller ID. He punched in and said, "Make it fast. I'm in a meeting and can't talk."

Anne looked at her husband. He gave her the kind of smile he always did when he was distracted.

"Okay," Josh said. "Thanks. Send me the bill."

"Who was that?"

"Nobody important." He yawned. "Forget the beer and make it a coffee. I have to go to the ranch."

"Right now? I thought Melissa had already arranged for Winifred's ashes to be scattered with Sylvia's."

"She did." Josh yawned again. "Still, I don't want that bitch Dykstra to think I didn't love my dear old auntie. At the same time, I'll give everyone their severance pay in person. And I should press some flesh in the hispano community."

"I won't wait up for you, then."

"Good idea." He rubbed his eyes. "If it gets too late, I'll stay in Taos. More snow is expected up there."

"Why not stay at the ranch?"

"Pete and Melissa usually go to town for dinner and a show on Saturdays and stay overnight for church on Sunday morning. There won't be anyone at the ranch to cook or see that a bed is ready for me."

"You shouldn't have told them the ranch was as good as sold. They don't care anymore."

"I couldn't just toss them out without warning. They've worked there for years."

Anne shrugged. "The Senator spoiled them. It's a job, not a sinecure. But he would never listen when I told him."

"Don't feel bad. The Senator never listened to anyone, including God."

Chapter 55

TAOS

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

CARLY WATCHED WITH GROWING EXCITEMENT AS ARCHIVED DATA FROM THE newspaper's computer flowed into hers. All but bouncing in place, she opened file after file and saw those glorious words. Searchable documents. It would save weeks of painstaking discovery and cross-referencing.

"Yes!" she said, slapping the table triumphantly.

Dan grinned and typed in some more commands. More files leaped from computer to computer.

"You doubted me?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes without looking away from the miraculously growing list of articles. "This time? Of course not. The first six tries that crashed, now that's different. I was afraid getting shot must have addled something."

"You expect perfection the first time?"

"Hey, you gave it to me the first time," she said absently, staring at her computer screen. "And the other times, too."

He grinned. "Are we talking about horizontal dancing?"

She replayed the conversation in her mind, fought a blush, then just gave up and swiped at him, taking care to stay well away from the bandage on his forehead. "You know better than to talk to me when I'm distracted."

"I'll keep it in mind."

She groaned, knowing him well enough to realize that she'd just given him another way to slide past her defenses. Like he needed any. All he had to do was get a certain look in his eye when he watched her and she was ready to jump in his lap and go treasure hunting.

"Knock knock," said Gus from the top of the stairway.

"Is that the opening line of a lame joke?" Dan asked.

"Nope, just a warning that you aren't alone."

Carly fought another blush. Gus had come in earlier today. She and Dan had been pretty much dressed, but the sexual heat had been enough to make the air smoke.