Addicted to Love (37 page)

Brody smiled.
Gotcha.
“You and I get busy hooking black lights up to the voting booths.”

B
Y ELECTION DAY
the black lights had been installed in all the voting booths in town and volunteers had been first tested, then given instructions to call Brody as soon as they’d identified the suspect.

The polls hadn’t been open an hour when Enid Pope, who was volunteering at precinct three, located in the First Methodist Church across the street from the courthouse, called Brody. “Omigoodness, Sheriff,” Enid said, excitement causing her voice to come out high and reedy. “It’s just like you said. Purdy Maculroy is glowing green.”

“C
ARE TO TELL
me why you smashed Kelvin’s replica to smithereens?” Brody asked Purdy as he led him to the jail cell.

“I have the right to remain silent,” Purdy said.

“True, true.” Brody nodded.

“These charges aren’t going to stick, you know.” The lawyer glared. “It’s entrapment.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten phosphorescent paint sprayed all over you if you hadn’t been vandalizing mini Valentine Land.”

“How’d you know I’d vote?” Purdy asked, as good as admitting he was the culprit.

“I didn’t.” Brody shrugged. “I just took a chance that whoever was behind the vandalism had a political agenda.”

Purdy scowled.

“You went one step too far when you graffitied Rachael’s car and peeped in her window. That made it personal for me.”

At that moment Kelvin came bursting through the door of the sheriff’s office. “I heard you caught the bastard.” He skipped to a halt in the hallway outside the jail. “Purdy?”

Kelvin jerked his head toward Brody. “It’s Purdy?”

“He’s the one glowing green.” Brody waved a black light in front of Purdy and he lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I thought we were friends,” Kelvin said. “We play golf together.”

“And I always have to let you win,” Purdy spit out.

“You cut the heads off the parking meters.”

Purdy didn’t answer.

“You cut those bicycles-built-for-two in two.”

Purdy made a face.

“But why?”

“He’s not talking,” Brody said.

“I know why.” Jamie popped out from behind the dispatcher desk. “I just got the rundown on Purdy’s finances.”

“Hey,” Purdy said. “You have no right . . . ”

“You’ve been charged with felony criminal mischief,” Brody said. “Your records are up for grabs. I had Jamie contact the bank.”

Jamie passed him the documents she held in her hand.

“What’s this?” Brody asked. “Fifty thousand dollars was deposited into your account the morning after Rachael vandalized the billboard. And the deposit came from the town of Tyler.”

“Tyler’s in the running against us with Amusement Corp. You traitor!” Kelvin lunged at the bars.

Purdy backed up.

“You sold out your hometown for fifty grand.” Kelvin raised a fist.

“Calm down.” Brody slung an arm around Kelvin’s shoulders. “The vandal’s behind bars and it’s election day. You’ve got other things to worry about.”

I
T WAS THE
biggest election in the town’s history. Main Street was lined with red, white, and blue banners. Voters packed the polling locations, many waiting in line as long as an hour to cast their ballot. A first for Valentine.

The high school gymnasium was Giada’s campaign headquarters, while Kelvin’s supporters collected at the courthouse. The air hummed with conversation and controversy as people argued, weighing the pros and cons of the theme park bond, the mayoral candidates, and the scandal of Purdy Maculroy.

A festive atmosphere prevailed. Higgy’s Diner offered an election day–themed blue plate special menu including Pork Barrel barbecued spare ribs, Hanging Chad coleslaw, Polling Place potato salad, and Ballot baked beans. The high school marching band took several laps around the town square, tooting out a heartfelt rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever.” The two retirement homes in town made a party out of it, bringing in their voter-eligible residents in shuttle vans, most of them hopped up on Geritol, wearing slogan buttons, waving palm-sized Texas flags, and talking about back in the day when Kelvin’s grandpappy had been mayor.

By the time the polls closed at seven, Giada was so nervous she briefly considered taking the Xanax that Lila Smerny, the high school librarian and her campaign manager, offered her. In the end, she waved it away. If she lost, she lost. She didn’t need pharmaceuticals to cushion the blow.

The first results that came in were mixed. While Giada was excited to learn she was leading Kelvin with a two percent margin, a large majority of the voters were saying yes to the theme park bond.

“They’re so misguided,” she moaned to Lila. “They have no idea what this thing is going to do to our lovely little town.”

“And if you win, you’re going to have to handle the fallout.”

Giada blew out her breath. “Thanks for reminding me.”

By eight o’clock, three-quarters of the votes had been counted. Giada was leading Kelvin 564 votes to 523. There were 854 votes for Valentine Land versus 233 against. Amusement Corp had obtained the seventy-five percent approval they needed to proceed with the project.

A camera crew from Del Rio was there, covering the story on a town divided, rehashing details about Rachael and Romanceaholics Anonymous. The media presence only served to escalate Giada’s anxiety.

“The Xanax is in my pocket with your name on it,” Lila whispered as the reporter headed Giada’s way.

“Thanks, but I can handle it.”

“Ms. Vito,” the reporter said. “We’ve just confirmed Mayor Wentworth is throwing in the towel. He’s on his way over here to concede the election.”

“What?” Giada hadn’t expected this. Kelvin was the type to go down swinging.

At that moment, the mayor, surrounded by hangers-on,
strode through the door of the gymnasium. A camera crew was trying to get to him, but Brody Carlton and his deputy Zeke were acting as bodyguards.

Giada gulped.

Kelvin stopped in front of her. “Ms. Vito.”

“Mayor Wentworth.”

“I concede the election.” He held out his hand. “You ran a good, clean campaign. Congratulations.”

She took his hand and looked into his eyes but she could not read what he was feeling. He wasn’t acting like himself. No grandstanding. No “look at me” behavior. He nodded, said a few words to the reporter, and then strode out of the building as quickly as he’d arrived.

Giada stood openmouthed, watching him go, her hand still tingling from his touch.
He’s hurting and he’s trying to salvage his pride.

People were coming over, slapping her on the back, pumping her hand. Other supporters were throwing confetti into the air and blowing on celebratory kazoos. Someone wheeled in a big cake that had been waiting in the wings. The red velvet cake with cream cheese icing and neon blue frosting proclaimed:
Congratulations, Mayor Vito.

She thought about calling her parents but it was the middle of the night in Italy. So she smiled and smiled and smiled and felt empty. Champagne corks popped. Someone pressed a chilled champagne flute in her hand. She had a sip but tasted nothing. Her mouth was dry, her head muddled.

She had won.

Yet she did not feel triumphant. For one thing, she’d lost her fight against the bond election. The Valentine Land proposition had passed.

And all she could think about was the sound of utter decimation in Kelvin’s voice when he’d congratulated her.

Cell phones had been ringing nonstop. Everyone wanted to talk to her, but she had nothing to say. Since the day she’d declared her candidacy, she’d thought of nothing else but winning the election, besting Kelvin. Putting the arrogant mayor in his place. But now that she’d achieved her goal, the victory felt surprisingly hollow.

The hubbub in the gym grated on her nerves. She needed to get out of here, needed to isolate and identify the feeling gnawing at her. If she could identify it, she could quell it.

Without telling anyone where she was going, she slipped out the side door, got into her Fiat, and just started driving.

Twenty minutes later, she ended up at Lake Valentine. She parked at Lookout Point and got out of the car. There was a chill in the early November air and she hugged her sweater tighter around her. She could see the lights of Valentine spread out below.

She was the new mayor. This was her town now.

Giada knew she should be feeling overjoyed, but she was not. She leaned against the hood of the Fiat and drew in a deep breath. It hit her all at once.

She was lonely.

It washed over her in a wave as she thought of all she’d sacrificed to be a success. No husband. No kids. Her family still in Italy.

A sound of a snapping twig echoed behind her.

She wasn’t alone!

The hairs on her arms rose and she realized she’d left her purse inside the car — her designer handbag with Mace in the side pocket. Heart pounding, Giada whirled around and spied a tall figure lurking in the shadows of the trees.

The world dropped away.

Kelvin stepped into the clearing, his big body clad in a gray wool suit with a jaunty canary yellow shirt and a brown bolo tie. He looked like the king of the jungle and she’d robbed him of his crown.

She had the strangest urge to fling herself into his arms at the same time she felt a desperate need to jump into the Fiat and peel rubber. She was alone in the dark with her archrival. He could kill her, weigh her down, dump her body in the lake, and no one would be the wiser.

Her knees turned to Jell-O. Her toes went numb. What was he doing here? Had he followed her?

The mossy smell of damp lake breeze made her shiver. His dark, wicked smile sent her pulse thumping. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood up. This wasn’t a man who took defeat in stride.

Her head spun.

“Hello,
Mayor
.” Kelvin’s dark voice slid over her, inky black as the night.

Giada took a step back, teetered on her high heels.

He reached out a hand to steady her. His grip was hot, firm. She felt as if she’d been branded.

She tried to twist away. He didn’t let go.

Her head spun. The evening air crowded her lungs, heavy with the noise of croaking frogs and thickening mist.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

“Pardon?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

His hand moved from her elbow to touch her suit jacket, stiff with shoulder pads.

Breathing hard, she wrenched away from him. “You’re not going to intimidate me to keep your stranglehold on this town,” she said. “You lost the election fair and square, Wentworth. Now step off.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into —”

“No,” she interrupted. “You don’t realize how the Wentworth dynasty has been holding this town back.”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“Ha!” Her short bark of forced laughter echoed eerily out over the water.

“I was hoping,” he said quietly, “you’d take a chance on me. On us.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “You just don’t want to relinquish your position. You’re thinking if you can date me, you can influence me into doing your bidding. Well, you’ve met your match, Kelvin Wentworth. You can’t manipulate me like everyone else in this town.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

You. I’m afraid of you.

He tracked his hand from her shoulder to her cheek and Giada suppressed a shudder. She was determined not to let him know how much he affected her.

She raised her chin, met his eyes with a stony stare. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Except for not being in control.”

“Don’t you dare project your fears onto me.”

He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “Why’d you come after me?”

“I didn’t come after you,” she cried indignantly.

“You ran for office, you took my job. What was that all about if you weren’t trying to get my attention?”

“You egotistical bastard.” She shoved his hand away. Fury snapped her jaw closed.

“What drives you, Giada? What is it you really want?”

“I want you to piss off.”

He threw back his head and laughed, a big rolling sound that sucked the energy right out of her bones.

“What’s so damned funny?” Glowering, she sank her hands onto her hips.

“We’re just alike, you and me.”

“We are
nothing
alike.”

“I know exactly what drives you, woman. You have to be the best at what you do. There’s no such thing as second place. You’re either a winner or a loser.” He paused and she hoped he was finished. She wanted out of here, but he was blocking her way to the driver’s-side door. She had a feeling if she tried to go around him that he’d just step into her path. “But sometimes winning isn’t everything,” he said, lowering his voice. “Sometimes you’ve just got to know you tried your best and that was enough.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from a scoundrel like you.”

“If you’re not worried,” he said, “then why are you out here by yourself when you should be down at Leroy’s Bar celebrating your victory?”

“I don’t drink.” She sniffed.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why are you here?” She turned the tables on him. “Why aren’t you down at Leroy’s drowning your sorrows?”

“Because I was worried about you.”

Giada snorted. “Please, you expect me to believe that? Why should you be worried about me?”

He stepped closer. Giada sucked in her breath. Gently, Kelvin slipped his fingers through her hair and raised her face up to meet his gaze. “Because I know how lonely it is at the top.”

Deep inside she felt something splinter, slip.

“I know what it’s like to need someone but be too afraid of being vulnerable to ask for what you really need.”

It was as if he totally got her. As if he’d peeled off the top of her head and stared straight down into her mind. He saw past her tough façade to the girl who’d constantly striven to win her father’s love and had failed time and again.

“You don’t have to be afraid with me,” he said. “I know you, Giada Vito, because I’m just like you.”

“You’re not,” she cried, suddenly terrified. “We’re not anything alike. You’re just saying all this because you can’t admit the truth. I won and you lost.”